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all4yoi · 6 months

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only you

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw. part 2 of just a game , hyung line , 2nd pov , ︎ fluff / comfort , lowercase intended , crying , cliche fluff omfg , karina mentioned on heeseung's & wonyoung on sunghoon's , not proofread ! part one here !

after catching them holding hands with another female, you walk away from them and they run after you, assuring you it was all a misunderstanding.

★ LEE HEESEUNG (0.5k words)

the day was coming to an end and heeseung has yet to find you.

after he had politely rejected karina, he ran after you but to no avail. all of his attempts on trying to reach you was a bootless errand. everytime he had seen a glimpse of you - whether in the cafeteria, library, the hallways, and god even in your shared class - you somehow always found a way to avoid him.

he could've simply gave up and moved on, he could've ran back to karina and date her instead. but he didn't want to give up and move on, he didn't want to run back to karina and date her, because what he wanted- needed, was you.

heeseung didn't want to go home yet, he needed to see you and explain everything. he'd be a fool to let you out his reach especially now that he knows you feel the same for him. he wasn't going to lose you because of a stupid mistake he made.

spotting a familiar figure sitting underneath a tree in the university's garden, he silently walked towards them, his fingers crossed hoping that he's finally found you.

and as if the universe was on his side, he saw you gorgeously flipping through a book with your pink earphones on. heeseung silently sat beside you, hoping you won't run away from him again. he saw how you stiffened and how your fingers stopped playing with the book's pages, and he wanted nothing but to hold your hand. it was your hand he wanted to hold- no one else's. you may not be with him yet, but ever since he realized he liked you, he was already yours before you even knew.

"y/n," he started softly, gently removing one earbud from your ear so you could hear him. you let him and look at him with hesitance, scared that he's here to tell you that he's changed his mind and he likes karina now instead.

heeseung smiled softly at you, "please let me talk and explain everything, okay?" you nodded, feeling your throat clogging up. "karina, you know she's one of my good friends, right? when you saw me holding her hand a while ago, she was the one who took my hand. i was so taken aback by her confession that i completely froze-..

because she's like a sister to me and you're the one i want. you're the one i need.. the one i like." he paused, brows furrowed in worry, hoping you'd understand. "i'm sorry for letting her hold my hand, and i'm sorry for hurting you. i really really like you y/n, please let me redeem myself to you." he finished, a small hesitant smile in his face as he studied yours.

feeling overwhelmed, you burst into tears. heeseung panicked, thinking he said something wrong and brought you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

"i thought you'd choose her over me." you cried in his chest, your own arms wrapping around his waist. heeseung didn't know why, but even when you were crying in his chest with your arms wrapped around his waist, he was feeling over the moon.

shaking his head, he pulled you closer if it was even possible and mumbled in your hair, "i'll choose you in a room full of other girls baby. only you."

other members utc!

★ PARK JONGSEONG (0.5k words)

3 hours was enough space right? jay liked to think it was, he was too impatient and just wanted to run to you and explain everything, but he knew you probably didn't want to see him after what you've witnessed.

jay had tried to put himself in your shoe, imagining seeing you holding hands with another boy after confessing to you- by the thought of it alone already made him feel ten times more worse, he hated himself with how much pain he had caused you.

so instead of waiting until tomorrow, jay took his bag and walked out of the cafeteria, ignoring his friends that were calling for him. he already knew where to find you, after all, he's always had his eyes on you ever since the first semester started.

jay muttered a quiet 'good afternoon' to the librarian before making a beeline towards the back of the library and there you were in your element. laptop open, headphones on with multiple books on the table you've occupied.

he liked to think that his type were girls that were a bit dumb so that he could lead the relationship, but when it comes to you? smart, pretty, and soft spoken? if his heart could speak, he's certain that the only word it can mutter is your name, and he's not ashamed to admit that.

the moment you looked up and made eye contact with him almost made his knees give up if it weren't for him holding on to a shelf to stabilize himself, and when you softly smiled at him despite what you saw that morning, it made him yearn for you more. he wouldn't ask for no one else.

call him cliché but you were the only one for him.

"what are you doing there? come sit." you motioned on the empty seat across from you to which he occupied immediately. "have you eaten?"

"have you?" he questioned back, eyeing the papers and books splattered on the table. "i had coffee." was your reply.

jay knew that you were still upset, it was showing in your body language. you were tense, stiff, and your fingers were shaking behind your laptop. he wanted to punch himself for making you feel this way.

"i'm sorry y/n, i really am." the hum you let out made him continue, his eyes studying your pretty face silently. "it's really not what it looked like-"

"everyone says that jay." the way you bit your lip told him that you didn't mean to cut his sentence off and be so harsh.

"yes, i know, it's stupid but i'm telling the truth. she bumped into me and fell, i couldn't just leave her on the floor because everyone saw our collision so i offered her a hand. that was it, i was about to walk away but she introduced herself and insisted on shaking hands.. then you saw me.

i know it looked so wrong from your perspective without context, and i'm sorry for upsetting you. i really had no other intentions, i was telling you the truth when i told you that night that i like you too, so much." he reached out for your hand, sighing in relief when you didn't pull away.

you nodded your head in understanding, squeezing his hand to tell him you now understand. "i'm sorry for jumping into conclusions and not hearing you out the first time."

he shook his head, squeezing your hand back. "it's okay, i understand. we're good now?" chuckling at him, you nodded and smiled at him. "we are, thank you."

★ SIM JAEYUN (0.4k words)

the tears in your eyes as you walked away from him made his heart crack. should he run after you? will you find him annoying? do you want him to run after you or do you want nothing to do with him now?

after arguing with himself on his head, he ran after you and engulfed you in a hug before you could turn around the corner and disappear from his sight. "please let me explain." his own voice cracked, and the weird looks you both received from the other students did not faze him at all.

"jake, not here please. they're looking at us.." he hastily took your hand and led you into an empty classroom, wanting nothing more than to assure you that what you thought is wrong and all he wanted was only you.

after he had made sure the door was locked and no one else was hiding somewhere, he immediately took your hands in his rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb.

you didn't know what to feel, was this how he held that girl's hand too? did he hold hers with gentleness too? with that in thought, your tears were back.

"no no, please don't cry. it was all a misunderstanding i promise." he held your face and wiped away the tears, his eyes held worry but so much love as well.

"she mistook me as her boyfriend, it didn't even last for 10 seconds because the moment she held my hand we both pulled away from each other.. it was just wrong timing that you saw it and we made eye contact, please believe me." he was practically crying with you right now, his own tears cascading down the apple of his cheeks.

you frantically nodded your head - now you were the one panicking at the sight of his tears. "i do, thank you for explaining. please don't cry." his tears were wiped with your thumbs as you hugged him tight.

