#i did way too much this term and it almost killed me. but i feel so weak and lazy for not being able to do it all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeonstudios · 2 months

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dextrocardia | 14

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/?

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away.

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until…

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower.

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think.

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily.

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face.

“Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work.

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.”

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours.

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body.

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you.

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest.

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly.

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you.

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere.

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.”

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub.

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside.

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand.

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps.

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him.

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own.

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return.

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?”

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you.

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive.

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm.

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.”

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of.

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face.

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles.

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to.

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

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venus-haze · 4 months

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Damned If You Do (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You're almost certain Bo's getting tired of you. You're not so sure how much longer you can prevent the inevitable, but a slip of the tongue in a moment of desperation proves to be your salvation.

Note: Female reader but no other descriptors are used. I missed writing for Bo! I might be kinda rusty, but I hope y’all like it🖤 Please read the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Canon typical violence. Prolonged captivity and isolation. Stockholm syndrome (some basement wife elements). Mentions of past torture. Extremely dubious consent. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal fingering, sadism, degradation, choking, knife play.

You were sure Ambrose was gonna kill you if he didn’t first. The damp, dead air permeated the basement walls, filtered in thick through the vent in the ceiling and filled your lungs with each breath. It would choke you once summer settled in, foul and unforgiving. Almost as unforgiving as him, whose presence inspired fear and loathing in you. Lately, however, the lack of it brought a foreboding sense of dread over you as your isolated mind raced to its logical conclusion.

Bo was getting tired of you.

One cursory glance at the state of your body made you panic—bruises fading, cuts and cigarette burns scarring over without fresh marks to replace them. For the first week or so you were there, every part of your body pulsed with pain. He found your limits with the efficacy of a bloodhound and brutally forced you past each one.

All you felt then was dull aching, kinda hungry, too. Didn’t bode well for your long-term survival.

You shifted on the old, lumpy mattress on the floor, stained with blood, sweat, and cum that reeked with the breakdown of others’ bodily fluids. Probably the girls in the Polaroids all over the walls. He’d taken a few of you since you’d been down there. Hadn’t done that recently, either. Mostly came down there to feed you, take you upstairs to use the gas station bathroom, bring you back downstairs to throw you around a little and fuck you, and then leave. Shit. You were becoming a chore.

Bo had plenty of chores around Ambrose already. Would grumble about them to you, the closest he ever got to pillowtalk. The movie theater, the church, even the houses were his responsibility. You weren’t quite sure why, less able to clearly picture the town you’d driven into the longer you spent as Bo’s captive. There weren’t any immediate red flags that popped out at you. After all, you’d driven straight to the gas station on your blown out tire. Didn’t take the time to do any sight-seeing. He made sure of that. From what you’d gathered from Bo, the only living souls in town were he and Vincent, with the recent and temporary addition of yourself.

The floor creaked above you, and you pulled your knees to your chest, anticipating his arrival downstairs. It was almost impossible to tell what mood he’d be in whenever he’d pay you a visit. Tried listening for the sound of his footsteps, the way his boots pounded against the linoleum above to the cement stairs to where you waited for him, as if you could do much else. There was the TV, but the glimpse into the outside world left you feeling especially helpless when your own face flashed across the screen on the 6 o’clock news not long after you became captive in Ambrose. Then after a week or so, all mention of you stopped. Seven days for you to be rotated out of the news cycle. They’d gotten tired of you long before Bo did.

You screwed your eyes shut, as he ambled down the stairs, racking your brain for what to do. Opened them just as quickly to give him your undivided attention, just how he liked. Panicked and hopeless, you blurted out upon seeing his face, “You’re gonna kill me soon, aren’t you?”

He set the bottle of soda he’d undoubtedly brought down for you and smiled. Charming, disarming, like the one he first gave you when you naively drove into town on the roadkill guy’s advice—Lester. His name was Lester. Could he have known? Was he in on the whole thing? You hadn’t seen anyone but Bo for weeks, and he only made mention of Vincent, his brother, who you were certain had no interest in rescuing you from your plight.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

‘Tire blew out,’ you had told Bo, feeling silly and self-conscious when he laughed. ‘I can see that.’ Threw a wink your way and assured you he’d have you back on the road before it got dark. You trusted him because he was handsome and laid on the compliments thick. Made you think maybe driving over that broken bottle in the road wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Within an hour he had you in that fucking basement.

“You—you’re bored of me,” you said. “You don’t come down here as often as you used to.”

“Aw, you miss me? Is that it?” he mocked.

Maybe. Maybe it was the security of knowing you were wanted, that the longer you kept his interest, the longer you’d be alive. Maybe even earn his trust enough to get a chance to escape back into the world that’d forgotten about you. But Bo wouldn’t forget. He’d keep you immortalized on those cinder block walls with all the others. Disgustingly sentimental. Part of you preferred being part of his shrine to his own depravity than a black and white photo people carelessly flipped past in the local paper.

“How are you gonna do it? Tell me,” you begged.

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at you as a grin spread across his face. “Well, I like to get that shit over with quick, but you might be worth slowing things down for.”

“Like—like how?”

As soon as he made his way toward you, regret filled your gut. You crawled backward on your hands, trying to put some distance between you until your back hit the wall. His hands were around your neck, his hungry eyes drinking in your distress.

“If you were most girls, I would just keep squeezing until you stop breathing,” he said, squeezing harder. “Pretty clean.” Black spots filled your vision as you fruitlessly tried clawing at his hands. “Makes it easier for Vincent to get to work on you that way.” He released your throat, and you fought through the coughing fit that burned in your chest as you gasped for air. Tears streamed down your face, and you wanted to smack the smug expression off of his.

“But that ain’t always fun,” he said.

Bo stood up and kicked your legs apart with his boots. Grabbed something from the nearby tool cart. The fucking knife. You swore he kept the blade dull on purpose just so it’d hurt more, leave nastier scars behind in its wake whenever he dug it into your skin, dragging it through your flesh with horrifying precision that only came from experience, because you never needed stitches.

“For you, I think I’d be a little more personal.”

He straddled you, sitting on your legs so you couldn’t possibly move them in an attempt to escape or defend yourself. You could feel his hard-on straining against his jeans, pressing into your bare pussy as he leaned over you, knife shining menacingly in the buzzing fluorescent light overhead. He made rags of your clothes not long after you became his and never offered any replacement.

The blade pressed against the middle of your chest, right between your breasts, making you shudder. He licked his lips. “I could shove this knife on in there, open you up all the way down to your cunt.” His fingers brushed your clit. “‘Beauty’s only skin deep’, that’s what my mama used to say. But sluts like you all look the same on the inside. Crack open your ribcage, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you from all the rest.”

You whimpered as he dragged the blade down your abdomen with a deceptive gentleness, his fingers still working your clit, making it hard for you not to jerk your hips, risking a slip of the knife directly into your belly.

When he lifted the knife, you couldn’t even let yourself feel relief as your eyes followed it to one of your wrists.

“Could take it nice and slow. Let you bleed out,” he pressed it against your skin, dangerously close to a vein. “It’d take hours for you to die, then. Messy as hell, too, but we could get up to some fun, you and me. A good fuck for ol’ times’ sake, then I can sit back with some popcorn while I watch the lights go out in those pretty eyes of yours.”

You let out a shaky breath, fear and arousal mixing with your lingering lack of oxygen so you could only half-grasp what exactly he was saying, just that he had a knife to your wrist, and he was enough of a homicidal monster to kill you that way. He slid his fingers inside you, and you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you, your head heavy and fuzzy as he kept going.

“But if we’re talking easy and personal, then I’d just—” He brought the blade up to your throat until you could feel your rapid pulse beating against it.

Bo curled his fingers, pleasure tearing through you as you jolted in place, feeling the cool metal superficially pierce your skin.

Your voice came out as a strangled sob. “Please, Bo. Please don’t—”

He kissed you, an undertone of fondness in the gesture that filled you with relief and terror. “You won’t have to worry about any of that for a long while,” he said, his voice low, reverberating through your aching bones. “I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

#bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #bo sinclair #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #slasher fanfic #slasher community #slasher fucker #house of wax 2005

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slttygeto · 1 year

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SOMETHING I’M MADE FOR

what was i made for? | think i forgot, how to be happy

જ⁀➴ synopsis: you owe suguru a lot. a heartfelt apology is one of them.

જ⁀➴ c.w: hurt/comfort, fem bodied! reader, very unrealistic timelines, i have never taken a 'break' while in a relationship so pls dont come for me, reader is mentioned to being depressed at one point, suguru is going through it, second chance sort of.

જ⁀➴ word count; 1,4k

જ⁀➴ note: idk how to feel abt this tbh

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

There was no need for you to feel this nervous, but given the amount of times you’ve wiped your hand on the fabric of your skirt that would sound a bit ridiculous. You were nervous, and rightfully so. You stand in front of the same door that you used to have the keys to, a very familiar red wooden door with the number of the apartment written in gold sitting at the very top, you raise your hand and your knuckles collider with the wood one, two and then three times before you’re taking two steps behind out of respect and privacy for your… well, you didn’t know what to refer to Suguru in this case.

You try not to overthink it, you came here with good intentions. Over the four weeks with almost contact with the man except for the occasional text messages here and there, you’ve come to realize a couple of things. First, you needed to apologize to him. Four weeks isn’t enough for you to heal completely from the damage caused from feeling so low in a long term relationship, but it was enough time to reflect on how you behaved that night with him. Some of his words might’ve hurt you, but you later on figured that it was because he was right, as bad as it sounds.

And second, you were ready to let go of him if staying with you was draining him. You knew that Suguru would never tell you something like that—he might’ve been blunt with strangers, but the man had such a soft spot and a sweet side with his loved ones. God knows how much he loves you, and how many times he said it. But you were too busy thinking that your problems were burdening him and thus, you didn’t deserve the man.

You hear shuffling from behind the door and when it swings open with and you’re greeted with a Suguru in a lazy attire, you feel your heart get stuck in your throat. You hadn’t told him you were going to show up, but you had texted Satoru earlier the same week to make sure that he was at home. To say that Satoru wanted to kill you was an understatement, the white haired male was very protective of his best friend no matter how dearly you meant to him.

Hey, is suguru gonna be home this week?

Satoru

yeah. he hasn’t been outside in a while. why?

Your heart drops when you read that. Suguru wasn’t the type to stay holed up in his place for too long.

um I thought id give him a visit

Satoru

yeah sure

he’ll appreciate that

You could feel the ice cold stare of his best friend through those messages. Maybe it was a little childish from his part, but after hearing that Suguru was acting unusual, you figured that maybe this time you would gladly take the heat.

You hoped that the person standing in front of you wasn’t any different from the person you abruptly left four weeks ago after a horrible fight, but one quick look at the messy hair and the sleep deprivation visible on his face was enough to make your chest burn with guilt. You’re unsure of what to say for a good few seconds, eyes darting behind him only to find the vacuum in the middle of the middle room and groceries on the counter. It seemed like he was trying to get life back together, did you really decide to pop at the wrong moment?

“Do you need something?” the way he breaks the silence is almost bone chilling and you find yourself smiling nervously at him before holding up bags of food to show him that you got him his favorite. But he doesn’t budge, emotionless eyes darting all over your face in what you assumed to be an attempt at making you feel small. And boy, it was working.

You feel stupid and drop the bags of food in front of him before taking a few steps back.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” Suguru knows what you want to talk about.

“About u-“

“About us?” He cuts you off before you can even finish and raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to stop thinking about me for a while?” he continues. “It’s only been a month.”

“A month is more than enough,” you try to reason. “We were together for three years, of course-“

“Should’ve told yourself that when you left me.” Suguru retorts venomously and you start getting the clear picture. While being away from him made you realize how toxic you were behaving towards him, you being out of his life brought out his worst side. You knew this Suguru—he was spiteful, filled with hatred and didn’t hesitate to cut anyone with his words.

“Suguru,” you try again. “Let me come in.” You see him bite back another snarky response and he complies, letting you walk inside.

Once the bags of food are inside and you see him close the door, you hesitate on where to sit. The kitchen seemed to bring back bad memories, so you choose the couch that you both picked when you first moved in here and you watch as he sits on the other side, a little grunt leaving his lips as he leans back and stares at you.

“Seems like you’ve been doing well,” he points out. “I forgot what happy you looked like.”

You squirm a little under his intense gaze, the way his eyes travel from your bare legs up to your upper half then your face. You were used to Suguru’s loving stare, he always looked at you like you meant the entire world to him—but right now? You felt like he could eat you up and spit you out with his eyes.

“I’ve been, um…” You pause and place one leg on top of the other. “Reflecting on how I behaved in our relationship.” You admit and look around the place. He still managed to keep it neat.

“It was wrong of me to explode on you that night, and to keep so many things from you—it doesn’t undo the fact that I said what I said, but I just want to apologize.” Suguru’s eyes seem to soften for a split second when you shift again in your seat.

“For what?” he asks flatly but the way his body relaxes on the couch indicates that he means no harm. “For possibly being depressed when you were with me?”

“No,” you avoid looking at him. “It wasn’t because I was with you it’s because-“

“That’s not what you said that night,” he cuts you off. “I am so perfect and my life is so perfect that being with someone like me made you feel too guilty to tell me about your problems.” He continues before leaning forward, placing both of his elbows on his knees. “My face…apparently, that was also a reason for you not to tell me about your problems.”

“I was wrong,” you start growing a little nervous. “You weren’t the problem, and I’m here to tell you that I am deeply sorry for what happened that night, even if it was needed.”

Suguru is quiet for a few moments, he is in deep thought before he decides to speak up again.

“You know, a month isn’t enough to fall out of love with a person you pictured your future with,” he starts. “But it sure is enough time for you to resent them a little. You’re hurt and confused, everything was going well, or so you thought,”

“Suguru…”

“I thought that maybe I didn’t want to think about you too, that I was doing so much better without you but-“ the dry chuckle makes your heart squeeze. “As you can see, it’s clearly not the case.”

“We don’t have to get back together right now,” your voice is soft and the way you’re trying to make yourself look small on his couch tugs at Suguru’s heart strings.

“I don’t think it’s that easy either,” he admits. “After all, I still do resent you a little.” His honesty is both relieving and hurtful. A part of you knows that it’s a long and difficult process, but if there was any person actually worth fighting for in your life, it was Suguru. “But…” you raise your head when you hear him speak up.

“I think we could try.”

And through tearful eyes and shared hopeful smiles, you are finally able to breathe again.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #geto x y/n #getou suguru x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #geto angst #geto fluff

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heliads · 5 months

Note

Can you do Peter Pan x reader OUAT? Peter goes to the modern world with Emma, Snow, David and them as they are looking for someone. He meets this girl and takes an interest to her. He’s never seen someone with facial piercings, and dyed hair before, they come to realize she is the girl they’ve been looking for.

'magic finds magic' - peter pan

masterlist

Peter Pan is leaving Neverland. Worse, he’s leaving Neverland alongside Snow, Emma, David, and Hook. In terms of traveling partners, this has got to be the lowest of the low. However, the sand in Peter’s immortal hourglass is running out, and his first attempt at prolonging his life with the heart of Henry Mills didn’t exactly go according to plan. It’s this or nothing, even though Peter is starting to wonder if it would be better to just die than put up with these people any longer.

Never in his life did Peter Pan think he’d be working with the good guys. But never in his life did Peter think he’d be dying, either. A few compromises will have to be made in the name of preserving Peter’s everlasting life, and if that means he has to put up with some princesses and pirates for a few days, so be it. In no time at all, his immortal life will be restored, and he can go back to Neverland and put all of this behind him. Hopefully.

Peter was supposed to die back on Neverland. He was running out of time, anyway. He had set up the perfect scheme: kidnap Henry, disorient the boy’s rescuers on his island long enough to win the Heart of the Truest Believer, and cut the organ out of the boy’s chest if necessary. He’d almost gotten away with it, too, except he was foiled at the last minute. Heartbreaking. So unlike him.

For some reason, though, he hadn’t been left to die in the caverns of Skull Rock. Emma and the others had needed him, for some odd reason, and although none of them trust him in the slightest, they do trust Peter’s single-minded selfishness to keep himself alive. So they claim, at least, and so they had gotten a spell to give Peter one more week of life in exchange for help. If this plan works out, Peter will have a way to continue his immortal life without needing to murder Henry. If it doesn’t, or if he betrays them, he’ll die anyway.

He can feel it now, the pang of his close call with death. There’s a pain in his chest that wasn’t there before, a certain weakness in his lungs. Peter gets tired more easily. He feels– well, he feels like Henry and Emma. He feels mortal. Like he could die at any moment.

Peter has, obviously, thought about double-crossing them, maybe even triple-crossing them, but it’s no use. He feels shakily mortal right now, and Peter does not much enjoy the possibility of his own demise. This is the closest he’s ever come to being beaten, and Peter hates the feeling. He’ll have to play along for now, but after that, he will have his revenge.

First, though, Peter has to do what the others want. They’ve been careful to reveal as few details to him as possible, but the idea is solid. There’s a magical person somewhere in the modern world, in a city far from Storybrooke. This person is like the embodiment of a true love’s kiss spell, designed to renew hope in storybook characters through small acts of power that ultimately drive two needed people together. They’re like a guardian angel of those on the brink of destruction, which is exactly what Peter needs right now.

Peter has plenty of time to mull this over. They’ve forced him into a terrible, small room with awful carpets– an apartment, Emma called it– while they talk out what to do with both him and their missing spell-person. Peter is trying to focus, but he’s getting stared at by Henry Mills again, which is absolutely ruining his mood.

“What do you want?” Peter asks, glaring at the boy.

Henry just goggles back at him. “Don’t you feel bad for trying to kill me?”

Peter snorts. “Why would I do that?”

Henry shrugs. “You pretended you were my friend. I know you like the other Lost Boys on your island, I thought you would have felt bad for killing one of them. I guess not.”

“I don’t feel bad about killing someone so I would live,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s arguing with a child. “Go preach your morals to someone who wants to listen.”

“The others are busy,” Henry pouts.

Peter eyes him unhappily. “And what, I’m your best option for polite conversation? You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “I’d say you’re desperate. You’re the one who’s still talking to me.”

Peter can’t really argue with that, so he deftly changes the topic of conversation before Henry starts looking proud of himself again. “Tell me about our target again. You said you saw them before?”

“Only in a dream,” Henry admits, “but it was a clear dream, I swear. I saw a girl who looked about your age. She seemed like any other teenager, but there was something about her that was different. The way she spoke, maybe, or the glint in her eyes. She was magical, I’m sure of it. She can save Storybrooke.”

“And save me,” Peter reminds him. “That’s the important part.”

Henry rolls his eyes again. If he keeps that up, they’re going to get stuck like that forever. “Yes, I know, you’re only interested in keeping yourself alive. So long as it helps us find this girl, though, I don’t care.”

Peter leans forward. “What’s your plan for finding this girl, then? A little scouting party? This city is big. You’ll never find her.”

Henry shakes his head. “Magic has a way of finding magic. Somehow, our paths will cross.”

“That’s a terrible strategy,” Peter grouses. Why is he entrusting his life to this boy again? He remembers something about having no other options, but it doesn’t seem as good an excuse right now.

“Ask the adults, then,” Henry tells him, and gestures towards the miniscule apartment kitchen, where Emma, Snow, Hook, and David are currently huddled around a table, talking in hushed voices about what to do.

