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earthtooz · 2 years ago

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x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous.

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.”

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!”

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”

“No one. Now get lost.”

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

“What guy?”

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.

“So why aren’t you apologising?”

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

#i didn't edit this btw don't judge #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham fic #genshin fic

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dmitriene · 6 months ago

Text

cw: dubcon, kidnapping, probably stockholm syndrome, mentions of blood.

mafia könig, a man you met by a typically unfortunate coincidence, in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in a dark alley, you didn't want to see a murder so clearly, with blood spilling on the asphalt under your feet, with men in suits that instill chilling fear, hands in gloves, shoes now covered in crimson spots, and icy eyes staring at you from the clogging darkness.

and he didn't want to get his hands dirty again, to persuade someone to close his mouth, and so luckily, könig didn't have to do any of that, not with the way you stood with your lips pressed together and shook, and not with the way your wide, wet eyes looked when you met his gaze, making his cock stir in his trousers so pervertedly, his hand swinging rudely to indicate the men around him to keep behind, as he doesn't want to scare off his new trophy.

könig won't let you run away, hide, and won't even pay for your silence, he easily closes the distance between you in order to pick you up in his arms, and, with a predatory squint, covering your mouth gently with his leathery glove so as not to let out your pathetic, sweet sobs, he carries you away with him, towards the tinted car parked just nearby, to introduce you to your new life as soon as possible.

the life of an obedient doll of flesh and blood, you don't know if you're so scared, or if he managed to bribe you somehow, since you don't try to escape, even when könig leaves you alone to go take care of some business, as if sure that you will stay where he left you, and so you are, stay where he placed you, greet him with a rounded gaze and a nervous shake, squeaking pathetically when he tries to get a welcome kiss out of you, rugged face nosing against yours.

könig will wait for you to warm up to him, will make an excellent ground for this, with expensive gifts, gentle treatments, promises that he will never forcibly touch you, even if you harbor only hatred for him, but you do not push away his careful kisses on the crown of your head, on the soft, warm cheeks, only whine when he moves down to the neck, clinging to his back with sharp, clawing nails.

and in the end, you let him find a respite between your supple thighs, each time he comes back after another bloodied meeting, you let könig's dirty hands taint your body, knead and bruise at your silken, delicate skin while his rough, curling tongue laps over your soppy cunt, coating his stubbled chin with strings of your endlessly oozing slick, so sweet and wet, spread out for him.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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dadsbongos · 11 months ago

Text

local adventurers get body swapped and fuck sloppy style

2.5 K words / warnings - unprotected pinv sex, fem body for reader, oral (m+f receiving), slight choking, pwp, not super proofread