"i don't want you to ever think i'm lying to you, you're really all i need." he explained further through his sobs, his arms tightening around you more.

there you two were, hugging each other in an empty room, tears falling down from both of your eyes as you comforted each other. and at that moment, no one else mattered - it was just the both of you in the world.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.6k words)

to say that sunghoon felt like shit the whole day yesterday and this morning was an understatement. he had desperately contacted you in all your social media accounts - fucking christ he even contacted you through your school's email, but to no avail, he was always left ignored.

he didn't blame you though, if he was to experience and see what you did yesterday, he would act the same - maybe even worse. sunghoon wanted nothing more but to make it up to you, to explain that he was only doing wonyoung a favor to make her crush jealous. i guess you could blame him for agreeing, but did he really have a choice when she just randomly grabbed him and told him to smile at every passing student? maybe.

he had texted wonyoung that same afternoon, telling her- demanding her politely? to explain everything to you, she told him she did but was only left on read by you. the girl apologized profusely to you and sunghoon, she didn't have any idea about the two of you and if she did - she wouldn't have done what she did.

but what's done is done, and now sunghoon is still trying to desperately reach you. throughout the day, he would hear your name coming out of other people's mouth, but not once did he catch a single glimpse of you. sunghoon was running out of options, he didn't want to be that type of guy to show up infront of your door step in fear of crossing boundaries, but he was seriously considering doing it today.

sunghoon mentally chanted your name in his head as if that would help and summon you, and you know what? maybe it did work because now he was seeing you standing across from him, your back facing towards him as you looked at the bulletin board.

not wasting any time, he raced towards you and gently grabbed your forearm, successfully turning your attention from the bulletin board to the taller boy behind you. sunghoon wanted the ground to swallow him whole when he saw how your face dropped at the sight of him.

"let's talk, please?" he whispered that only you could hear, glancing around the corridor before looking back at you. the small hesitant nod was everything he needed before he lead you in an empty hall as everyone was in the cafeteria.

sunghoon took his chance and took you in, loving the way you've dressed yourself today and he wanted to just keep you in his arms all day, but he reminded himself that he needed to clear things up and make you his girlfriend obviously before he could even do that.

"wony already explained everything, i'm sorry for assuming the wrong thing.." sunghoon was taken aback by your sudden apology, and the tightness in his chest grew.

he took your face in his hand, gently bringing your chin up so he could look you in the eye. "i should be the one apologizing.. i'm sorry for making you feel that way, i didn't have any other intentions towards her and i only like you.. so much to the point that it hurts. i'll do anything to prove it to you."

he couldn't understand that someone so precious as you could grow such feelings for him, he couldn't process and believe that he's important to someone he finds important too. should he be punished by the gods above because he finds your teary eyes enchanting? he could see his reflection in your eyes and the love it carries, and somehow he finally understands. sunghoon feels warm as he brought you to his chest, tucking your head in the crook of his neck.

"i'll show you, i'll give you my everything and my forever. you're it for me."

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alastorss · 7 months

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Could you maybe write something with Alastor and reader,

and reader gets hurt in the extermination and he cares for her? And maybe like she takes a nap on his lap and he just sorta falls asleep right next to her?

a/n: hello!! i sort of got carried away with this one and made it more sappy than i originally intended, but i hope you still like it! for context: the reader stepped into battle when alastor was hurt by adam and this is the aftermath :) hurt/comfort and fluff!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has been eerily quiet since returning to the newly-rebuilt hotel, sutures and bandages in hand.

All his belongings, including his beloved cane, have been cast aside in lieu of medical supplies to be split between you. One measly box worth of gauze and sanitizing wipes. Definitely nothing to gawk at, but good enough.

He's stripped his shirt without any exchange of words. You know his silent request, too prideful to ask for your help verbally but desperation clear in his expression.

"Is this the only spot?" You ask, slowly stringing a suture through his skin. He hisses in pain—his only response. The demon doesn't even gratify you with his eyes anymore, opting to stare off into space as if his mind has taken a vacation elsewhere.

You frown but continue delicately stitching him, piecing him together until he's whole again. His back hits the dresser as he leans on it, body instinctively trying to crawl away from the stinging of the needle. Finally, you knot the end of the sutures and sigh in relief, reaching over to get something to clean the area.

"I'm glad this whole fiasco is over," you comment softly, knowing it won't make him look at you. "With their leader gone, maybe the angels will finally—"

"You disobeyed me," he suddenly snaps. "Why?"

You pause in your movements, blinking up at Alastor while he glowers at you. His eyes narrow into slits, half out of anger and half in a grimace.

"You were cornered. I couldn't just sit by and—"

"I told you to stay out of it," he interrupts again, slapping away your hand. You gasp, alcohol wipe hitting the floor beside you. Defiantly, you challenge him with a glare of your own.

"I'm trying to help, asshole!"

"I know, I know!" He explodes, obviously frustrated. "And look where it got you!"

He pinches your chin to tilt your head up toward him, rotating your face around so he can observe your wounds. A cut lip, a bruising eye—horrible reminders that sinners could be hurt. And you were no more of a sinner than he, much less an Overlord who knew the shape of a soul.

"You risked your life by intervening! What if you had been struck down, you fool?"

Alastor's voice is all panic and no composure, missing any semblance of that accent which is so beloved to him. You know he's telling you exactly what he feels, true emotions unburdened by the character he built for himself in the afterlife.

"So be it! It's no less a fate than what would have happened to you!" You emphasize by jabbing your finger just above his wounded abdomen, careful not to agitate his fresh stitches.

Wincing, he goes silent. It's unnerving how quiet it is again. You've gotten so used to the ambient buzz of his static, but with it missing, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck pricking up in unease.

He still hasn't released your face, clawed fingers pinching your chin and holding you in place. It isn't until he feels the wetness of your tears pooling at the pads of his fingers that he recoils in surprise.

Sighing, he twists over to open new packs of wipes. You stay still while he carefully cleans your face, ignoring your little whelps of pain the best he can.

Once the blood is gone, he pauses. Then, his fingers gingerly wipe under your eyes, swiping away the globs of tears spilling down your cheeks.

You are pitiful right now, he thinks. Though he probably looks no better.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup. "I don't mean to make you worry."

His expression softens, though his viscous smile remains. You can see it in his eyes—something genuine buried beneath his act.

"I don't want you to die," you admit quietly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

You laugh dryly, wiping up your tears on your own with your bloodied sleeves.

"But you almost did. What would I do without you?"

The question is rhetorical, but something vile still swirls violently in your stomach at the idea. As if knowing what's going through your mind, he grabs you by the cheeks and forces you to meet his stare again.

"Not another word out of you," he demands.

His gaze flicks to the bruising under your eye, flesh already discoloured and swelling. "Got a remedy?" You grumble.

Alastor shakes his head but leans in anyway, pressing a chaste kiss just below the swelling. His lips linger on your skin for a moment before he pulls away, amused by your stunned expression.

He invades your space again, this time kissing the crown of your head. Speaking into your hair, he whispers, "I will be more careful. I promise."

"And I'll think before charging into battle after you," you chuckle softly, overwhelmed by his warmth.

Slowly, he tugs you along and sits you on the sofa. He brushes the hair from your eye and takes the opportunity to look at it under better lighting. Just like that, he vanishes, melting into the shadows. When he reappears in front of you, he has cold packs. In a place so warm, they are of little use. But they are better than nothing, he supposes.

Groaning in pain, he seats himself beside you and allows you to slot under his arm. Two demons seeking comfort and companionship curled up together—any other Overlord would laugh.

But Alastor knows what it means to be loved, to have someone who would stand in front of a lethal blow for him, to be stitched back together by your hands.

In the safety of each others' presence, you both fall asleep with the faint hum of static filling the air.

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete (send an ask to be added!)