Not wanting to mess with the kid anymore, Peter pulls himself to his feet and heads over. “Tell me you have a plan,” he says.

The adults look up at him. “Find the girl,” Hook says shortly. “That’s our plan.”

Peter scoffs. “You could search this city for months and not find her. What if she doesn’t want to be found? If this girl has any brains at all, she’ll know that people will want her magic and she’ll hide. It’s what I would do.”

Emma sighs. “We don’t even know if this girl knows that she has magic. She’s probably just living an ordinary life, and we’re about to drag her out of it with all of our trouble.”

“Don’t tell me you feel bad for her,” Peter scolds her. “You want this, don’t you? So go get it, or I will.”

Snow tries to tell him to calm down, but David, so quick to anger when it comes to Peter, surges out of his chair. “How about you do something helpful and think with us instead of just insulting us?”

“I will do something helpful,” Peter informs him. “I’ll find her first.”

With that, he lunges for the apartment door, and is out of the tiny room and down the hall before they can stop him. Peter hears the thunder of footsteps after him, but he hurries down the stairs and out of the building. He has the advantage of being quick on his feet; if Neverland taught him anything, it’s how to run when you don’t want to be found.

Peter emerges into the bright sunshine of the city and stops dead in his tracks. He’s not used to the modern world, how the knives of its buildings slash up into the sky, how loud it is with those cars and signs and people. Peter swears he can even see metal things in the sky, soaring along predestined paths. It’s all so much compared to the world he used to know. No wonder some of the others had a hard time adjusting. His mortal heart lets out a pang of sympathy.

The door of the apartment building flies open, revealing Emma and the others hot on his trail. Peter curses under his breath and takes off in one direction, hurtling around pedestrians and shooting down the sidewalk. He heads for smaller streets, hoping to lose them in a swarm of alleyways. The others, more used to the terrain of the modern city, are gaining on him, and Peter is just starting to think that he’ll never be able to shake them when someone grabs him and pulls him into a nearby building.

Peter’s first instinct is to defend himself, but when he isn’t attacked, he realizes that the stranger is only trying to help him. There’s a window just to his left, and Peter watches Emma and the others appear seconds after him. They didn’t see him enter the shop, and keep sprinting down the road in the direction they thought he’d gone. Peter waits a few more intense moments, then decides that he’s lost them for good and turns back around to see who’s gone to the trouble of rescuing him.

He’s greeted with the sight of a girl about his age. She’s eyeing him cautiously, although the corners of her lips begin to prick up with a wicked grin. “Sorry for the rough introduction, but you looked like you needed some help,” she tells him.

Peter lets out a short laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of them, that’s for sure.”

The girl arches a brow. “What, did they catch you shoplifting? I’ve never seen people run that fast unless they were getting chased by the cops.”

Peter narrows his eyes, trying to figure out how on earth he would lift a shop, then decides it’s probably some slang term he doesn’t know. “Something like that,” he says evasively.

He studies the girl’s face to see if he’d answered correctly, and, judging by her impressed grin, he had. “Nice,” she says. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Peter,” he replies. He gets the urge to introduce himself as he usually would– Peter, Peter Pan– then remembers at the last second that Emma had warned him about telling people who he was. Apparently, telling people he was a fictional character in their world wouldn’t go over too well.

“Peter,” the girl repeats. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Peter says, and realizes belatedly that he means it. He feels like how he had at the start of it all, when the Lost Boys had first started appearing on this island, but this feeling is far stronger. He wants to get to know this girl. He certainly doesn’t want her to leave.

“I’m new to the city,” he says abruptly. “Any chance you could show me around?”

Y/N laughs, surprised. “You’re new and you’re already in trouble? You’ll fit right in, Peter.”

He grins, in on the joke a half beat late. “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

“Well,” Y/N says, starting to lead him back towards the door of the shop, “I like fun, too. Maybe we should stick together.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says, then wonders why he’s being so honest all of a sudden. When he sees Y/N’s smile– real this time, not sarcastic or joking, but genuinely because of him– he thinks he knows why.

The two of them step back out into the light. “Where to first?” Peter asks.

“I was going to ask you that,” Y/N replies. “What do you want to do? Sightseeing, maybe? We can get some food, or just talk.”

“Anything,” he says. He’d follow her anywhere. The feeling in him right now is like nothing he’s ever felt before. The pain in his chest, Peter realizes with some surprise, is gone. He feels immortal. Like living in this one moment could last forever.

They end up spending the next few hours together. Y/N shows him around the city, taking Peter to her favorite spots. Peter stares at the vast cityscape and finally starts to understand why someone might choose the modern world over the natural one. He’ll always pick Neverland first, of course, but seeing the world through Y/N’s eyes, it makes sense.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. Y/N’s got this rebellious streak to her that fits in perfectly with Peter’s, well, Peter-ness. No joke is too dark, no sarcastic comment too caustic. They feel the same. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who thinks so much like him.

As the sun starts to set in the sky, Peter feels his spirits sinking. He doesn’t want to let go of this day, not when he knows it can never happen again. He’s supposed to be finding Henry’s spell-girl, but all Peter wants to do is spend more time with Y/N.

His mood is especially ruined when they turn a corner and find Henry Mills walking towards them. Peter’s eyes widen and he tries to steer Y/N back in the direction they’d come, but it’s too late. Henry lets out an audible gasp and starts hurrying towards them.

“Peter,” Henry calls out when he’s close enough to talk, “We’ve been looking for you all over! Where have you been?”

Y/N glances at Henry dubiously. “Who’s this?”

“My little brother,” Peter blurts out.

At the same time, Henry chimes in, “My friend from school.”

Peter shoots the younger boy a quick glare, then turns back to Y/N. “Both, actually. He’s my step-brother. Recent marriage. We’re still getting acclimated. Our family is a little chaotic.”

“You can say that again,” Henry mumbles. Peter fights the urge to butcher him.

While Peter silently advises himself on why murder would be bad at a time like this, Henry stares openly at Y/N. All of a sudden, the boy’s mouth hangs open. “Oh my gosh, it’s you.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, Peter feels a sick sensation in his stomach. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

“You’re the girl from my dream,” Henry announces. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Y/N looks back at Peter. “What’s he talking about?”

The open, carefree expression, which had been on her face all day, is starting to be replaced with deep, unsettled fear. Peter hates to see it directed at him. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he begins. “Something about yourself.”

“You’re sounding a little creepy right now,” Y/N warns him. “Get to the point.”

“Alright,” Peter says. “You’re magical. So am I. We need your help to break a curse and save my life. How about that?”

Y/N shakes her head quickly. “This is crazy. Magic isn’t real.”

Peter can’t lose her, not like this, so he leans forward and holds out his hand. A ball of light appears inside his cupped fingers, glowing and bright. It’s a simple charm, one of the first he learned, but it has the desired effect.

Y/N stares at it, transfixed, and when she speaks again, her voice is hushed. “That’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Peter says. “Not magic. Not even the fact that you would find me in this city by accident. Magic is drawn to magic.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly raise to meet his. “This is real, then. I have magic.”

“You have magic,” Peter confirms. “Come with us, we can show you. They’re good people, Y/N. You can trust them.”

It’s the closest he’s ever come to honesty. For once, Peter isn’t playing a game. He isn’t trying to trick Y/N over to his side. He just wants her to be safe, and he knows that isn’t through lies.

Y/N smiles at him. “I trust you, Peter. That’s enough for me.”

She reaches over and takes his hand. Now that he’s focusing on it, Peter can feel the slow loop of her magic when they touch. It feels like power, but more than that, it feels like life. A life with her, maybe. A life for both of them.

ouat tag list: @loveanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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gangplanksorenji · 8 months

Text

Kinknuary Day 16: Edging

Pairing: IVE Rei x Male Reader

Word Count: 6,110

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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

“You know how much I despise you, right?”

“You don’t even need to tell it—I fucking hate you too.”

Supposedly, you’ll take an ounce of energy to like her and maybe, it’ll be an audacious move by you to the point that you can probably regret or possible—in the best way of sugarcoating—you’ll get to even appreciate, nonetheless.

But this wasn’t the case, for the both of you. So-called acquaintances that act like they’re cats and dogs in a relationship but they weren’t even in a single one to start with is the best fit of a description when it comes for you and her, Naoi Rei. Well, of course, your relationship with her or in a better term, friendship with her is quite bewildering and an interesting one.

The both of you acting like cats and dogs against each other and then being delighted seeing one’s faces is one of the few ways to describe your friendship, and it was exactly unorthodox in nature—friends acting like enemies and then suddenly acting like nothing happened? Well, that’s a thing to know and grasp but it wasn’t always like this and today, it hits way differently because you can almost feel her emanating aura threatening you but you’re unfazed as you’re not scared of a girl like her.

Yet, with all of these being said, what’s the context? Where did it all start?

Well, it’s something more like, petulant and dumb, knowing how Rei’s words can hurt like daggers on how straightforward she is and you, being short-tempered, causing a negative reaction.

---

“Can you please stop using that?” Rei pouts and feigns anger right after, as she’s visibly annoyed with the pop-it game that you’re playing which, in your case, you totally ignored her as you continue investing your fast reflexes to advance towards a harder level. Having enough of the ebullient sounds emitted by the possibly-called console you’re playing, Rei grabs it as she hides it from her back and obviously, a perplexed face paints you as you try and grab the game back to you.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Can’t you see? It’s so goddamn annoying!” Rei grits her teeth, rage boiling within her as she can’t bear to hear the annoying sound of the game, making you ock an eyebrow on her, confused about her antics.

“If it’s annoying, then you can probably shove those headphones on your ears, no? Besides, it’s not even that loud so give it back!” You try to get the console but are deemed unsuccessful as Rei’s skills on dodging your advances and being a step ahead than you are evident, and that’s even making you frustrated because of her petulant behavior.

“I don’t care and stop being so childish!”

If she wants to play a game, then you’ll be the one to lead the way and be the first challenger.

Having enough of her own ways of killing your own fun, you’d gladly kill hers first as you attacked onto her vulnerable position, tightly pinning her wrists onto the wall as it catches her off-guard and with your proactive actions, she almost let go of the console as you look at her eyes with venom. With your intimidating eye contact with just inches away from her own face, she won’t give up a fight as she snarls to voice out for you to let her go as she glared at you like she has murderous intent planned.

“I don’t know why the fuck are you like this lately, but I know for a fact that you’re letting go of that and you’ll do it now.”

Of course, Rei is going to be as stubborn as she wanted to be just to provoke your anger even further and to annoy you, making it a living hell. “Fuck no—and let go of me or I’ll break this shit!”

She would dare to do that but she has limits, yet she won’t bear to do that just because of these childish acts. Rolling your eyes in frustration, you take matters into your own hands as you swiftly let go of your left hand on hers and deftly grab the console, making her whine as your possession has now been out within her reach.

“Hey! Fuck you!”

You scoff and cocked an eyebrow on her, blasting off your hubris as she emanates that resting bitch face of hers again. “Better luck next time, I guess.”

She whimpers because of your win, and she's not having that. With your victory, you tease and mock her with it as not surprisingly, she clicks her tongue and rushes into her room, completely enraged. You don’t know what’s up with her as you’d probably not want to find out now but suddenly, a surge of regret coursed within you, feeling a little bad that she acted that way but you showed no sympathy since she started this childish act.

Yet, you won’t let this mysterious case remain unsolved, and you’ll decipher and crack the code later when things probably will calm down even though the chances will be slim to none.

“Gosh—what’s up with this girl? Unbelievable…”

---

“Why h-her and not m-me?”

Rei sits on the floor vexed, hugs her legs as she weeps onto the long-sleeves of her top as she feels utter defeat after a specific event happened that she saw and heard with her very own eyes and ears and breaks her heart completely, and here she is, utterly sulky and maybe in the path of being despondent.

If it wasn’t for her courage to just confess and let other things be set aside to fully commit, then this wouldn’t have been more painful and she’s now regretting it, the scar getting worse and worse over time.

Maybe she’ll find a way to mend herself and find herself out of desolation.

---

You sit onto the couch, browsing the Internet as the blue pixels onto your phone just emits the endless scope of like six topics that almost tiring to see and with that, you turned it off and laid down onto it, finding yourself into a trance of tranquil and relaxation yet a spark ignites something, making you enlightened and act up immediately.

Now rushing onto Rei’s door, you notice that it’s locked as you hitch a breath because of it, yet hope is not lost as you knock on the door, hoping she would answer even though you expect that it wouldn’t always be the case. “Rei, can we please talk? Come on, whatever you’re going through, we can talk it out so please—let’s talk.”

Utter silence ensues and you already expected this, yet you didn’t let your hope die as you knock another time, pleading for her to talk things with you, knowing you can help in whatever she’s maybe going through. “Rei-ah, please, can we talk? I know you’re there so please, give me a chance. Okay, I’m sorry about earlier, okay—so we just talk about this, please?”

Another plea falls deaf to her ears and with the defeat, you sigh heavily and thudded onto the door, sitting down and waiting for her to respond yet no faint sound can even be heard on her room—there can be two reasons behind this complete absence of sound: it’s either she’s sleeping peacefully on her room or either ignoring you for god knows what reason could it be and it you’re really hoping it’s the latter since she’s been acting like this around you for days.

“Okay, whatever you want Rei! If this is what you want, then so be it.”

You rose from your position as you’re just hoping that time will do its job, killing off the vexed mood that she’s been emanating towards you days ago.

Of course, you won’t spend hours just for her own childish actions, more so wait for her answers like you owe something yet there’s one thing that you’ll achieve and that’s mending what has been broken with an unknown context when it all unveiled.

---

You’re much more of an impatient guy, defining annoyance whenever something’s not being fulfilled in a small amount of time and that’s your downside. Well, now, would be an exception and as Rei's being much of a nuisance and a stubborn individual really doesn’t get you into the mood.

“Rei—come on! Can we please just talk this ou—”

Surprisingly, after waiting for hours she suddenly opened the door, making you thud onto the ground as you stood up immediately, inches away from facing her you’re wholeheartedly intimated with the bitchy demeanor she’s emanating.

“What do you want?” Rei’s tone is evidently annoyed with you being a nuisance, as her face doesn’t seem to be even interested towards you.

“Can we just talk about whatever’s going on, please?”

“Another line—I’ve heard that for like, a hundred times already.”

Of course, this is Rei but she’s just being a bugbear that’s nigh-unbearable to deal with—if it were the others, they couldn’t left her or something worse, but you’re heart is still bearing to deal with her even though she can literally be the goddess of vex sometimes.

“Hah—o-okay, so, can I come in?”

Rei just gave you a stone-cold stare, before uttering without any emotions, “No.” Then, the door slammed shut, almost hitting you in the face as the lock clicked again, knowing you’re defeated again. You shake your head in frustration and hitch a breath because of how it took so much patience just to deal with her petulant bullshit.

Of course, you won’t give up so easily even though she made your endure a burden down your back—

“I got you some udon, your favorite!”

Silence permeates the air and you patiently wait for the predator to get baited. You have a few tricks up your sleeve that will ensure Rei will come out of her own cage as she bites onto the bait, and you, smiling as everything’s going right to the plan.

Rei quickly unlocked the doorknob and opened the door, asking you. “Where’s the udon?”

Of course, you know she’ll fall for the oldest trick in the book and it’s not even close to doubting it. Her quick movements passing you wasn’t even a surprise as she showed full-interest of one of her favorite meals and completely ignoring you like you didn’t exist. Even with her stern face that shoots daggers within your soul on how cold it is, it’s inevitable to see the delight curving her lips into a faint smile because of your “gift” for her—you wouldn’t buy her anything like this, in all honesty; it’s just the fact that she’s sulking so bad that you need to play the wildest tricks on her game in order to win it.

You pointed down at the table in the dining room and she rushed there immediately, not questioning you anymore as it’s sure a waste of her time and wouldn’t bear to leave her meal cold.

“Got you what you wanted there, since I knew you’re starving trying to ignore me. Beef udon. Spicy. Garlic—”

“Will you ever shut up? I’m trying to eat here!” Her tone wasn’t exactly exuding anger, but by all means, it’s intimidating and thrilling to hear, it almost feels like she’s threatening your life with it. This isn’t really surprising, honestly but deep down, you know how thankful she is for the meal you bought her yet she needs to remain that stern and cold demeanor meant to reevaluate your life choices.

Now, thinking about something like that, what have you really done to make her act like that? All hints were vague enough to crack the code behind her somber demeanor and her bitchy attitude that you despise.

If only you could really punish her for acting like this, then you would but those will be off the charts for now…

“Not even a thank you, Rei??” You feign disappointment as defeat laced in your tone, hoping Rei would acknowledge your thoughtful advances towards her and maybe, it’s working considering how she’s faintly smiling after each munch of the noodles.

“Hah… Okay, thank you for the food, I guess…” Rei’s tone is sarcastic, her head shaking jokingly as she mocks just to intimidate you and with that, you’re not having it anymore and you had enough of this attitude of hers. Rushing towards her as she’s scrolling down her phone, you caught off-guard with the grab of her wrists as you bring her in a wall, pinning her against it with a glare shooting daggers at her this time (thankfully, Rei left her phone on the table as it didn’t fall down because of your aggressive actions).

“You know, if you’re going to act like this for the next weeks I’m going to get fucking tired of you, you know?”

The fact that Rei didn’t retaliate with your harshness and even smirking slightly in front of you, lets you know how much she’s fending off her wants of enraging you as she likes this demeanor of you as you’re gaining control over her and that’s what not you wanted. With an unstoppable force of rage fueling you, you can’t comprehend how you’re going to take this situation lightly as it’s rather worse when Rei mocks you intimidatingly. “Then what? You’re not going to hurt me because you love me, right? If your horny ass could just chill within a single day then I wouldn’t have held this grudge on you for weeks.”

The former, she’s not wrong; you definitely love her and it’s all in a set of confusion on how the both of you portray the image of ‘love’. The latter? Well, that concludes her attitude that cursed her to be her worst for weeks and now you know why—it’s now letting you cross down the fields of reflection, giving you the light of realization on why she acted like this and god, it’s childish but she has a point, nonetheless.

To give context, maybe it was just a hint of jealousy towards someone you’re close with, and it spread like wildfire and letting her hear about it in which, breaks her heart a little yet it’s slow and painful, to the point that she needed to distance herself towards you to bare the pain but she can’t.

She never will because her heart is screaming for you. You only.

Even though the whole school’s talking about you and the popular princess (they refer her with that) being closer together as time goes by, you can’t and won’t find someone like Rei and how she holds a special place in your heart that no one can dethrone her from it—like, no one.

Yet, you wonder why is she taking this pain so seriously to the point that she has to ignore you like it didn't exist in her life and if she manages to talk to you, it’s all in a wrathful manner that you can’t bear?

Well, you probably need to find it out yourself even if it means to fuck it out of her.

“But why are you like this? Do you know how it fucking hurts to me that you’re ignoring me? Holding a grudge against me because I’m just close with her? Oh, so you’re jealous and you won’t talk to me—is that what you are, Rei?” You feel such a terrible and painful concoction of emotions, specifically sadness, rage and surprisingly, denial.

Why would you feel denial? There could be, possibly, limitless ways to express how you’re feeling denial but no, this is a bizarre one since you’re denying your true feelings of being in pain and rage because of her.

She knows how this probably scarred you, but in her mind, it’s to state a point—a point of her own selfishness and jealousy which is just absurd to think about.