summary - something something marcille and senshi need medicinal herbs… its not important. you and chilchuck and laios get it on in each other's bodies

~~~

“Laios, I don’t know if you should touch those…”

“He definitely shouldn’t!”

Laios touches the vibrant orange flower petals, grazing his fingertips from the outer curl towards the neon yellow stigma, “I think if I press right here, then…”

“Laios!” Chilchuck shrieks at the same time you gasp, “No!”

A yellow powder spews from the now gaping stigma, clogging Laios’ entire head. In your shared panic to rescue the man, you and Chilchuck also inhale traces of the pollen. It tastes unexpectedly sweet, like ripe apples fresh from their tree -- it’s also incredibly disorienting. Head spinning and throat tight, you’re forced to clench your eyes while stumbling for either of the familiar bodies you’d arrived with.

You find one -- cold metal flattening your palm, though it’s strange -- what you’re touching is only the waist of Laios’ cuirass, but you’re reaching up. Your fingers just barely graze the lip of his arm opening.

Certain you’re not kneeling, and now uncertain that you’re sane, you open your eyes to gaze into the beaming reflection of… yourself. But this version of you has her hands skimming down her sides, nails biting the pouch over your tummy.

Glancing up, you find brown fingerless gloves covering your hand. You also find that you have to really stretch your neck to look up at Laios, who is staring down at you with a disturbed flinch.

“Laios?”

It's your own voice that heeds, “Yeah?”

Slowly, you swing your(?) head to face yourself, eyes wide, “Laios?”

“Yeah?”

With an uncertain, shivery hand, you point up at the armored blonde, “Chilchuck…?”

Laios’ voice whispers back your name before gently pleading, “Get out of my body…”

“I don’t know how!” you wail, tugging on brown hair just to feel the sting that confirms this isn’t some horrible nightmare, “Laios, what’d you do?!”

“If you squeeze this flower right, then it goes into self-defense mode and releases a pollen-like substance that switches people’s souls and bodies. Pretty neat, right?” his excitement with the flower is interrupted by a more carnal curiosity, “Can I feel?” he hovers your own hands over your chest and makes a squeezing motion, “I wonder if they’re as squishy as they look?”

“Sure…”

“Yay,” he murmurs, immediately latching to your chest, “Your breasts are so soft, and warm.”

“Thanks,” your naturally gentle tonation sounds odd, dissonant with Chilchuck’s agitated and shrill voice.

“Don’t let him fondle you!” Chilchuck, bizarrely, sounds natural in Laios’ body. Loud and resolute, “That’s so inappropriate!”

“I don’t mind, Chilchuck, really.”

“And don’t say my name with my own voice!”

“Sorry…”

“I wonder how you feel inside.”

Disturbed, you and Chilchuck’s heads turn toward where Laios continues to grope your (his?) chest -- his breaths shortening to gasps and lip sucked between his teeth.

“What’d you just say?” Chilchuck points a shaky finger at Laios.

If Laios finds looking himself in the face strange, he makes no indication. Merely beaming at Chilchuck in his body and shrugging while squeezing your boobs, “Isn’t it so cool that just pollen can swap us so perfectly? Why wouldn’t we try to explore each other’s bodies in a situation like this?”

Chilchuck’s embarrassment makes Laios’ cheeks flare red hot, an annoyed huff spiking past his clenched teeth, “It’ll only make things worse for the party in the long run! Inter-party romance is a terrible idea!”

“It’s not romance, just investigation.”

Before a punch can be thrown from the flustered Chilchuck, you lay a lithe hand on either man’s shoulder (pushing into the back of your mind how strange it is to call a hand smaller than your own yours), “Laios, you have to see how strange that sounds to people not as… curious as you.”

“But I’ve always wanted to know how your bodies work,” Laios frowns, “I get that we’re all humans, so it's basically the same thing and not as interesting, but when it comes to you two I just can’t help it. I want to know how soft your mouths are and how your joints roll in action,” he then peers specifically at Chilchuck, batting your lashes pathetically, “Especially your body, Chil, since I rarely see you do more than deactivate traps.”

“That’s because that’s my job! I don’t fight!”

“Chilchuck, he’s not judging you,” you move the hand on his shoulder down to his hand, Laios’ large palm massively overwhelming Chilchuck’s -- you’re captivated by the difference, “If Laios had a problem with you not fighting, I’m sure you wouldn’t still be in the party.”

“I just want to know how you both feel,” you could cringe at the sound of your voice saying something so naughty, but for the sake of Laios’ feelings you don’t, “Inside and out.”

“Did you consider how that’d be for us? Having to look our own faces in their face during something like that.”

“Like what? I just want to poke,” Laios stretches your fingers with a wiggle, “Maybe some fingering.”

That’d be more believable if Laios wasn’t such a terrible liar, his tells making your back straightening impossibly and knees buckling. Laios starkly dodges both yours and Chilchuck’s scrutinizing stares.

“We know you better than that. You’ll wanna go all out,” despite your inclination to give Laios the benefit of doubt, you’re forced to nod alongside Chilchuck’s accusation.

“Is that so bad?”

Is it?

You’re not as anatomically intrigued as Laios (at least pretends to be), but you can’t lie to yourself and say the men aren’t attractive. Laios is beefy yet kind, piercing amber eyes and soft blonde hair -- his arms look perfect for holding you down as he impales you with his cock. Chilchuck is slight and nimble, big brown eyes with thick lashes and silver hairs sprinkled through brown locks -- his dominable frame would be easy to ride until he’s got tears in his eyes and pleas flowing from his fussy lips.

“I don’t think so,” you move, stepping over to Laios’ side, “I think it could be worth a try.”

“No way!” Chilchuck glares at you for your betrayal, “There is no chance I’d ever do something so depraved!”

“This is so weird…” Chilchuck whines from Laios’ throat, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sight before him.

You, in Chilchuck’s own body, knelt beside Laios occupying your body as you both lick over his flushed erection. Laios seems to show no shyness, eagerly teasing your soft lips across his skin until he’s tonguing the underside. Meanwhile, you’ve got the smoldering head twitching on your tongue -- suckling softly before releasing your lips with a pop and laving the side with attention. Eventually, Laios bores of kitten licks and lowers towards the balls, giving you room to suck his penis into your mouth fully.

Chilchuck winds a hand, larger than he’s used to controlling, through your hair, peeking under his spare arm to watch Laios abuse your likeness. Blinking sweetly and humming while warming his own nuts with gurgled saliva. With advanced hearing, you can make out even the minute sound of Laios’ inferior gag reflex choking on his own balls.

You can also make out the deep rumble of Chilchuck panting and swallowing around his own arousal, lodged in his throat. Hoping to coax out the desire, you relax your gullet and bury your nose against flaxen pubes, making Chilchuck shudder and buck further into your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he sighs, squeezing tighter around brown hair and shaking out your head before wrenching you back, “Wanna fuck your face.”

If you didn’t want him to as well, you’d be busy pointing out how your face is really his.

Instead, you moan eagerly and let your mouth hang open. Digging blunt nails into the handles on his hips for leverage as Chilchuck snaps into your gaping, velvety mouth. Spit gurgles past the rim of your lips, your sudden super hearing picking up every soft, throaty groan that spills from his chest. Despite his every effort to drown the sounds in kisses with Laios, you hear it -- you even hear how their lips mesh above your head.

Silky moans let out by your own voice, it’s startling. And arousing. Which makes it even more startling.

Chilchuck gasps and huffs abruptly, pulling you back to beat his cock against your puffy, raw lips. His whole body scrunches as broken, spotty moans dribble through him, shooting cum down your throat -- though having to bury his face into Laios’ neck (technically your neck) to avoid seeing his own face swallowing his seed.

With your own voice, heady and ragged with lust, Laios sprawls to the ground with spread legs, “I’m so hot,” he brainlessly bucks up against his roaming hand, eyes snapping to you, “How do you live like this?”

“I’m not horny all the time, Laios!”

Completely bypassing your protest, as per usual, Laios whimpers and undoes your trousers -- tickling a trembling finger down his (your) slit, “I need someone in me, please, please?”

You and Chilchuck stare at each other for a short while, silently debating who would be the one -- with newfound stamina in Laios’ body, Chilchuck could theoretically do it if he felt so greedy. Thankfully, he does not, and reclines beside Laios before pressing kisses into his neck while yanking you over by the belt. With eyes closed, he expertly undoes the pants to pull your brand new cock out.

Calloused, yet warm, hands stroke along your shaft in slow pumps before feeding your (his) tip into Laios.

Yours and Laios’ inexperience at the shared sensation is abundant in how you’re both gasping, sweat-slick messes. Laios wiggles further onto your cock, keening and back arching at the intrusion, while your hands are clammy and shaking on his hips. Your eyes can only stray as high as the breasts before things feel… weird… so you choose instead to obsess over the sight of your cock sliding in and out of a soaked cunt. Messy slick glinting in the sunlight, face melting with need, and all rational thought sucked into the tight clench of Laios.

Whining and leisurely thrusting into Laios, you close your eyes to fully absorb the sensations around you. Still, your heightened hearing can pick up the downright obscene gush of your sloppy, wet cunt being fucked open.

Chilchuck lays beside Laios, making you flinch at the unseen act of tracing his fingers around your cock in Laios to gather the splashing wetness before swirling the sodden pads into Laios’ clit.

“Ah!” your voice spikes, Laios grabbing Chilchuck’s wrist as if he could use your dwindling might to bat off his own strength. Chilchuck grins despite himself and continues abusing the bundle of nerves as desperation makes your drilling speed up. Laios wails and bunts eager hips to meet your thrusts, “Ah, ah, ah, ah- so good! This feels amazing!”

Laios presses the hand not clutching Chilchuck’s against your tummy, fingers prodding where cock batters his insides. Huffy little fuck, fuck, oh fucks leaving pouty, raw-bitten lips.

“Does it feel good?” Chilchuck laughs at you both, his sarcasm only being met with varied, broken ‘uh-huh’ responses. A thought brews in his following silence before he reaches up with a spare hand, “How about this, then?”

Suddenly, Laios’ large hand is wrapped around your neck, pressuring the sides to make your head spin.

Oh.

Oh that shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Sudden restricted air pushes your hammering hips into overdrive, gut fizzling and tightening until you’re certain you’ll combust from the inside. You squeeze bruises into your own hips as you slam into Laios’ pliant body.

“Oh my God,” he suddenly wails from your mouth, “I think I’m- fuck! - am I?” his breath hitches, eyes wide and thighs cinching around your pumping hips, “Oh my God, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it, then,” Chilchuck snides with lips still pressed to Laios’ neck, rudely pinching his clit, “Cum for us.”

“I’m cumming,” he babbles, throwing his head back, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

Laios’ complete lack of will obliterates your own, the intense milking of his orgasm around you practically pulling cum from your cock. You gasp under Chilchuck’s choking while stuffing Laios full.

As soon as you’ve pulled Chilchuck’s softening cock out, Laios darts a hand down to finger your abused cunt. Puffy lips parting around curious fingers, thighs twitching at the unwelcomed overstimulation. Mixed cum leaks onto his digits before he accidentally brushes a thumb over his own clit, sending his thighs clenching around his hand as he forces another orgasm from your body.

You blink, suddenly much drowsier than before, and when you open your eyes you’re on the ground. With twitching, aching thighs and a hand between your legs.

Before you can acclimate to the realization you’re returned to your proper body, large hands are spreading your thighs again. Laios dives in, much too excited, and licks along your slit with a seedy groan and pinched brows. As if he’s deriving pure pleasure from sucking your combined release out of your pussy. If anything, the unadulterated oddity and grossness confirms that Laios is, in fact, back in his own body.

“I remember you were needing a little something, big guy,” Chilchuck tiredly slumps against Laios’ side, reaching below the belt to tug Laios’ hardening cock, “Guess you do have a lot of stamina.”

“I wanted to taste it on my fingers before we switched back, but now I can have it on my real tongue,” Laios deliriously giggles, “How lucky is that?”

You’re given no pause to respond before he’s returning to tongue-fucking your spasming hole.

Chilchuck presses lazy kissing along Laios’ flushed skin, jostled slightly when Laios abruptly sits straight, bucking his hips into Chilchuck’s fist as he asks, “Can I cum on you? I want to taste us all together. I need to know- !”

“Fine!” you’re borderline shrieking, sniveling and sobbing in the overstimulation, “Yes, yes, cum on my cunt, Laios. Do whatever you want!”

As if waiting permission, once those words are uttered, Laios spurts across your heated groin. He wastes no time basking in his euphoria before drunkenly lapping up his cum dribbling across your pussy and into yours and Chilchuck’s juices.

“Feral,” Chilchuck notes, smearing the excess sperm across Laios’ thigh and collapsing by your side.

Quicker and more violent than you’d like, another orgasm swells from your tummy to your hips. Thighs clapping against Laios’ ears as his tongue lulls out to sap up your cum. Your nails scrape Laios’ scalp as you wrangle him back when you notice him trying to sink in for more.

“Laios, please!” you tiredly protest.

“Off,” Chilchuck says it short and curt, like training a puppy, as he bats Laios’ head.

Laios lifts his head and drops beside you as well, turning onto his side to stare at you both -- hands curled towards his chest for comfort, “That was fun. We should do it again, but with our normal bodies.”

Unbeknownst to Laios, both you and Chilchuck are passed out and tangled around on another. And unknown to all three of you, Marcille and Senshi are coughing and hacking out a plan to crawl out and search for your group on the hunt for medicinal herbs.

#laios touden x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #laios x reader #chilchuck x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #laios touden smut #chilchuck smut #I HATE TAGGING OMG

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

Note

Heyyy there! I really (like really) love your writing!!! It makes my day when I see you've posted a fic! I was wondering if I could request one either with doc!remus or emtxmaradeurs where the reader is very sick and kinda out of it and she's taken care of. Like maybe he/them asking her 'are you with me/us' becuase it looks like you're going to pass out. If you've written something like this before my apologies. Have a great day!!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 670 words

When Remus and James get home from their shift, they find you and Sirius curled up on the couch, you with a mug of what appears to be noodle soup steaming in your hands. You’re taking sips of it like it’s tea.

“Hello,” says Remus, perching on the armrest to peck his boyfriend on the head. “You two aren’t where we left you.”

“One can only lie around in bed for so many hours,” Sirius replies, tilting his head back for a real kiss. Remus gives him one, and Sirius takes another for himself. “I’m very entertaining, but after a while we both needed a change of scenery.”

“And why is our girl drinking soup like a warm beverage?” James directs the question towards you, but you don’t seem to notice. After a moment, Sirius answers for you.

“She wasn’t doing very well with the spoon, and though I made some excellent points about how romantic it’d be, she wouldn’t let me feed it to her.” Sirius grins salaciously at you. You offer only a faint smile in return, and he squishes your thigh in his hand teasingly. “Eventually we had to compromise on a more innovative solution.”

“I see.” James ducks his head, finding his way into your field of vision. “Sweetheart,” he says carefully, “are you with us?”

You blink. Your eyes look fever glazed. “Yeah.” You match his gentle tone. “Hi.”

He smiles softly. “Hey there. You seemed a bit far away, m’love.”

“She’s only tired.” Sirius kisses the side of your head. “We’ve just had a nap.”

“Oh, must be nice,” James jokes. You smile in response.

Remus frowns pensively as he plays with Sirius’ hair where it’s draped over the edge of the couch. It spills through his fingers like stygian water. “What’s her fever at?” he asks.

“It’s coming down.” Sirius nods to the fever reducers sitting next to a half-empty bottle of cough syrup on the coffee table. “We’re working on it.”

“What was it last you checked?” James presses, but Remus has already picked up the thermometer. He murmurs a quiet direction to you as he nestles it in your ear.

“Her cough’s gotten a lot better, too, if you haven’t noticed,” Sirius says proudly. “Right, babydoll? We haven’t been having many problems since the last time she had medicine.”

That’s not saying much, James thinks as he looks around. There are still wadded up tissues strewn about the coffee table, enough that he wonders whether one of them ought to go buy more before you all get ready for bed, and even if your cough has abated the scrape of your voice indicates your throat still feels like you’ve swallowed knives.

Still, he tries to sound upbeat as he says, “Yeah? That’s great,” and kisses your shoulder lightly.

“I can see why you’re so tired,” Remus says. The thermometer beeps, and his brow pinches sympathetically as he reads the screen. “That nap was the first good sleep you’ve had in a while, hm, dovey?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice a thin rasp. “I still have to turn over every now and then when my nose clogs up, though.”

“Poor love,” James coos, kissing your shoulder again. “I’m about to have a shower, would you want to sit in the bathroom with me and see if the steam does anything? I could use the company.”

“That’s a good idea,” Remus agrees. “After you’ve finished your soup, though.”

You give James a sweet, thoughtful look. “That would be nice,” you say. The sound of your voice makes him want to burst into tears. “Thank you guys for taking care of me.”

Sirius makes an indignant squawking sound. “Um, that’s actually been me, in case you’ve forgotten. These two only just got here.”

“Sorry.” You crack a smile, sleepy but real, and lean your head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Thank you the most.”

He hums, quickly pacified, and lets his head rest atop yours. “Apology accepted. Luckily for you, I actually quite enjoy it.”

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thisapplepielife · 1 month ago

Text

Written for @steddiebingo.

he keeps on loving me (and i keep on wondering why)

Prompt: Proposal | Word Count: 3503 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: AU, Established Steddie, Rural Living, Corroded Coffin Guys, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Living Life Isn't Always Easy, But Loving Each Other Is