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor fluff #faye's thoughts — ☁

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caitlinsclark · 2 months

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WHERES THE TROPHY? ¹ caitlin clark 𝘤𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 | summary: caitlin can't admit the romantic nature of your relationship until she tosses away the bond you'd built. based on this concept! read PART TWO word count: 2.1k masterlist and tag list

The lines between friendship and relationship for you and Caitlin had been blurred worse than the eyesight of an 80 year old man with four pairs of glasses. The little fleeting moments of domesticity made you question where your friendship with Caitlin had strayed from the plot. At what point it forged from the paths of your other friendships, and it had become too much to ignore.

Like the time you caught her wearing your soccer sweatshirt straight from your closet, as if proudly displaying your last name was an occurrence she wouldn't even question. It knocked your heart into your stomach to find she had even taken to wearing it to her game days. So she could "always have your good luck with her" as she put it with a convincing pout when you asked for it back. And you were in no place to question it, even if you were always right in the stands waiting to send her all the good luck in the world.

Or when she'd held your face a smidge too intimately while feeding you a forkful of pasta, leaving you absolutely breathless. Her strong grip on your jaw guided you closer, almost instinctively as you wrapped your lips aroundthe fork in her hand.

She smiled smugly at your reaction, as if taunting you, which your entire audience watched gleefully from a live stream. Though she did not seem to care and you had to laugh forcefully and pull your hood up to cover the burning face you were stuck with, even minutes later. You couldn't help but notice the string of comments wishing to be in your place.

And how could you forget the most prominent tradition that she had started years ago during her first lowa game? Caitlin was a show off on the court, that was a fact. But you had learned that only stemmed from a deep down need of reassurance.

So when she makes a perfect logo 3 and points right at you to make sure you're watching, you think she's just fooling around and looking for attention. Until she uses her fingers to form a cute little heart in front of her face, a cheesy but heart warming smile accompanying it.

As a mere friend of hers, you tried not to let this tradition give you debilitating heart palpitations, though that possibility was already long gone.

But as the line blurred to indicate more than friends, you were doomed. It only got worse when Caitlin did it again, and again, and again. Until you had begun expecting it and returning the gesture back to her after every basket.

You'd think all of these acts, which some may call devotion, would come from a girlfriend. And in theory they did, but just not yours. Evil took a human form in the name of Connor, that guy had been hanging around Caitlin for far too long in your opinion.

Maybe hypocritical, as you've been waiting for her for 6 years but at least you got on the soccer team by your own hard work, not nepotism like some people! And he hadn't even been a good enough boyfriend to watch his superstar of a girlfriend at her last three games.

That's how you ended up sitting comfortably cheering on the girl from a foldable chair, court side inside the emptied arena. Caitlin was running drills and you were moral support. Every basket she made elicited a dramatic and rowdy cheer, mimicking a stadium's enthusiasm. She broke her focus to grin at you, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth bashfully.

"C'mere," You gestured to her shoe and she set her foot gently on your knee. You carefully began to tie the laces that had come undone and tapped her ankle when you had made a perfect little bow. She wordlessly put her other foot in the same place, careful not to lean her weight on you.

"So, are you gonna wish me good luck?" The arrogant smirk on her face annoyed you to no end, because you knew she had no doubt that you were going to do it regardless. Her correctly placed confidence in your admiration for her was frustrating to no end.

"Good luck," you both lifted your hands in unison, bringing them together in a high five as you stood up. When you were prepared to let go, Caitlin wasn't and she purposefully drew out the moment with your hands still in the air, linked. Hesitantly, she brought your hands down, still connected and you smiled shyly at the brunette, "You know you've got this, superstar."

Her confident smirk was replaced with a sheepish grin, practically melting at the genuine praise you sent her way, "Thank you."

You grinned at Caitlin as she started to back away, refusing to let go of your hands until your arms were stretched as far as possible. Even then, she held on for dear life to your fingertips for a few lingering moments before running off to the locker room.

Six minutes into the second quarter of the Fever game, you sense a sinister energy lurking around and are not shocked to see Connor making his way to a spot near you. Figures, the only game he comes to he's almost missed half of.

He settles next to you, too close for your own comfort so you make a spectacle of shuffling over. In the midst of this, a teammate had given Caitlin possession of the ball and you had more important things to worry about than the boy next to you.

As if it was second nature, Caitlin took a step back from her defender and the crowd watched in anticipation as the ball flew through the air before landing in the net with a satisfying swoosh. The crowd went crazy, though your girl only celebrated by lifting her fingers into a perfectly formed heart, one that had been practiced far too many times before.

Your heart soared in your chest, same as it did every time before. The moment was interrupted when you were reminded of Connor's agonizing presence by his reaction, which shouldn't have existed.

Seeing him smiling, almost lovingly, at her action reserved for you made a sick feeling twist in your stomach. In no world was that for him.

You tried to shove down the jealousy threatening to push its way out as you made the walk to see Caitlin at halftime. She was already waiting for you once you got the end of the bleachers, holding her hands out to help you down the last step.

Though you could've gotten down on your own, you basked in the opportunity and joined hands with her. And if she knew that you took a few extra seconds to hop down and release her on purpose, she pretended not to notice.

"I got you gatorade," You announced and she pretended to be shocked while you handed her the same flavor you did every halftime. She took it with a grateful smile, preparing to open it and reply.

That irritating, nagging, voice cut back in from whatever end of hell it came from, "I got you water, babe." He placed his hand on Caitlin's back, uncomfortably close to yours but you refused to move.

His eyes bored into yours, almost like he wanted you to back down.

"Cait always drinks a blue gatorade at halftime." Your shrug may come off as cocky but you didn't care enough to mask it.

You wanted to smack the grin off his face as he urged the water bottle toward Caitlin's face, "Better to drink water for now, right babe?"

There was no hiding the passive aggressive tone your words held, "Maybe if you had made effort to go to more than one game you would know she doesn't like," your eyes scanned over the object almost with disgust at his offer, "room temperature water when she's running around."

Though you expected Caitlin's agreement to accompany you, your gazes met for the first time since the slight standoff with her boyfriend and your heart dropped at the look she was giving you.

A tiny part of you, mostly a petty one, screamed for her to throw the water in his face and open the gatorade. You wanted to hit yourself, the most minuscule of "competitions" getting you riled up over your best friend. But with the way she narrowed her stare, leaning the slightest bit away from your touch, you could tell that you overstepped.

And when you were about to apologize, she took a step away and chugged the bottle of water. As she walked, she dropped the bottle of gatorade into the trash can and kept her back to you all the way until she reached the bench.

Your eyes closed in frustration, running a hand over your face and silently wished you weren't an adult so you could punch the grinning male next to you without repercussions. Though this was your doing and your jealousy.

The second half played out and you couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty for Caitlin's poor performance. She played with her emotions, and you had confronted her (questionable) boyfriend right before a big part of the game. Connor now sat a few rows in front of you, and it was distinguishable when Caitlin made a layup and pointed in his direction instead of yours.

The next few minutes passed painfully slow as so many ugly emotions built up inside of you. Most of all was anger at yourself for not being able to be happy for your best friend.

You sulked back to the locker room where you met Caitlin after every game. Maybe if you were lucky, she chose the nepo baby again and you could delay this conversation until you cried and convinced yourself today didn't happen.

"What was that out there? Are you trying to shove him out of my life?" She confronted with aggravation lacing her tone. She pulled her hair out of its confined tie, letting it lay against her shoulders. You got momentarily distracted and it showed.