“It’s not just that—you wanted to fuck her, I can see it in your eyes too—” Her eyes laced venom as her stare bears the pain she’s also carrying, and the cherry on top, her undying jealousy. “—it’s like you wanna rail her from behind and—”

“Rei!” You grit your teeth in rage as you feel the utter disrespect and the wrong judgment being thrown out between the both of you, mostly your approach and intentions. “Can you just—fucking stop saying that like, I wanna fuck every girl I meet, please?”

Even with the utter rage and uneasiness of you, she can feel the sincerity between every word you’re saying as her demeanor is slowly changing, yet it’s not evident onto your side as you’re being blinded by lust and frustration.

“Okay, okay—but your eyes are like—” Rei retaliates as she uses such force enough to let go of the grip of her wrists, and you didn’t even bother regaining your dominance and control as she’s doing her own thing, succumbing onto the better grip than what you did earlier. “screaming the ‘horny’ energy so bad.”

If you thought you’re that perverted to be thinking of filthiness all the time, she’s eating up her own words as she slowly kneels down in front of you, before grabbing the hem of your pants to switch positions, letting your body thud and relax onto the wall as she starts her magic.

“And you know what’s the best thing to match that horniness?” Rei looks up at you, cocking an eyebrow as her confidence fuels her to be this daring towards you.

“Whatever you’re thinking—ahh, Rei—just don’t—”

“Is horny itself.” Rei doesn’t let her speech get unbothered by you, as she unbuttons your pants as she disregards any of your pleas of refraining herself to engage in such lustful motives but that was impossible to be resisted.

“You know how much I despise you, right?”

“You don’t even need to tell it—I fucking hate you too.” Rei hitches a breath as she snarls, the little anger deep inside her being vocal around you and it didn’t stop, not even once.

Yet, of course, she knows how insatiable you can be as your body is her weakness and all she can sense within her is need and hunger over you. Even with her undying grudge over you, despising each other with all their might, the both of you won’t help yourselves from being intimately close onto each other’s touches and once Rei has all of your defenses down with a swift motion—she’s really good at this; you could even blink once and you’ll just see everything just going off like she’s precise on meeting the time even though she doesn’t need to. With a tickle of her fingers onto your clothed erection, you could just beg for her to just undress it but you’d want to let her know how you’re still in authority and maintained an unfazed demeanor.

You don’t need to beg nor ask; she has it all down, in one swift motion as she is greeted by your throbbing member in whom she always loved.

“Not gonna lie, even though I hate you and you’re an asshole sometimes—” Rei teases the head of your length with her fingers as you shudder in response, but fighting the urge to fully submit to her. “—you have a nice, juicy cock that I won’t turn down and that’s another upside on you.”

Your breath shudders as your thighs quiver a little due to her touches that makes you a hundred times more sensitive than ever before. “F-Fuck you, Rei…”

She isn’t bothered with that as she smirks and suddenly, her lips part against the slit of your cockhead as she swirls her tongue around it, painting every inch of your head wet with saliva and to make you submit into her even more, her digits strokes the base of your shaft in which, is too pleasurable on your own books.

“And not gonna f-fucking lie—” You retort as you stammer because of the intense pleasure her mouth is giving, but still continue to voice out what you want to say. “—as much as you’re a bitch who’s acting like spoiled, sensitive brat, your brat m-mouth feels fucking good—ahh, fuck!”

Rei knows how her incredible mouth can be your kryptonite once she laid it onto your swollen head, as she can just think of the numerous ways to fulfill her amorous needs and to probably deprive you because of what you deserve, in her own opinion. With the constant bobbing of her head onto your constantly throbbing penis, you can’t help but just give in to the ocean of pleasure and fully submit onto voicing your animalistic needs yet you fight yet treasure her oral service onto the entirety of your shaft. Saliva inevitably seeps out of her corners of her mouth in every thrust she does onto your length, sheathing every inch with her drool as she savors the musky taste of yours in which, she just can’t get enough considering how she slurps around your shaft.

“Of course, you’re not gonna feel a better mouth than me, asshole.” She resumes sucking you after as her pace is now being relentless, opting to further fulfill her needs of being deprived of the taste of your cock for weeks.

“One m-more ‘asshole’ that c-comes out of your mouth, I’m going to fuck your a-ass crazy enough to make you think who’s the real asshole is.” You retort back, aiming to provoke the sleeping beast inside her but you could only feel her vigorous pumps and frantic bobs getting more pleasurable and fast as she gives what she can in order to serve the best for both worlds (mostly hers, of course).

“I bet you can’t even get past the entrance of my ass, loser.” Of course, she’ll fight back and degrade you but that isn’t even true and it’s just the fact that her rage is just fueling her to say these things to you or better, to unleash your masochistic side.

The last time you had an intimate anal session with Rei was three weeks ago, and you could just remember how she fully submitted onto the entirety of your cock ramming her tight, snug hole and begging you to fill her up but of course, you didn’t fulfill it and would rather paint her enticingly round, beautiful face full of your semen as her hole was gaped enough to be sore as her legs deemed worthless for almost two days—you even got to the point that you need to excuse Rei for her absence due to her having a ‘fever’ but in reality, that happened between the both of you.

Resuming her oral masterclass, she parts her plump, duck-like lips onto the head of your shaft as she takes you deeper, aiming for more for her to take more as she’s getting hungrier the longer she sucks you off, and it’s just going to get better from here. She lets her hands do the utmost work all over your nether regions as every aspect builds up to the promised fantasy that burns the passion of lust: her handiwork of her dainty fingers massaging and stroking your shaft into a rapid pace, her hands fondling your balls to stimulate you further and occasionally caressing your thighs to arouse and entice you further.

Even though you want to degrade her actions, she knows you would be lying in your teeth, even if it means for roleplay but you know it wouldn’t work on her watch, no matter how hard you try.

“Keep doing that, Rei—fuck, you’re so fucking cursed on how good you are with this, no? Goddamn—fuck!” With your relentless compliments laced with your own deadly venom, it just fuels her to increase the pace further, where you’ll almost give up and grab a handful of her dark locks for leverage yet you won’t give in that far, wanting Rei to know how you’re still worthy to defend against her own frantic attacks.

She keeps her mouth busy with unparalleled thrusts as her hands do wander all over the vicinity of your length and soon enough, the inevitable will soon be in touch with you, signaling your near high as you encourage her to double her efforts with your constant moans and your subtle movements.

“Fuck, I’m getting close, Rei—” It was all getting too much elevated as suddenly, something disturbed the force—it was the devilish deeds Rei has been cursed to do, in an act of vengeance, on her own words.

Pop. It was sexy and hot yet at the same time, it’s fucking frustrating.

“Why the fuck did y-you stop, Rei? I was so close!” You’re bewildered and angered by the fact that she immediately stopped as you were about to blow the biggest load of your life down her throat—guess, that’s impossible now but hopefully, not for long. You can see the devilish smirk printed on her face, as she smirks in delight with your despair and her own pleasure.

“You fucking deserve it, honestly…” Rei’s stone-cold glare intimidates you, aiming to really unleash the hidden fury you’ve been storing as she slowly strokes the base of your shaft, not letting the libido die early for you and hers. With the constant twitch of your cock achingly wanting for a heavenly release, it just puts gasoline onto the flames of Rei’s selfish needs to see you struggling, more so, being edged until your balls ache for days, probably.

“How the fuck do I deserve this?” Your hands went onto your length, badly wanting to stroke it to paint her face white yet Rei fights you and god, she’s surprisingly able to fight back, brushing off your arms with hers as she stands up and pins you onto the wall, her face just inches against you. “You’ll see… Just let me do my thing, alright? You’re not going to cum yet, not on my watch.”

With a confused face, you can’t fathom why would Rei do that and more so, you deserving for such a cruel act but deep inside, it’s turning you on and you can’t help but think of how good it is—it’s a blessing in disguise and maybe, this is what Rei wanted all along.

“We should take this to the bedroom, honestly…”

“Why just not here, Rei?”

Rei just smirks and gives you that stern stare as she repeats herself again. “I said in my bedroom, now.”

Well, who are you to turn that down and not obey? You’ll never turn her down as both fervor-filled desires are off the roof now, craving for more despite the heart-aching grudge between the both of you—not going to lie, she’s toning down and that alone, makes you happy knowing that she’ll be like her old self soon.

And that's what you hope…

---

“Fuck, y-you’re good at that—oh fuck, y-you’re cock is so b-big!”

“You’re s-so tight too, Rei!”

Even with the hint of movement, you can’t help but groan as the peak serotonin coursing down your veins is becoming too much to handle, her walls hugging around your throbbing length like it won’t let go—and this is the wonder behind this: her walls achingly gripping around your shaft begging for a load and her scrumptious backside all over your sight makes everything no less onto the point of peak-arousal, and it’s just the epitome of perfection.

Thanks to the added lubrication of the lube you’ve squirted inside her snug hole, it became easier to thrust inside her as every time you do, groans of pleasure escape both your mouths as you opt for better pace and the quality of each thrust doubling. You aim to really fuck the living grudge and bitchness out of her and you know how your cock can make Rei submit onto you as the harsh grip of the bed sheets and her screams of delight says enough. You then peppered her neck with affectionate kisses, maintaining the arousal soaring in the air as you mount your arms under her armpits and grasping her shoulders, wanting the get the better leverage onto fucking her snug hole and to further hear the symphony of moans escaping her sinful mouth.

“See, Rei—if you’re not going to be this harsh on me, this w-would be this damn easy, right?”

Rei, even though with your entire length hammering her asshole, still manages to articulate such words and be the bitch that you’ve been despising her for. “J-Just—gahh—shut the f-fuck up and fuck my a-ass—ahh, it’s too good!”

Constant spanks reverberate around the puny room as her buttcheeks now shades a familiar rosy hue, marking your harshness towards her. You quicken the pace and with every spank you do, her hole clenches and god, it just becomes unbearably tight yet pleasurable as you did that for the next couple of minutes, aiming to give her the best gratification that she’ll ever feel in her whole life.

Your hands didn’t just stay idle under her arms just for leverage, yet instead, it coursed its way onto her constantly jiggling large mounds as you fondle them, showing her how you wanted them for so long as it further sends her into overdrive and soon, it would be all too much for him, and maybe, for you.

“Fuck, I’m g-gonna cum soon—ahh, f-fuck, keep f-fucking me!”

Of course, she would get off with her digits constantly swiping and aiming for her high while you ram her asshole like there’s no tomorrow. With your focus only averted onto fucking her relentlessly and with the point of no-return, you didn’t even got the chance to see her high got off as she sprays all over the place, screaming in every spurt she does and it’s all just filthy, messy and arousing as fuck. You then rub her clit in order to stimulate her further, and extend her high as you find yourself pumping into her harder, aiming to gape her hole open and to let her know who the real asshole is.

“Yeah, see? Now you can’t think straight with my dick ravaging inside this slutty asshole, hm? You’re such a hypocrite, Rei—you really are.”

Even with the constant struggle of her tightness making your brain go haywire, you manage to degrade and retort back to her and maintain the rapid thrusts in her ass in which, took her seconds to respond as the pleasure was just becoming too much and that was all according to plan.

“Just f-fuck me and s-shut up—ahh, oh god—ahh!”

You hammer your hips hard against her porcelain flesh, the constant clashing of it resonating such sinful sounds that can easily turn on everyone that can eavesdrop their ear upon—gladly, it’s just the both of you who can hear these sinful sounds and being blessed by it. You know your high is about to get near soon, as you can feel it tingling onto your loins and she knows it too—the constant throbbing of your shaft inside her says a lot and little did you know, she has more in store and planned with you…

“Pull out!”

“W-What? What do you m-mean pull o—”

“I meant i-it! Pull t-the fuck out!”

As much as it’s painful to pull out of her tight, snug hole and the mental pain to not paint her walls white while rearranging her guts, you did what she requested you to do, pulling out immediately with a grunt escaping your lips, struggling a little because of her unexplainable tightness.

“Then what the f-fuck do you even want, Rei?”

Rei looks over her shoulders, and then faced you with her semi-drowsy eyes and with still an intimidating glare, and enlightened you, “You need to fuck my tits, now—I want it here and you’ll blow your load all over my face.”

Well, as much as you detest her propositions because of her constant denial of your supposedly-heavenly orgasms, that is an offer you won’t turn down as the soft valley of her pillowy mounds are as pleasurable than any of her holes, all in their respective aspects of defining the gratification it can give and titfucking her would be your guilt pleasure.

“Oh god, just let me cum! Don’t blueball me anymore—I swear…”

“It doesn’t matter—you’ll get off anyway.”

Now, positioning on mounting onto her stomach and laying down your raging length onto the valley of her mounds, she spits into her cleavage as you took the opportunity to lubricate your shaft onto it—not to mention the lube sheathed all over your shaft being helpful too at the moment. You’re really not going to waste any time as your hips ensue a wild pace onto her tits, as the hypnotic bounces of it are just mesmerizing to see, marveling at how perfectly arousing the sight is. Between your thrusts, her tongue desperately tickles the engorged head once it emerges onto the pillowy breasts of hers as each thrust is just aiming to chase your long-awaited orgasm, as you’ve been edged onto it for two times now.

Now holding onto her arms as a leverage onto frantic, desperate thrusts, you quicken the pace like you’re rushing onto something and thank god Rei’s helping you with chasing your own high too—her squeezing her mounds tightly with her arms to aid for the tightness that you always like and the pace of her ensuing a pleasurable pace that adds up to the delightful trajectory of such an incredible friction between the both of you.

There’s no turning back now; not when she moans to encourage your release and soon, it’ll all break loose and won’t be deprived further as suddenly, without even warning her, your slit wasn’t unable to hold anything back, sputtering multiple streaks of your own seed that landed on her neck, chin, her voluptuous breasts and some even on her cheeks as she moaned gracefully because of the warmth of your hard work. You kept thrusting into the valley of her breasts for a while as you chased to extend your orgasm and stopped once it fell out, you then falling limp onto the bed, enervated with what you’ve done with Rei.

The both of you exchanged breaths, chest heaving up and down for air as she faintly smiled at you, not before swiping a sample on her chin with her fingers and tasting, humming soundly right after as it tasted great, as she always expected.

“Not bad… See, the load is much healthier if you’re edged a couple of times…”

“Fuck you, for that—hah…”

Rei’s hands cupped your cheek, and then made you face hers as her smile is now mending the broken bridge between the both of you and most likely, mending your heart as the air now permeates wholesomeness, and it’s just fluttering to see that.

“Maybe I am the asshole for acting like a bitch for like three weeks, hm?”

“If that’s what you assumed…” Now recovered quickly with your own high, you got out of the bed and stood up, preparing to clean up the filthy mess you’ve been into until a voice calls you, making you turn back to see the gleeful Rei back to her original state—a bubbly, pouty one that you always love and that alone, makes the interaction wholesome despite the painted sin all over the bed and both of your bodies.

“You’re not just going to leave me here! Let me clean up too!” Rei pouts cutely on you as you giggled a little, feeling dumbfounded with her cute actions as you helped her get out of the bed, struggling because of the constant ramming you’ve done on her ass that made her legs feel like jelly. “Gosh—I don’t think my legs are working right now—you fucked me so well…”

“Well, I guess all you need is a cock ready to fuck that living bitch out of you, huh”?

Rei lightly punches your shoulder because of your tease, and knowing it didn’t offend her in any way, you just laughed it off as she giggled back, finding it a little hilarious. “Shut up…”

Well, maybe you’ve now cracked the code—Rei just needs a good fucking, rearraging her guts and her attitude is enough to really make her break that stern demeanor she’s been onto for weeks.

And yeah… “Oh no, the udon!”

“You can finish that later, Rei—” You smirk right after, planning onto another mischievous act that will let her know the primal beast inside you, maybe even feeding her more than what any food can do. “—because for now, you can milk another load from me, in your throat—don’t you want that?”

If it isn’t even enough for the both of you…

#kinknuary 2024 #ive smut #naoi rei smut #rei smut #ive x male reader #naoi rei x male reader #rei x male reader

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rapunzelbro · 8 months

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I've been reading your fabulous Lucifer and tall reader. I found a tiktok for a Lucifer scenario. I thought it was perfect just hiding little duckies all over the castle and hotel for Lucifer to find and to also piss Alastor off. 🙂

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8vdXanP/

The Great Duck Hunt of The Century! Ft. Lucifer & Alastor!

This title is so so so fucking specific. Remember my hiatus? Yeah I don’t remember either. I feel like I like writing for Lucifer and Angel more ngl and silly prompts like these give me inspiration. Idk why anywho enjoy~ Angel , Reader, Lucifer, Alastor Husk

Masterlist Taglist

Throughout your relationship with Lucifer you always found new ways to spice it up in the bed room

If you thought sex well, that too

But you meant something else, and that was The Great Duck Hunt of The Century!

What is it you may ask?

Well let’s just say Lucifer made a bunch of mini ducks out of pure boredom one day with you. So you snagged them all when you two were done with them

And spent the next 7 hours placing 500 in the castle and 500 in the Hazbin Hotel

Why? Because why the fuck not

Lucifer was excited and was happily looking around but when you got a text from Angel you knew you were fucked, screwed, in trouble

“Girl what tf did you do”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Why is Smiles yelling about finding ducks all over the hotel”

“Husk is literally finding them in the liquor bottles and choked on one of them and not the good kinda choke if you know what I mean” “🍆💦”

“I made a scavenger hunt for Lucifer that’s all 🫢”

“You didn’t hide any in my room did you”

“Hell no you’re my friend”

“Aw thank you sweetie💗 might wanna avoid the hotel for a while he is pissed I’ll keep rehiding them though. Ttyl babe~”

“Thanks for the warning”

Yeah uh let’s just say, after Lucifer did find a majority of them. Him being short Didn’t give him an advantage and you mentioned to him there’s a ton left so out comes Lucifer in bird mode

Dude is flying throughout his castle knocking so much shit over in the process to find these ducks and he is so fucking happy? Dude is so glad you did this.

It went on for hours

When you finish counting what he found you announce he found 500/1000

“HOLY SHIT THERES MORE??”

He didn’t know how you had so much dedication but he did and was ready to go to the hotel to find the rest

You texting Angel

“How many did he find?”

“I wanna say 100? This radio demons is ripping this hotel apart for them, Charlie thinks her dad did it but I let her in on it and told Vag. They think it’s funny as fuck. Well Charlie not as much but Vag is dying over here”

“omg did I tell you there’s bets being placed on this shit on if he burns the building down or not? Get your ass over here “

Lucifer makes a portal for you two because stepping into the hotel

Holy

Shit

It was a mess?? There were spots you didn’t even put any that were destroyed

“What the actual fuck?”

Everyone is just at the bar watching shit go down as Alastor is ripping the hotel apart for the ducks.

Lucifer is no where to be seen. This man’s instantly looking for the ducks and fixing up the building as he goes for his daughters sake

Alastor noticing you just appeared and him going up to you with his demon form practically almost fully out from his pissed this man is

“I’m hoping it wasn’t you who did this, or I’m afraid ł’ⱠⱠ ₱ɆⱤ₴Ø₦₳ⱠⱠɎ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₮Ø Ɽł₱ ɎØɄ Ⱡł₥฿ ฿Ɏ Ⱡł₥฿ Ʉ₦₮łⱠ ɎØɄ ⱤɆ₥ØVɆ ɆVɆⱤɎ ₴ł₦₲ⱠɆ Ø₦Ɇ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ₴Ɇ ₣Ʉ₵₭ł₦₲ ĐɄ₵₭₴”

His voice getting so fucking loud and static holy shit it was scary but you just back away as quickly as possible before Lucifer comes out with a fuck ton of the mini ducks before running infront of you.