Also on ao3 || bonus: mini vid edit

The sun is hot, blisteringly so, and Eddie steps on the edge of the shovel again. Pushing down hard. Digging into the old red dirt that's hidden away under the sod. Twisting, taking another chunk out, before tossing it aside. He'd just gotten the grass looking green instead of brown, at the cost of effort and time, both of which are always in short supply. Now there's gonna be an eyesore of a trench cutting across the yard.

Figures.

Get one step ahead, only to get knocked three steps back. It's all Eddie's ever known.

There's definitely a stoppage, and the rural sewer district insists it's on their side, not the county's, which makes it Eddie's responsibility to fix.

Wayne borrowed a hand crank snake from a friend at work, and they never even met resistance as they worked it down through the drain, as far as it'd go. The cleanout still running water out indicated the clog wasn't in the house, but somewhere else in the line, so they rented a hundred foot snake to run down the cleanout.

Sure that'd get it.

Still nothing.

For plan C, Wayne helped him mark the main line, suggesting he dig it up, further out. The shittiest proposal Eddie's ever heard.

But Eddie's doing it. Calling a plumber would take time and cost money, and if Wayne thinks they can do it themselves, well, Eddie trusts him. Wayne hasn't steered him wrong yet.

Eddie is getting concerned the longer he finds nothing, but fuck it. If he gets to the road, it's no longer his responsibility. He'd just have to eat the sunk time costs he's expended.

Goodie's supposed to be bringing out a borrowed mini excavator tonight, if he can. It's been hard with their schedules to make it happen, working opposite shifts at the refinery will do that, but it's getting dire. Eddie has started to believe that they only used to have a band. Past tense. With two of them working the night shift, and the other two working days, it's been an exercise in futility to actually get together at all these days, let alone play. Families, kids, work, overdue bills, all means music takes a backseat. Has to.

Eddie has considered pawning his guitar a time or two, but has never quite been able to make himself go through with that last resort option.

Doesn't matter right now. He's got bigger fish to fry, like digging this trench with his own two hands, if he'd like the drains to ever work again. The smell alone is motivation to keep digging.

That, and he's scared this might actually be the thing that's gross enough to finally send Steve running back to the city.

Eddie hears the car before he sees it. That's how it works out in the country. It might be Wayne coming back with another shovel, or maybe even Gareth is awake and ready to help. He hopes for Goodie and Jeff, but knows they aren't off work yet. When he catches sight of the BMW crawling along the dirt road, kicking up red dust, Eddie stops and leans against the handle of his shovel, smiling.

Steve.

The pretty college boy that stayed.

The boy in the khaki pants, and polo shirts, that hid a wicked smile and angel eyes. He blew into the bar Eddie was working in, sweaty, dirty, after struggling with a flat tire that stranded him. Wanting to borrow the bar phone to call a tow truck.

Eddie could do it better, and faster, himself.

He walked down the block with him, and it was a production. His tire was definitely ruined, and the donut was a little low, but held air when they took it out to the filling station on the edge of town, Steve riding along in Eddie's pickup, face turned towards the window, wind blowing against his face, happy.

Even with the shitty night he'd clearly had.

Tire changed, Steve wouldn't take no for an answer, shoving a wad of cash into his palm. It was more than he'd make in a night, lugging glasses and dirty dishes.

Eddie told him to go slow, to get a new tire tomorrow, and tapped the roof of the car.

And when Steve pulled away from the curb in that shiny BMW, Eddie assumed he'd never see him again.

But then he just kept coming back.

Steve was charmed by Eddie, for some goddamn reason Eddie will never understand, not fully. With a wallet full of money, and no real responsibilities other than getting his ass to classes on time. All Eddie's ever had were responsibilities beyond his years. Steve would have been easy to hate, if he hadn't been so…Steve. Gorgeous, funny, but tinged with just a little bit of sadness that only seemed to lift once he was sure Eddie wasn't annoyed by him coming and hanging out.

Driving out from the nearby college town to sit in a dingy, small town bar, just to be entertained by the barback that always got less work done on the nights he turned up.

He always seemed kind of lost, until Eddie was the lucky bystander that found him.

Steve's never divulged much about home, about his life back in Indiana, about his parents. He talks about them, sometimes, but says nothing. Eddie feels like he almost doesn't know any more about Steve's family today than he did that first night. Eddie's sure he came from a silver spoon, golden rule, private school, never missed Sunday church, good upstanding family.

But for some reason, he took a shine to Eddie. The blue collar, low dollar, out here where concrete meets old red dirt barback that didn't run him off the second he came back to the bar to do homework. Like the college library wouldn't have been a better place for that. But he kept coming back on nights Eddie worked, and Steve worked hard to charm him, like he didn't have it backwards. Eddie needed to chase him, not the other way around.

When he kissed Eddie for the first time, Eddie didn't expect more than a night or two. To maybe be his dirty little secret, while Steve publicly courted some rich college girl he'd go on to marry.

But that's not Steve Harrington.

No, Steve loves who he loves, and is loyal to a goddamn fault when he's loved back. Even when it meant he got cut off from all that old money. He acted like it didn't matter. Like a cushion of generational wealth wouldn't have made his life exponentially easier. He still stayed.

And has kept staying.

Steve could have anyone, anywhere, but he's chosen Eddie. He's chosen to make his home here in this little inherited farmhouse, with Wayne in his trailer just up the road.

He's chosen to work a job that he's overqualified for, and underpaid to do, just so he can live with Eddie in a house where all the drains are backing up into each other. Not even complaining about standing in the slow to drain shower water while Eddie figures it out.

It sure doesn't add up on paper, that's for damn sure, that Steve keeps on loving him, while Eddie keeps wondering why. Questioning why Steve Harrington is his biggest fan, his partner.

His love.

It doesn't make a lick of sense.

Steve wears his heart on his sleeve, except for when talking about home, no matter how many times Eddie has tried to pry. He just says his parents are out of the country, probably. No reason to go home to an empty house.

They might not stay in one place, but Steve definitely has, stepping out of that fancy car, hanging onto the door frame as he gives a little wave at Eddie, "Still no luck?"

"Not yet," Eddie admits. His hands hurt. He can't stop for long, or he won't want to start again. It's always easier to keep doing the thing that hurts, rather than stop and then have to get going again. Wayne taught him that.

Steve slams his car door, disappears in the house. When he reappears, he's in old jeans, and a well-worn t-shirt. Holes around the neck, and sleeves. And one that seems strategic around his belly button.

Eddie smiles, taking him in.

"Let me take a turn," Steve says, stepping down into the trench Eddie's been digging. Straddling the exposed sewer line. Eddie wonders what Steve's parents would think if they could see him. Their perfect boy, digging ditches, by choice. That he'd rather do that with Eddie than go home.

He could work for his dad, in some fancy office building that most likely wouldn't smell like literal shit.

But Eddie tells him where to dig, how deep, and lets him get involved in the project. Let's him pull his weight, as Steve'd say. That's important to him, even if it's not to Eddie.

They take turns digging until reinforcements arrive.

Eddie and Gareth take off a night from the refinery that they can't really afford. It's dark when Eddie crawls up into the bed of Wayne's truck and then helps pull Gareth up, careful of Gareth's bum knee. It's getting worse by the day, even Gareth is pretending it isn't.

Once up there, both of them hold spotlights for Goodie and Jeff to see what they're doing. Night digging isn't ideal, especially not the night before Goodie's wedding. But it's the only evening they've all had time off at the same time. They have to make due, life demands it.

Goodie's twenty-eight, which is nearly ancient to get married around these parts. Jeff and Gareth both got married right out of high school, it's just what's done. Not Goodie, though. He took his sweet time. He's just lucky Mel was patient enough to wait on his sorry ass.

Eddie razzes him about being last, about being scared to commit, but Goodie snaps back that no he's not last, Eddie's last.

Which is true. He supposes. He wasn't counting himself.

He's not scared to commit to Steve. He's already committed. Besotted. Wrapped around Steve's little finger, and happy about it. Knows he won the goddamn lottery, all for the price of changing a flat tire. Something he'd have done for anybody.

Steve wasn't anybody, though.

And when he wanted to stay, Eddie took the refinery job that he'd been avoiding like the plague, just to make ends meet a little bit easier. Wayne getting him hired on — no muss, no fuss.

Now, Jeff's guiding Goodie along in the dark as he claws the excavator into the yard. Careful not to go too deep. They don't want to make the problem worse. Pulling away dirt, and grass. Not the sewer line itself.

They find it. Smell it. A tree root that's grown far — far enough that Eddie never suspected the goddamn tree of burrowing through the pipe, creating this mess of a problem. At least they know what they need to do to fix it, now. That's better than not knowing.

It's two in the morning, and they scrub their hands with Lava soap at the outside hydrant as Mel, Carla and Di unpack food on the tailgate. Di with a sleeping baby strapped to her chest. The newest one. The other older kids, a mix of Gareth's and Jeff's, are all sleeping in the backseats of the cars.

Eddie bites into a fried pork chop, holding it by the bone. It feels like it did when they were teenagers, hauling hay for a nickel a bale. Sweating their asses off, eating lunch out in the fields, covered glass dishes of homemade fried chicken or whatever else the wives of the farmers they'd been hired by had made for them. It was always good, but often sat heavy in their guts in the summer sun.

Tonight though, it's dark, and cool enough to actually be pleasant. They sit around and eat off paper plates, talking, all together for the first time in a long time. Like there's not a wedding they'll all be at later this afternoon. Like they shouldn't all be home, getting their beauty sleep.

But they don't take these opportunities for granted, they are few and far between, circumstances be damned.

Steve doesn't cook, not really, claims he never learned how. Eddie likes to imagine he had personal chefs and butlers attending to his every whim, and that's how he showed up here, not knowing how to boil water. He just never had to learn.

Because his life had been easier, which Eddie is grateful about, honestly. He loves Steve too much to wish his own childhood on him.

He wouldn't want him to be like the little Eddie that had to pull a chair up to the stove when he was too short to reach, just to heat up a can of Spaghetti-Os while Wayne was at work. He was a latchkey kid after his mother's death. He'd ride the bus home alone, the last kid off, and let himself in with the key around his neck, alone. Where he'd stay until seven, when Wayne got home work. Tired, worn out, but still happy to see Eddie it always seemed. Ready to hear about his day. In return, Eddie learned to be responsible. To not burn the house down. To be good.

To brush his teeth without being told, and to lock the doors and go on to bed on time on nights that overtime kept Wayne away longer.

Eddie minded, because he couldn't afford to lose Wayne, too.

He knows now, that was never gonna happen. But at seven, it sure seemed like a pressing concern.

But Steve didn't live that life, and Eddie's shown him how to do things. He can change a tire now. And now he can dig out a sewer line. He can also make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and boxed macaroni and cheese that's only sometimes over or under-cooked. And that's what he's made tonight. Nobody complains, just eats the potluck of food, eyes drooping. Bone tired like they always are.

Everybody else finally heads home, ready to crash. When Eddie stumbles into the house to shower before bed, he doesn't take the now fully draining shower for granted. Not tonight, not ever.

Eddie's appreciative that Steve made them anything tonight. He definitely didn't need to, he'd made a lot of headway digging before the heavy machinery arrived. Steve's tough as nails, made of hardy stock, even if he doesn't always look like it. Eddie likes to imagine Steve hauling hay. Perhaps shirtless, glistening in the sun as he tossed bales like they weighed nothing. Eddie would have got nothing done if Steve had been there to gawk at, that's for sure. It was much easier to work alongside Goodie bitching, Jeff making him do it anyway, and Gareth struggling with the hooks.

With the water hitting his face, and then disappearing down the drain like it should, Eddie is relieved that it's fixed. Even if they had to do it after dark, under spotlights.

Steve's standing in the kitchen, wearing his glasses, hair a mess after air drying. But he's pouring two mugs of what he calls nighty night tea as Eddie slides into a mismatched vinyl chair at the kitchen table.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, picking up his mug. Mindful of the forming blisters on his hands. They're gonna hurt.

In bed, Steve slings his leg over Eddie's, just so they can touch. They both needed to be asleep hours ago. They have a big day tomorrow.

In the morning Eddie knows Steve will dress to match him, he's seen him do it before, as to not overdress for events out here in the sticks. Weddings out here aren't like he's used to back home, Eddie's sure. No black tie. No sit-down dinner. Just cake and punch and cream cheese mints in a church hall basement.

Afterwards, they'll all go out for beers at the bar.

Wedding over, Steve dances with Di, spinning her across the small bar dance floor, her best dress twirling out, as she laughs.

Eddie watches, smiling.

They love Steve as much as Eddie does. Steve might not have grown up here, not like them, but he fits in, did from the jump, honestly. Once they got past his stuffy clothes, and that over shellacked helmet of hair he's grown out longer, softer and let get messy and messier over the years.

He's learned to two-step since he's been here, and the wives are all over him because of it. There's a gracefulness to him that none of the rest of them can replicate. It's natural to him. Innate. A fluidity that Eddie assumes only money can buy.

Steve's definitely tipsy, and edging towards drunk. Eddie can tell just by looking at him. He's laughing, having the best time, Di happily along for the ride.

Gareth isn't looking at them, his head is down on the bar, leg up on Eddie's thigh. Propping that knee up. Not even the shots tonight haven't helped. His knee is fucked, and they're gonna have to do something. Sooner rather than later.

"I can't drum with no knee," Gareth declares, head on his arms.

Well, that's true. But that's the least of their concerns. He can't feed his kids if he can't work, and that's a little more pressing.

Eddie rests his hand on Gareth's calf, rubbing it softly. Steve said he will call in a favor, and Eddie doesn't know what that means. Not exactly. He asked if his dad, or mom, is a doctor and Steve just laughed, so he assumes not.

Whatever trick he has up his sleeve, they'll take it.

"We're gonna get it fixed, don't worry," Eddie tells him, but worry is all they do around here.

The night is winding down. Last call. The bride and groom, long gone.

Eddie settles up their tab. When he goes to collect Steve, he's grinning.

"What?" Eddie asks, unable to keep from smiling back.

"You ever gonna marry me?" Steve asks, a happy drunk, leaning too close to Eddie's face.

Eddie swallows. Well, for one, they can't. Not legally. And for another, he had no idea Steve wanted that. That he's been waiting. It's the best proposal he's ever heard.

"Is that what you want?" Eddie asks, putting his hands on Steve's hips, holding him steady. "You could do better, you know?"

"Pfft, never," Steve slurs, pouting out his lower lip. "Duh, 'course I want you to marry me. Because you love me."

Eddie laughs, patting his hip.

"I do love you, sweetheart. And I'll marry you. Just tell me a time and place."

The grin Steve gives him is blinding, but still slightly wicked. Eddie's not even sure he'll remember this tomorrow. Still, Eddie'll take the proposal for the earnest wish that it is, at least in this moment.

He knows Steve loves him, and only god knows why, because Eddie sure as hell doesn't.

In the morning, Steve's hungover at the table, eyes closed, black coffee steaming in his mug. Oh, it's bad if he hasn't diluted it with ungodly amounts of cream and sugar yet.

"Mornin'," Eddie says quietly, sure Steve's got a pounding headache. He's not about to make it worse by being too loud.

Steve tilts his head backwards, opening his eyes, "In the yard, here at home, after the grass grows back."

"What's that?" Eddie asks, pouring his own cup of coffee.

"Where and when I want to get married. I'm telling you," Steve clarifies and Eddie grins to himself, back still turned away from Steve.

When he turns, he flashes a smile Steve's way, "Okay, sweetheart. That's what we'll do," he says, leaning down. Wrapping his arm around Steve's neck, maneuvering him into position to kiss his face, his cheeks, making him laugh before capturing his lips, sealing the deal.

"But for now, I want hangover eggs," Steve demands, and Eddie can do that. He can definitely do that.

Eddie gets a jar of Wayne's home canned whole tomatoes out of the pantry, and when he's finished, he scoops the tomato and egg mixture onto a plate, next to two slices of toast. Wayne's recipe. He watches as Steve uses the toast to break the first yolk, and smiles. Perfect. Just like Steve.

He drapes both of his arms over Steve's shoulders, down his chest, pressing his face close to Steve's. He's so goddamn lucky.

Steve Harrington not only wants to marry him, but also said that this house, Eddie's little piece of heaven, his mother's childhood house, his childhood safe haven, is home.

He couldn't ask for more, or better. Steve's it. Everything. And he wants to celebrate their already built life here in this place Eddie has lived most of his. With his mom, before, and then with Wayne, after.

And now, forever, with Steve.

Inspired by the song "Wondering Why" by The Red Clay Strays. I also have a little vid edit I made set to the song that inspired this whole idea. It was an earworm that had to be dealt with in fic and video form. It was just screaming to be steddiefied, lol. (Title come from the song, as well.)

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo.

My masterlist for my bingo card can be found here.

#steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingo #prompt: proposal #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fan fic #steddie fic #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiebingo

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strrykais · 8 months ago

Note

sooooo is the threesome with jeno happening or????