"No, yes, I mean," Your frustration got the best of you and you loathed that your cards were being laid out on the table, "No, I'm not. That wasn't my place to say, I know. I just felt like this was our thing, okay?"

Cailtin's eye brows furrowed and the idea of having to clarify made you even more sick than before.

You gestured to the space between the two of you incredulously, "Basketball was our thing, it sucked that he was abruptly apart of it too. And you can't tell me that you weren't trying to get back at me toward the end."

Her nonchalant laugh made you want to shrink into a ball, it was enough that she didn't have to vocalize that you were reading into everything.

Caitlin ran her fingers through her hair and looked anywhere but at you, "He's my boyfriend, I don't want to choose between the two of you."

You couldn't respond, couldn't find it in yourself to tell her to choose, but also couldn't find the will to say she didn't have to. It wasn't her fault that you couldn't find room in your heart to like her and also be happy for her.

"Did you feel like it'd be only us forever," She said your name slowly as if your statement was impossible to believe, "We can both venture outside of each other and still be best friends. One of us would have to get a boyfriend eventually."

The conviction she spoke with stabbed straight through your chest.

Spoken like it was only a matter of time and no other options laid on the table. You were starting to realize that maybe to her, none ever did.

"Yeah," you tilted your head back momentarily to look at the ceiling, a bitter laugh escaping as your waterline gathered tears, "Yeah, we both could, but there's a reason only one of us did, Caitlin." Something in her began to soften, maybe it was the direct confrontation of what you had both skirted around for way too long now.

After a moment to gather yourself, you turned and left Caitlin standing with her gold painted award. The trophy in her hand felt dull in comparison to the one she usually walked away with, the one that was currently walking away from her tearfully.

this is in response to that bday post Caitlin made, bby you can do sm better </3 I was listening to the alchemy during this lol

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark headcannons #caitlin clark fluff #caitlin clark fic #caitlin clark #wnba basketball #wnba #wbb #wbb x reader #iowa wbb

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disneyprincemuke · 9 months

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the other woman * mv1

everything falls into place in your mind when max fails to show up for you at the one event you desperately wanted him to be at

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: cheating, jake gyllenhaal type behaviour

notes: hi i know i promised this on xmas eve and then i failed to deliver mY BAD BABY GIRLS! i am trying my best but then again i did get a fever and all but its ok lfg and NO I WILL NOT BE WRITING A PART TWOOOOO

(f1 masterlist)

your eyes watch your front door, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to hold yourself back from crying. there's a sob bubbling from the deepest part of your gut as you glance at the clock one more time.

he's late.

but one can also say that he's simply not coming. did he lie when he told you that he would make sure he showed up for you this time? or did he just simply forget about you again?

your eyes have been staring at that door for the better part of the last hour or so since guests started arriving for the party you'd thrown.

a party you'd thrown, admittedly, just to get his attention. you were never one to make a big deal of your birthday anyway, but he made you think otherwise. because he promised you that he would be here no matter what happened. it's stupider that he was the one that encouraged you to throw a party today.

only for him not to show up?

this is the one time you needed him to so desperately show up for you. but here you are, looking like a fool waiting for somebody who wouldn't come; for somebody who didn't even make you a first choice.

because you know that when if push comes to shove, he would still pick her. max would always pick kelly and penelope over you, no matter how much he tells you that he loves you. no matter how many times you endured him telling you that he no longer wants to be with her.

you know better than to be his little secret. your parents had not raised you to be a potential homewrecker, but are you really being one if he's the one that keeps coming back to you?

you've tried staying away, and you've attempted to cut all sorts of contact with him, but he eventually crawls right back to you a couple of weeks later claiming that he will break up with kelly soon.

you've even bought a new dress for the occasion; in max's favourite colour and a cut that you knew he would say you look amazing in.

only for him to bail on you. you'd even taken the effort to sit for an hour to do your makeup and hair. for nothing, essentially.

fast forward a couple of hours of holding back tears and forcing smiles, you're hunched over the couch, picking up empty beer cans and tears streaming down your face. at the end of the day, you're left alone in your apartment with a heavy heart and the eerie silence the room can only offer you.

you watch the last car from your guests drive away. you sigh and throw yourself on the couch, finally letting the tears fall from your eyes. you had no idea it was so difficult to pretend like you're okay until today.

it's totally different when it's got something to do with the heart, it seems. you were totally banking on the fact that he would be here today, at least today. just today. because it's your birthday.

it's your day.

a knock on the door sits you right up, hands darting up to wipe the tears that smudged your makeup. "give me a second!"

"it's just me."

the anger suddenly hits you. so he is available to travel out to come and see you. just not a couple of hours prior when everybody else was here? just not at the time when you actually wanted him to be here?

you stomp your way over to the door and swing the door open and a string of apologies quickly spill from his mouth. you immediately notice the wrapped present in his hand and the bouquet of flowers.

"i'm sorry, i got held up at home," max apologises with a frown. "p had a fever and she wouldn't go to bed unless i tucked her in. i'm sorry, i know i'm late."

you sigh, rolling your eyes. "you're not just late," you scowl, "you missed the party entirely, max."

"oh," he slumps his shoulders, "i was wondering why it was so quiet when i was walking up."

you shake your head and walk further into your apartment. "max, just go home. you don't have a reason to be here."

"what do you mean? it's your birthday," he says gently, following you in. he closes the door behind him and follows you into your living room. "is there still cake? maybe you can blow the candles with me before the day ends? i even got you a present."

"no, i let people take home pieces of the cake," you say softly, returning to your agenda of cleaning your home from the traces of the party your friends left. "what am i going to do with cake that i don't even eat?"

"you bought chocolate cake on your birthday? you don't even like chocolate," he points out softly. "nevermind that, i got you a present!"

"i don't give a fuck about your stupid present, max!" you burst, standing up and turning to finally face him. "i didn't ask for a fucking present! i asked you for one thing and you couldn't even do that!"

he stares at you, dumbfounded with his lips parted in shock at your outburst. you're not typically one to have outbursts, which is the one thing he claims he finds very refreshing about you. you're calm and collected most of the time, and you assess the situation before picking fights. "p was sick. what did you want me to do?"

"you're telling me you're a sole parent to this little girl?" you ask. "kelly couldn't have tucked her in so you could show up to the party that you asked me to throw? on my birthday? max, you had one job and it was to show up for me tonight! i waited for you all night!"

he seems to have lost all ability to speak because he just pulls out a chair from your dining table and takes a seat. "i'm sorry. you're right, i should have been here."

"seriously, max! are you actually ever going to leave them or do you just lie straight through your teeth whenever you tell me that?" she scolds him, throwing her arms in the air. "i'm not stupid, max! this has gone on long enough!"

"i am, and i will!" he answers you, running his hands through his hair. "i just need more time. there's a child involved, i really hope you understand. i can't just leave."

"you say that every single time! it's been seven months!" you cry. "you've made me the other woman for seven long months! am i supposed to just sit here and take that? just because i love you?"

"i do love you! but it's complicated, okay? i can't just leave p like this!"

you clench your jaw. how many times have you heard that excuse in the past year? and how many more times will you be fooled by the sweetness in his voice and his glistening blue eyes? "max, i think you should go. lose my number, and forget that i ever existed. i can't do this anymore."

his head snaps up to you. he quickly walks over to you, throwing his arms around you from behind. "wait, don't say that. please, i promise. i'll leave in the next month. don't leave me. i really don't love her anymore."