Lucifer and Alastor stare at each other before Lucifer almost fucking launches at his ass for yelling at you

You instantly having to hold him back

“Listen you find these fuckers easily right? Help me find them and I won’t have to kill your little girlfriend”

“Haha fuck you. I’d love to see you try. I’m looking on my own terms “

Yeah he highkey didn’t want to take that chance regardless but he wasn’t lying when he said he was looking on his terms. Him bringing the ducks back to you as he found them

You counting them but Angel distracting you so much you had to double count everything like four times.

When he found them all the hotel surprisingly didn’t burn down, which caused almost everyone to give Husk money

“Hah.. old cats still got it”

Yeah Husk knew it wouldn’t be that dramatic considering if it had any involvement with you, or Lucifer, Lucifer could’ve easily fixed the building before it got to the point of that

He is fucking good

Alastor making the ducks dissolve in thin air once you counted them all and confirmed they were all found and Lucifer mourning the loss of his ducks while you and Charlie awkwardly comfort him.

Alastor instantly going back to his room with the worlds most irritating smile

“Please when you have this.. duck hunting again..you have it NOT HERE”

“Well that went better than I thought..”

And that was the end of the Great Duck Hunt of the century

It was the most fun Lucifer ever had.

And to see Alastor in that state was the icing on the cake.

He loved you so much and was 100% going to make himself a trophy since he found them all

It’s just the little things you do or even in this case the big things that make him appreciate you even more

Especially if it involves pissing off Alastor my god you got hella bonus points for that shit

Lucifer Taglist: @vendetta-ari @brithedemonspawn @katshyperfixations @aphestina @satansmanager @irethepotato @storydays @saturnhas82moons @zamadness

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #Hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader

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urrockstar-xe · 8 months

Text

you are everything - j.m x fem!reader

posted jan 27th, 2024 3:15pm

anon asked: Hey, could u write this prompt: “I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly” for jj Maybank and Y/n fem reader. Maybe make it like an emotional scene like they are best friends and they got into a fight about her doing something dangerous idk, but it makes her realize jj loves her and then she asks the prompt like later that night.

sososo sorry for the wait love, i hope u enjoy.

use of Y/n, John B plays cupid/the mediator, swearing, not proofread.

masterlist

wordcount: 1.4k

Things had always been rocky in terms of the ”what are we?” factor for you and JJ, it was fun in the beginning and as the hunt for the gold took over the Pogues’ lives it turned into something with more substance behind it.

Your heart nearly left your chest every time JJ pulled one of his stunts, every time he would sit there and flirt with Kie, and every single time that he decided to sleep over at yours, claiming he was too tired to go all the way home or just to the chateau.

Of course, you let him stay every time, why wouldn’t you?

This last time things were different. You were in the hot seat, you had to prove just how much that stupid phrase meant to you.

Pogues 4 Life and Ride or Dies had grown to mean the same things.

The cards were laid out on the table and they spelled your name.

JJ insisted on you not going he had fought John B over it.

“If she goes in there alone she’s screwed, man!” JJ was angry, John B knew how much you mattered to him and agreed to it anyway “What if it was Sarah, huh?”

“Don’t bring her into this, man” John B gave JJ a warning look as JJ scoffed and shook his head, his gaze shifted to the floor, almost ashamed of the words he was about to say aloud.

“Anything, I mean anything happens to her, John B, and I will never speak to you again.”

Yet he still spoke them, and with how much the two boys had conquered together they both knew every word as the truth, John B knew how risky it was to send you in to steal that artifact, although small you could be killed if found with it.

But John B needed it, and you offered.

“If I had told her no, she would’ve fought me, you know that.” John B said, a softer tone in his voice as he watched his best friend nod in response to his words. “I know she would have”

Despite the protests from Pope, who had just been against the idea altogether, and JJ you still went in, walking through the dark museum while getting flashbacks to when JB and JJ convinced you to come investigate the abandoned house by the chateau in 8th grade.

You were all chased out by a scary man with a gun, it wasn’t loaded but 14-year-old you didn’t know that, JJ and John B were cheering and hollering with all of their adrenaline on your way back while you focused on not having a panic attack.

You had felt all those feelings from when you were 14 all rushing back now,

But you did it, and when you made it out to the Twinkie and you were met with happy smiles and excited cheers you weren’t fighting off a panic attack, and you weren’t 14, and JJ was pissed.

JJ was fuming,

You were confused because what does it matter?

It was barely a week ago that JJ had nearly killed himself while wrecking his motorbike but when you decide to sacrifice something it's bad?

“I have just as much on the line as you do JJ! What the hell is the difference?” Your tone had come off more tired than angry, a slight contrast to JJ’s

“No, you don’t! See when I do shit like that it's okay because I’m not important but you! You are everything, Y/n, why would you even risk something so stupid like that?” JJ’s voice sounded exasperated.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you thought about JJ’s words, you opened your mouth to respond but before you could he shook his head and left, left his backpack on the couch, and walked to the door. shook his head, and left.

JJ just left the chateau, leaving you standing there alone to really think over whatever the hell just happened between you two.

“You okay?” the sound of John B’s voice snapped you out of the trance JJ left you in, turning to look at him as he stood at the entrance of the backdoor.

“Yea- Yeah, I’m fine, yeah.” shrugging shoulders and repetitive words didn’t quite convince either of you as you sighed. “He’s being so weird about this, John B,” you said, giving up on the everything is fine, facade as you put your face in your hands.

“He’s just protective over you, should’ve seen how bitchy he got with me when I let you go in there.” John B, sat on the old couch, watching you with sympathetic eyes.

John B knew why JJ was being like this because of course he does, he just wasn’t planning to share with the class.

“JJ is never like this with the rest of the pogues, not even you! Why does he single me out?” Your gaze fell on JB as he looked up at you with a small smile and a shrug. “I honestly couldn’t tell you what it is but, I’ve only ever gone that hard for Sarah” His words sunk in as he stood up and went down the hall to his bedroom, leaving you with the aftermath of uncovering more questions.

You sat where John B had previously, repeating his words in your head, what’s that even supposed to mean? Is he trying to play the sneaky and ominous- Oh my god, he’s trying to play Cupid.

But it’s not like JJ’s in love with you or something, he just couldn’t be.

But

If he had been in love with you that may explain many things, especially his behavior, and oh my god, again.

“JB, I’m leaving!” You called out, standing up and grabbing both your own and JJ’s backpacks as you rushed out the door not wasting time on waiting for John B to say bye.

JJ had taken off on his motorbike which made you seriously regret having your dad help him fix it right about now as you had to go on foot but at least you knew where he’d be.

It had been a thirty-minute walk but finally, that old bike came into view just before the familiar blond did, he fixed his hat, picking it up and shaking his hair for a second before putting it back on. He didn’t notice until you sat beside him, JJ turned to look at you before looking back at the water.

A few moments passed like this, silence settling between you as you both stared at the water, arms touching and breathing becoming synced up. “You’re just not super replaceable” JJ broke the silence first, nudging your arm ever so softly. “Yeah, but neither are you” you nudged him back, looking at him only to be met with him already looking at you.

You sighed, eyes flickering over his face as his gaze fell to what you could swear were your lips. “I’m going to ask you something and you have to answer me honestly” Your voice was soft and quiet as you spoke, watching as JJ merely nodded in response.

“Are you in love with me?” JJ’s whole body tensed at the question, he panicked, looking out to the water while thinking of an answer that wouldn’t take away every last bit of dignity he had left-

“Because I love you, JJ” You knew he was looking for an out and your genuine confession gave him one. He looked back at you as soon as the words settled in, “I just, I can’t-” JJ sighed, words stopping in his throat, eyes pleading with you to just understand, and of course you did.

Why would it suddenly be so easy for him to say out loud when he never hears it?

“I know, J, just yes or-” “Yes, I am” he nodded so eagerly you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Good,” you nodded.

You leaned into his hand when it found your cheek, gently guiding your face to his own before finally kissing you. Soft and slow and full of unsaid words, you felt it still even when he pulled back and sucked in a harsh breath. “I love you” JJ whispered, as if he was scared of it because he was.

But as you pulled him back for another kiss, he couldn’t help but think maybe he wouldn’t be anymore.

But that wouldn’t stop your JJ from fighting anyone who allowed you to get in harm's way, including you.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #outer banks imagines #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank

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trippinsorrows · 2 months

Text

looking through your eyes + eight

authors note: so....i like cliched shit, so there's some of that here. hope it's not too much. this one is also very heavy at points, so please read the warnings, but it def has its moments that help progress the plot. also, the book referenced is a real work that we often use in therapy with survivors of sexual trauma. an excellent, powerfully healing read. i own neither the book nor the excerpt used.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: references to csa, aftermath of csa, character being triggered, scene of violence/torture, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 12k (i clearly don't know how to stop. it is what it is)

It's out of our hands We can't stop what we have begun

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

There’s a heavy sigh followed by continued writing, icy blue eyes focused on the report before her instead of the irksome man before her, no doubt giving her those ‘fuck me’ eyes that would be an HR nightmare if HR actually did any fucking thing at this precinct.

She finishes her quote before asking with all the intentional disinterest, “what do you want, Reed?”

His question, as well as his intrusion by her desk, is expected. “why aren’t you joining the rest of us for the luncheon today?”

It’s none of his business, and Danica has no issues telling him that in intentionally vague terms. “Got somewhere to be.”

Finally looking up, she sees Reed’s gaze go cold. “Where?”

Danica drops her pin and answers in the sweetest yet nastiest voice she can muster before 10am. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but the Miller girl is being released from the hospital today.”

Reed is just as confused as he is stupid. “Who?”

His obtuseness shouldn’t surprise nor irritate her, but it does. She remembers every single case she’s ever worked, and she’s certain this one will always remain at the top of the list. No matter how far she gets into her career. “Solana Miller. Xavier Miller’s daughter. The home invasion—”

“I know.” Reed’s almost relaxed, nosy disposition has entirely shifted. “Captain said the case was closed. Kid doesn’t want to press charges.”

“That kid is fucking traumatized. Don’t put that on her. Xavier is the one refusing to let us proceed.”

Reed leans forward, harshly whispering, “keep your fucking voice down, alright? Miller is…..he’s not someone you want to piss off. If he says we don’t run it, then we don’t run it, got it?”

“And who the hell is he to decide how the law works?” Clarke is also leaned over her desk, almost a month worth of pent up frustration with the lack of justice bubbling to the surface. “You read that medical report. You were on the scene. You don’t beat a grown man the way they beat that little girl. She could barely fucking walked. Dragged herself to a neighbors to ask for help. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“But she is, okay?” He’s also matching her energy, just as passionate about blatant injustice as she is for said justice. “The best thing to do for that kid is to let her go home, heal, and move on with her life.”

And that’s the part that almost breaks her, that almost makes her shift from her role as an advocate to the survivor within that so deeply identifies with Solana.“You really think it’s that simple? Like she can just go back into the house where she was raped and almost killed and pretend like nothing happened?”

“No, I don’t know, Clarke, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m moving on and picking my battles wisely.” His voice switches to something ominous. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d move on too.”

Aware of the underlying implications of his warning, she calls his bluff, “you threatening me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually do like you, Danica, but you’re playing a dangerous game.” Reed’s voice lowers again, and Danica almost feels like he’s trying to be genuine. “I know you’re still new around here, so let me give some free advice. Xavier Miller is a dangerous man. He’s got friends in places you don’t want to find out about. Leave this alone before you’re the next mutilated body we find floating in the river, alright?”

________

Danica Clarke has always been stubborn, a trait she’s certain will lead to her demise, but if this is the route that brings her to said demise, she’s okay with it.

Danica waits in the doorway, aware of how knocking can be alarming. She waits and assesses for the moment Solana’s gaze is close enough to where she won’t be as startled. “Hey there, pretty girl….”

Sure enough, Solana jumps a bit, and Danica is pleased to see the swelling on her face has gone down tremendously and the bruising has started to fade to an almost flesh toned color. She looks less at death’s door than the first time Danica was introduced to the 12-year-old.

“Can I come in?”

As expected, Solana doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly.

Danica moves to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. “Heard you were getting released today….” Danica studies Solana carefully, adding kindly, “may be kinda nice to have a change of scenery.”

Solana remains quiet, but Danica has been around enough survivors, remembers her own survivor story, to know that nothing feels nice or good in the immediate aftermath. There’s just numbness and pain. No in-between.

“I’m so sorry there’s nothing more I can do to help you, Solana. I really am.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve justice, and I wish there was more I could do, but….my hands are tied.” Danica’s only been at this precinct for less than six months, and while asking to be transferred won’t be a good look when evaluations roll around, she doesn’t give a fuck. She can’t serve with bastards who would let sick fucks like Solana’s attackers walk around freely.

It’s too repulsive.

“But, I do…..I want to give you something.” Danica reaches into her backpack and pulls out something she hasn’t had to look at in years. A book, thick, with yellow, paperback binding. The edges are a bit worn, and certain parts are highlighted, but it’s still just as powerful nonetheless. “When I was….a little younger than you, I was raped too.” Danica sees Solana’s gaze lift up, surprise and shock written on her face. “And it wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to heal and finally process what’d happened to me.” Danica’s lips press together. “The counselor I saw in college, she gave me this book, and it changed my life.”

Solana looks down, reading the title, typed in big, black letters: The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.

“I wanna read something out of it for you, if that’s alright?” Consent, especially now, is everything, so Danica waits patiently for Solana again to nod, permitting her permission to read.

With a deep breath to also prepare herself for revisiting the past, she begins reading a passage that Solana can see she has highlighted.

“I know you're in a world of pain, but that pain will lessen. At the beginning you can't see that. You can only see your pain and you think it will never go away. But the nature of pain is that it changes— it changes like a sunset. At first, it's this intense red-orange in the sky, and then it starts getting softer and soften. The texture of pain changes as you work through it. And then one day, you wake up and realize that life isn't just about working through your abuse; it's about living, too.”

Danica looks up to see Solana sniffling, wiping at her eyes. She’s tempted to reach and take her hand, but she also knows better, knows that the last thing this child wants is to be touched.

“I want you to have this, Solana. I want you to take it, and when you’re older, when you’re ready to reclaim your voice, and you will, I want you to read every word in here. From cover to back cover. You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. You don’t feel it now, but you have to believe it.” Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t ever stop living, Solana.”

“Solana.”

Flashbacks and memories from that time of her life don’t happen often, and it’s an intentional thing on Solana’s part.

She doesn’t like thinking about that part, but this certain memory has now revisited her a total of three times now. Twice in a dream and now in the middle of a conversation with Bayley and Naomi.

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing seems like the most appropriate thing until Naomi shakes her head.

“Roman said we’re not supposed to accept or condone you apologizing for anything, so imma pretend like I didn’t hear that, sis.”

Roman….

He confuses her.

He’s certainly unlike any man she’s ever met. And though that number is far from generous, he’s still the anomaly.

After essentially rejecting what was an….interesting, unfamiliar, different experience between the two of them, she expected him to be upset. To be frustrated. To be absolutely all over her baggage. To ignore her.

But, that’s not what happened, none of that has happened. Instead, he’s carried on like nothing happened, like she didn’t run away from him in near tears.

Like they didn’t….like they didn’t almost have a moment.

He’s stayed true to his word in that he’s met her every day after work in the week that’s passed. And while the first day was awkward, mostly on her part, they’ve fallen back in that same confusing yet peaceful space.

Confusing yet peaceful…that seems to be the theme since the day she said “I do.”

It’s not uncomfortable nor unpreferred over where she came from.

It’s just…..different.

“Oh—okay.” Solana doesn’t know what else to say but notices that Naomi looks like she has something else to say but is hesitant. “Is—is everything okay?”

That seems to be the door that paves the way for said conversation. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve come a long way. Like, you’ve really got the basics down, all the defensive positions, even fluidity of movement.” It’s leading up to something, Solana is certain of this, but it also means a lot to her that Naomi believes she’s progressed. Doing well with this or even retaining Naomi’s training is something she never saw for herself. “I want to advance you to learning attacks. Solana’s stomach starts to tighten. “With weapons.”

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

Bayley sighs, joining in to help Naomi present her case. “We wanna teach you how to use knives.” Solana’s stomach tightening quickly morphs into twists and knots. “Hear me out, please. I know….I know that’s gotta be a sensitive thing for you, and I totally understand why, but knife fighting is a really great skill to have, even if just to have one on you at all times and know how to use it if need be.”

“And let’s be honest, Roman isn’t going to let anything happen to you to where you would need it, but still.” Something tells Solana Naomi isn’t wrong about that. That neither woman is wrong in what they’re saying, but just the conversation brings back flashes of that night, the night that left the physical and mental scars she still bears now.

Bayley offers a sympathetic smile. “Just think about it, okay?” Solana can do that. She will do that, just….maybe not right now.

And she doesn’t have to because Roman and the twins suddenly enter the gym space. Solana’s stomach tightens seeing Roman shirtless, a sight that’s happened a couple times now, and each time doesn’t seem to make it any easier on her nerves. If anything, it gets worse.

“Whassup, ladies.” Jey greets, clapping his hands as he asks, “ya’ll ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Solana speaks up, not directing her question to anyone in particular, but Bayley is the one to answer. “What—what’s tonight?”

“Night of Champions.” She then goes on to explain. “It’s one of our annual wrestling events. Naomi and I are competing.”

Curious, Solana turns to Roman. “Are you fighting?”

Jimmy, however, is the one to answer. “Soso, Big Dog don’t do these events no more. Not very often anyway, but he’ll be there.”

“Can I come?” Solana directs her question to Roman, knowing that it will be his call. He eyes her unexpectedly.

“You want to?”

She nods, referring to the group. “I—I wanna see them fight.”

It also feels like the right thing to do, to support the two women who’ve been nothing but supportive of her since day one. Even Jimmy and Jey with their often inappropriate comments about her body and continuous praise over her cooking abilities. It’s still always been very respectful in a strange sort of way.

Roman steps towards her, and Solana finds that it takes a concentrated effort to keep her eyes on his and to not gaze downward. Him being shirtless before her doesn’t help with the attraction she’s still trying to wrap her head around and navigate.

He lowers his voice, asking, “you sure?”

She’s confused only for a second when she remembers why he seems to be ensuring this is what she wants. This will be the first time Solana has returned to the Warehouse since Grayson and Austin’s attack, since she caused a whole scene that resulted in the whole damn place being shut down and Roman sending a grim message to all.

For a second, she backs away, retreats from her initial desire. Briefly tells herself that this isn’t what she wants, but that other distant voice in the back of her head, not as present or loud, seems to win the battle this time around.

“Yes,” is the final answer she settles on. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman nods, informing. “We leave at 6:30.”

Solana starts to wonder about what this night could entail when Jey suddenly expresses, “It’s kinda nice outside. I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Get in that aquatic cardio.”

Jimmy also cosigns this after sharing a quick kiss with Naomi. “Oh shit, yeah, lets’ do it

Roman is instantly annoyed, asking with all of the exasperation. “Don’t ya’ll have a pool at your houses?”

“Yeah, but yours is nicer.” Jimmy answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He then looks over at Solana, asking, “you joining us, Soso?”