https://www.tumblr.com/strrykais/762157555571097600/1-800-hot-n-fun-na-jaemin

pairing: boyfriends!bestfriend!jeno x afab!fem (ft. bf!jaemin)

words: 0.9k

summary: its kind of a continuation of 1-800-hot-n-fun.. we get our threesome 🤤 pt .3 requested

genre: smut

warnings: oral (fem receiving), infidelity (not really?), indications of a threesome, first time writing smut so like don’t put me on a stake please, #mightkmsbenice #call911becausewewererobbed

nct dream masterlist

jeno couldn’t help his wandering eyes. it's like you purposely wore short pajama shorts and no bra. and it's not his fault that he would sometimes forget to turn down the ac in the hot nights to see the sweat glisten off your skin. he knows you and jaemin know he likes to look, and at times he feels like you both purposely mess with him.

jeno loves his roommate and his best friend, so of course he would never jeopardize their friendship to mess around with you. it would be wrong, so wrong but when you cornered him in his room, with your little skirt and top jeno felt all self control vanish.

“i- i dont think jaemin would like this.” jeno stammers, as your fingers lightly travel up his chest settling on the back of his neck playing with his hair he decided to grow out.

“what jaem doesn’t know won’t hurt him. plus he would want this. me and you that is. i know you do. i see the way you look at me, jeno.” your soft voice causing jeno to groan.

jeno could feel his pants tighten, you being this close was messing with his mind. your sweet perfume clogging up his senses, so much that he places his hand on your waist pulling you into him fully.

the tension in the room was so thick as you both continued to stare at each other. you smiled, crashing your lips on his, you knew he wouldn’t make the first move. his kiss was hesitant at first until you let out a little moan, something in that moan unlocked something in him. jeno pushes himself into you wanting to cause some relief in his pants. jeno’s mind was swirling with the way your hands roamed his body and the way your tongue licked all in his mouth, and deep deep deep in there was some guilt that he was making out with his best friend's girlfriend.

you both walk to the corner of his room where his bed sits, pushing jeno onto bed, watching as his hair falls prettily on his face, you smirk.

“you know, ever since i first saw you, i wanted to sit on that pretty nose. can i?” your sultry voice, hypnotizing jeno. mouth stammering, no words able to come out, jeno was truly shocked he could not believe this was happening. he should say no, he should really say no to this. but your pretty eyes wanted him so badly, and the way you licked your plump lips. jeno nodded, breathing out a ‘please’ as he laid back slowly dragging you onto him.

you shuffle up slowly, knees on either side of his head, lifting your skirt to see his eyes glued to the wet spot on your panties.

“jeno baby, in order for this to work you gotta use your mouth.” you say playing with his hair as it lays out like a halo around him.

“right right.” jeno reaches out pulling your panties to the side, the cool air hitting making you moan out softly. your moans sound so much better now that they aren't muffled between the shared wall he and jaemin share.

you feel jeno lick a long stride of your pussy, gathering up all your juices before he whispers a ‘sorry’. so immersed in the feeling you don’t even register his words until you hear the ripping of the fabric, before you could see what was happening down there, jeno firmly grabs your hips pulling you down to fully sit on him. jeno sucks harshly on your clit, using his hands to get you to start grinding on his mouth. you gather your senses, hand wrapped in his hair letting out various moans, not hearing the front door open and your name softly being called out.

when jaemin came back he did not expect to see his girlfriend riding his best friend's face like that. jaemin continues to watch your facial expressions, the way your mouth was shaped in a pretty ‘o’. your eyebrows furrowed together, and the moans escaping your mouth getting louder and louder. using this time he walks in gripping your face in his hand. your eyes are flying open, stopping your movement on jeno. jeno, not knowing what is happening, continues to penetrate your hole with his tongue. trying not to make a noise, you bite your lips glancing up at him only for jaemin to speak out.

“no baby keep going, you know i like hearing your pretty voice.” you moan out to that only for jeno to pause trying to lift you off of him. jaemin quickly puts his hands over jeno’s, pushing you back and grinding you against him.

“i thought we said we would wait till i get home to play with him? i thought we agreed, baby.” jaemin says placing kisses all over your face, letting his hands go off jeno's when he realizes that jeno is back to eating you out after he heard jaemins reaction. “such a bad girl not keeping your promises. guess jeno and i are gonna have to teach you a lesson." jaemin says, pulling his shirt over himself, his beautiful grin taking over his face.

#strrykais #nct dream #nct jeno #nct jaemin #lee jeno #na jaemin #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #jeno smut #jaemin smut #jeno #jaemin #jeno scenarios #jaemin scenarios #⊹₊⟡⋆ ask !#anon asks

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falseficus · 6 months ago

Text

if i may play the devil's advocate for a moment -- it doesn't really bother me that most of the fan posting around disco elysium on this site is more focused on the emotional aspects of the game than the political ones. i mean, firstly, it's well-acknowledged that fanworks tend to fill the gaps of unexplored potential in the original work -- ie, envisioning darkness in lighthearted works, re-imagining dark works as lighthearted. a lot of the emotional or relational aspects of disco elysium are left ambiguous, abstract, or at the very least dependent upon player choice and interpretation. this renders them fertile ground for speculative art. by contrast, the game's political statements are, if you have the context to analyze them well, complete. there simply isn't much more to say.

beyond that, those political aspects are also leagues ahead of many other pieces of media in terms of their complexity, nuance, and real-world analysis. that's part of what makes the game so great, and i do think may fans understand that. but, to be honest, being capable of engaging with those aspects of the game (just glance at reddit, and you'll see that many fans don't even reach that level) does not mean that fans are capable of generating that level of work themselves. like, it's simply more mental work to come up with a piece of creative art/writing that expands upon the superb worldbuilding and commentary of DE than it is to write about harry and kim getting goopy nasty. people know how to do the latter because it is a commonly exercised muscle of fandom. the former is almost academic.

that doesn't mean people *shouldn't* engage with the political aspects of the game generatively/creatively. but also... like... maybe it's better this way. seriously, look at reddit, guys. the DE subreddit is full of people *attempting* to engage with the game politically, and the analysis they're putting out is hot steaming dookie. i lose brain cells every time im forced to read another take that earnestly assumes the game positions moralism as the Right and Good Choice for Revachol. on tumblr, analysis is generative, practiced through art/fanfiction... and if i had to see the type of shit i see on reddit on tumblr in the form of fanart, id kill us all.

so anyway, i dont think the fanwork hyperfocus on relationships/emotion indicates that people aren't properly understanding the political points of the game, but simply that those points are much harder for fans to process in a generative way. their underrepresentation in fanwork doesnt particularly indicate anything about the way people are actually receiving and understanding the themes of the game.

except for the people inexplicably clogging the tag with jean viquemare. they do not understand the game and will not see the light of heaven

#disco elysium #the frog speaks

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2-dsimp · 11 months ago

Note

Nokka being a influencer, handsome buff gym one at that, probably means he has thirsty fans in his comments/dms.

I'm not much of a jealous type, but if my husband/my man had people trying to hit him up, especially after seeing the ring on his finger or knowing he is married/taken, I'm blocking them from his social media.

I'm leaving love bites, scratches, lipstick stains, everything possible all over him just so people know he is taken.

I speak of this as if I'm also not a major crybaby and would sob and pout if I see anyone in person try to pick him up/flirt or tries to subtly even touch his muscles lol

But yeah, I would be jealous, angry and crying if anyone even tried to flirt with Nokka despite him being married to his darling.

『Featuring your yandere husband finding out about your jealousy』

——-;———;——-;————-

Cw: Wifey reader! Suggestive 🔞

——-;———;——-;————-

At first Nokka would be somewhat confused at your behavior until he sees you fuming at the comments underneath his workout videos. Of which he doesn’t really bother checking unless it’s to answer genuine questions about his workout regime.

He’d look over your shoulder peeking at what the hell was upsetting his wife only to stumble upon thirst comments that he never peeped at before. Since he was mainly focused on getting his workout routine done.

Nonetheless your husband had a shit eating grin from finding out how his cute wife got so worked up over him. And would basically spoil you with presents that you ranted about wanting to have.

Amazon packages would be randomly delivered to y’all’s home periodically. Namely, when you’re acting out on your possessiveness for him. As if to reward you for taking pride of being his wife. And claiming him as yours.

He’d also hand you his phone and straight up tell you to get rid of “the spam” clogging up his notifications. As he nonchalantly manhandles you into his lap as he switches on the tv to the sports network.

Nokka would always demand that you handle his phone, wether to send a text, check his phone logs for him, or to take a nude picture for his camera roll gallery collection tilted “my wife”

As much as he find your jealousy over him down right attractive. He hates any indication of you doubting his loyalty to his dearest wife. So at times he’ll be sure to remind you that you’re his wife and that he’s your husband.

“Whose dick does this belong to? Speak up wife I anit finna ask ya again! And You better scream it loud for me… Uh huh that’s right baby all this is yours, and don’t you ever fuckin forget that.”

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pierregazly · 2 years ago

Text

all of you ꨄ george russell

george russell x fem!reader

warnings: smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, slight dom!george, ass slapping, typical smut warnings. mentions of anxiety, hateful comments, self-conscious thoughts [4.2k wc]

in which george has to prove to his girlfriend she's the most precious person to him and the only one for him (aka pure filth)

The comments didn’t happen often, as least not as often as they used to.

He had told you from the start what may happen, the things people would likely say, the looks people would give; you could never deny that he forewarned you as much as he possibly could about the inevitable. The inescapable unkindness and negativity that came from people who didn’t even know you, people who had never met you, and would likely never meet either of you.

They were ruthless.

At times, the comments were laughable, the extent that strangers would go to attempt to put you down. The humour in them could only be seen for so long when they continued to come, what seemed like a never-ending stream of notifications clogging up your phone as you tried to ignore the comment after comment, message after message.

It was easy to try and convince yourself that it happened to everyone. You saw the damage it did to certain relationships, the way girls would question if they were enough for their famous partners, the way accounts would go private days after their boyfriend’s introduced them to the world.

Even with that in mind, it was hard not to feel as if every rude comment, every ignorant message, every untrue word was coming from an unspeakable truth that George himself actually thought.

That’s how you found yourself here. Wrapped up in the blankets of your shared bed, your phone thrown lazily on the side table next to your head. The rabbit hole of scrolling had been too enticing, yet again. One comment led to ten, that led to thirty and then eventually you found yourself so deep in a Twitter thread about your relationship that you couldn’t pull yourself out of until it was over.

George had only been gone for half-an-hour when you found yourself scrolling through everything. It was impossible to do it when he was home, your physical and emotional reactions to everything you read a clear indicator of what you were doing.

He was a good boyfriend, a great one, even. Kind, loving, attentive to all your wants and needs, he tried to do everything in his power to protect you from the messages and words he regularly heard about from other drivers on the grid.

But he couldn’t be there every second of every day. You definitely didn’t want him to be, either. You didn’t want him to see the sadness in your eyes when your phone was carelessly thrown onto the table, the subconscious scratching of your forearm as you tried to calm yourself down, the way your eyes would search down your skin for any imperfections, anything that would convince George that you weren’t enough for him, that you weren’t perfect enough to be the girlfriend of a Formula 1 driver.

Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when you heard the front door of your apartment open and then close shut. Looking at the clock, the numbers looked back at you as a soft groan fell from your lips.

You had spent the last 3 hours going through an array of emotions, not even realizing how much time was surging past. George had told you three times what time he would be home, even going out of his way to text it to you just to make sure you remember.

The bedroom door opened, the soft light from the hallway flowing into the darkened room prompting you to curl tighter into the blankets held in your fists.

“You’re still in bed, my love? It’s going on two in the afternoon, darling,” George murmured into your ear as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your forehead, his lips peppering down your cheek as you swatted at him jokily.

The concern emitting from him was evident when he pulled back from your skin, lightly pushing on your shoulder so that he could look you in the eyes. You held back the sigh as you looked up at him, your lower lip finding its way between your teeth as his thumb moved to glide down your jawline.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad? Have you been crying?”

The questions shot out of George’s mouth instantaneously, his hand cupping your face as he sat down on the bed next to your curled up body. He was always so bloody attentive. You hated it. But you loved him.

Shrugging your shoulders, your teeth continued to gnaw on your bottom lip as you attempted to keep the quivering at bay. You didn’t want to tell him what you were doing before he got home, you couldn’t tell him. He’d be upset at you for doing it again, inevitably frustrated that you continued to go back and hurt yourself this way.

“Talk to me, sweet girl. Something’s wrong, I can see it. I can’t read your mind, though. Not yet at least,” he ended his sentence with a wink, trying to prompt at least a giggle from your quivering lips.

Closing your eyes as you felt his thumb continue to glide across your cheekbone, “I just… I saw some things, online. Like, not nice things, and it just kind of bothered me, I guess. I don’t know. It’s not a big deal, don’t worry.”

George’s reaction time was too quick for your attempt to turn your body to face away from him, his arm instantly encircling you and trapping you from moving. What seemed like annoyance was present on his face, his lips pursued, his nose scrunched, and a slight red hue sliding down his cheeks.

“What kind of things did you see online? Comments again? Messages?”

He was annoyed, it was obvious now. His voice had taken on that tone he gets after every bad race, angry with a bit of slight frustration at the circumstances.

“Just comments about me again, on one of those wives and girlfriends Instagram and Twitter accounts. You know how it is… It’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t have even been scrolling down them, I know,” you couldn’t look him in the eye as you mumbled through your sentence, the quiver in your lip becoming more obvious as you continued through your words.

Something that sounded like a groan and a growl mixed came from George’s throat, his hand that was cupping your cheek forcing you to look up at him. The tears glistening in your eyes instantly made any reprimand he was about to give dissipate, his concern for you taking over.

“What kind of stuff, sweet girl?”

Shrugging again, your words came out soft and sad, “About how I’m not good enough for you, how it would make more sense if you were still with Nick’s sister. Stuff about how obvious it is the other girlfriends don’t like me, how I’m probably such a stressor for you and that’s why you haven’t been doing well lately.”

Your voice choked off at the end. Your hand reached down to scratch at your forearm, the subconscious coping mechanism to keep the tears at bay being prevented when George intercepted your hand with his unoccupied one, interlacing your fingers.

It was hard to decipher the emotion that was floating in the Brit’s eyes as they looked down into your own. He didn’t give you much time to examine them before he was pushing his head into the column of skin where your neck and shoulders met, his hand that was previously cupping your cheek moving so that it was gently playing with the accessible strands of your hair.

The light peppering of open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin of your neck had you sighing again, George’s body moving so that it moulded around your own. His head moved up so that it was pressed beside yours, his lips pressing gentle kisses across your cheeks and nose.

“I wish you wouldn’t read those things; I don’t like you submitting yourself to that kind of emotional torture. It’s not fair to you, and it’s surely not fair to me.”

You couldn’t stop the sad sound that bumbled out of your throat at his words, but before you could get an actual word out, he continued.

“It’s not fair that I can’t stop you from feeling like this, or from seeing the comments or getting the messages. I know you didn’t sign up for this, when we started dating, you didn’t ask to be treated the way you are by strangers and see things that are so unfathomably untrue about yourself.”

Humming at his words, all you did was nod your head sadly as you looked at him, “I guess, yeah. I did it to myself, I don’t even know how I ended up on one of those accounts again.”

“Let me prove that everything they’re saying is wrong.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement, that fell from his lips as he pulled back to look down at you. A fire was ignited in his eyes, his hand that was in your hair moving to caress lightly down your side.

“You don’t need to prove anything, Georgie. It’s okay, I’ll get over it.”

Shaking his head adamantly, his hand moved back up to cup your cheek as his eyes bore into your own, “Please let me prove that they’re wrong, that you’re the most perfect person for me, let me prove how I feel about you every single time I look at you; or think about you.”