"i'm so tired of the lies, max," you sigh, desperately tearing his arms away from your body. you take a step back and turn to him. "you will always choose them over me. it doesn't matter how much you love me, max. you're too attached to them to leave."

"listen to me, okay? i will leave them. and then we can be happy together like we talked about all those nights we spent together," max coos, putting his hands on your shoulder. he bends down slightly to look into your eyes. "please, just give me one last chance - more time. i just need time. i will let p down easily and i'll leave kelly. please."

"i don't know how many more times you think you can fool me with that lie, max!" you frown, shoving him back. "just leave! leave me alone! i refuse to let you make me look like an idiot! i'm better than this."

"i thought you said you understood my predicament. with p in the picture..."

"yeah, for seven long months. do you know how many days that is? how many hours i'd spend with you wondering when you'd finally take me off the backseat and make me your own officially?" you throw your head back and a dry laugh passes your lips. "max, just leave. don't call me again."

"you don't really mean that."

"i do this time," you say firmly, turning around to face him.

you circle around him and walk over to your front door, pulling it open and gesturing towards the hallway. "i'm done. take your flowers and your stupid present and leave."

he does what you say, hesitantly. he keeps his eyes on you, hoping that you will immediately change your mind. he travelled this far to get to you, hoping that you would somehow forgive him for missing your birthday party.

but you're right, now that he's had a couple of seconds to think about it. in the past seven months, he's told you that he'd up and leave kelly and penelope so he can finally be with you openly. it's much harder to keep you in the shadows when everyone's got eyes on him all the time.

perhaps it's the attachment to penelope that he can't get himself to pack his things and call it a day. he genuinely does love that kid. and his girlfriend has her good days - not all make him want to pull at his hair in frustration anymore.

but he also really does love you. if there hadn't been a loveable child in the picture, one that's grown very attached to him, he would have been able to walk away months ago. it could've been that easy.

"just hear me out," max says, stopping right by the door and giving you one last pleading look. "don't leave. not like this. we haven't even had a real fighting chance."

"that's because of you. not me," you answer dryly, looking up at him. "just go. i can't keep having this conversation with you."

"please."

"i gave you too many chances to make this right," you sigh, putting a gentle hand on his back to guide him out the door. you press your lips together as a lump forms in your throat. you're more shocked that you hadn't fully started bawling moments ago. "i should have done this a long time ago."

"i'm sorry."

"i'm sure you are. too little too late." then you close the door on him and whatever could have been with max.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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shaisuki · 4 months

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Hi!! Idk if you're taking requests but I'll shoot my shot!!

I wanted to know if you add onto the suna and Miya twins bully series where the reader decides to leave the team and join another (preferably nekoma) and gets a new trio (kuroo, kenma and Yamamoto) who actually praises and appreciate her and she decides to rub it in their face by sending videos of the trio fucking her and cute photos and when the Miya twins and suna try to confront her they get told off by her new boys😋

you've gotten petty and bold.

it's not like you planned it more like it was suggested to you. since you transferred to nekoma and made genuine connection to your team. it was like a weight lifted off you and you weren't scared on what about to happen. you don't get harassed after school hours and the team shows how grateful they are to you. going as far giving you trinkets they knew you would like.

nekomata-sensei treated you like his granddaughter and manabu-sensei looks out for you at times. for the first time, you thought that you really found your team for you and them the manager they always wanted. not treating you differently since you're a previous manager at powerhouse team and a regular contender in the nationals. a manager is a manager they say and you greeted them with a smile and the care you can provide for them as a manager.

that is the reason you have gotten close with the team captain. kuroo tetsurou. charming he can be and a handsome face to boost. it didn't took long for you and him to hit it and it extended with his friend and the team's setter, kozume kenma. you like kenma and it reminds you of yourself a bit. introverted and likes to keep to themself which you didn't mind at all. it took him a long time for him to warm up to you and the rest was history and there's yamamoto who can't talk without stuttering to you. kuroo said he's that nervous only when a girl talk to him. you find the gesture cute and other than his younger sister, you found out one time when you talked to him and he seems to relax at the thought of his sister, it was almost normal how he spoke to you like a friend. comfortable and inviting that's why you're the one who took his virginity.

“does it feels good, tora-kun?” you asked him, although a little breathless. his cock huge and nestled deeply inside your pussy. eyes closing and breath labored trying himself not to bust the moment you sink your fat cunt to his cock. “y-yes.” he stutters. fists clenching and he bites a back a moan when you started to move. “good. let me take care of you.”

then you began to have your own trio. the kindest of the trio. they would whisper you sweet nothings followed by appreciation that you were a good manager while you bounce on their cocks. you've never felt this so good about yourself, not even in the previous team you managed. this was the best and kuroo knowing how the inarizaki team treated you especially those three who fooled you, devises a plan. suggesting that you send a video and pictures of how they are treating you well and you agreed.

it was suna who received it. the videos and then followed many more. circumstances have forced you to left the school and went to move to tokyo where he recently found out that you were also the team's manager of the school volleyball club. he was pissed and then the twins received it. they were fuming. you allowed yourself to be somebody's cumdump instead of only them and they currently watched the videos you sent just to tub them in their faces from how good they were fucking you plus the praises that got your slutty pussy gushing.

first, it was you and then some three guys in the video. you're bouncing on someone's dick (yamamoto's) while you give a handjob to the other guy (kenma) obscured by the video and only his lower body can be seen in the video and you're blowing someone (kuroo's). his hands in your cheeks while he swallows your cock. telling you how much of a good girl you are for taking care of them and their cocks. letting them blow off the steam in their bodies to you. exceeding what a manager can do for her teammates. your speech garbled, slobbering all over kuroo's cock. they can see you were smiling while looking at the camera. swallowing his cock deeper and bouncing more on yamamoto's cock. a huge fuck you to them. all suna knows that it would be the first and last just to let them know how you're doing but it was proven wrong when you send a video again and then again.

it was different the videos are. one of them is you sitting while kuroo eats your pussy. the squelch of your pussy and the smacking of his lips can be heard while you moan in the background. your fingers gripping his hair while you grind on his face more which the latter eagerly lap your heat more. the other is all of your holes are stuff. dripping with their cum while you pose a peace sign with their spent all over you. it was endless.

and when they confronted you about it of how a huge slut are you for letting guys fuck you like that, let's say your new trio defended you. if they can't appreciate you they will and that seems to shut the ex-trio who are your bullies. ex-bullies.

you rewarded them three with a tlc that can only come from you.

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r4izx · 7 months

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the next page

scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: you start seeing less and less of your lover and more and more of him with someone else.

- 2,522 words and 13,694 characters.

- slight cursing

a/n: sorry for not updating for so long •́ ‿ ,•̀ exams just ended. have this and not a part 2 of my last fic LOL.

9 days, 14 hours, 58 minutes and 2 seconds.

you don't know how you managed to keep track of the time but that's how long since you've seen your boyfriend in the day. if it wasn't for your shared apartment, you might've not even catch a glimpse of him at all.

these days, scaramouche has been coming home late and going out a lot. it's the reason why you've been staying up late night, waiting at the dinner table until he comes home for the dinner you prepared. but everytime he comes home it's already 2 am and the food has gone cold. you even offer to heat it up for him but he's either not hungry, already ate, or tired. but not too tired to go out with his friends it seems. and although you said friends, you're referring to a particular girl he's been spending more time with than anyone else. more time than with you. it didn't take long for you to find out why he's been ditching you. but it has been so long since you knew the reason yet you've done nothing about it.

you still wait at the kitchen table for who knows how long. but you always end up falling asleep, not noticing when he comes home. and the next day when you wake up, he's gone. that's basically your everyday routine. all you do is stay holed up in your shared apartment all alone. you didn't have much friends compared to him since you chose to hang out with him most of the time.