And that, not the idea of returning to the place where she was almost attacked, is what brings on the heavier anxiety. Once upon a time, Solana loved the pool. Swimming with her mom on hot, summer scorching days used to be some of her favorite memories. Now, those memories are plagued with flashbacks of being held under water, a form of torture implemented by her brother.

“N–no.” Solana catches Roman’s gaze on her, the way his eyes dip to her running her fingers against the sides of her workout pants. “I—ummm—I’m going into work for a little bit today, so I should get ready to go.”

Roman speaks up first, skeptical. “I didn’t know you were going in today.”

“I have to take care of something.”

Solana being vague is new, it’s unfamiliar, and it doesn’t feel the best to lie to him in a sense. Even if it’s less a lie and more a vague answer.

There is something she needs to take care of. She just has no desire or even ability to tell him just what she needs to take care of, because that would mean she has to tell him the why, and that is something she’s never discussed with anyone and has no desire ever to.

________

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as much. Life has been….very confusing and different, but not bad. I think….I think I like living here.

I like Bayley and Naomi. They’re so nice to me. I think you would like them too. Bayley is Mexican, so we talk in Spanish sometimes, and I love that because it reminds me of us, mama, all our conversations and writings.

Jimmy and Jey, Roman’s cousins, make me laugh. They’re also nice to me, and they really like my cooking, your cooking. I still use a lot of the recipes you taught me.

I finally have a dog, mami! Her name is Dulce. She’s so sweet and little and adorable. Roman got her for me.

Roman…

He’s not what I expected. I don’t….I don’t understand why he’s nice to me. Cause that’s what it is. That much I’ve finally realized. He’s….nice to me.

I’ve never had a man be nice to me.

We had….something happen a week ago. I still don’t really know how to describe it, just that he was touching me, not even inappropriately. And I think…..I think I liked it, but then I got scared because it was like….it was like it wasn’t him touching me. It was them.

And I….I hate that. I hate it because it’s miserable feeling this way. Wanting something but not wanting it. Being scared of something but wanting it. Desiring to be close to someone but not wanting that either.

I feel so torn sometimes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that book the detective gave me after it happened. There’s gotta be a reason I kept it all these years. I think….I think I want to read it.

I don’t know what to expect, and I’m nervous because I don’t like thinking about it, but I can’t, I don’t, want to keep living like this.

I can’t.

________

When Solana asked to attend Night of Champions, she was thinking it would be similar to WarGames. A foolish assumption. It is in the sense that the arena area is packed, not a single seat unoccupied, the boisterous sound of loud chatter and music serving as a backdrop against said chatter. That’s all the same and unchanged.

What is different and what Solana should have thought about was the fact that the two women who made her feel so comfortable last time won’t be there this time, because they’re competing. And so are the twins.

And Nicki is apparently upset with Jey—a recurrent theme, it seems—so she also won’t be present.

That leaves one person.

Roman.

Solana didn’t think about the fact that she’d be seated with Roman. It’s not as nerve-racking as it could be, as it probably would have been almost three months ago when this whole new, unexpected chapter of her life began.

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

She doesn’t miss how Roman’s grip on her hand remains firm on hers from the moment he helps her out the SUV, his eyes again taking her in the same way he did when she met him back in his office to tell him she was ready to go.

Solana initially felt unsure of herself given the fact that Naomi and Bayley could only pick out her outfit, shoes, and accessories for the night but couldn’t actually help her get ready given the fact that they were competing. Solana struggled to navigate her hair, as always, pinning it up on her head, and her makeup definitely isn’t as nice as the night of WarGames, but it mostly covers up her facial scar, and that’s all that matters.

Still, she must not look completely awful because Roman did not hesitate to give her a slow one over followed by a muttered “damn” and more vocalized, “fuck, you look good.”

She’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s said that now, and each new occurrence still gives her the same butterflies as the first time.

Roman escorts them to their seats, the twins and Paul already being present. Jimmy is the first to speak, whistling loudly.

“Damn, Soso. How we supposed to fight and you distracting us looking all fine and shit?”

“If you want to live and make it to the actual fight, you’ll shut the fuck up.” It’s hard for Solana to tell just when Roman is being completely honest with his cousins or just deadly honest with his cousins.

This is one of those moments.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say, what kind of response is appropriate to something that isn’t as so.

Roman then motions for Solana to sit down and easily props his big body down in the seat right next to her. Their arms are nearly touching, but she tries not to think of that. Tries to distract herself by asking the twins, “shouldn’t you be in the locker room?”

“Naw, we fight toward the end of the night, so we like to assess with Roman till then.”

“Assess?”

While Jey was the one to provide the initial answer, Jimmy handles the clarification. “You gon be a member of the Warehouse, you gotta earn that shit. That means doing your thing in the ring. You ain’t cutting it, you out.”

Solana nods, quietly. It makes sense. Roman seems like a man with high standards. “So…you all have the final say?”

Jimmy takes a sip of his beer, shaking and nodding his head toward his cousin. “Naw, that’s all Big Dog.”

Solana glances at her husband who’s focused not necessarily on the conversation at hand but the preparation for what’s sure to be an eventful night.

“If you don’t mind, My Tribal Chief is trying to focus here.” Paul’s voice, equally nice as it is nasty, reminds her of his presence. For some reason, she’s surprised by said presence, though she shouldn’t be. It’s clear the Wise Man is an important asset to Roman.

“Whassup, my dogs!”

Just then a lanky man comes over to the group. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says ‘honorary uce’ and has wild red hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Solana takes a second to look at him, finding him strangely familiar. It’s then she realizes that he fought with Roman, Solo, and the twins during WarGames.

He goes for some kind of special handshake with Jimmy, then Jey, and finally Roman who looks like he’s contemplating murder rather than wanting to return the greeting. He quickly plays it off, “that is well—okay my tribal chief, and—wow—” Him turning to Solana, finally noticing and acknowledging her, is an experience for the both of them. She notices his initial gaze sets on her chest which is uncomfortable but not entirely unexpected given the style of her dress. Still, she shifts in her seat, uneasy with the attention. “Those are—-ummm—” His eyes go wide, as he moves to backtrack on an obvious Freudian slip. “I mean, it’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am, or Mrs. Reigns, or your highness. Whichever you prefer is a-okay with—“

“Sami.”

His shoulders hunch and head drops in shame, like he already knows what’s coming. “Yes, Tribal Chief?”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

This Sami person doesn’t even hesitate, confirming he already knew he fucked up in the less than five minutes he was present. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Solana watches, still partially confused but also kind of amused as he wastes no time in departing.

Paul then leans over, chatting away, “I told you, my Tribal Chief, I never liked Shmuel. He’s always been so beneath you. I understand he makes easy collateral, but—“

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

“But……” Solana looks over at Paul. His expression is one of devastation, like he’s just been told he had six months to live. “I—I always sit with you for Night of Champ—“

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“I’m not gon tell you again.” Roman finally looks over at his closest advisor, forcefully enunciating and instructing, “go.”

Similar to Sami, the Wise Man walks off with his tail between his legs, leaving just Solana, Roman, and the twins.

She has no idea where Solo is.

“See, now you ain’t even have to do all that, Big Dog. You be getting yourself all upset over nothing. You need to start doing some deep breathing or shit, then maybe you could get off them high blood pressure pills.”

It’s that last part that Solana zones in on, that makes her turn to Roman, “you have high blood pressure?”

He lifts his eyes, dismissing, “it’s nothing.”

“Can’t—can’t that be dangerous?” It’s not necessarily a question she needs him to answer. Solana is well read on a variety of subjects, especially subjects pertaining to physical health. High blood pressure can mess with a lot of things, a lot of organs. Eyes. Brain.

Heart

Jimmy is the one to chime in, asking with that typical tone of humor. “Soso, you do know what he does for a living right?”

But, it’s hard for her to find said humor when all she’s thinking about now is how certain meals she’s prepared for him could maybe not be the best for his high blood pressure. How she could be exacerbating that.

Feeling pressured by her inner monologue, she offers, “I can change how I cook for you.” And she can. She probably will, making a mental note to peruse through her mom’s recipe books that would be more aligned with the type of diet he probably needs. “I know there’s certain things you probably shouldn’t eat—”

“Solana.” He interrupts, but it’s not with that same irritation he had towards Sami and Paul. “I’m fine. My numbers weren't that bad. The doctor is just being over cautious.”

She wants to believe him, wants to not be as…bothered by this as she is, but something tells her Roman isn’t unlike most men who downplay these sorts of things.

Letting the conversation go, her determination to help him maintain his health remains.

The conversation shifts to a dialogue between the twins and Roman, the three men conversing in Samoan. She doesn’t mind this, as it also allows her the space to catch the gaze of Bayley and Naomi who look freaking amazing in their gear.

“Soso.”

“I swear to God, if you call her that one more fucking time—”

Jey, possibly foolishly, waves off Roman’s threat. “You understand Yeet, right?”

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

“Yeet,” Jimmy says it too, like it’s as basic a word as they come. “Our motto.”

“I—” Honesty is a bit easier with her husband’s cousins. “N–no.”

“Man,” Jey makes a sound with his teeth and jumps right into the explanation. “It’s like a way of life. Like, you yeet when life going good—”

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

Jimmy and Jey playing off of each other for their presentation is entertaining, at best, but it doesn’t leave her any less confused than she was just a minute ago.

“I—I still don’t get it.”

And that, for the first time, is when Solana hears Roman laugh. It’s not something she ever thought possible, but it’s there, his handsome face turned into an amusing expression as he expresses vindication. “I told you it was fucking stupid.”

“See, I thought we was close, Soso. I thought we was becoming family and shit, but I see you a hater like your husband.”

At that, Jey punches his brother on the arm, reminding with a rough mutter, “man, she be cooking, don’t be fucking up our good thing.”

“Aww shit.” Jimmy quickly moves to backtrack. “I mean, I could see your point.”

Conversation continues as such until the start of the night, Solana watching as the three men around her easily shift into an almost business mode. Their gazes are almost intense, watching closely as matches begin.

Solana partially expected to have to sit and remain quiet for the evening, but certain moves, similar to what Naomi and Bayley have taught her, catch her attention. And it must show, because Solana finds herself occasionally being asked by Roman if she has any questions or if she understands why a fighter did a certain mood.

Some she can answer. Some she cannot.

So she asks him.

And he answers all of them, clearly, concisely, in a way she can understand.

If Roman is irritated by any of her questions, he does a damn good job not showing as such. And to her credit, she does her best to take a guess vs asking outright with certain things, pulling from her time with Bayley and Naomi.

And in certain matches, she’s fully immersed in watching their expertise that questions aren’t even a thing. Like the tag team match between two of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen, Jade and Bianca, as Roman called them. Same with Naomi and Bayley who independently show her a side of their ruthlessness she figured existed but hadn’t seen firsthand until tonight.

“Do you all learn how to fight when you’re kids?”

“More or less,” Roman answers, and Solana has a hard time not staring, not being caught up by how handsome this man really is. “This life….it’s kill or be killed. So to not be killed, you learn how to fight. How to survive.”

Survive…

Solana has such a complicated relationship with that otherwise simple word.

“How come….how come you don’t fight as much?” She’s wondered about this, come up with speculation but would like to know for certain, especially as he seems to be in a relatively decent mood.

Like most things, he keeps his answer nice, simple, and vague. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Did–did you?” He looks over at her, and warmth rises back as she tries to clarify. “At some point, I mean.”

Again, it’s a one-worded response. “Yes.”

She’s not entirely sure just what he’s saying ‘yes’ to, but a full blown out explanation was never expected. He doesn’t seem like the type. But something more would have been….nice. Granted, Solana realizes she’s probably pushing her luck in asking all these questions anyway and sits back in her seat, relegating herself to focusing on the current match.

The chill of the arena makes its reminder yet again as Solana crosses her arms over her body, trying to warm herself. The man beside herself notices this, accurately assessing, “you’re cold.”

True to her nature, Solana shakes her head, downplaying the fact that she is very much cold. “I’m fine.”

Downplaying or being outright dishonest is clearly something Solana would do well to push away, because it seems like this man is capable of seeing right through any and all lies.

Roman shifts forward in his seat and removes his jacket, reaching it to her. “Here.”

Rejection would be rude. It would also make her feel even more bad than she already does at inconveniencing him. Still, her options are really singular, meaning there are no others. Only one.

Mustering a small smile, she accepts his objectively kind gesture, sliding her arms through and adjusting as best she can given their size difference. Warmth overcomes her as well as the scent of his collage, something masculine, almost minty. It fits him.

Silence befalls them for a comfortable while before Solana excuses herself to use the bathroom, Roman only nodding in acknowledgment.

It’s in walking down the hall that Solana sees Jade and Bianca chatting away, admiring their championship belts. The taller of the two, Jade, happens to glance her way and smiles, exclaiming, “Girl, you are wearing the hell out of that dress!”

“Absolutely killing it,” Bianca also compliments, her smile just as genuine and affable.

Solana is certain she’s just staring dumbly for a good couple of seconds, because such a compliment from two objectively stunning women towards her was the last thing she expected.

Descending off her shock, she offers an equally genuine smile and expression of appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

The compliment keeps that smile planted on her face. It’s so unexpected but deeply appreciated.

Solana dries her hands and tosses the used paper towels in the trash. It’s a brief glance at herself in the mirror that serves as the start of the slippery slope, landing her back in a brief state of uncertainty. The dress is so revealing, much more revealing than anything she could or would ever wear. But it’s hard to think or sit too much in that discomfort when the night has consisted of several compliments. Sami, Jimmy, Jey, now Bianca and Jade. Not to mention the biggest one, or maybe the one that gives her the most butterflies, coming from Roman.

“Fuck, you look good.”

Her smile shifts from something more silly to something a bit more bashful, her cheeks warming at someone as handsome and powerful as Roman Reigns thinking that she looks good.

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

A toilet flushes from the only other taken stall, and the door opening reveals the perfect reason why Solana should have just went straight back to join Roman instead of having a mental discourse in the bathroom.

Samantha’s long, shapely legs are the first thing Solana notices along with the way her dress melts to her toned, curvy body. She looks good, and she has to know that she looks good. A woman like her probably has men lined up by the dozen, Roman being at the front of that line.

Samantha’s dark lips form into a smirk as she walks over to the sink. “Surprised to see you tonight.” She moves to wash her hands. “After that not so little incident a while back, I figured that was the last day you’d step foot in here.”

Solana swallows. She’s managed to not think about that day since it happened. Samantha bringing it up is definitely salt on an open wound. “I—umm.”

“Nice dress. A lil snug though. Maybe go up a size next time?” Her voice, so sweet and sugary, is also venomous and knowing. “Or two.”

Solana’s hands naturally move to her stomach, forearms trying to block the part of her body she hates the most and is certain Samantha is primarily referring to.

“Sage, right?” She doesn’t give Solana a chance to respond. “Let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”

Something tells Solana she’s not going to like this advice.

Samantha dries her hands and walks up to Solana. “I know you’re Roman’s wife, but you can’t seriously think that means anything to him, right? It’s just a title, and he’ll defend you only because it’s defending his pride.” Solana tries to not put too much into Samantha’s hurtful words, but it’s hard not to when Solana knows Roman continues to be intimate with this woman, even after their marriage. She can’t blame him for that, though, especially since he’s definitely not getting it from her. Still, it does sting a bit. “Trust me, I’ve known him very well since we were in high school.” Samantha smirks, chuckling. “So, I would know.”

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

The last voice Solana expected to enter the conversation was that of Nia’s. But sure enough, Roman’s’ cousin stands near the bathroom door, arms crossed over her body.

Samantha’s expression sours tremendously as she icily greets the other woman, bigger, stronger, maybe even prettier. “Nia.”

Nia ignores the greeting and comes to stand near Solana, immediately going in on the slender women. “If you know him so well and you supposedly mean that much to him, how come it’s not you with a wedding ring on your finger?” Solana says nothing, keeping her gaze down, but it doesn’t stop her from also thinking about that very valid question. Just why didn’t Roman marry Samantha? “Or better yet,” Solana glancing back up allows her to see Nia’s cruel smile. “Why is it Solana’s name he said when he was fucking you?”

What?

Solana is visibly shaken by that because where in the hell did that even come from? There’s no way that can be true. No way Roman could be in bed with someone like Samantha and say her name.

But Samantha is visibly disturbed, lip almost curling into an almost snarl as she spits, “fuck you, Nia.”

“I’d call you Solana too, so I don’t think you’d want that.”

Samantha storms out of the bathroom without another word leaving Solana alone with Nia, Solana who is still trying to process what was just said and finds herself asking Nia.

“Is—is that true? Did you—did you really hear about Roman—ummm—”

Typically, Solana would keep her questions in the safety of her mind, but this…..this feels almost impossible to not seek clarification on.

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” Nia looks visibly disgusted but still answers her question. “I would never make something up like that about family. Samantha is a blabber mouth that doesn’t realize she shares her shit with that dumbass best friend of hers, Tiffy, and the whole town knows.”

The answer is appreciated, but it still leaves Solana with so many questions.

“I—I don’t understand.” Again, it’s something meant to stay inside but manages to slip past the cracks.

“God, you are naive.” Nia rolls her eyes and explains while crossing her arms. “Sweetie, if a man is balls deep in Woman A and says Woman B’s name, Woman A is not who he wants.”

That seems almost inconceivable to Solana. For Roman to think she looks good and maybe even consider her beautiful is one thing, but for him to desire her in that way is something entirely different.

She doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t let that skinny bitch get to you.” Nia seems eager to switch the conversation to something different. “She’s a pussy. All bark and no bite. Remember, you have the ring on your finger. You just have to put her in her place one good time, and she’ll leave you be. And if not, let Roman know. He’d never hurt or kill her himself, but he’d definitely ask me to, and truth be told, I’ve wanted to snap that bitch’s neck since high school, so you’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Solana can’t allow herself, or maybe more so doesn’t have the capacity, to think about that right now. She’s still trying to get a grip on chapter one. Still, she offers a quiet ‘thank you’ to Nia, turning to leave when the taller woman says her name. Solana turns back around. “Yes?”

Nia sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know you think I hate you, but I don’t. I may hate how soft you are, but I don’t hate you.” Nia then smirks with an almost playful add on of, “I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

________

As expected, Roman is immediately asking what took so long the second Solana is back in her seat.

Her excuse is weak. She tells him that there was a line, but it’s the best thing she can come up with on the spot. His expression is all the answer she needs that he certainly doesn’t believe her but will let it go.

For now.

The rest of the night seems to be more of a blur, Solana now more consumed with trying to wrap her head around this newest bit of information.

The twins end up finishing off the event with a brutal but successful match where they, as expected, retain their tag team titles.

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman.

And outside of some constructive criticism towards Jey and Jimmy, Roman expressed his desire to leave as soon as they got cleaned up, which took less time than she expected. He’s guiding them, her, out to leave, her hand still in his, when a thickly accented voice calls the attention of the man beside her.

“Roman Reigns.”

Solana can barely turn around to the source of the voice when Roman’s muscled arm is stretched across her body, moving her behind him, his big body serving as an impenetrable shield.

Because of their height difference, Solana can’t see a whole lot outside of the instant shift of security and even the twins toward whoever this person is.

“How wonderful for you to bless us with your presence so soon after WarGames.” The man scoffs, clearly trying to bait Roman. “What is this, the second appearance in how many years? Hell hath fuckin’ froze over.”