His head moved down, his lips hovering over yours as soft breaths fell from your open mouth. All it took was a soft agreement from you before his lips descended, all the passion and love he could give pouring into the kiss. His tongue gently prodded at your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter as you opened your lips slightly, allowing for your tongues to battle against each other for dominance.

George nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth pulling it back slightly as his head moved up to look down at you, the hunger and adoration present in his eyes. You couldn’t help the small whimper that fell from your lips at the way he was looking at you.

The noise prompted him to push his head back into your neck, sucking, kissing, biting, licking, whatever he could do to prompt little noises out of you, he was doing. His hands, previously placed lovingly on different parts of your face were pressing into your hips, gliding up and down the skin under your shirt.

As his hands pushed up the shirt, the ministrations from his lips and mouth continued their path down, his teeth gently nipping at the skin of your bare stomach. The grin was evident on the lips that were currently pressed to skin above your ribs as his hands finally reached their destination.

He gently plucked and pinched the rosy bud of your nipple, his unoccupied hand pushing the hem of your shirt all the way up to your neck so his eyes could get a look at what was hidden below.

“You know, sometimes after a bad race I think about these pretty things. I think about how beautiful they look when you’re fresh out of the shower, glistening, so hard and perky, basically begging me to wrap my lips around one of them and suck.”

George emphasized his final word by doing exactly what he had said, wrapping his lips around the rosy bud of your nipple, his teeth lightly scrapping against the skin as a small moan erupted from your lips. His hand gently kneaded the other, plucking and pulling on it. You couldn’t contain the lower half of your body as you pushed up into his thigh that had found itself between your legs, an easy object to press your core into for a sense of relief.

He alternated between both, now very hard, nipples, always emphasizing that he couldn’t leave one for too long as it just wasn’t fair.

“I think about how they’re going to look in my face, as you bounce up and down my cock, making the most pretty of sounds. It makes me have to pull up the photos of you sometimes when I’m in my driver’s room, makes me wish you were there with me, so I could bend you over the couch and make you feel as good as you always make me feel.”

Another whimper fell from your lips at his words, the room spinning around you as you tried to process everything he was saying. You could feel the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, the heat of your body’s pressed against each other causing you to push at the sweater that was still covering his chest. He took the hint, pulling back to shove it and the shirts underneath off, as you did the same with your own top.

Your hands immediately went to his abdomen, running across the hard muscle that was present there. He was just so beautiful; how did you deserve someone as amazing as this?

It was like he could sense your thoughts, his hands reaching down to pull your own off his body, moving them so they were trapped above your head.

“None of that, sweet girl. This isn’t about me, this is about me proving how you are the one for me, how the only stress you could ever cause me is if I made you cum hard enough, or if I made you cum enough times.”

Your hands remained trapped by one of his larger ones, his lips moving back to gently kiss and suck at the now-fully exposed skin of your stomach. He was inching closer and closer to where your body was craving him most, the heat of your core obvious to him when his unoccupied hand moved down to rub your most sensitive part through the panties that still covered your core.

The small moans continued to fall from your lips, practically begging for him to do more, to pull your panties to the side and touch you exactly where you were craving him, where you needed him. Except, he refused. George continued to pepper kisses across your stomach, occasionally far enough down that his chin was touching the fabric of your panties, but never close enough to where you were practically begging for his mouth.

Finally, his hand pulled your panties to the side, his reaction to your soaking core a mystery as an individual finger gently glided through the wetness. Bucking your hips up towards his hand, begging for any release was useless, the hand that was previously trapping your own above your head had moved to hold your hips down, a small smirk prominent on his face.

“Sometimes, more often than not, I think about coming home to this pretty pussy. I think about how you’re going to taste on my tongue, the pretty sounds that are going to fall from your lips as I glide my tongue through all of this waiting here for me. I think about you sitting on my face, your hands gripping our headboard as you ride my tongue, moaning my name as you take your own pleasure for yourself. I think about the sounds it makes when I finger you at the same time, how you gush all over my fingers and tongue. It drives me wild, baby.”

He was driving you wild. George was not usually one for dirty talk, was not usually one to articulate what he was doing or wanted to do. This… this was new.

The finger that was previously gliding through the wetness of your core gently prodded at the entrance, his eyes meeting yours as he pushed the single digit inside of you. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling, your lips opening in a silent moan.

George didn’t give you time to process before he was ducking his head, press an open-mouthed kiss to your inner-right thigh, then your inner-left, then the smooth skin beside your entrance. His finger was joined by another, the digits pumping into you, hitting the spots inside you that always made you cry out for him.

His tongue finally pressed lightly against the hood of your clit, the tip dragging against the bundle of nerves as your hips attempted to push up closer to his face. You hadn’t even realized his hand was still holding your hips down, a small groan of frustration leaving your lips at the realization.

He continued to lightly drag the tip against the bundle of nerves as his fingers stimulated the spots inside of you that you could never reach with your own fingers, it was so much and so little all at once. George knew your body like it was his own, knew what would drive you insane, how much teasing you could take, how much pressure and stimulation you could and couldn’t take, he knew exactly what would have you begging for him.

“George… baby please, please I need more.”

The humming that erupted from his throat against your clit launched a load moan to fall from your lips, the stimulation almost too much as you cried out. You could practically feel the grin on his lips as he finally flattened his tongue against your core, lapping up the wetness that was falling from your entrance every time his fingers pressed into you.

The sounds, the feeling, the groans, and grunts that fell from George’s lips as he pressed his own pelvis into the bed, his hips trying to find a little reprieve for the tent you were sure was present in his trousers; it was all too much.

Your core was seizing up, your previously empty hands had found themselves gripping the locks of George’s hair, pushing, and pulling his head in whatever direction they thought he was needed in. The feeling in your stomach was starting to grow as George’s tongue continued to lap at your clit, occasionally exchanging his tongue for his fingers to gather up more of your juices before they pushed back inside of you, loud moans falling from your lips each time.

Barely getting the chance to warn him as your legs started to tremble, your hips attempting to arch up, trying to push yourself closer to his face, his tongue, whatever you could. The euphoric feeling washed over you as you cried out, the orgasm ripping through your body. Your mind wandered as George’s fingers and tongue slowed down, gently licking you through your first orgasm of the night. You finally had to push his head away, your body slick with sweat as you looked down at him hazily.

“Was that good, baby?”

Nodding your head at him, you internally moaned as you watched him push the fingers that were previously inside of you into his own mouth, licking the essence of your body from them as he moved back up your body. You could feel how hard he was, the tent in his pants pressed up against your core as he gently pressed his lips to yours.

“I think about the face you make when you cum, all the time. Especially on the planes when we’re flying back from a long week away, I think about how I can’t wait to watch your eyes roll back, to watch your hips push up and your body quiver. How you have to push me away because you get so sensitive, how your pretty body can’t handle everything I’m trying to do to it.”

Whimpering at his words, you gently bit at his bottom lip, your hand snaking down in-between the both of you to pop the button on his trousers. He took the initiative to shimmy his pants down his legs, letting them fall to the floor before he instantly ground his core into your own; simultaneous moans falling from both of your lips.

“Gonna let me fuck you now, pretty girl? Let me make love to you, show you how you’re the only one I wanna do this with? How you’re the only one for me, period?”

Nodding your head eagerly at his words, he pressed his lips against yours again, continuing to press his core into your own as he ground down again. The only thing covering the both of you was his briefs and your soaked panties, your nails scratched down his back as his cloth-covered cock pressed against a particularly sensitive spot.

The Brit rolled off you to tug his briefs down, pulling your panties down your legs immediately afterwards. A frown marked your lips as you waited for him to get back on the bed, a smirk from him the only response.

“I want you on top, sweet girl. I wanna see every part of this beautiful body as I fuck up into you,” flopping down on the bed, he grabbed at your hips, his strength easily rolling your body over.

Situating yourself on top of him, you gently began to grind yourself against his member, the juices from your core making him slide through your folds easily. You groaned as the tip of his cock pressed against your clit every time you moved your body, George’s hands falling to your hips as he helped your body move.

It didn’t take long before your entrance was sliding down on his cock, the stretch as blissful as always. Your nails scrapped down his chest, your body getting used to his size, your eyelids half closed as you looked down into his eyes.

The only thing you could see was pure adoration, and lust. A smirk notched itself on his cheeks, one hand moving to your back to pull your chest down, so it was touching his, his lips attaching to your own as he began to push his hips up into you.

You tried to meet every thrust, the feeling of his member sliding in and out of you as he pushed up into you causing you to moan into his mouth. He took advantage of your mouth being open, his tongue finding its way inside to press against yours.

A squeal dropped from your lips, pulling you away from the kiss when his large hand connected with the cheek of your ass, an inevitable handprint likely forming as he grinned up at you. He did it again, lightly rubbing against the spot he hit as he continued to fuck up into you.

You pressed your chest back against his, your lips finding their way to his neck as your bodies moved in sync. His hands were now gripping your hips as he used his lower-body strength to thrust up into you, the speed and roughness of it all prompting sounds of pleasure to fall from both of your lips.

With the angle, your clit was pressed directly against him, the stimulation of his hips moving causing you to cry out. You could feel the euphoria coming back, the feeling of him drilling his hips into yours, his member sliding in and out of your soaking core, the press of his pelvis against your clit, it was all becoming too much.

George’s hips started to stutter, a good indication that he was about to cum as well. He pressed up into you, hard, a loud groan falling from his lips as he pulsated inside of you, emptying himself in your core as you leaked out around his cock.

He was breathing heavy as his hips fell, one hand lightly running down your spine as you tried to catch your breath against his shoulder. You could barely process how you were feeling right now, the words he had spoken during it all coming back to you as you tried to wrap your head around everything he had said.

Pulling back to look down at him, he smiled up at you, his hand going to cup the side of your cheek prompting you to subconsciously lean into it. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Which part, darling?”

“All of it, all the things you said like… during all that.”

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, prompting you to roll your eyes at whatever remark was about to fall from your boyfriend’s lips.

“You mean all the things I said while I was trying to make you soak my face?”

Groaning at his words, you slapped his chest at the vulgarity of them, the feeling from before not clouding your judgement any longer.

“I meant everything I said, my love. You mean the world to me, I don’t care what strangers on social media have to say about you, or about who I should be dating or what ‘make’s sense’. You’re all I want, you and this cute tush,” patting your ass in conjunction with his words, you smiled softly at him.

A quick peck to his lips was your only response, the smile remaining on your face as you took in his words.

this was pretty much just me having no self control lol, i havent written smut in ages so i apologize if it's a little rough. i hope everyone enjoyed!!

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skull-fvcker · 5 months ago

Text

Morality

❥ Yandere! Arcane Viktor x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: cross-posted from my ao3. Old fanfiction from 2021, written way before season two. Thought I might as well post it here—the final episode broke me, by the way.

Summary: Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition. Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

Warnings: 7204 words, MDNI, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, viktor is delusional, yandere viktor by the way, dubious consent(he coerces you), unhealthy and one-sided relationship, gender-neutral pronouns used for reader, no usage of y/n, gentle sex, set in season 1

In all honesty, Viktor did not know how it started or when it got out of hand. It started as a simple fascination and he had treated it as such. Nothing was wrong with that, he was a man of science after all. It was in his nature to feel drawn to things that he did not quite understand. Many years have passed since that day. Before his strange obsession came into his life. Honestly, now that he was alone to think about it, had it ever come into his life at all? Or, by some force of nature, he had forced it into his own life? The ever-changing flow of time halted the very moment Viktor had initially realised that he had more than a problem on his hands.

Viktor thought of himself as a man with morals. He was not the best person, yes, there are plenty of others that shone brighter than he did, but he found his value in his work and ethics. That being said, nothing about him was right. His work had been clogged for year's now; the chaotic office space merely setting as a permanent indication that he had slipped too far this time. Above all else, he had guaranteed himself that his work came foremost, give or take a few instances in which it did not. This case was different, however. A disturbing accomplishment that, when asked initially, he wrote off his findings as evidence, or even lack thereof. Whether or not he was believed, was foreign to even him.

Directly adjacent to his cluttered working place—being neat had long passed his troubled brain, hadn't it?— lie his crutch, sat in such a way that it may fall at any minute. Viktor paid it no mind, at least not at first, but looking over his notes and the observations that he had written down, an idea popped up within what was left of a comprehensive state of mind. Of course, how could he have been so oblivious to forget such a thing, it was written clear as day in these scattered notes. His nimble, cold fingers grasped at the end of his crutch and he tugged it over and dug it into the floor while it enabled him to stand.

Viktor's book laid sloppily in his hand, page open in clear view. "Yes," he breathed, "I suppose this will do." He closed the withered book and shoved it between his left arm and clothed side. Periodically, an opportunity was difficult to come by. He had to do the best with what he had been given, though an itch in his brain told him that: why settle for fine, when you can go beyond?

The aforementioned person that he mentioned, the obsession - the two had never even met before, Hell, Viktor was certain it never even knew of his existence. It was ostensibly a normal upper city citizen with no strange qualities, nothing special about its behaviours nor its personality. It was normal. But it made him feel bizarre inside. He could effortlessly correlate it to that of an over-easy egg slowly cooking within a skillet until the yoke bursts for seemingly no reason and tarnishes the taste of the egg entirely. Just like that, it was ruining him. Granted, neither of them seemed to be eggs, but he believed the metaphor to fit rather well. Humanity always seemed to be so fickle, so easily swayed and broken. Just like an egg.

No matter the weakened disposition he had, nor the lingering scent of death he had become accustomed to, nothing prepared Viktor for the way his certain obsession made him feel. He was intelligent enough to not let these be known, oh, how he would hate the way that Jayce would assume the worst of his sentiments. Would he? Jayce had changed rather strikingly since the first day the two had met. Nevertheless, Viktor never seemed to be the man for love, much less protection of those around him.

Moreover, he was sure that with such dehumanising language and behaviour, nobody would hear his side of the matter. After all, calling the object of your affection an "it," and "thing," definitely does not look good for your compassion. Still, it gave him a reason to humanise his behaviour—if his obsession is not seen as equal, then what's the issue, exactly? To be blunt, it served no purpose other than to make him feel better since not a soul knew of this but him.

Sure, it did not occur to him that he would have strayed this far, but sometimes you have to do what you can to keep someone safe. He was in no state to protect someone on his own, he knew this far too well, he could never protect anyone with this sickly, frail body of his. That is why kidnapping was an absolute must. Reminiscing of the past did no good but to open up older wounds that set themselves up for failure, but the first day they had formally met was an exhilarating experience.

When they had seen him, there was a quizzical expression plastered on their face, and they even confused him for a council member of all things—never attentive, he presumed—but upon realising who he was, Viktor found himself met with immediate scepticism. Viktor could not fault them, it was something he knew all too well, though, maybe he should have saved his anguish for another day. The way their warmer hand held onto his own when he reached out to shake it. Their hand was soft, softer than his at least, and much less calloused. Smaller. Yet, their fingers did not hold the appearance of his own; on the contrary, they looked healthy. Healthier than him.