10 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes and 31 seconds.

it's late at night when scaramouche just entered the apartment. fortunately, you woke up almost immediately after hearing the door unlock. you fell asleep on the table, once again. and before scaramouche could even enter his bedroom, you called out his name.

"wait! scara..!" you still feel groggy from just waking up but you couldn't miss this chance. the chance to confront him. he stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head into your direction.

"what? be quick, i'm tired." scara replies. he was never the warm type of person, but he was also never this cold. you've never heard him speak in a tone like this. cold as ice. hearing him speak like that made you hesitate and even more nervous than you already were.

you nervously speak up,

"w-well, you know these days i've been thinking... you might be spending too much time with your friends and a girl i've been seeing you with. because we've barely hung out together compared to you and your friends." you finally confront of him. hoping he would understand how you feel, just like how you understand that he can have other friends as well.

"because of that, it's been really... lonely. I really don't wanna sound dramatic but maybe we could-"

"you are though." you internally flinch. before you could even finish what you were gonna say, scaramouche interrupted you. "you're being so dramatic y/n! can't i hang out with my friends?! you think you're the only one i have?! archons, there's so many people out there better than you! you're being so possesive."

you? possesive? is he being for real? are you wrong for wanting to spend time with your lover? his words keep echoing in your mind. 'dramatic, better than you, possesive.' you wanted to fight back and defend yourself. but, you wouldn't. you couldn't. you knew that he has other people to rely on too but who knew it would hurt this much when it's being said to you directly. what you didn't know is that he would choose to rely on them over you. now you look like a blind fool, who only saw the truth right now. the truth to his feelings. 'is that how he thinks of me?' you were stunned. too hurt to speak. but you snapped out of your daze once you felt something wet rolling down your face. a tear. you were, crying. crying for a guy who you knew you don't deserve. but you couldn't help it. all you could do now is wipe your tears.

"s-scara no- i'm sorry," what for? why do you need to apologize? "how about i join you with your friends instead? that way we both cou-"

"pfft." scaramouche tried holding his laughter. keyword: tried. he fails. bursting into a fit of laughter. "you? join us? tsk. don't make a joke like that, seriously... i don't need anybody to embarrass me infront of my friends. i told you, i'm too tired for this shit." and just like that, scara entered his room. leaving you all alone at the kitchen table, once again. you covered your mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear your muffled whimpers as you try to not to burst into tears. rushing to your own bedroom just after scara went to his.

you couldn't hold it in anymore. you broke down, tears streaming down from your eyes, too fast to wipe. you couldn't stop crying when you remember the things he had just said. but that wasn't the main reason as to why you were breaking down. sure, the hurtful words were a part of it but it was mostly because of the fact that, ...you know your worth. and you're worth more than this, and you deserve better. but you can't bring yourself to just... let go of him. you hate it that you wouldn't move on. that you couldn't move on.

8 days, 16 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds since that incident.

ever since that day you and scara has distanced even further. only seeing each other at night. barely. you told him how you felt and you didn't expect an outcome like this. you figured that you should treat yourself to something nice. you decide to go to the arcade. it was an arcade where you and scara would sometimes go to after class. it wasn't the best place to take a break at, considering you still think of him here, but atleast you were able to relax a bit. surprisingly, you managed to win something at the claw machine! it cheered you up when you remember the amount of times you spent money on rigged claw machines and end up getting nothing. maybe you should go to the arcade more. specifically on bad days. ironically, you're luckier on days where you feel like the unluckiest person ever.

just as you were about to get the prize you won, you saw something, no- scratch that, someone, out of the corner of your eye. someone you really didn't want to see. but still, you looked. your gaze lingered on him. you couldn't help but stare at scaramouche. your lover was right there. right there with another girl. is he cheating? is he leaving me? replacing me? you start overthinking, especially when you remember your last interaction with him. green hair, olive eyes. she's pretty too... maybe scara was right. maybe you were possesive... because right now you're feeling a lot of things. anger? sadness? jealousy? whatever it is --it doesn't feel good. while you were out here feeling like shit, scaramouche right now had the biggest smile on his face. with someone else, he looked so... happy. the smile on his face however, wasn't new to you. seeing it made you reminisce about the past. when you both were still happy together.

"scara! h-hey!-"

you both were walking at the side walk on the way home from school. it felt as if it was just yesterday when this happened. scara was teasing you, smudging ice cream on your face after you both bought some.

"ah- stop it!!"

scara didn't stop, he started laughing. he burst into laughter. and instead of being mad at him for teasing you again, you felt oddly comforted. was it because of his smile? seeing him so happy with you? whatever the reason was, you're just glad he's happy. and so you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

and right now, you're seeing the same memory again. but it's him,

...with someone else.

he's laughing with someone else. doing the same teasing to someone else. being so happy, with someone else.

it hurts.

and it hurts even more when you see that you won matching keychains. there's a pang on your chest and you can't explain the feeling. all you know is that you get this feeling when you see him being okay without you. while you're here suffering without him. it's unfair. you know your worth, and you deserve better. maybe... you should really move on.

so you've promised yourself, --you won't chat him, call him, prepare food for him, wait for him to get home. to think you would change yourself this much because of scara when he wouldn't change a single thing for you. but, it's for the better. now you're both avoiding each other.

15 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds.

you managed to not interact with him as much for this long. things were awkward for the both of you, keeping replies short with each other. you think if other people saw you both they wouldn't even suspect the idea that you both are lovers. but hey, you kept your promise intact. fortunately, you haven't seen him at all for the past few days, not even a glimpse of him- ...yet.

as you were walking back home, you passed by you and scara's old spot. it was yours and scara's usual spot. it was somewhere near your shared apartment with him, an overlooking hill, where you could see the whole city. it was a place you both went to for a breath of fresh air. some memories quickly popped into your mind but you didn't wanna remember anything about it. not anymore. but it was only now that you noticed two figures on the spot. one was... from the silhouette you could already tell it was scara, but you still took a better look to confirm it and just as you suspected, it was him. now, the other figure was... the same girl again.

you're starting to hate the color green because of seeing her too much with him, although, you do feel slightly guilty 'cause you haven't even spoken to her once yet you feel like this. but still, you hate the color purple even more. it was the color of his hair, his eyes, and you were pretty sure it was his favorite color seeing how much his room is filled with it. because of him... you're hating a lot of things, including the fact that he looked so majestic right now. the wind blowing down on his face, his hair flowing with the air, his face leaning closer and closer to the girl's lips,...

as they kissed.

you watched as scara and the girl's lips touched each other's. it's a bit embarrassing to say but scara has never kissed you on the lips. was he saving it for a special moment like this? the atmosphere for them must have felt romantic. but right now, you feel like it's getting hard to breathe, the air around you is heavy, and your vision is getting blurry. ever since scara and you had distanced, you already knew at some point something like this would occur. but it still hurts. so much.

the dam broke.

tears started flooding down from your eyes. you cover your mouth, hoping the two of them wouldn't hear your sobs. your gaze fell downward. you couldn't bear to look at him again, it'll just break you even more. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. and you start to think that maybe scara has never even loved you from the very beginning. maybe he was always more than friends with that girl. always ditching you for her, being this intimate with her, and at your personal spot with him too. looking back to your most precious moments with him, you really are a blind fool. you thought you were special. when in reality, he'd replace you the moment you do something he doesn't like.

and so, you break your promise. you take your phone out from your pocket. scrolling for a long while through your contacts. it was only now that you realize how long you actually didn't chat him. you finally find his name. 'scara♡'. you quickly cleared his nickname and started typing. even though your eyes were growing blurry from tears, you still tried to finish typing. albeit, with difficulty, you click send.