Solana catches a brief glance of the mystery man and gasps. He has an imposing figure, similar to Roman but there’s something cold about him, something….sinister.

“How dare you acknowledge the Tribal Chief—” Roman lifts his hand to silence Paul.

Roman simply states, “talk.”

“You know what I want, Reigns.” Solana hears a footstep and notices how Roman makes a subtle movement that results in the twins also moving closer towards her, shielding her from this man. “You don’t deserve that title. You may have been a fighter then, but you ain’t now. You’re about the Bloodline, and I respect that, mate, but the Undisputed title deserves to be with someone who defends it more than once a fucking year.”

“So what, you think you the one who gon’ take it? Man, we outta kill your ass right now for talking out your neck like that to our Tribal Chief!”

Solana hates being unable to see Roman, to see his face, to be able to gauge and read his facial expressions. He’s an enigma of a man, typically oscillating between irritated, angry, and indifferent, but not having the option altogether to know where he currently lands is bothersome. Especially with what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do something.”

Solana freezes. That….that can’t be good.

“You standing up on me. You make a good tough guy face. Do something.”

Solana’s fingers tap against her side, that familiar knotting in her stomach returning. She glances over at Jey who seems to also be a bit confused by Roman’s response.

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

Jimmy speaks up this time, rough voice quiet but urgent. “Roman, we got Solana here—”

“Come on. Make it happen. What’s different? Ain’t nothing changed. Think back to the last time you challenged me.” Solana hates when Roman moves away from her, because it means he’s a step closer to this man, this man who seems determined to pick a fight with the Tribal Chief and may get just that. “Think about it. I whooped you then. I’ll whoop you now.” Roman speaks with such a confidence about him, the most violent, straightforward promise of sure brutality she’s ever heard from a man. “Ain’t nothing changed.”

Solana isn’t necessarily thinking about what she’s doing when she suddenly moves herself in between Roman and this man who’s apparently hellbent on getting her husband riled up. It’s another unconscious act as she plants her palms against his chest, both relieved and nervous by how his gaze instantly drops to hers.

Solana licks her lips and finds herself pleading in an unexpectedly calm yet typically soft voice. “Let’s just go.” His initial expression of fury and simmering anger seems to lessen the longer he looks at her, and Solana adds on, desperately. “Please.”

This act of boldness is completely unplanned and entirely stems from Solana unable to stop thinking about how Roman being so upset all the time can’t be good for his blood pressure. It can’t be good for his health.

And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that bothers her. It concerns her.

Him not being healthy concerns her.

What does not surprisingly concern her is when Roman moves his hands down to her hips and almost gently moves her to the side, forcing her hands to drop. She expects him to lunge at the other man or to scold her for interfering, but he does neither.

He steps toward him and simply states with all the coldness, “you’ve got your match, but I set the date when I want it.” Solana’s more or less holding her breath, waiting for Roman to strike the man, or worse. “But know this, McIntyre, you step in that ring with me again, I’m not just ending your career this time, I’m ending your fucking life.”

Roman’s threat sends uneasy chills down her spine. There’s no mistaking Roman’s promise, something she’s certain he will be sure to fulfill.

He then takes her hand again and moves her to the side opposite of the man who looks like he hates Roman as much as Roman probably hates him. Solana is almost entirely eclipsed by Roman’s big body as he walks her past the ordeal.

The car ride is a bit uncomfortably silent, Solana recognizing that Roman is still seething from the exchange but most likely waiting until she’s out of his vicinity to express that rage.

But, it's when she’s walking back in the house after letting Dulce do her business that Roman catches and speaks to her.

“Solana.” He’s leaning back against the counter, big arms crossed over his muscular body. He’s so….big. “What happened when you went to the bathroom tonight?”

She can’t be surprised, can’t feel caught off guard by his question. It’s still not something she necessarily wants to talk about or knows how to discuss, but she’ll do the best she can.

“I ran into Samantha.” Taking a deep breath, she tries her hardest to keep it vague but still an acceptable answer. “I don’t—I don’t think she likes me.”

At that, Roman nearly growls, “what did that bitch say to you?”

Solana winces at his tone. “It wasn’t that bad…”

He’s quick with the dismissal and redirection. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just—she just talked about my outfit, that—that was it, because Nia came in there, and well, I don’t—I think Nia might hate her more than she hates me.”

Roman sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’ll handle Samantha.” Before Solana can protest, he adds, “Nia doesn’t hate you.”

This brings a small smile to Solana’s face. “That's what she said.”

Roman also looks slightly amused by this, studying her for a second. “Solana.” The surprises keep on coming, because he takes an unexpected turn in the conversation. “I almost lost my temper tonight.”

This….this feels true. His issuance of threats were delivered in an almost calm manner, but it was more deceptive than anything. Like a setup for violence that was potentially about to unfold if she didn’t interfere.

Still, nothing ended up happening, so it doesn’t make sense for him to act like it did.

“But, you didn’t,” she points out quietly, offering a bit of an olive branch. “And….you were upset.”

Solana would maybe argue that he’s always in varying states of upsetness, but that’s not the point of the conversation at hand.

“I have no shortage of enemies, Solana.” His voice takes on a darker, almost subdued tone. It makes her previously amused expression slip into something more somber. “But, I need you to know that I would never do anything that would put you in danger. Drew wanted to issue his challenge. That’s it. He wasn’t going to do anything, because he wants an audience for that. I had it under control.” Solana isn’t questioning that nor did she plan to, but Roman’s next question definitely takes her for a loop. “Were you scared?”

It’s a valid, understandable question that she didn’t think about until this moment. There was anxiety, maybe some element of fear but also concern, so she decides to play down the first two.

“I wasn’t scared.” It was more concern than fear, which, in her mind, are two different things. “Just….confused about what was happening.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His dismissal is nicer than what anyone else would receive. “Of me, Solana. Were you scared of me?”

Another valid question that she’s actually been thinking about on and off for the past few weeks. Solana would like to consider herself not naive to a lot of things about this life that she was born into. She knows that most of the people who surround her are killers. And Roman is no different. The king of that, maybe.

But…..

But, he’s done nothing thus far to make her ever believe she would ever be subjected to that side of him. If anything, he’s worked to stress and help her understand that she’d never be hurt by him. And adding up all of the things he’s done to support said message, Solana feels it only appropriate to be honest with him.

About more than just his question.

“When—-when the twins asked earlier today if I wanted to go in the pool, I got nervous because—-” Solana displays her textbook signs of discomfort with the stammering and playing with her fingers but still manages to get out what she wants to share. “Wes, he used to…..hold my head under water until I almost passed out.” Solana looks away for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “That……that’s who I’m afraid of.” Solana manages to set her gaze back on Roman, almost confidently assuring, “I’m not scared of you, Roman.”

He steps toward her, and Solana’s eyes never leave his, mindful of the way his hand lifts, tensing when he rests it against her face, palming her cheek almost gently. Solana stiffens but easily shifts into something not calm but not on edge either. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, of anyone. I won’t let anyone else ever hurt you again.”

And for the first time, she believes him without the speck of doubt and uncertainty in the backseat. Solana has seen nothing from the man before her to indicate otherwise. She doesn’t know a lot of things regarding him, regarding them, regarding just why he’s so hellbent on defending her, but one thing she’s realized is that he’s intentional and determined with his dedication to protect her.

This is similar, very similar, too similar to that night where her fears got the best of her, where she was unable to overpower the discomfort and fear. But, this isn’t that night, and Solana doesn’t feel that building dread in the core of her stomach. It could be the fact that it’s only one hand on her, cupping her face. Nowhere else.

It could even be a very early sign that maybe, just maybe, that book she was given so long ago really does have the healing properties someone from so long ago once promised.

There’s even her conversation with Nia from earlier that sits in the back of her mind, the undeniable confirmation of Roman’s attraction to her. Enough to where he would say her name during that.

Whatever the case, she doesn’t move away, just nods quietly, slowly moving away from him.

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Roman says nothing, also nodding as acknowledgment, watching as Solana grabs Dulce and disappears out of his sight but not the front of his mind.

________

The Reigns estate is as spacious as it is grandiose. There are several ways and paths to reach a destination.

So, Roman doesn’t have to pass Solana’s room to reach his bedroom. There’s an alternative route in coming from where he was working, but he decides this specific way for reasons he’s not entirely sure of.

It ends up being a good decision because it’s in walking past her door that he hears low scraping against said door. Instantly, he knows it’s Dulce clearly needing to go outside. And she confirms as such with her soft whimpering.

Rolling his eyes, Roman opens the door just enough for Dulce to run out, stopping when she sees it’s him. He glances at the bed to see Solana sleeping, open book on her chest, indicating she fell asleep while reading.

Dulce whines again, and he chides quietly, “be quiet before you wake her up.”

Dulce’s ears go down as Roman picks up the puppy that’s still too little to walk up and down the steps, hence needing human transportation. It’s annoying, but he brings her down the steps and out the backyard.

Settling her down, he instructs, “go on. Do whatever you gotta do.”

He’ll give the dog some credit where credit is due. She’s far more obedient than he expected for a puppy, because in less than 10 minutes, she’s emptied her bladder and is being carried back to Solana’s room.

Roman is careful to lay her little ass back in her bed, aware of her bristle looking legs that would probably break with one bad drop.

Rising back to his full height, he catches Solana turning on her side, the shift in position causing the book to slip and almost fall out the bed, but Roman is fast, catching it before the crash and potential disturbance can wake her up.

Naturally, he glances at the front cover, noticing the age of the book. But the aging look doesn’t mean shit to him when he sees the title and a piece of paper that clearly has Solana’s handwriting. He doesn’t read that, wanting to respect her privacy, but he definitely reads the title, and it instantly shifts his entire mood.

The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

It shifts his mood from his default state or irritation to quiet rage.

There’s only one reason she would be reading this book, working out of this book. And it’s not that he didn’t already know she’d been violated in one way or another. Her medical records confirmed as such.

But, he was thinking she was a teenager, not any better, but definitely not a fucking child.

Someone hurt her when she was still a child, a literal goddamn kid, and this is something Roman cannot find it in him to avoid investigating. He’s always been a man uncomfortable with unanswered questions, and there are no shortage of them in regards to Solana. Not that he would ever put her in a position to answer them. No. He wouldn’t do that to her, would never make her share something like that with him.

But, he does know someone else he can demand answers from.

Two people, actually. One of them being shit out of luck after narrowly avoiding Roman’s wrath from earlier today in learning that he fucking tortured Solana.

Roman carefully places the book on her nightstand and makes sure Dulce is still in her bed on the other side of Solana’s before quietly closing the door.

Roman is down the hall, powerful strides taking him to his room as he pulls out his phone, dialing the one person he knows for a fact will answer his call at any time. Hitting dial and switching it to speaker, Roman tosses his phone on the bed to get dressed.

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

Roman jumps right into it. “Meet me at the Miller house. Get your brothers.”

Solo only pauses for a second, answering in that stoic voice, “we’ll be there in 30.”

Not good enough.

“Make it 20.”

________

As expected, Roman is met at the Miller house by his cousins, all three.

Slamming the car door shut, Roman hears Jimmy yawning loudly. “Man, why the hell is we here?”

Ignoring his older brother, Solo straightens his stance and informs, “I had Pearce disable the security system.”

“Good.” It’s the fact that Solo already knew to do so without being told. Moments like this is when Roman knows he made the right decision promoting and moving Solo up the ranks. He’s more than proved himself.

“I have questions. Miller has answers.” Roman’s answer there is intentionally vague. Solana’s trauma is no one’s business but her own, and just because he is also aware doesn’t mean he needs to broadcast it. “And Solana told me today her brother used to waterboard her.”

“Waterboarding? Like actual fucking torture?” This information seems to awaken both the twins, eliciting angry reactions. “What the fuck is wrong with his ass?”

“We killing them, right?” Jey, forever the hothead and also relatively equal with Roman in terms of how quickly he travels from zero to one-hundred, is the first to ask the most obvious question.

“No. Not tonight. That would be too easy.” And it would. Roman meant that shit when he said he wanted their asses to suffer. “But that doesn’t mean we have to make living easy for them.”

They don’t deserve to live, let alone living easy lives. Not when they’ve done everything seemingly possible to make Solana’s miserable.

Roman then looks towards the twins, instructing, “take care of the brother.” It’s not a necessary directive, but he doesn’t hesitate to add, “make him fucking suffer.”

He then motions for Solo to follow him, the men headed toward the house as Roman swears out loud, “Xavier is mine.”

Roman steps back as Solo waits zero time in shattering the large window in the living room, providing an entrance for the men. Roman grabs his gun, nodding for the twins to move first, followed by Solo, each man armed with a gun. It’s unnecessary, Roman is certain as they’re more likely to find father and son in the midst of illicit acts vs prepared for the onslaught headed their way.

Up the stairs and on the second floor, Roman quietly motions for them to split up, Solo and the twins to the right while he moves to the left, the most likely location of the master.

Solo seems to give him an uneasy expression, but Roman simply nods and heads toward his target.

Xavier is his.

The combination of the brothers works just as Roman predicted, them successfully locating the brother’s bedroom, confirmed by his horrified shout of ‘what the fuck!

It’s followed up with a shout of pain and Jey yelling “Get your bitch ass up!” and “Solo, fill up the tub!”

Pleased, Roman is standing directly outside of Xavier’s door when the older man rips the door open, face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. That quickly morphs into fear when he realizes just who is responsible for this attack.

Roman brings the gun across upside Miller’s head, watching the man fall down and writhe in pain, holding his hand against his now bleeding head.

Undeterred, Roman reaches down, yanking the man up by his neck as he jolts his body against the nearest wall. “We need to talk.” Straight to the point and not in the mood for any bullshit this fucker may try to spew his way, Roman demands, “I want to know what the fuck happened to my wife.”

And there’s a brief but telltale sign that Xavier knows exactly what he’s referring to without Roman even needing to elaborate.

That only pisses him off even more.

Still, Xavier stutters, shaking his head, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman gives a bitter smile, shaking his head and scratching his beard. It’s the last thing he’s certain Xavier sees before Roman again has him up by the collar of his pajama shirt.

“You really want to play these fucking games with me?” It’s a no. It’s a hell no, but Xavier insulting Roman’s intelligence by lying to him indicates the opposite of no. So, Roman will treat him as such. “Who the fuck touched Solana?”

His question is followed up by screaming coming from down the hall, the beautiful sound of a piece of shit getting exactly what he deserves.

“What? Ain’t so tough now, little bitch! Like to beat on women but a pussy when it comes to fighting another man!”

And while it could bring a smile to Roman’s face, Xavier looks horrified in hearing Jimmy’s taunts. Instantly, he’s pleading, pathetic and pitiful, “pl—please.”

“I’d torture and kill that bitch right in front of you tonight if I could.” It pisses Roman off to no end how this man can care so much about his demented son but not give a flying fuck about his innocent daughter. “Now, answer my fucking question, who touched Solana?”

Again, Xavier decides to test Roman’s patience, offering unasked information. “She—she was a virgin before she married you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about her being virgin or not!” She could still be a virgin and have been touched. But truth be told, that shit’s never mattered to him anyway. Virgin or no virgin, it’s always been an irrelevant deciding factor to who he took to bed. “Tell me what happened to her or I’ll blow that bitch son of yours fucking brains out right in front of you—”

Roman pulls the gun from out of the back of his pants, knowing full and well that while he would love to empty the entirety of it in the scum before him, it’s better served torturing him in another sort of manner.

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

“Alright, alright!” Xavier finally caves, sweat bubbling across his wrinkled forehead. “She was raped, alright? Two men broke into the house when she was 12 and attacked her. Beat her real bad. They—they never found them. Okay? That—that’s the truth. That’s what happened.”

No. Not fucking okay. Nothing is fucking okay. Roman wanted answers, felt like he needed them, but knowing the truth, it doesn’t do shit but paint his vision red.

He knew something happened to her.

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped.

Beaten.

Twelve.

And then another thought hits him, the absolute terror on her face that day when she was faced with what should be the most simplest thing for a person: going into their childhood bedroom.

Roman remembers her fear, the dried blood, the scratches on the wall.

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

The thought of a child being hurt at all has never sat right with him, but to be hurt in that way. As a child, and for that child to have been Solana.

He’s fucking breathing rage.

“Where the fuck were you, huh?” Roman jerks his body back against the wall, half ready to break this fucker’s neck. “Answer me!”

“I wasn’t home!” Xavier’s sweating has progressed into droplets from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose and shirt. “I—I was out on a fishing trip with Wes.”

A fishing trip…..

This man was out enjoying fucking nature with his dimwitted offspring while his daughter was at home alone fighting for her fucking life.

“You left a 12 year old home alone?” It keeps getting fucking worse. “How long was she alone!” Roman is fully prepared to risk snapping this motherfucker’s neck when he spits out a desperate answer.

“A week. It was just a week.” And if it makes a fucking difference, he desperately adds on, “I—I’d done it before, and she was fine.”

Xavier is either stupid or very stupid, because Roman can’t conceptualize how this imbecile would think the additional information makes it any better.

Solana was hurt.

She was hurt in the worst way possible, and it’s all his fault.

With all of the aggression in his body, Roman throws the piece of shit across the room, intentionally aiming for the glass coffee table that instantly shatters under the weight of his fat ass.

Without a second of fucking hesitation, Roman fires two shots directly into Xavier’s body, one in his right hand and the other in his left foot. Xavier’s shouts of pain do little to dull the unadulterated rage coursing through Roman’s body.

Shouts morph into tiny, pathetic whimpers as Roman slowly walks through the broken glass, tossing his gun to the side as he pulls out the brass knuckles in his back pocket.

“I told Solana I wouldn’t kill you until she gave me the word, and I’m not going to take that from her.” He crouches down besides the now crying older man, crying in the way Roman is certain Solana did when she was alone and helpless. His fury is practically bubbling over now as he coldly vows, “but that doesn't mean I can’t make your life a living fucking hell until then.”

________

Roman walks back into the house with a weight he can’t shake, even with the brutal carnage he unleashed on the Miller household, leaving father and son on the brink of death. That type of violent release typically abates his anger, and it did diminish a lot of it, seeing that piece of shit pummeled into a bloody, broken mess.

But Roman is still plagued with thoughts of the hell Solana endured living in that household. To be attacked in that way in her own home, in her fucking bedroom, it makes Roman want to get right back in his SUV and carry Xavier and his equally piece of shit over the doorstep of death.

But, he couldn’t do that to Solana, take that away from her. He’s just the executioner in this situation. He’ll let the day of reckoning be determined by her because that’s the least she can get.

Coming straight back home, Roman didn’t bother to stop and get himself cleaned up. His guards have seen much worse, and Solana is asleep, so that’s not a concern either.

But, it is a concern because in an almost scene of deja vu, Solana is most certainly not asleep. She’s sitting on the sofa, Dulce right beside her when she hears his heavy footsteps.

Roman doesn’t have time to say anything, too stunned by this happening yet again, even later than he’s returned before.

Why is she up?

Solana jumps up off the sofa and is suddenly standing across from him, her face painted in what’s obviously a moderate to tremendous amount of worry and anxiety.

But, she isn’t looking at him. Not really. She’s more so focused on the blood stained and splattered clothes that adorn him.

“You’re hurt…..” He’s heard her say it the last two times they were in this type of situation, eerily similar in a lot of ways, but this time….this time is different.

It’s different because she rushes over to him, her hand floating over his chest, one place, two place, another place. Like a plane trying to find a safe space to land, she’s unsure where he’s hurt and clearly overwhelmed by it all.