Of course, with someone who seemed to not have any imperfection, how was Viktor not supposed to fall for them, much less become intrigued with their very existence at that point? Humans were so fickle, he knew very well with how his body had grown to become sicker, but they seemed so robust, so self-sufficient. It was just like any other person, nothing too special but it stood out to him and that was what mattered.

It hurt him, really it did, to see them gawk at him with betrayal, to seem so frightened of someone who wasn't even strong, to begin with, but love came with sacrifice and even if he couldn't help everyone, then he would try to help them the best that he could.

Viktor revolted and fought against his rationality, he really did, he tried his absolute best to make sense of both his actions and what he had done. Within the months, he had thoroughly convinced himself that it was for the greater good, for the safety of his obsession; to keep them isolated from others. It was not the healthiest choice, he would acknowledge at the time, but now he may argue that it was the only thing he could have done upon meeting them formally. He just could not let them go.

Months had passed since that day, but it was fun to reminisce sometimes. Besides, it was even better that, when he had the time, they were someone in which he could spoil with every day. Yes, Viktor took things slow and always was sure to leave them be, yet give them company, but watching them stare at him with a look that he could hardly even decipher anymore, left him breathless. And he didn't even know why.

That very thing forced him into the very dilemma that he is in now. Standing in front of a locked door with a flawlessly crafted key lying in his tremoring hand. It was from excitement, he knew it was. It was like this was his own secret sanctuary where he hid his most precious desire and treasure, his perfect obsession that wept behind locked doors. It was the same every day, no matter how long he would stare.

The door opened with a slight rasp, the only other noise being a stifled sob and the sound of scuffing against the floor, then the buoyancy of bedsprings. His stiff body staggered against the sturdy cane, his hunched over body barely allowing the light to pool in around the walls of the door frame. Every day seemed no closer to his objective. He didn't even know how he had done this. Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition.

Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

"Good morning, dear. Have you slept well?" The sounds of chains screamed in his ears when he spoke. All these years and his lover still has not gotten used to their living state. "Ehh... I have already assured you. Good behaviour is rewarded, please understand that this is an absolute must to keep you safe." They were terrified. Of him. Isolation was a punishment and he could never help but feel dreadful about them being punished for things out of their control.

"When can I go home?" was the concern they always pleaded with whenever they saw him. Viktor tried to not let it get under his skin, really he did, but the knowledge that they did not want to be with him weighed heavy on his mind. He loved them, they had to recognize. Their eyes were so passive; it reminded him of when he had first seen the mutation, Rio, when he was a young boy. Curiosity, distress; panic. They just did not understand this yet.

Perhaps all the days that he merely sat there and stared at them with a desolate expression thoroughly destroyed the way they would perceive him, or how he would blatantly ignore their tantrums and screaming, tapping his fingers along the edge of his crutch like a patient father waiting for their child to calm down. Of course, Viktor never mistreated them. The most he did was further isolate them, which explained the absolutely pitiful state that they were in right now.

Reluctance to accept the changing future will result in the fear of what's to come. He understands it's different from what they were used to. But one must adapt to their surroundings and become accustomed. Viktor has already sacrificed so much for them; when was it their turn to return the favour? The ever-changing future is something he will never know for certain.

Viktor sighed, watching them press their body against the nook of the room where their bed had been so delicately placed. The bedsheets had been sent into a state of disrepair, and certain pillows seemed more shapely than the rest. From clutching them too tightly, he inferred. It was adorable.

"This is your home," It was no wonder that they attempted to squeeze themselves farther against the wall when he staggered closer. "I don't have any food this time, I'm afraid," he stood right at the side of their mattress, directly in front of trembling form, his eyes fixated on the plate that sat adjacent to the bed, at least a few days old now. "Though, I'm glad that you, ehm, were able to finish your last meal. Good job." A sigh escaped him after the carefully placed praise fell from his lips and, upon staring hastily at them, he recalled the fear blending within their wide eyes. "However," he found himself fumbling over his words, "I know that you've been a little, eh... downcast, as of late so I have decided that I am going to offer you something that I'm sure you would love," he paused, almost reluctant to reach forward and stroke the hair behind their ear. Hesitant to touch them lovingly.

This situation was a troublesome one, of course, it would be, but he was not a fool in the matter. He read up on numerous articles simply so he can keep things safe for them — falling for one's captor, he had thought about it, yet the turmoil often sets in when he realises that they hadn't developed such a thing just yet. Had he not been too kind? Perhaps, it was the chains around their body? Particular disorders of the mind were so hard to force into existence; was that such a terrible thing to wish for? They looked as if they served more as a pet than anything else, honestly. But that's love, this is just his love. Viktor was well aware that a plethora of things regarding both he and his health weren't precisely right, particularly in concerns to other people. Honestly, staring at them in such a miserable state made him feel almost remorseful.

They must feel so trapped, not to mention secluded, after all, he was never able to spend as much time with them as he would have preferred. He wondered, did they feel imprisoned in their own body, too? Probably not in the way that he did, but it was a suspicion that lingered in his mind. He set his hand on the side of their face unexpectedly, and they jolted back. Granted, he was certain that his hand was freezing. But, Hell, it appeared as if they had almost whimpered at his touch. Still, he had never done anything to harm them, he's only keeping them safe. The images of the mutation Rio sitting in a tank of fluids that he knew all too well now, the thought of it being kept alive despite its pleas not to. Such lengths are just an experiment to preserve life. He understood, now. Not in the way that he should have, but he did.

Maybe that was how they felt. Like a trapped animal, frightened and alone. But they have him, they may not want him, but he is there.

Viktor's knees buckled as they pressed against the edge of the mattress, gently hoisting one after the other to get closer to the horrified individual hiding from his affection, which was already something which he never exhibited frequently.

"I want you to understand," he ran his thumb along their cheek with feathery soft touches, "I know you still don't understand why I'm doing this, or why you're here but rest assured that it's all out of genuine love." When you're going to change the world, don't ask for permission. "Alone. You're lonely and you're scared. I know how you feel. But you're special," their eyes met Viktor's for but an instant and it sent shock waves down his spine. Don't ask permission. "You're special to me, and that is what truly matters at this moment." They were about to cry. Correction, they were sobbing. And it was all his fault. Emotional turmoil mixed with the trauma enforced within them made this happen - because of Viktor.

And despite it all, Viktor could not help but feel proud of his accomplishments.

"Please," their name rolled off of his tongue like a loose screw in his brain, though more akin to a prayer. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, please." Their disobedience irritated him and sent his nostrils flaring, but he didn't allow that to show outwardly. They were already so skittish, why would he threaten them further? "Mm, I will reiterate it as many times as you desire: good behaviour is rewarded. If... If you're good—for me—then, and only then, will I allow you to go outside." His words set off a fire in their brain, he could tell how their breathing unexpectedly halted and they went completely tight-lipped. Was that all it took for them to settle down? An effortlessly broken promise?

Right, they were at their wit's end, weren't they? Their emotions override their rationality. The sunlight would be good for their health, after all. Quite frankly, the thought was unsettling, Viktor didn't want them out of his sight, but if it would make them satisfied then he could make configurations for such a thing. Though, he would have to be cautious to not allow anyone to see them. What if they tried to... escape, in a sense? It was dangerous, he would have to think about it thoroughly.

"Do you mean it?" They said, suddenly. Their head was raised aloft and their wide eyes stared directly at him. "If I'm good... I'll be able to go outside? It's—" A sharp inhale. "It's been months," they were optimistic. Why was it so unbearable to see them so miserable?

For all but a juncture, Viktor felt himself at a loss for words. There was no telling whether or not he would be able to keep that promise, but he could try. They just need to learn to embrace change and adapt, maybe they will forget about it in due time. "I mean it," he said without thought, "you have my word." Did they, truly? You should not make promises that you are incapable of keeping, but just this once, the way their expression lit up and how the tears fell from their eyes, made Viktor feel as if he had done something right this entire time. Without a single word, his hand slowly lowered from their warm cheek, his gangly fingers running alongside the edges of the collar that adorned their flawless neck.

In pursuit of great, we failed to do good.

How would Viktor feel if someone had done this to him? It was a rhetorical question; nobody cared for him enough to go to such drastic lengths to proclaim their love. Therefore, this couldn't have been an unfair thing for him to do. "We must adapt to change," he spoke softly as his fingers danced around their trembling jaw. "You must adapt to change." His voice dropped an octave, gaze falling back onto their face. He had adapted to this change flawlessly fine, it was them that had to figure out how to. They were ultimate perfection in his eyes—there was just one, little issue...

"What are you doing?" Their voice quivered. Viktor's hand slipped down to their collarbones, pinching against the soft fleshy prison.

"Ahm, eh, I am... feeling you, merely. Nothing more," their breath hitched at his actions. "Unless you want me to do more?" An unexpected whimper came from them, in which he did not know if it was good or not, but knowing them, it emanated from apprehension. "I love you, you know that. I would never force you to do something. Think of it as a friendly suggestion," Viktor's blunt fingernails found themselves becoming caught on the neckline of their shirt. "So, will you let me?" There was a pause between them. Most importantly, the air seemed to grow still. Tension so thick that you could slice it in half with a knife.

They shifted but didn't give Viktor a clear yes or no. In all honesty, they seemed to be dismissing him altogether. He could feel their body heat begin to amplify, a telltale indication of both their embarrassment and if he dares say desire. A relatively foolish notion, he was well aware, however, that did not mean anything in his mind, not in the current time. The future could come later, and his life may pass him by. But the future does not exist, does it? Not until you make it so. If he didn't take satisfaction in the opportunity that he had right now, then it may never come up again.

Nevertheless, he took the chance and leaned forward, inch by inch until his face had pressed into what was seen within the crook of their neck. Their skin was soft, warm; pulsating. "I am obsessed with you," both of his hands set themselves upon their shoulders, thumbs clutching against the blade of their clavicles. "I am, truly. My devotion, my love, my obsession for you—that will be the only thing that will never change no matter the year to come. You may push me away all that you desire, but I will come back to you. I love you." His chapped lips pressed in between their jawline and neck, a chaste kiss that he allowed to linger on their skin. They didn't even bother pushing him away. They had the strength to, yet abstained.

We failed to do good.

"Understand my efforts," his voice was barely above a whisper, "you must have seen them. Make sense of my love for you." His grip on their shoulders tightened, but he knew it would never be enough to harm them. It wasn't as if he wanted to injure them in the first place, either. However, it was short-lived, and Viktor's hands fell from their shoulders to their bound wrists, and straight down to their tremoring hands. "I have always wanted to do more with you—to be what most would consider a "couple" yet you keep pushing me away." During his rambling, Viktor heard them mumble something under their breath. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said I'm sorry," they whispered. For the first time, it seemed that they were apologising to him so sincerely, maybe with actual suspicions that something may transpire if they were to not apologise. It was startling, but a chance to hear their voice was satisfactory for Viktor. There was a lingering breath that he could feel tickle the back of his neck, coupled together with their heaving chest. They were scared.

We have to make it right.

Viktor felt his heart hammer against his rib cage, a knot forming in his throat bitterly. This clammy feeling in his chest was unneeded. "Well," he spoke with a sharp exhale, "do you know what would make me forgive you?" As if he hadn't already forgiven them, to begin with. Upon feeling them nod slowly, Viktor pulled away from them and hurried his hands from their own, to their neck. His touches were faint, but loving. Held a certain edge to them, hinted at with a distinct emotion. "I'm very sure you're aware of what I'm getting at," his breathing picked up, just as theirs did, and for a few instants, it seemed that theirs was in sync with his own. To his surprise, they shifted and nodded in agreement, but did not vocalise it.

Anxiously, Viktor proceeded to slowly creep his body forward, even closer to them than he was before. He felt his heart thumping against his rib cage, the wind being knocked from his lungs as he shakily exhaled. Viktor was not the type of man for sex, he never had the time to do it; but when it came to his little obsession, why not indulge? Their consent was dubious at best, but at this point, any hint of acceptance was promising enough for him. He struggled to rationalise his thinking but instead was only met with a cluttered mess within his brain. Viktor couldn't concentrate on anything other than them at this moment. It was just the two of them, and that was all that truly carried weight to him.

His kisses against their skin were light, virtually non-existent, but the genuine love that he harboured for them persisted despite their shuddering breathing; despite their apprehension. Viktor's lips pressed against their tender jawline until he finally met the edges of their lips. His hands were twitching, cupping the sides of their face with his thumbs caressing the skin underneath their eyes. This would be their first kiss together. Would they reciprocate it? He sure hopes that they would in some way, they don't seem to have any reasoning as to why they wouldn't. He pulled back momentarily to stare at them, only to notice that they weren't looking at him at all. That would be okay.

"You're mine," he breathed as he pressed his lips against their own once again. Viktor felt as if his chapped, thin lips were being engulfed by theirs—though, theirs were equally as chapped as he were. He made a mental note to up their water intake. The kiss did not quite feel the way that he visualized it to feel—he thought it would have felt more romantic in a sense. Moreover, he would have believed that they wouldn't be chained to the wall in such an intimate instant. But, good behaviour is rewarded. This was temporary, they knew that, as did he. Just as the kiss was about to end, he felt them lean into it and press their lips into his own. That, above everything else, made him feel like the blessedest man in all of Piltover. Of Zaun, anywhere.

"I love you more than anything," confessed Viktor as he pulled away from their lips. "I'm glad that you're mine." And he meant it.

Their breath hitched just as it constantly did when he touched them. Maybe it was the fact that his hands were gradually examining their body, tilting across every crevice, from where their midsection concave whenever they'd instinctively suck it in out of humiliation, to the quiver of the skin around their navel when his fingers ran along the sensitive region. Viktor's hands were underneath their shirt, his wiry fingers eagerly squeezing the skin. They squeaked at first, his hands were frigid after all but eventually unwound though not peeking at him. Viktor wished that they would look at him like a person rather than an oddity.

The hem of their trousers huddled against their hips, hiding away the most intimate part of their body that only Viktor was allowed to see. For a moment, he looked into their eyes for the right to go ahead, but upon being avoided, Viktor merely yanked them down with enthusiasm pulsing through his veins. His thumbs pressed between their navel and hipbones, in an almost comforting gesture. But it wasn't as if they cared in the long run, however, he could hear their hitching breath. Through dirty-minded thoughts, Viktor's right hand loomed above their sex while his other clasped against their hipbone for support. He was actually doing this—something that he had just as much as dreamed of for years.

"Please," their whiny voice startled his thoughts. "Just... be gentle with me," they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight him at all. That's good. Viktor was sure he had neither the strength nor the energy to deal with it.

His thumb pressed against the sensitive nub below, threatening a gasp from them. "I'll never hurt you," he rubbed their hip in synchronisation with his sensual touches against their sex. "I promise, I will do what I can to make you feel pleasured." His breathing picked up as arousal trickled down his spine like that of the emotions that he loathed. "I want... to see the inside of you. All of you," he spoke aloud, a hint of longing in his tone which he had shoved back this entire time. He wanted them to comprehend his love to its full potential.

Viktor's face pressed against the crook of their neck once again, shifting his hips as he closed his eyes. They were making noises, now, their chained wrists clicking against the harsh metals as they lifted their hands to dig into his back. Secretly, he had hoped that they would call his name. He knew that they knew it. They've spoken it countless times before. Granted, it was always in a fit of rage or hysteria which followed, "I hate you," and, "You ruined my life." But they knew his name at the very least.