"scaramluche, we shoudl bresk up."

you didn't care if it had so much typos, you just wanted to get it over with. you tried staying loyal to him, for a long time. despite all of his complaints and how hard it was to breathe around him, you still endured. but a person could only take too much until they break.

you waited for a few minutes until the two of them finally left your spot. it was where you always went to when you needed a breathe of fresh air, so you went and sat there. watching the city lights, gazing at the sky, breathing this fresh air. this is what you need. no matter how many times you come to this place, the scenery always takes your breathe away. even though scaramouche was just here awhile ago, you couldn't even think about him right now. you wouldn't.

and for the first time in a while, you felt... relaxed. you felt calm. the air around you finally felt light, it was easier to breathe. now it's just you and yourself again. you were used to being alone in the confinements of your shared apartment, but this... feels different. you are alone, but you felt free. you aren't chained down to bothersome worries and doubts anymore.

going back to your shared apartment that day was difficult for you. but from then on, you knew things were gonna get better, so you held on. scaramouche didn't even bat an eye to the boxes lying around on your room. he didn't even care about the fact that your closet was getting emptier and emptier through the days. but that's good. because just like how he neglects you, you won't let yourself be bothered by him anymore.

and alas, the day comes where you finally move out. you went far enough to even ask the landlord if you could move in early. this is the beginning of your life without any problems. without any of him. scaramouche is blocked on all of your socials, he wouldn't know a thing about your whereabouts even if he tried to look for you. because you know a lot of things about him when he doesn't even know where you work.

you finished setting up your bed at your new apartment. you hastily scrambled onto the bed, lying down on your back. your whole body instantly felt relaxed and the only thing you could think about is that you don't regret doing this. you think that maybe this was really what you needed. a break from him, being freed from doubts and worries. you truly did the right choice of moving out, and...

33 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes and 10 seconds.

...moving on.

#genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #rai! ✍️#scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche angst #wanderer x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #exams are over #genshin oneshots

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taiyeoki · 8 months

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘? | 𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐎

↳ Kashimo + Reader

Genre . Smut

Warning . 🔞Minors do not interact | Contains breeding/impregnation, face fucking, nipple play, fingering, cancelled orgasm

Synopsis . Kashimo doesn't always show vulnerable emotions but when a man comes around fancying you, his wife, that wall comes crashing down with the simplest jealousy. Now he just wants to fuck you till tomorrow. Maybe putting a baby in you will make sure you're his.

A/N . This was supposed to be finished way sooner but I got too caught up with some other work, causing me to sleep at 4-5am for weeks straight and it physically affected me so I got body ache and inflammation. Turns out I got covid. And then afterwards, which is currently, I'm focusing a lot on art lmao.

You had no plans today but to lay around on the couch all day long. Kashimo didn't mind since he's used to the woman staying at home during his time period anyway. The only difference now though is that you weren't even doing any chores. He never forced you to do them though, but seeing you sprawled out on the couch with a bag of chips next to you had him pushing you to get up.

Which is why you were here now, going into stores around the city. No way is Kashimo Hajime going to let his wife laze around all day. He cared about his wife's wellbeing and he knew the negative effects of being cooped up at home. However, this time he wasn't one bit pleased at all. He just regrets taking you out in the first place.

Your husband held a scowl on his face. He always looked fierce to begin with but this was different. You could feel his stare boring holes into the back of your head.

Going to the counter to order takeaways, the cashier held a rather innocent looking expression. The bright smile and friendly service wasn't fooling Kashimo though. He knew the cash register's true intentions weren't just to serve you.

"That'll be $15.70 ma'am," the man's smile widened in an attempt to be 'friendly'. It felt so disgustingly fake to your husband though. You replied with a polite "thank you," as you took your food, smiling in return but Kashimo saw how he purposely brushed his hand onto yours when serving you your order. He knew that you were too kind for your own good so it wasn't your fault for reciprocating the polite gesture but it pissed him off how anyone would try to fancy his wife.

Unfortunately for him, the cashier initiated a little conversation with you.

"I hope you enjoy your food. You've got great taste based on what you ordered. As expected from a woman such as yourself," his eyes darkened with intent staring at your frame, the smile he held wasn't going to fool Kashimo though.

"Do you come here often? I would love to help serve you again," his tongue darts out to lick his lips, almost as if he's moistening his lips to prolong more conversation.

"Oh, thank you. I guess I'm starting to become a usual customer here huh?" Chuckling, you replied noticing that you do come here more often than you think, appreciative of his kind offer.

"Great! That gives me even more reason to come to work," he laughs a bit at his joke but keeps his eyes on you. It was even more apparent now that he's leaning closer to you, close enough that he could take in your sweet scent which was supposed to be reserved for Kashimo only.

"Aren't you here to do your job? Or are you being paid to flirt with customers?" A smooth, velvety voice cuts in. Kashimo swiftly moves in front of you before you can pay for the food. He wasn't going to let this man touch you a second time, dropping the cash on the cashier's hands without even an inch of being near him so he wouldn't have to touch this 'thing'.

"T-thank you. You must be—"

"Her husband," Kashimo scoffed, a smug smile tugged on his lips handsomely. His agile movements snaked his arms around your waist, wrapping you right next to him to show who exactly you belong to.

Kashimo's presence only made the man look smaller than he was with your husband's dominating height towering over him. At least he wasn't dumb knowing how much more muscular your husband is compared to the guy working behind the counter trying to flirt with a married woman. His eyes zero in on Kashimo's strong hold on the small of your back and it was clear how possessive he got. You aren't bothered, leaning into Kashimo to envelope yourself in his comforting scent. The sight only made the man nervous with fear. He knew you were taken seeing from the beautiful blue ring that decorated your soft finger, both you and Kashimo having matching rings. Just by the looks of it he could tell how expensive it must've been and yet he still had the confidence to try and sway you— right in front of your husband too, who surely made more money than him with his part-time cashier job.

"Come on hun, let's go," Kashimo glances softly at you and his tone is gentle. Much different compared to this stranger who's just grateful that your husband decided to stay civil for the sake of his wife. He wears the look of horror when Kashimo turns around to face him once more.

"We'll be leaving now. I wouldn't expect a guy like you to be keeping their job for long if this is how you work."

Arriving home only meant that you had to deal with the little ordeal that happened, inquiring Kashimo about it. "What was that about? You didn't have to be rude you know."