And then he sees it, the blurry overlay of water over her eyes and the slight tremble of her lip.

Roman steps towards her, trying to be respectful of the distance between them. Her discomfort with touch makes all the sense now. “Please don’t cry.” And this is yet another new, unfamiliar, unexposed territory for him, seeing her so distraught at her belief that he’s been hurt. The way that the thought alone clearly wrecks her.

Roman quickly notices the changing of her breathing pattern, heavier, rhythmic almost.

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

Realizing this is a matter of de-escalation, he does what’s needed in the moment and brings his hands to her face, cupping her face.

“Solana, breathe, baby.” The term of adoration isn’t even something that really registers with him at the moment, not an intentional addictive or something he gives two fucks about in this moment, really. He’s solely focused on settling the woman in front who’s on the brink of a panic attack.

He can’t see her deal with that again, especially now that he knows just why she had the first one.

Roman has no hesitation in pushing away loose strings of her hair, never once taking his focus off her. “I’m fine, Solana. I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.” Recognizing she clearly needs to see it, he moves back to lift and toss his shirt on the floor. “See?”

And that seems to do something for her, something to help settle the panic.

Roman watches her and forces himself not to think about the heat that fills him at her hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s all so innocent. Recognizing her breathing has settled into something less alarming and more familiar, he moves his hand over hers, reiterating once more, “I’m fine.” He waits for her to finish taking a deep breath to ask, “why are you up?”

This has to be the third time Roman has come home at an ungodly hour to find her waiting for him, and he’s trying to figure out what the real reason is.

She licks her lip, clearly working her way up to a response. “Dulce had to…..had to use the bathroom, and I saw you weren’t here, and you didn’t answer my text.” Roman curses himself. He was so caught in his uproar that he didn’t even bother checking that thing, never expecting for Solana to be the missed notification on his lock screen. “I just…..I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Roman has heard this part before and tries to navigate how he wants to push back on his belief that it can’t be just that, but Solana surprisingly beats him to it. “I get….I get worried when you’re not here at night and—-and I can’t sleep until—-”

“Until I’m back….”

He has a good guess why. She was attacked in the middle of the night, and he’s also pretty certain he remembers reading that the attack that killed her mother also happened at night.

“Solana…..” For the first time in a while, if ever, Roman is active in his attempts to explain this to her as gently as he can. “What I do…who I am…I can’t always be here.”

“I know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You could never bother me, okay?” He wipes away more of her tears, hand back to cupping her face, realizing she’s not going to pull away from him this time. He takes full advantage of that. Roman moves his other hand to the small of her back, holding her against him. It’s not missed upon him how she also brings her other free hand to his chest. “But, I always make it back, alright?” She nods, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Can’t no man put me down.”

She smiles, a little laugh that does more to him than he’d like to admit, that he feels comfortable with. And this settles him. It settles him more than nearly killing her dad and brother for hurting her, directly and indirectly, did.

Solana nods, murmuring a quiet, “o–okay.”

He’s studying her. Closely. Maybe more than what’s necessary. It comes from a place of concern, and he’d admit as such. “Are you good now?”

She nods again, and he believes it enough to let her go, watching her start to walk away when he’s caught off guard again because of her body, so soft and warm, against his again. Her sweet perfume filling his senses, her arms around his neck.

She’s hugging him. Solana is actually hugging him. He can’t remember the last time someone did that shit.

But he doesn’t waste a second of time accepting her embrace that seems to end just as quickly as it began. He can’t be surprised or upset. This is big for her, obviously, and he would never push her past her comfort zone, but he also can’t deny that the absence of her in his arms is noticeable.

And uncomfortable.

Solana murmurs a rushed goodnight and grabs Dulce to head back up the stairs, Roman eyes never leaving her until she’s completely out of view.

Roman stands there for a few good minutes, unsure of what just happened, working to process the same unfamiliar feelings that coursed through him the last time they had a moment like this. It’s the same as before, just ten times stronger, more intense, more consuming.

Unsure of a lot, two things he knows for asbolute fucking certain:

He’s going to find Solana’s rapists and make them pay for every sick fucking thing they did to her.

There’s not a fucking force on earth that could take this girl away from him.

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x poc!oc #roman reigns x reader #arisnotebook

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garciaasfluffypen · 6 months

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for she is mesmerized

r is very proudly of polish descent. what wanda doesn’t know, is that r can speak fluent polish and wow, is it hot in here or is it just her?

pairing: wanda maximoff x f!reader word count: 1.9k warnings: use of y/n, female leaning terms of endearment, wanda’s falling in love with you but refuses to admit she has feelings (#emo), mentions of wanda having nightmares, mention of y/n's family dying (no description), small descriptions of looks (reader has wavy hair, no color used), reader and wanda are both 19-20 years old

a/n: hello besties, wanda phase!melly is back (everyone say thank you wandasaura!!!). i'm not used to writing for wanda so her characterization *may* be a little bit off, but i'm excited to try and step into her shoes! also, please don't get mad at me if the polish translations are off i literally speak zero polish but wanted to use it because i'm polish and thought it would be cool.

translations of the polish used will be at the end of the post!

if you’ve ever heard of the avengers, chances are you’ve heard of the hiena. she hailed from poland, and made it very clear she had no intentions of succumbing to silly american traditions (except for halloween and christmas, since pepper made her fall in love with decorating the tree in the lobby of avengers tower and she loved the idea of halloween since she was a kid). there was very little that y/n shared about herself, but if she could tell the avengers about her homeland and how much her traditions meant to her, she’d do it. her polishness was something y/n kept close to her chest considering she moved away from home a few years ago after a big explosion killed her whole family. there were things about y/n that wanda wanted to know like she knew the back of her hand. things that only y/n could tell wanda in the solace of her company, when the rest of the avengers had gone to sleep and it was just them two in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to heat up.

it was probably why wanda started falling in love with her.

well, wanda wasn’t sure she’d call it love, per se. the slovakian had been a recluse since she first arrived, especially after watching pietro sacrifice himself for the greater good. her feelings had pretty much been turned off since the moment tony gave her the pin to her room. and while the others didn’t understand her need to be alone sometimes, y/n did. wanda appreciated the space she gave her, but sometimes wished that she could get a little bit closer to her. she wanted someone here she could rely on. while she had that in natasha, she couldn’t find herself ever knocking on her door in the middle of the night when the nightmares plagued her. natasha had made it clear that she would be there for her no matter what, but if she were being honest, she was still a little intimidated by the red head. everyone had their stories, and wanda knew she would learn about them in due time. but the one story she wanted to learn was hers.

y/n was very different from her hiena counterpart. while her avenger-sona - as wanda liked to call it - was very in your face and i won’t take your bullshit, y/n was almost the opposite. she was very much not confrontational, she would tend to sink away when faced with the opportunity to face a problem in the tower head on. she was quieter than one would think, staying towards the back or opting to stay in with pepper and bruce while everyone else went our for drinks and dancing after big missions. it was enamoring how much she changed as soon as the grey and white suit came off and y/n could be herself. wanda always watched her from a distance, never getting too close for comfort. trying to catch her walking down the halls or watching her relax in the library curled up with a book. the way her wavy hair framed her face in the lowlight of the fireplace always had wanda mesmerized. how could someone with so much pent up anger look so angelic without even trying?

wanda’s phone buzzed with a reminder that read “weekly avengers meeting, 2pm”, which meant she had to leave the solace of her bedroom. with a sigh, she wrapped her cardigan around her midsection before slipping on her shoes and making her way into the hall towards the elevators. the doors opened on the third floor where all the meeting rooms were, leaving her to shrink further into her cardigan and keep her head down as she walked through the halls and past all the closed office doors. as usual, thor was jaunting on about some crazy story, probably fabricating some of the details to make the girls he was talking to flaunt over him more than they already were. natasha, who was standing a few feet away at the vending machine, simply rolled her eyes and grabbed the bottle of mountain dew from the bottom before continuing down the hall.

as wanda made her way down the hallway, she passed a room with a singular person in it. you. hiena. she had to force herself not to trip over her own two feet as she peered through the crack in the door, biting her thumb nervously as if you knew she was there. wanda had to force herself to look away from you and step out of the way as you paced the room, fearing that you’d see her and know she was eavesdropping. should she be eavesdropping? not at all. she was still so new to the team, she had a reputation to upkeep. but there was something about hearing you talk in your home language so professionally that had her stopping in her tracks.

it almost reminded her of home.

“przepraszam, nie rozumiem.” you sighed. “nie uważasz, że lepiej byłoby-” you got cut off, sighing angrily. “wiem, co masz na myśli, ale nie do końca się z tobą zgadzam.” another moment of silence. “dobrze. porozmawiam z tony'm.”

you hung up your phone and wanda sprung into action, running away from the door and acting like she didn’t just listen to half of your conversation despite the fact that she understood only one word. she waited a moment before walking down the hallway, pretending that she just happened to pass the room you were in at that very second.

“wanda!” your polish accent was shining through. “you’ve been settling in okay, i hope?”

“as good as i can,” she started. “it’s um.. a change.”

you nodded. “i can understand that. it was a lot for me too. you heading to the meeting?”

“yeah uh, yeah.” wanda nodded.

“can i walk with you? that way you don’t have to go in alone, i know the first avengers meeting can be a bit weird with everyone staring at you.”

wanda had to stop herself from buckling at the knees.

“that’s very sweet of you.” wanda smiled. “thank you.”

“of course.” you gave wanda a half smile. “come on, tony doesn’t like it when we’re late.”

wanda smiled as the two of you started walking down the hallway together. she had to fight every urge in her body to stop her hand from brushing up against yours as you walked towards the meeting room together.

as for you, you could practically feel the admiration radiating off of wanda. you had found it quite cute how she always seemed to be watching you do your mundane little tasks. it might have been the reason you found yourself leaving the comfort of your room more and more lately, trying to catch a glimpse of the younger girl. wanda was young, yet she had been through so much. she was handling it with so much grace and composure, you were surprised you hadn’t heard her break down into tears yet as you walked past her room every night. there was the chance she had magick-ed the walls, yes, but you knew from experience you could only hold things in for so long before the dam burst. it was how you and bruce bonded when you first joined the avengers. he had found you in the midst of a breakdown and from then on became your father figure- more so than tony, who was the one who took you under his wing in the first place. granted, tony was… well, tony. there was only so much you could get out of him before he started acting weird about it.

the meeting went off by without any issues, mainly going over and debriefing the last mission you went on and attempting to tip toe around talking about the battle of sokovia, considering the wound was still pretty fresh for wanda. paperwork was signed, reports were filed and you were ready to get out of there. the weekly meetings were very tiresome, you hated talking over the strategy side of things. you always had an itch to keep moving and doing things when it came to things like this. even in high school, before everything went to shit, you would always look forward to the end of the day so you could go run on the track for a few hours before heading home. bruce had gotten you some fidget toys, saying something about how they’d help, but they only do so much when all you want to do is move around.

the need to be moving all the time was partly why you named yourself after hyenas. not only did your powers give you heightened hearing, the strength you found while training with natasha made you feel as fierce as one of them. the avengers were almost like your pack, even though you could never consider yourself the leader. you had been under tony’s wing for a few years now, and almost considered them family. almost. nothing would or ever could replace the family you had left behind in poland. you talked to them constantly, trying to keep in touch with them as much as you could to make sure they were doing okay after everything that had happened. it pained you to think that they would have been gone if you hadn’t grown into your powers sooner.

“alright, meeting adjourned!" tony’s clap shook you out of your thoughts. “i’ll be in my office if you need me. but don’t need me, actually, i have a lot of things to do today.”

pepper rolled her eyes. “i’ll be readily available if anyone needs anything. you all know you can come into my office whenever.”

“thank you, pepper.” wanda’s voice was quieter than it was earlier.

“of course, sweetheart.”

everyone dispersed relatively quickly, leaving you and wanda alone in the room. thankfully pepper got the memo to close the door behind her, giving you two a barrier from the outside world.

“are you okay?”

“hm? oh um… yeah. i’m…”

“i lost my parents too. a few years ago.”

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. shit happens, you know?” you chuckled dryly. “i guess what i’m trying to say is, if you need anything… my door is always open.”

you could have sworn a smile cracked on wanda’s face. “thank you.”

“it’s okay if you’re not okay, yet.” you looked over to her. “i have to remind myself of that every day. i’m still not okay. the independence i got from my family…” you paused. “i could have saved them if i was there.”

wanda reached over and squeezed your hand sympathetically. “there are a lot of things that we could have done differently. we can’t dwell on it.”

“you sound like natasha.” a small smile formed on your face.

“i might have picked up a little bit from her.” she smiled back. “she’s very smart.”

“that she is.” you glanced at the time on your phone. “do you want some lunch? i made perogis and rosół yesterday.”

“perogis sound good. what is ro…”

“rosół? it's a soup from poland. my mom made it for me and my cousins when we were little. a lot of the time when we were sick, but it’s still good even when you’re well.”

“that sounds good too.”

“then it's settled. lunch time, on the house.” you slapped your knees and stood up. “you coming?”

“let’s do it.”

TRANSLATIONS: przepraszam, nie rozumiem- sorry, i don't understand nie uważasz, że lepiej byłoby- don't you think it would be better to // wiem, co masz na myśli, ale nie do końca się z tobą zgadzam- i know what you mean but i don't fully understand // dobrze. porozmawiam z tony'm - fine. i will talk to tony // rosół- a traditional polish soup very closely aligned with chicken soup! typically made with some sort of meat, broth and other garnishings. *thank you to tynix for letting me know i was using the wrong translation of "fine"!

#moja żabko universe #wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction

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pumpkinhimiko · 8 months

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"Mistranslations" that are not mistranslations

Now with an additional part 2.

NISA has made plenty of mistakes while translating the Danganronpa series (and I've complained about them before), and so they have a reputation of being untrustworthy. But because of this reputation, I feel like fans are too quick to trust whatever anyone that isn't NISA states as absolute fact. So, I want to examine some instances of fan translators claiming NISA has mistranslated something, when, no, actually, they didn't.

Kokichi's last words

人にやらされるゲームなんて…楽しい訳あるかよ… A game you're forced to play... how could that be fun...

This is probably the most widespread myth in terms of "mistranslations that aren't", with the original post that makes this claim having over 2k notes: that Kokichi in the original Japanese actually says, "How could a game where you're forced to kill people be fun...?" Unfortunately, it's just not true. Fortunately for me, there's a reddit post here that breaks the line down in detail, so I don't have to do any work.

Anyway, I really wanted to make this post because of this thread, which makes several false claims.

Kokichi says he's afraid of friends in general

オレは、そういう『仲間』が他人よりも怖いけどねー。I'm more afraid of those kinds of [friends] than strangers.

So... souiu, meaning that type of/that kind of is right there, directly before nakama (which can mean friend, especially if it's in a shounen anime, but can also just mean companion/member of a group). I don't understand how you can miss this. Not only is it right there, this claim on its face doesn't make sense. Why, in this context, would Kokichi suddenly blurt out that he's afraid of having friends? It has nothing to do with the conversation they're having.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial

王馬くん、もういいだろ ? Ouma-kun, isn't this enough? その話を聞かせてくれよ。Tell us about that.

Okay, you've probably heard the phrase mou ii a lot if you watch anime, and it's almost always accompanied by a frustrated huff. Because it is, in fact, something you say when impatient, fed up, what have you. It literally means "good already", carrying pretty much the identical meaning of the English phrase, "that's enough" or "I've had enough". Shuichi does not say it's okay as in it's daijoubu, which is the word you use when trying to comfort someone. He is very much frustrated here and telling Kokichi to fess up.

Citation needed

I couldn't find a line like this in Kokichi's FTEs, but maaaaaaaybe I missed it? Shuichi's narration comments quite a few times on Kokichi acting childishly throughout the game, but I couldn't find anything like this in specific.

EDIT: Correction, I did find it, and it's covered in part two. Suffice to say, the OP got this line completely wrong.

That Kaito thing

Yeah this is patently false. It's also already been touched on in this thread with comments backing it up, so there’s another thing I don't have to get into. I'll put the text here though.

オレはテメーみて一に胸クソ悪い真似までして、If I have to mimic your sickening behavior, 生き残りて一とは思わねーんだよ。I don't think I want to survive.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial part deaux

I've seen varying claims on how these lines were translated, from them being slightly tweaked, to the claim they were completely butchered to make Saihara too aggressive. I'm just going to leave it here and let you come to your own conclusions.

ダサいのはキミの方だよ…王馬くん。The lame one is you... Ouma-kun.

百田くんの周りにはいつも人が集まってくる… Momota-kun always has people around him... でも、キミの周りには誰もいないじゃないか。But, there's no one around you.

キミは…その程度のヤツって事だよ。That's... what kind of person you are.

This is snappy in its own way, though, if you consider that 程度 is closer to meaning grade/level/degree rather than simply "type of". "That's the level of person you are," basically.

And if you doubt me on any of this, I encourage you to do your own research, get second opinions if you can. I know not everyone knows Japanese, in which case you can't really help but rely on someone else and hope their translation is accurate. That said, at the bare minimum, I think people should provide screenshots and the original Japanese text if they're going to claim something is a mistranslation. Like, I don't think you should be able to say "actually in Japanese Kokichi says he volunteers at animal shelters in his free time but NISA cut it!" and have half the fandom believe you with no proof.

#new danganronpa killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #danganronpa #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #shuichi saihara #saihara shuichi #kaito momota #momota kaito #meta #doretalks #translation bs #i take it back #about 90% of that thread is inaccurate

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soupthatistohot · 2 months

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A rant about why BSD is hard to enjoy right now (in my opinion)

Originally posted this on twitter but I think tumblr folks will sympathize, as well. So, here goes!

The stakes are simultaneously so ridiculously high and also nonexistent. I can't shake the feeling that everything is going to return to normal after this arc is over (everyone we care about will be alive, the world will have been saved), so why should I care about anything that's happening?

To that point -- no one (I care about) stays dead!! So what if Kunikida "died" in the chapter today? I'm sure he'll be back. Dazai also didn't die in Meursault, neither did Fyodor (who actually literally CAN'T die!!). Akutagawa is now alive and well, too! As much as I hate excessive MCD (like in JJK), you need to actually kill off characters sometimes if you're gonna threaten it so often, because then every death lacks emotional impact. I've been, like, numbed to it atp.

There are so many characters I do not know enough about to care about. Who even are the hunting dogs? Bram? Sigma? Asagiri hasn't put as much time and care into characterizing them as the main cast, so when things happen to them I kinda don't give a shit long-term. They were introduced in the middle of a convoluted plot that has taken such precedence over the characters who are supposed to be driving the story.

BSD originated as a character-driven story, and that's what drew myself and so many others to it in the first place. It was bizarre in a charming sort of way. It was about the characters growing and developing as people as much/more as it was about the external conflicts going on. It almost feels like Asagiri has been trying to be too clever about this that he's lost the core of BSD: it's heart.

Similarly, there's a reason this is such a ship-heavy fandom, we live for the character dynamics! But our beloveds have been scattered to the winds for literal years in our time that we've lost most of that interaction we love so much. Give us back our found family dynamics!!

Kind of back to the point about the convoluted plot -- it eels like the characters' intelligence has outgrown us and Asagiri, to the point of seeming impossibly ridiculous. Like what do you mean Chuuya was faking it the whole time and then stopped a bullet from entering dazai's skull and got away from it because of the security camera angle?? what do you mean Fyodor dying by a vampire's hand actually means that he subsumes bram and then he sets off a tripolar singularity to create god and this was his plan all along????