Moreover, they were unravelling at the seams. They liked this just as much as Viktor did. They loved him, they had to. Lust and love were on a thin line, so closely drawn together yet had such distinct differences. Could the same be said about obsession? Maybe so, but that did not mean much by this point.

"I love you," he breathed into their neck, his warm breath no doubt sending shivers down his spine or so he hoped. "You feel so soft, so pretty..." His fingers toyed with their sex, jerking in sporadic movements which caused their hips to buck against him, further spurring him on. "Do you like it when I touch you like this? Like I—" his breath hitched when their hands clenched the fabric of his vest, "Like I own you?" For once, they actually agreed with him.

"Y-yes," they let out a pitiful, rueful whine more akin to someone who was used to this sort of thing. But that was inane. They belonged to him. "It feels—It feels really good, I..." Their hips were rolling now, eagerly trying to accept his love rather than pushing it away like they always had been. They were accepting change. They were adapting. "Jus—just like that, please, Viktor—"

And at that moment, time seemed to halt.

They said his name, not out of pure spite or anger, not from him doing something they did not like, but in pleasure. The pleasure that he was inflicting on them. "You're doing such a good job, So good for me," it came out as more of a wheeze than praise, though there was a hint of worship hidden within it. "Are you going to come soon? I want you to come undone because of me. I love you," his lips returned their place at their neck, his crooked teeth nibbling onto their soft skin, further forcing out a reaction from them. Just from their responses and noises alone, Viktor felt as if he was going to come any second now instead, and he hadn't even touched himself. All he could feel was his dick beginning to strain against his dress pants.

It was getting so hot and stuffy, surely he should take off his vest and dress shirt soon. The things that they did to him were things that he didn't even expect. The love he harboured, the desire he held—they were his weak spot. This precious creature. Viktor felt his breathing pick up as he pulled his teeth away from their neck, their delicate skin caught between his incisors.

Once more, slowly, his fingers gently danced around their sex, forcing himself to concentrate and try to block out the absolutely lovely noises that they were emitting. The noises, be as they may, were provided to him involuntarily, he attempting to reject the wail of pleasure that came from them. The squelchy sound of their fluid pooling around his fingers met his ears, giving a sick taste of satisfaction. His left hand clenched their skin a little too tightly for even his standards, the wiry fingers of his right hand working against him, deliberately circulating apart and snapping concurrently, a shudder running down his spine at the howl they made along with the response their body offered. Devoiding much of a thought, Viktor pulled his left hand away from their hipbone, dragging the appendage straight to the front of his dress pants, fumbling with both the zipper and hem in an attempt to pull it away from his groin.

"Oh," he heaved as he pulled away, ignoring the whimper that came from his lover in front of him. They wanted this. They needed this. Needed him. "Would you mind if I tried..." The words died in his mouth as soon as they came out, his left hand hovering above his concealed groin. Surely, they would say yes? They seemed a bit dazed, though perhaps it was his fault for not allowing them the relief that they were so close to acquiring. "I want to... feel you. I may not last very long," he fished his dick out of his boxers, feeling his face heat up to the point where he was sure it was red. "Do you want to?"

They made eye contact with him this time. The humanity, the want, the greed and the fear shone in their eyes brightly, but nothing could cover the telltale signs of love and lust. Viktor already knew the answer, they didn't even have to answer him, he already knew what it was going to be by their reaction alone. This was the key to their heart.

Now, at first, Viktor would not lie when he said that it made him feel a bit shy, or nervous—the thought of them seeing such an intimate part of his body, one of which he knows can be heavily judged based on size, was nervewracking to him. But the lack of disgust in their eyes—or maybe it was hidden between a thick cloud of lust—made him believe otherwise. They liked what they saw, and hopefully, nothing would change the way that they saw him. Their approval is what he strives for. However, that does not exactly matter with how far things have gotten. How many times has he repeated that phrase in his head?

The silence was deafening, but it was enough for Viktor to shuffle forward and shift his weight onto his somewhat good leg, swallowing the rising lump in his throat as he used his free hand to pull down their trousers. After this, he would be sure to give things a thorough wash. "Can you come closer?" He asked as he pulled his hand away. Please come closer.

He hadn't expected them to listen to him, nor to actually push themselves off the wall just to get closer to him, but, at the same time, he was not complaining. "Good job," he praised, his hands returning to place on their hips. Their skin felt so warm, but Viktor could still feel the reluctance radiating off of their perfect form. Now, this was just a question of whether or not he should go through with It. If he should finish claiming them.

The rattling chains served as a constant reminder for them to not fall out of line, and Viktor was sure that they did not want to do such a thing, especially not so close to salvation at this point. Steadily, Viktor felt their thighs wrap around his hips, and though the pressure and their weight being shifted onto him were agonising, he tried to force his way through it. The way that he could feel the tip of his dick press against them—that was like pure ecstasy. He never thought the day would come when they would grind into his lap so sensually, and act as if they had never tormented him for years to come.

"God," there was a slight plea laced within his velvet tone, "I need to be inside of you. Please," as much as Viktor loved them, he could never trust them to be the one providing. Not with how their behaviour had exhibited... less than desirable traits. "Will you allow me? We could finally become one in a sense. I just want to feel your insides around me, I want to feel your body heat against me." Whether or not they found pleasure in Viktor's begging, they offered him a response anyway:

"Shut up," was what they said. "Go ahead."

And with that, Viktor found himself slowly pushing their body down into the mattress, further ruining the bedspread and sheets that weren't even properly fixed in the first place. They still seemed reluctant, as their tone even harboured a certain edge to it, but hell, Viktor could not fault them. He feels nervous, too, of course, he does. Pulling down their trousers fully to their calves, he felt a knot grow within his throat. The thought of someone else doing this to them caused bile and jealousy to rise within his empty stomach, curling and screaming in the back of his mind, yet he pushed it aside in favour of much kinder thoughts.

A part of him wished to be able to twist and manipulate this circumstance, but he knew he didn't want to do such a thing - Viktor wanted nothing more than for them to just become wholly his and only his until death would take hold of them both. And even then, that would not split them apart nor dwindle his love for them. "I'm going to..." There was a brief pause, embarrassment etched across his face, "Er, make love to you," he spoke aloud, though it was more as if he was convincing himself that he was going to, rather than informing them.

There was little to no resistance when Viktor pressed himself inside, but it was such a foreign feeling that he could not help but whimper at the sensation. They were warm on the inside, and not the mention that their body would occasionally clench around his dick. His golden eyes gaped at their face, eyeing the expressions that they would make, all the way until the hilt of his dick finally pressed against their pelvic area. This was embarrassing.

Shamelessly, Viktor pulled back his hips, only to snap them forward with a moan. He tried his best to keep quiet, however, with the way that they started breathing heavily with their knees pressed up against the sides of his thighs, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. They were perfect, they felt perfect - on the inside, the outside, no matter. He hunched his body over their own, using the strength in his arms—what was left of it, anyway—to keep himself up. Viktor had no clue how long he would last, nor how his body would allow him to continue. But with how it felt, he hoped it would be long enough.

"You—you're... You're big," they suddenly confessed, a slight whimper escaping with the moan that left them. Fuck, they sounded so adorable like that. "Don't... Stop, please—"

A shiver ran down Viktor's spine at the blatant praise that fell from their lips shamelessly, it seemed so heinous, almost as if they were trying to get him going. "Ah..." Keep talking. "You, ah—you think so?" He panted as his hips snapped forward once, then twice. Was he drooling? Shit, he was drooling. "You feel so good on the in—the inside. So warm, so inviting. I would never... want to stop," a particularly loud moan escaped him, which seemed to be a hybrid of both a moan and wheeze. His lover didn't seem to notice nor care, however.

Why would they ever want to leave when they have such luxury in their life? Here they were, underneath Viktor with their eyes clenched tightly, hands balled up in fists as strings of moans escaped their bitten lips. They looked gorgeous like that. It even made Viktor feel powerful to know that he was able to make them feel such a way. Nearly impossible, he thought, if they weren't tied up and reluctant to accept him, they might have tried something devious and that would have ruined every single thing that Viktor had planned. Still, they're accepting his love.

His rhythm wasn't exactly straight nor following any set beat. Viktor felt as if his movements were sloppy and skewed, choppy thrusts and shuddering muscles that he was surprised had lasted this long. He could feel himself growing close, but he couldn't allow himself to unless they had, first. They mattered more than anything else.

"D... Darling," he nearly cried out, "I love you so much—" One of their hands threw itself behind Viktor's head, tangling their fingers within his messy locks of dark hair, gently tugging him forward. A shock ran down his spine at the gesture.

"I know," they breathed, "I know you do." Were they feeding into his delusion and leaving him to feel as if they felt the same, or did they genuinely love him at this moment? The way their eyes slowly peeked open was complete bliss for him, the irises that stared directly into his own with blown-out pupils—love.

He felt his sloppy movements speeding up, all while his body became sore from the extended movements, and all while this happened he felt the drool collect on the edge of his lips, dripping down his chin to their shirt, wetting the wrinkled fabrics. It didn't matter how ruined it would get, Viktor made a mental note to give them an even better shirt. Nevertheless, a knot coiled itself within his gut, curling around his navel and shooting a cramp up his spine in an almost pleasurable manner.

His bottom lip caught itself in between his incisors, muffling a forthcoming moan. "Are you—" a choked moan. "Are you clos—close? Please—" There was borderline whimpering in tone and he could not help but feel embarrassed for it, but the trembling person below made him feel a little better about his childish worries. They nodded without speaking, staring at him through thick eyelashes. They were gorgeous.

Viktor smiled, and it met his eyes. "So am I."

It was blissful, for him, at least—everything seemed perfect and in order as Viktor's right hand clasped around the side of their waist, squeezing the soft, malleable flesh: pliant. His breathing picked up, as did theirs, but he was determined to stretch this out for as long as he allowed himself to. As he closed his eyes tightly, Viktor felt his thumb dig into the dip between their stomach and hip bone, causing a red indentation on the soft skin. Through his pleasure, he could hear the loud sound of their moans below, as well as the sound of skin slapping against the skin; the squelch of genetic fluids mixed. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed together at the sound, his head falling against their chest, forehead pressed directly above their heart. Their clavicle, he presumed. They felt so good, he didn't want to stop, but he was so close.

"Viktor—" they cried out, suddenly, "I'm g—going—" there was a loud, rueful cry, followed by a high-pitched whimper. He could feel them clench around his dick, and then they had come. This sent him over the edge. Viktor lifted his head weakly and pressed his lips against their own, his saliva smearing all over their mouth and cheeks. He moaned into their mouth, pressing his hips forward one more time as his hand clenched their skin, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. He emptied inside of them, the muscles in his thighs twitching and convulsing, his dick soon going limp thereafter.

For a moment, Viktor caught his breath, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Tears pricked his vision when he opened his eyes, and the slobber dripped from his lips. His legs felt as if they were stuck in mud, but how did they feel? As he lifted himself, Viktor stared down at the person below him, completely covered in the afterglow. I came inside, that was an accident, he thought, but they looked so cute like that.

Much like before, Viktor felt a knot form in the middle of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing with each calculated swallow and breath.

Viktor felt breathless, but he felt as if that was to be expected. He stared down below at the barely visible person he had claimed just a few moments prior; his vision betraying him. He rests his forehead against theirs, a promise of devotion. "What can I do to make you love me?"

"Let me go," they whispered in a soft croon.

"You know I cannot afford to do that. You're mine."

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere viktor #yandere arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #yandere viktor x reader

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jmstoesblog · 9 months ago

Text

Fallin’ into the trap

Pairing: mafia!Stalker!JK x fem!reader

Summary: You unknowingly walk right into your stalkers trap. (I’m so bad with summaries 😭)

released: 18.08.24

Warnings: manipulation, mention of the word ��rape” and “rape toy”, oc nearly gets raped. Not proofread!!

Word count: 1,9k+ (1,969)

Note: I tried making him manipulative, but i didn’t so good so excuse me. I’m aware there are many mistakes and grammatical mistakes, I’ll proofread later!

Masterlist

————

It is late at night when you suddenly feel very hungry. You grumble as you get up from your bed and walk towards the kitchen, you open the cabinets to find nothing.

You sigh and open the fridge.

Nothing.

You look at the wall in your living room, where the clock is hanging. 2 am. You quickly grab your keys, phone and your wallet.

There is a store that is open 24/7. It’s just a 5 minute walk from your apartment. Usually you go with your car, but it broke down a few days ago and is being repaired at the car repair shop (?).

You pull the hood of your hoodie over your head and start walking towards the store. Once you arrive, you open the door, the bell chimes indicating someone entered the store. You pull the hood down and walk to the aisle which you know too well. You grab a few packs of ramen and something to drink and head to the checkout to pay.

You pay and put the food in a white plastic bag. “Thank you. Good bye.”

You shudder when you feel the cold wind, putting your hood over your head and checking the time—2:10 am—you start to walk.

When you pass the dark alley you don’t think anything of it, but scream when somebody pulls you into the alley. The person quickly covers your mouth to prevent you from screaming.

Your back bumps into the front of the person and you can immediately tell it’s a man. The man tries to lift you up but you keep trashing around and screaming against his hand, but they get muffled.

The man kicks the back of your knees, causing you to fall. You yelp in pain as the hard ground scrapes against your knees.

The man clasps his hand over your mouth again and drags you further into the alley. It is very dark but you can still make out the face of the man.

He harshly pins you against the wall. And that’s when your heart stops beating for a second.

Oh no

There are multiple man….

There’s not only one but fucking three man.

And god knows what they wanna do with you.

Are they’re gonna murder me? Rape me?

No this cannot happen. The other two man are leaning against the wall, opposite of you. And only one man is standing in front of you.

You take one second to look at the man, he doesn’t have anything in his hands, nor do the other two. In his pockets also seems to be nothing in.

Weird.

“Fuck!” The man cries out, crouching down, clutching his dick, “get her! She cannot escape!” He yells as you take off, the other two man immediately run behind you.

You’re breathing heavily, running to gods know where. You’re mine is clogged with so many alarms going off.

“Shit!” They’re close you, but not too close.

You get your phone out, almost dropping it in the process due to your trembling hands.

You go to the contacts and without hesitation call him.

“Baby! What a sup—“

“Jungkook! Save me!”

——————

It had been spring 2020 when he first saw you.

You were looking so beautiful. A simple top with baggy jeans, minimal makeup on your face. Oh and that smile of yours. A true natural beauty.

He felt a weird emotion while looking at you

He didn’t know what it was. All he knew is. He wanted you.

That’s when the stalking and following you around started. He’d follow you around everywhere you went. Everywhere.

He knows everything about you. Absolutely everything.

——————

You suddenly hung up.

Jungkook chuckles, “oh, baby.” He mumbles, “if you only knew….”

He stands up, grabs his phone and makes a call to his man, “Make sure you don’t hurt her. Just scare her a little, yeah?” He instantly hangs up, not waiting for a response.

Jungkook makes his way outside, towards his car. Starting the engine, he starts to hum along to your favorite song.

_________

You breathing starts to pick up on its normal pace. You clutch your hoodie with your hands and breath in and out.

You’re hiding behind a trash can in an (?) other alley.

You didn’t expect to be a victim of sexual harassment after him.

Him as in Jeon Jungkook. The most powerful mafia.

As days go by he grows more obsessed with you. And your hatred towards him also grows each day. How can you be with someone that kills people for a living?

You noticed a man wearing all black was everywhere where you were. You’re not stupid, you knew he was stalking you.

One day you confront him, but to your luck it wasn’t Jungkook. It was just a man working under him. Jungkook instructed him to follow you everywhere. And update him of each and every thing you do.

He even installed some cameras in your home, but you didn’t know that. You didn’t need to know.

The train of thoughts in your head are cut off when you notice someone breathing on your neck from behind you.

Before you can think about your next action, you get grabbed from behind and blindfolded, harshly you’re thrown against the hard wall.

“NO! STOP IT!” your hands are pinned above your head, something hard pressing against your thigh, “Leave me!” You scream, but it is all falling on deaf ears.