Obviously I don't speak for the whole fandom and these are just my opinions. I'm not saying you have to agree with me or even that BSD is horrible. I just feel like it's kinda lost its way the past few years and I miss the animanga I fell in love with :(

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd manga #bsd anime #bsd meta

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incdntlprompts · 2 years

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* [ DIALOGUE PROMPTS ] : feelings are complicated.

below, i’ve compiled a list of [ 50 ] dialogue prompts for your writing and roleplaying needs, all about denying those feelings. inspired by songs, tv series/film, and my daily daydreaming. some of these work as an almost accidental declaration of love, coming to terms with your emotions, or digging yourself deeper into that denial. there are prompts for your ship or a third-party looking in on their mess.

[ ONE ] : “ have you heard about how i’m supposedly in love with you ? ”

[ TWO ] : “ i never said i was in love with you. ”

[ THREE ] : “ i hate you. ”

[ FOUR ] : “ if somebody i was still in love with was getting serious with somebody else i’d be pretty upset too. ”

[ FIVE ] : “ please, i would rather swallow shards of glass than ever date you. ”

[ SIX ] : “ being physically attracted to you doesn’t mean i’m in love with you. ”

[ SEVEN ] : “ being in love with you doesn’t mean i want to be with you. ”

[ EIGHT ] : “ nothing is ever going to happen between us. ”

[ NINE ] : “ i don’t feel that way about you anymore. ”

[ TEN ] : “ you’re over me ? when.. when were you under me ? ”

[ ELEVEN ] : “ deny it all you want but i know you love me. ”

[ TWELVE ] : “ it doesn’t have to mean anything. ”

[ THIRTEEN ] : “ so denial isn’t just a river in egypt. ”

[ FOURTEEN ] : “ how do you really feel ? ”

[ FIFTEEN ] : “ just be honest for once in your life. ”

[ SIXTEEN ] : “ admitting your feelings isn’t going to kill you. ”

[ SEVENTEEN ] : “ you’re so in denial, even you don’t know how you really feel. ”

[ EIGHTEEN ] : “ i don’t believe you. ”

[ NINETEEN ] : “ does me dating them bother you ? ”

[ TWENTY ] : “ there’s nothing else to talk about. ”

[ TWENY-ONE ] : “ we could y’know... it doesn’t have to change anything. ”

[ TWENTY-TWO ] : “ ‘no homo’ is really starting to sound like homo, bro. ”

[ TWENTY-THREE ] : “ everyone else can see it but you. ”

[ TWENTY-FOUR ] : “ i might be in love with you. ”

[ TWENTY-FIVE ] : “ i only said all those things because i felt sorry for you. ”

[ TWENTY-SIX ] : “ do you really hate me that much ? ”

[ TWENY-SEVEN ] : “ you’ve been avoiding me and i don’t know why. ”

[ TWENTY-EIGHT ] : “ oh, i know you don’t like me. it’s because i know you love me. ”

[ TWENTY-NINE ] : “ i thought you knew ! ”

[ THIRTY ] : “ you can’t act this way every time i fuck somebody that isn’t you ! ”

[ THIRTY-ONE ] : “ does everybody know that i’m in love with them except for me ? ”

[ THIRTY-TWO ] : “ i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do. ”

[ THIRTY-THREE ] : “ clearly i still have feelings for them but feelings don’t have to mean love. ”

[ THIRTY-FOUR ] : “ yeah, so ? you had feelings for me first ! ”

[ THIRTY-FIVE ] : “ we could kiss ? nobody needs to know. ”

[ THIRTY-SIX ] : “ even if i did have feelings for you, what would it matter? you don’t feel the same way about me. ”

[ THIRTY-SEVEN ] : “ does this mean something ? ”

[ THIRTY-EIGHT ] : “ this can mean something... if you want it to ? ”

[ THIRTY-NINE ] : “ i wish i never met you. ”

[ FORTY ] : “ you can’t be angry with them for moving on. ”

[ FORTY-ONE ] : “ i don’t trust that you won’t break my heart. ”

[ FORTY-TWO ] : “ you don’t get to pick and choose who i date unless you want to volunteer yourself ! ”

[ FORTY-THREE ] : “ we shouldn’t do that again. ”

[ FORTY-FOUR ] : “ i don’t know what about this scares you so much. ”

[ FORTY-FIVE ] : “ you never know what might happen if you put yourself out there. ”

[ FORTY-SIX ] : “ i never said i hated you. ”

[ FORTY-SEVEN ] : “ don’t you find it suspicious that you can’t talk about how you really feel about me/them? ”

[ FORTY-EIGHT ] : “ i should have never kissed you. ”

[ FORTY-NINE ] : “ I don’t want to be your friend. ”

[ FIFTY ] : “ i think you think about me sometimes. ”

#rp prompts #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #rp meme #love prompts #sentence starters #writing ideas #( prompt )#( dialogue prompt )#rp prompt

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desolatespring · 1 year

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CW: yandere themes, threats of murder, dubcon/noncon, mentions of dacryphilia, overstimulation, and edging, oral sex (f receiving), dom Chrollo, 18+ Commission for @tomatop It took awhile to pick up on, but you eventually began to notice the subtle cues Chrollo inadvertently laid before you. In a way it almost humanized him, and that you thought, was even more unnerving than just accepting him as a monster. Viewing Chrollo as human was a cruel conclusion you struggled to come to. Despite the insurmountable power, and cold calculated behaviors, he was still a man. On rare occasions you came close to feeling bad for him, never true empathy, but pity.

Tonight was one of those instances. His usual methods of producing verbalized emotional turmoil, or as he liked to call it “banter” had ceased to work a few days ago. You remembered an article you read soon after graduating, and the term “stonewalling” stood out to you. It consisted of simply refusing to answer questions or responding to someone as an act of self preservation. Chrollo seemed to feed off your responses to him, you hoped by cutting him off from them he’d simply starve. Anything from a forced smile to you screaming in frustration was enough to temporarily satisfy him, providing him with enough material to psychoanalyze you for days, if not weeks on end. So, you decided to limit his resources.

You sat cross legged on the floor, back leaning against the bed, with a book in your hand. Under normal circumstances you loved reading, but alas, nothing with Chrollo could be considered normal. The only reading material you had he had supplied you with, was it really necessary for you to be reading “Fahrenheit 451” for the third time? You swore you’d go insane if he compared you Clarisse McClellan even once more.

When you first started reading Chrollo was at the head of the bed, reading his own novel, but after a few chapters he’d invited himself to lay down right behind you, his hand “accidentally” brushing your hair on occasion as he turned the page. Not long after this you could feel his eyes on you. The chill that tended to run up your spine under his scrutinizing gaze never came though. This is what told you something was off, even without turning your head you could almost feel emptiness radiating from him, threatening to swallow you into the abyss. That alone was almost enough to make you capitulate, ready to beg him for forgiveness for ignoring him.

Forcing yourself to focus on the pages in front of you, you successfully set these feelings aside. That was until the once sporadic brushes against your hair became more frequent. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that fingers that once touched you with an unspoken confidence became riddled with doubt. The touches were much more gentle, you could tell he was deep in thought.

That caused you yourself to think. Was he getting bored of you? If he was you considered yourself to be found guilty of treason, willing to receive capital punishment. No longer having an interest in you would surely be cause enough for him to kill you. You saw first hand the way he quickly disposed of his fortunes after heists. Once they served their purpose they were discarded and he moved onto his next target. Surely you’d meet the same fate if he no longer felt a need for you.

The realization had you speaking before you could stop yourself, “Did you finish your book?”

Just like that the emptiness you felt earlier was replaced with substance, you could practically feel the arrogant grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No. Is yours too difficult to understand? I could explain it to you.” Almost instantaneously you regretted opening your mouth, maybe death would be better than having this cretin belittle you.

Deciding you’ve already had enough of the conversation you begin to focus on your story again. Your escape is short lived as the book is snatched from your fingers.

“What made you speak to me again?”

You sigh before turning to face him. Of course he would ask. Maybe trying to seem like you had his best interest at heart would temporarily win him over.

“You seemed disappointed.”

He pauses before responding. “Elaborate, there’s more to it than that.”

You purse your lips. Shit. I should’ve thought that one through better. “I assumed if you were disappointed with my silence you’d grow bored and just kill me.”

He seems satisfied with your answer. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise the king of deceit saw through your original deception.

Rolling onto his back he faces the ceiling with his fingers intertwined below his chest. His breathing is steady and his eyelashes flutter shut, casting a small shadow on his cheeks. In this moment all you think is how unfair it is for someone so evil to possess such attractive features. Wasn’t it said Lucifer was the most beautiful of God’s angels? you muse.

“You’re right you know? I feel like we’re at a standstill lately. I could replace you.”

Your breath hitches as you freeze. “I-I’m sorry?” Your voice sounds hoarse as you stutter.

“There is a way you could make it up to me. Buy yourself some time at the very least.”

You look at him reproachfully, waiting for him to explain further.

“You hardly resist when I touch you now.” He opens his eyes and turns towards you, watching for your reaction before continuing, “you could indulge me in some of my other… fantasies. Unless of course, I have to find someone new.”

The implications of his words causes your blood to run cold. Not only would your life be cut short, at this point that might be your preferred alternative, but he’d also find someone new. Taking a shaky breath you accept his offer. Someone new? Jealousy didn’t fuel your readiness to agree; you couldn’t bare the thought of anyone else falling victim to this man, not due to your own selfishness.

Sensing your forfeit, a satisfied smile chisels itself onto his alabaster skin, “come here.”

You hesitate before standing. Once you’ve risen you look down at your feet, each step looking like it was recorded in slow motion and looped back on repeat. All too soon your shaking knees collide with the side of the bed and you climb on top to kneel in front of him.

His hand reaches out, tucking the hair covering your face behind you ear. It slides down to underneath your chin as he gently lifts your face towards him. “Good girl.”

Under any other circumstances the action would have you swooning, but the butterflies in your stomach have turned to bile and you force yourself to keep it down. Pestilence sat before you, touching you with the delicate hands of a lover, while you became riddled with the plague.

Pulling you closer his lips hover centimeters from yours, the fresh smell of mint and cologne stinging your nose. If you weren’t so stunned you might’ve pulled away, but now it was too late as he finishes closing the distance between the two of you.

His lips were warmer than you expected. Softer too. Although the soul in Chrollo may have died long ago, his body was still alive and breathing. With a start you feel his tongue grazing your lower lip, his silent plea for you to reciprocate his actions. Swallowing your pride you lightly part your lips, begrudgingly allowing him access.

Once again he surprises you, the restraint he exhibits in this moment is unparalleled. Nothing is too rough or too fast, if it were anyone else you might even find it pleasant.

The taste of mint spreads to your tongue and you hesitantly put more effort into pleasing him. The hand on your chin relocated to rest on the side of your face while the other grips your hip. There’s no real force behind it but you know pulling away just got rendered impossible.

He continues to deepen the kiss as he guided you to straddle his lap. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable he begins leaning back, coercing your body to be on top of his.

Both hands are now on your hips and his fingers begin creeping under the waistband of your shorts. Using a little more force he guides your hips lower and motions for them to roll against him. Despite the voice in your head telling you it’s wrong, you follow his lead and cautiously grind against him. Overtime it becomes more natural and you resist the pleasantry less.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the way his pants begin to stiffen, adding more pressure to your clit. You inhale sharply, abruptly breaking the kiss. Chrollo uses the opening to his advantage.

“Hm, it’s a wonder how you denied yourself for so long, look at how you’re taking charge.”

The mockery causes your cheeks to flush in anger. Before you have the chance to argue that he’s the one making you do this, his lips are back on yours.

Satisfied with your silence he pulls his mouth from yours, now beginning to trail kisses down your neck. As he reaches your collarbone he gives a light nip before easing your shirt off of you.

You curse yourself for not wearing a bra, now leaving yourself far more exposed than you’re comfortable with.

It seems to be spur of the moment decision as he flips you over onto your back, opting for himself to be the one on top. His fingers wrap around your wrists and he has the strength to easily hold both of your hands with one of his own.

He now freed hand begins to fondle your breasts before he gently begins sucking one of your nipples. He releases it with a pop and blows on the wet skin, the cool air causing you to shiver and arch your back.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. You shoot him down with a glare. He clearly isn’t deterred since he’s now sliding your shorts off of you. He snaps the waistband of your panties against your hips before removing those too.

You being fully nude when he’s still in a button down and black trousers only reinstates the power imbalance you know exists. You’re completely vulnerable to him, and he’s just observing you. It’s hard to tell if his arousal is coming from you or the humiliating position he’s put you in.

“Unbutton my shirt.” Your glare softens to more of a pout as you listen to his instructions. You try unclasping the buttons as fast as possible to get the inevitable done and over with.

“I didn’t realize how badly you wanted this. Slow down.” You look back up to him and the expression on his face can only be described as taunting. He knows damn well why you’re in a rush, and it has nothing to do with excitement.

Nonetheless you slow your pace and maintain the eye contact with him, making your discontent as apparent as possible.

The moment his shirt is discarded he’s grabbing your hips with more intensity and pinning them down to the mattress. His grip is bordering on painful but you try not to show it, deciding to just take it in stride and lay there.

He slowly lowers himself between your thighs, making sure to keep his eyes on you. At this point your will starts to crumble and you look away, suddenly wanting to give him as little to work with as possible.

Chrollo seems unbothered by this, admittedly probably expecting it. The next thing you notice is the feeling of his warm tongue licking a long, sensual stripe up the length of your inner thigh. You subconsciously try closing your legs at the contact. But in an instant his hands are leaving your hips and moving to your legs to hold them open.

He continues to trail up your leg, occasionally leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses and bites. Every time he gets close to your pussy he switches to the other leg and starts the process over. After a few repetitions you lose count of how many times he’s done it.

Despite it being Chrollo, you start to desire more and the teasing is getting to you. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sickening realization. He wants you to beg him for it. You whine in frustration at the thought, temporarily forgetting he’s there to hear all your noises.

“Is something wrong, my dear?” His words slightly hushed by the way he spoke them into your leg.

“Stop teasing…” you mumble, hoping that’ll be enough to satisfy him. It wasn’t.

He stops altogether and props himself up on his left elbow to see you better. “I can’t understand you darling, please look at me when you’re speaking to me.”

You huff and sit up slightly. “I said stop teasing.” Your words are even quieter this time and you can tell by his grin that you’re blushing.

“What would you like me to do instead?”

You bite your lower lip to avoid screaming at him. He seems to have mistaken it as a sign of arousal though because he grin only grows bigger.

“I-I um, I want you to eat me out…”

You can practically see how the gears turn in his head. Thankfully, this half hearted attempt at dirty talk seemed to be enough for him.

Not giving you time to react, he drops his head back down and licks along your slit before taking you clit between his lips and sucking gently.

“Ah-” you yelp in surprise and tilt your head back, not wanting him to be able to see any of your expressions. As you lay back down he only doubles down on his endeavors. Your back arches and much to your chagrin you can’t hold back your soft moans.

His tongue swirls around and over your clit until he finds a rhythm that you clearly enjoy. You go to reach for his hair but last second your fingers opt for the satin sheets instead.

You’re to blissed out to think much of anything when he reaches up and sticks two fingers in your mouth. Assuming it’s just a kink of his you decide to indulge him.

As he pulls his fingers out of your mouth his thumb trails down your lower lip. Your eyes widen and your whimpers get louder as he abruptly begins to finger you. Taken aback by the bold gesture you cuss him out.

“Fuck you.”

“We’ll get there.”

You scoff in annoyance but it’s quickly silenced when you feel his fingers begin curling inside of you. Between this and the love letter he’s writing with his tongue your orgasm begins to build.

You’re fairly certain you can feel him smirk against you as he comes to the same conclusion. Your back arches of the mattress and you string together a mantra of words.

“Chrollo- I’m, fuck I’m close.”

And just like that his fingers are gone and his mouth is pulling away. You sit up, confused. Shame washes over you at the sight of him. He’s perfectly composed, leisurely pulling his cock from his pants, while you’re forehead is covered with a sheen of sweat, cheeks red, and your mouth is slightly agape.

He looks up and seems rather proud of himself for leaving you with such a dazed expression. Now freed from his pants he grabs your calves and yanks you to him, resulting in a nervous giggle leaving your lips.

“Lay back down.” His tone is softer now and he nudges your shoulder, motioning for you to recline back.

You give him one last hesitant glance before doing as you’re told. The sound of him spitting in his hand before lightly stroking himself causes you to grimace. How alluring.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as he leans over you, staring into your eyes as he lines himself up with your entrance. This is the most life you’ve seen in the empty sea of grey. His pupils are blown wide with lust and there’s a glimmer of something else in there but you can’t quite put your finger on it. If he was anyone else you might’ve mistaken it for love.

He’s careful as he enters you. Watching your face for any signs of discomfort. The sudden look of care throws you off guard and you feel almost dizzy as your emotions muddle together.

You let out a shaky breath once he’s fully inserted himself, forcing your muscles to relax despite the slight sting from how he stretches you out. Once you adjust to his size he sets a slow, steady pace, gradually picking up speed as you settle into it.

He brings himself closer to you, resting his face in the crook of your neck which he makes sure to mark. His breath tickles as his teeth graze along your earlobe.

Being too lost in the moment to care, your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. The low groan he lets in response causes a pleasurable shiver to run through your body. Clearly appreciating your submission his hand snakes up and his fingers curl around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. When he hears no protests and only a high pitched whimper in response his grip tightens.

He sits up straighter at this and tosses one of your legs over his shoulder. The change in position causes your eyes to roll back as he ruts himself deeper into you, making sure to hit every spot that makes your leg shake around him.

For the second time you feel your orgasm approaching but this time he shows no sign of stopping. Instead, opting to coax your through it.

“Mm, I knew you’d take me so well, sweetheart~” his voice is husky and his cheeks flushed a light pink. If you weren’t so close to cumming you’d probably laugh at the sight of Chrollo looking flustered.

Instead, his words send you over the edge and your hand latches onto his forearm. The grip of his hand around your throat once again tightens as the way your nails dig into his skin. He groans as your walls squeeze around him.

He continues fucking you throughout your high and by the end of it your babbling from the overstimulation. He removes his hand from you throat and delicately places it in your hair, his pace slightly slowing as he sees you growing overwhelmed.

They way you now spasm with each thrust as tears prick at the corners of your eyes is enough to bring him to his own release. His hips stutter and he waits a moment before pulling out, relishing at your final whines, a symphony you’ve orchestrated just for him.

After you’ve both cleaned up he ticks you into bed, laying down beside you. Despite your earlier actions you still stiffen when his arm wraps around your waist. The silken sheets that helped ground you earlier now holding you prisoner.

“You know, I was only bluffing earlier. I don’t think I could ever get tired of you. A day with you could supply me with a lifetime of musings.”

It takes a moment for his words to set in, but once they do you’re sitting upright, anger bubbling in your throat, ready to be released.

“You mean that was all just a ploy to sleep with me?” Your fists clench at your sides, eager to collide with him.

“Of course it was. Now go to bed.” He replies lazily, flicking off the lights.

#chrollo x reader #chrollo imagine #yandere chrollo #chrollo #chrollo smut #yan chrollo x reader #yan chrollo

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