“Shut up!” The man slaps you, tears start rolling down your eyes. All of these rapists start laughing, mocking you. The pull the hoodie over your head. Luckily you’re wearing a bra.

Before the man can undo your bra, you hear a loud thud.

The hand on your back is gone. Another thud and a groan. The hand holding your wrists is gone. Another thud.

Suddenly, the blindfold is taken off and you gasp at the sight in front of you.

Jungkook the scariest, most powerful mafia (and also your stalker) standing in front of you. His eyes are holding so much love and concern for you. Taking a look behind him you notice the man on the floor, blood oozing out of their noses and mouths.

You flinch when you feel him wiping away your previous tears. In need of comfort and reassurance, you hug him.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head, “I’m here now.” His grip tightens.

“T-thank you, Jungkook.” You stutter out. Tomorrow you will definitely slap yourself for stuttering and hugging him like that. But you are in need of comfort right now, and if he is the only source where you can get it. Then so be it.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Without thinking much about his words, you nod.

—————

After yesterday, he did more than just comfort you. He made you food and after you refused to eat it because you weren’t in the mood, he fed you. He run you a nice, warm bath. He laid out clothes for you to wear (his clothes🤭) he massaged you and let you cry out in his embrace.

You appreciate it all but now it’s time to go.

You quietly walk down the stairs but get confused when you see Jungkook’s bodyguards Setting down boxes with different writings on them , in the living room.

Different writings as in… clothes, jewelry, hygiene and so on..

You shrug it off and walk towards Jungkook, who is sitting on the couch. He is engrossed in his laptop, but once he feels your presence, he immediately closes it, putting his attention on you.

“Morning baby. How did you sleep?” He sweetly asks, his eyes sparkling.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “Jungkook I appreciate everything you did for me, but…. I need to go home…”

“Why?” He sighs out and you’re taken aback by his response, “what do you mean why? I have a life, I have a home, I have a job. I can’t stay here forever. I really appreciate everything you did for me, for saving me, for making me food and all that, but like I said, I can’t stay here.”

You narrow your gaze at him when he doesn’t answer, “wrong.” He stands up, “you almost got gang raped. It is dangerous for you out there, baby.” He pulls you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You can live with me. I will take care of you, you will never have to work again, everything you want will be provided by me.”

“What if….. something like that will happen again? What will you do? You can’t even defend yourself, y/n. You don’t even know the basics. You need me, baby.” His nose touches your nose, his lips hovering above yours, “and I need you.” He kisses you, passionately.

He suddenly picks you up, “wait! What ar—“ you gasp, Jungkook shakes his head and places his finger on your lips, silencing you, “shh, just relax. I’m not going to do anything, just wanna show you something.” He softly pecks your lips.

He sets you down, gently holding your hand he nods. He takes you upstairs to his bedroom. Once he opens the door the first thing you notice is a few boxes laying on the floor.

They were in the living room……. no?

“Look,” he points his finger in the direction of the walk- in closet, “here are your clothes.” He turns around, “and there is the bathroom.” He gently says while pointing at a door, “there is also everything you need such as a towel, a bathrobe, a toothbrush and for your menstrual cycle, pads”

“You have everything you need here, including me.” He looks at you, “you won’t even have to lift a finger to get what you want.” He pulls you closer, “No, I don’t want that.” You honestly tell him while trying to take a step back.

Jungkook keeps holding you close, not letting you move a single muscle, “no?” He repeats, “you don’t want that? You don’t wanna live with me?” He tilts his head, clicking his tongue.

He is mad.

There’s pin drop silence. You’re pretty sure everyone left already, even the maids. It’s just you and him. Alone. In this mansion.

You gasp when he suddenly throws you over his shoulder and (gently) throws you on the bed. He hovers over you and tightly grips your wrist, pinning them above your head, manhandling you like he wants.

“Wh—“ you shut up when he glared at you, “be quiet, don’t say a single thing, got it?” He firmly says

A few tears escape your eyes. You’re so scared. Scared of him.

“You know what disgusting men here are, especially in this part of the city. If I let you go, they’re going to haunt you down and gang rape you, they might even kill you. Do you want that? How are you going to defend yourself, baby? They will not sit still until they have you, so let me take care of you and protect you. They won’t even look at you. Once the country knows you’re my girl they won’t look nor touch you.”

“You won’t have be scared anymore after every night you have to walk home alone at night.” He inches his face closer to yours.

He softly kisses you lips, “unless you want that?” He gets off you, “if you wanna be a rape toy for them, then it’s okay.” He sets your wrist free and pulls you up.

“Go on, go. If you’re so desperate.”

You look back at him with glossy eyes, “n-no.”

“I wanna stay safe. Wanna stay with you.” You hug him and he smirks when he hears those particular words from your mouth.

He engulfs you in his embrace.

“Good girl.”

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Do NOT copy or translate

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yandere-sins · 7 months ago

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Monstober - Day 8: Merfolk [Elemental Sacrifices Part 3/4]

Work's been draining me of my strength, but I will not abandon my beloved challenge! Especially not on my beloved Mermaids ♥

Also, I am dedicating to that one person who loved the Mermay polls so much and didn't care about the yandere because they got to be a mermaid. I still remember you, and I thought about you while writing this!

Prompt: Merfolk | Water // Singing // Alluring Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Dub-Con, Throat-fucking with a tentacle, Swallowing copious amounts of an "essence"), Long Post, Tentacles, Mermaids, Monster + Description

"Very beautiful. I am very pleased."

Nodding, you forced a smile on your face, looking up at the behemoth of a god before you. Waves crashed against the little platform that served as a stage for the sacrifices to perform on, a couple hundred feet from the mainland. The water seemed angry, lashing out at you, soaking your beautifully beaded gown as it swept over the edge of the stone and tried to wash you off.

But there was nowhere to fall, you were surrounded.

Writhing tentacles sloshed around and wrung out of the depths of the ocean, their movements so unpredictable, it had complicated your performance. Sometimes, they came so close to you that it made your voice shake, the sounds completely clogged in your throat as they brushed against you once, but they were mainly wrapped around the altar in endlessly sprawling amounts.

The only reassurance you got from the growths around you was that your family wouldn't have to see your eventual demise. You knew they were there, at the shore, waiting with the other people of your tribe to witness whether their god would be pleased by the sacrifice they had offered or not. You tried not to think about the tears your mother had willed away, the softest of hugs from your father before he let you board the boat that would take you away from them.

Sacrificing their loved one seemed much too cruel, while this god didn't.

Sure, if his size was any indication, he was frightening. A creature to be revered or be swallowed whole by. The scars littering his body indicated that he was a warrior, and seeing them made you realize there must be creatures beyond your knowledge that could put scars on such a being. He wouldn't go down easily, so your people worshipped him instead.

But on the other hand, he had leaned onto the platform and closed his eyes throughout your song, really taking in your singing like no one had before. His sharp teeth were scary, but his smile reached his eyes, and even though his hands had sharp claws, he didn't rush you to start singing when you were frozen up at first, gently encouraging you to present your song when you were ready.

If you were going by human standards, he didn't seem like a bad person.

The side of his clawed finger pressed against your cheek, smushing it softly, capturing your attention again as your mind had drifted off. That's just how comfortably he felt, yet you were alarmed by your own recklessness. He smiled down at you, but it almost seemed sad.

"I envy you so," the merman said, eyes dulling as he gripped his throat. "One of your people's ships managed to damage my own vocal cords, so I can't sing anymore. I listen to the sounds of the ocean every day, but it doesn't compare to the beautiful songs of your kind."

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, and you felt terrible as the creature told you about his woes. "I wish to listen to them always," he sighed, staring longingly back at the shore; some people gathered there, gasping and shrieking in horror at the sudden attention they had gained from their god.

"The ones of you humans, and these creatures that fly in the sky, singing all day long as they please. But I cannot follow them, can't leave my waters to seek them out."

"You... you mean birds?" you asked, the conversation feeling a little one-sided with only him speaking. His eyes lit up as you mentioned them and he gave you a quick nod before lowering down again, resting his head on his hands.

"Sometimes they fly over the ocean, and I get to watch them, but they do not compare to you either. Your voice makes my hearts flutter, it tingles over my skin. It reminds me of how beautiful it is to live in this world that cannot return what has been taken from me. It would be a pity to take you, too."

A few beats of your comparably small heart, the god of water simply watched you, smile fading as he thought. His tentacles wrapped over the platform, slowly coming to a halt as they clenched it in their hold.

"Tell me, little bird, do you wish your sacrifice to be eternal? Don't you wish to stay with me instead and sing to your little heart's content? I didn't offer this chance to the ones before you, for I was still so distraught over the pain your kind has caused. I did not want to take them with me, but I do for you. You have changed me, and I'll have you by my side instead of making you a sacrifice if this is what you desire, too."

Your breath hitched as you took in the deal you were being offered. One that would not seal your fate and end in the death of yet another poor soul. All you wanted to do for as long as you could remember was to sing and make people happy, you didn't realize you were tying the noose around your neck tighter with every performance until your sacrifice was announced.

"But..." you mumbled, staring at the gap filled with water between his body and the stone. You had a secret that you had never shared before, and although staying alive sounded so much more favorable, you knew it was just that: too good to be true.

"But I'm only human. I can't live where you live, and my life is shorter than yours, so I won't be able to stay with you forever, even if I were to find a way to be with you. And besides, the ocean... it scares me. I fear it almost as much as death, as it seems to want to swallow me every time I look at it."

His face scrunched up as you explained your plight, unhappiness being written across as you refused his generosity. Still, it quickly turned into a blank look you couldn't read. "It's no problem," the merman explained, the corners of his lips curling back into a grin.

One of his tentacles rose high in the air, and as it lowered itself, you realized it was clutching something between its tip and the rest of the growth. You held up your hands as it came to a halt in front of you, expecting something, and it dropped a surprisingly small vial with a glowing substance into your waiting palms.

"My mother gave me this in case I find something worth keeping. To make it like me and take it for myself. You'll only need to drink this and then some of my essence, and you'll be able to live with me beyond the surface."

"Oh..." you mumbled, still feeling hesitant as you watched the glowing, light blue fluid slosh around inside the glass vial as if it had a life on its own. The god your people had submitted to seemed to be on a level of preparedness you didn't expect. That, frankly, didn't seem like a coincidence. But you found yourself overthinking as you were overcome with fear and dread.

"You don't want to? Do you want to die, my little bird?" the merman asked, staring down at you with the expectant eyes of someone who knew he won. Because whether you choose to be eaten or to become what he wanted from you, both options were in his favor, even if he preferred one over the other. Your eyes fell to the ever-so-angry water spraying everywhere as it collided with the stone. You remembered being caught in it, sinking deeper and deeper, swallowed whole by the darkness and endless wetness, unable to escape the hungry maw of the ocean when you were a child. You had been lucky then, somehow managing to wake up again at the shore, but you couldn't count on your luck to strike again.

"I will protect you from the darkness you fear, I promise. I will cradle you in my body so nothing can get to you."

He laid his palm at your back, supporting you as you wobbled, weak in the knees after remembering your childhood trauma. Before you knew it, you were swept off your feet, either by the dizziness you felt or the hand at your back. Either way, you found yourself sitting in his palm, being lifted off the altar, the slightest sound reaching your ears as the people gasped.

Surely, everyone was thinking you were about to be eaten, causing their trembling voices to cry out, and you felt something break inside of you, thinking about your poor parents. Hastily, you uncorked the vial, not overthinking what exactly you were swallowing as you placed the glass against your lips, the fluids slipping right in. It barely had any taste, but it was almost like you had swallowed some kind of slimy porridge, causing you to gag.

The merman's grin widened as you felt your body heat up just seconds after consuming the sludge, a shudder going through you as the world seemed so much colder all of a sudden. "There, there, what a good human you were," he murmured, patting your head with one of his giant fingers. "Drink this now, my lovely songbird, we can't have you dry out like one of the poor fishies."

Heat threatened to overwhelm you as you clutched your stomach. Everything was cramping while your legs prickled as if thousands of needles were trying to push out of your skin. Breathing was hard, focusing was harder, so when something wet and eager pushed against your lips, you didn't have the strength to resist.

Your throat immediately accepted the salty fluids rushing in, gulping them up as if it was the first drink you had ever received in your whole life. Your hands latched onto the squirmy supplier of the only substance that was able to calm whatever was going on inside your body. It explored your mouth, pressing left and right into your cheeks as if to make space for more of its length and slipping down your throat until it was satisfied.

Tears brimmed your eyes as more and more of the wet was spewed down your throat, hoping it wouldn't accidentally suffocate you. The fluids swelled your stomach, but you couldn't stop drinking more of the antidote. The salty turned into sweet the more your tongue lapped it up, and as it was the last lifeline you had to save you from the side effects of the vial, you were eager for more.

Whatever it was you were drinking, it gave back your senses to you, allowing the shudder that went through the merman to not go unnoticed. Followed right after with a soft sigh, you finally blinked out of the haze, realizing that it was a tentacle you were clutching onto, one latched deeply in your throat.

Panic rose, and your gaze wandered over to the lovestruck face of god feeding you his essence as if stuck in a weird ritual. His hand clasped over his mouth, and you watched as he bit down on his knuckle with his razor-sharp teeth, staring at you as if he had never seen something quite so fantastic. It felt wrong to be an object of devotion when he was the one that should have been worshipped.

"I'm sorry, did I go overboard?" he moaned. "You took that so well, I couldn't stop thinking about how... No, here, let me get it out, my little bird. I can't have your vocal chords be destroyed like mine."

Only as the tentacle slowly pulled from your throat did you realize how deep it had crept, every inch more painful than the other, as if it had wanted to leave your human body caved out. That was the feeling you got as you doubled over, the tentacle popping from your lips, coughs and gags that had to cover a lot of space following.

You couldn't hold all of his essence inside, and to your absolute horror, it was a pitch-black muck that dripped from your lips, smearing all over your body, dripping down your chin, and landing on your legs.

Your legs?

Even though it caused you to cough even more violently, you shrieked at the sight of your gone legs, replaced by blue scales the color of the merman's eyes and a long, heavy tail. When you slapped it out of sheer disbelief, you felt the pain in both your palm and that tail that seemed so out of place. You couldn't associate with it at all! But trying to move around only caused you to fall over in the creature's palm as the tail was too heavy, your body completely unsuited to heave its weight.

"What... What did you do?!" you gasped in horror as you watched scales protrude from your arms as well. You didn't need to see them to feel their presence all over your torso, and your throat hurt even more as you tried to scratch the discomfort there, noticing the large indents on each side of your neck.

"I made you mine," he chuckled blissfully, not at all worried or concerned with your change. "And now I will do as I promised and take you to my cave, where you will live with me and sing me your beautiful songs, little bird."

His body moved, rising even higher out of the water, and although his hand was steady, you were shaken, clinging to the ridges in his palm. "I'm not ready!" you yelled out, a rush of nausea overcoming you as you thought about the wet together with your inability to move well. Surely, you'd drown if he were to put you in the water!

"It'll be fine," he reassured you.

"You are so small, nothing will notice you where we are going. There are much bigger creatures lurking in these depths, but you. You will be safe as long as you stick with me. I can protect you from them, as have I with your little humanfolk. Although it is not your humanfolk anymore, you are seaborn now."

Pinching his fingers around your waist, you were lifted from his palm, your god smiling brightly at you. You tried to wiggle, his hold almost crushing, although he tried to be gentle. Beneath you was the dooming, hungry sea, waiting to swallow you again, and below your waist was a body you couldn't control.

You looked into his eyes, the blue reflecting that of the ocean, relentless, greedy, and full of unbending confidence that he was doing what was right. Maybe being eaten would have been more merciful, you thought, not knowing what awaited you beneath the surface. His body fell back, and you two sank into the water, his voice a solemn declaration against the splashing of water around you.

"Now, you have all eternity to sing your songs and be mine."

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