Your beloved husband only scoffed when you reminded him of what happened. Seeing the sour expression on his face told you how annoyed he was, plus the deep scowl on his lips presented how pissed he was too. He pushes you against the kitchen counter, caging you between his strong arms as his lips latch onto your neck, kissing aggressively. You whine softly from how rough he's being, sucking on your supple skin creating hickeys everywhere while your fingers intertwine with his cyan locks. Your breaths are labored, he knows your body better than you do. He knows your sweet spots and your favourite positions, how you like it done and the perfect pace to do it.

Letting go, his saliva connects to your now bruised skin and he admires it.

"Pretty little mark. Should give you more don't you think?"

"Hajime, were you jealous?" You teased, giggling but your smirk is taken away when you feel his rough hand unclasp your bra, the other pulling your shirt up right above your breasts. Your sensitive skin exposed to the cold air causes your nipples to harden more than it needs to. Seeing this has blood rushing down to his cock as he flicks and tugs on your erect nipple, twisting it with the perfect pressure of his thumb and playing with your tits. Your head tips back with a moan, holding onto the kitchen counter for support while your husband ravages your body as he please.

Suddenly you feel his hot breath against your sensitive mounds. His lips wrap around your hardened nipple, sucking sensually producing lewd sounds from the wetness of your skin. His right hand continues to give attention to your left breast while he sucks on the other. You could feel Kashimo's calloused hand massaging your chest, the roughness of his thumb causing more friction against you as he twists and presses your nipple. God— his hands are too good. The man is skilled in pleasing you, he knows the perfect amount of pressure needed to have you over the edge.

Kashimo's free hand pushes your panties down, rubbing your already wet folds to get you prepped. He pushes a prodding finger against your walls, curling his finger just enough to hit the right spot. The sensation of his long finger abusing your sweet spot while his thumb circles your clit has you instinctively opening your legs further for more. Both his hands working you and his mouth sucking and lapping on your erect mounds already has you feeling like you're about to explode.

Your thighs shook in excitement as Kashimo's fingers slid inside of your already drenched cunt, and you moaned loudly, fingers scraping on the table under you with how your body is attacked by all this pleasure. Kashimo could feel your walls tighten around his digits. He knew whenever you needed to cum but as cruel as he is, Kashimo removes himself from your pussy, walls aching to release the familiar buildup in your abdomen.

You whined from the loss of sensation, feeling empty without him. "Hajime, why'd you st—"

He cuts you off, putting his pussy drenched finger inside of your mouth. "Lick it clean," His smooth, husky voice demanded. You couldn't deny how that turned you on more, sucking and lapping on your own juices off of his finger, making erotic sounds from it.

"There you go, see? Not so hard being a good little slut now right?"

He was enjoying the sight of your pretty lips wrapping his fingers, tasting yourself from it. Now his head was full of perverted thoughts on how you would look if you had your lips wrap his dick instead. If he had you sucking and choking on his fat cock.

Kashimo removes his finger from your mouth, too impatient to have you gagging on his dick. He kept his cyan eyes down on you while he licked his own fingers clean and it made you feel small and honestly inferior, submissive to him.

"Kneel down."

He had a mix of dominance and lust, greed hinted at the edge of his voice. You did as he said, kneeling down for your knees to take the weight while your face is in front of his crotch. Kashimo cupped his hand around the growing tent of his pants, rubbing it as his veins throbbed from the blood rushing south to his erection. "Go on. You know what to do," Kashimo had a smug smirk decorating his lips, eyeing down on you in front of him.

You gulped knowing what he wanted, the thought of his dick springing out of its restraints has you dripping wetter than before. Your hands pulled down on his pants slowly, earning a grunt from him at how you were taking your time in this. "Shit hun, stop teasing already," he grabbed a fistful of your hair and you moaned softly from how good it felt, forcing you to do as he say, rushing you more. Kashimo's left with his boxers on but you wanted to prolong your teasing. The tip of your tongue lapped at his clothed bulge leaving a damp spot, receiving labored breaths of sigh from him.

You continued your ministrations, licking his clothed shaft with the tip of your tongue like a needy slut until you yelped when he gently yanked on your hair, "what'd I say about teasing huh?" Your little fun of taking control was instantly stripped away when he forced you to stop. Pulling down the last of his restraints, his thick cock sprung out, tip leaking with precum.

Scrambling on your knees obediently, humiliation washed over you with your husband still gently grasping your hair. Kashimo's fingertip taps on his cock, smearing the pre-cum around the tip and then on your face.

"Pretty face would look better with my cock fucking into your mouth yeah?" He muses, moist tip rubbing up against your soft lips wanting to enter and just violate your face. You're practically drooling, tongue sticking out and he places his shaft flat onto it. You drag your tongue underneath him in a long and slow pace earning a low moan.

Your husband smoothly slides in his cock deep into your mouth, unprepared by his size even though you've already been married for years. You gagged a bit before adjusting to his length, drooling a bit onto his shaft and gripping on his thigh. His cock pushes through your lips, hitting the back of your throat while you try to breathe through your nose.

"Y'know you pissed me off. Just wanted to make me jealous huh?"

You couldn't respond. Cock deep in your mouth, you could only muffle in denial. It was true though, you didn't mean to make him jealous. What started off with you teasing him about it turned into him face fucking you. His smoothly styled cyan hair falls out of place, bangs sticking onto his face from the sweat forming on his forehead and his buns turning messy.

"Shouldn't my wife apologize? Use your big girl words and say you're sorry," the room resonates with his groans, his girth making it hard to breathe as you try and say sorry.

"Mmph- soh-wee—"

It was all you could say after all with a meaty cock in your mouth, nose brushing against his hair as he keeps you in place with the firm grip he has on your locks. A sadistic smirk curled onto Kashimo's lips as he watches, beginning to quicken up the pace. You hate and love how determined Kashimo is, once he sets his goal on something he'll do whatever it takes to achieve it. At this moment though, he's determined to have his wife deepthroating him.

The friction of each thrust has his dick tattooed in a darker red, grunting at the wet cave that's going to send him to heaven. His movements get sloppier and grow desperate, balls slapping against your chin with each thrust.

"Ah— fuck!" With a final thrust he spurts all his cum down your throat, pushing you right against him to keep you in place as his little cumdump and making sure to leave none behind. "Swallow," he demands, hot seed slides down your throat as you try and swallow while his dick is still in your mouth.

With a huff, Kashimo lets go of your abused throat to let you breathe. Gasping for air, your hand rubs your sore neck but you could see how his dick still stays standing despite how satisfied he was with jizzing in his wife's mouth.

Looking up at him, your husband's lips held the seductive smirk, palming on his wet, still-hard cock in front of you. Standing on his full height, he grabs your waist and pulls you up, laying your belly side on the kitchen counter behind you.

"You want this? Your pussy's drooling for my cock but you're not speaking clearly enough. I'm gonna need my little slut to speak. We can't have my wife suffering now can we?"

"Please.." you pleaded, his firm hand spanks your ass receiving a whine.

"Cute."

Kashimo slides inside with ease from how wet you were from your cancelled orgasm, cock stretching out your plush walls as your thighs shook in excitement. Moaning against your sleeve, you start fucking yourself on his dick. Kashimo doesn't hesitate in helping you, picking up the pace and fucking hard into your drenched cunt. You could feel every inch of his dick, pussy memorizing every pretty vein on him, how it feels like you two were made just for each other while his tip easily abuses your sensitive spot.

Your body glistens with sweat, shoulders littered with hickeys with Kashimo leaving bite marks on you, his teeth biting on your skin just hard enough to draw out pleasure without hurting you. You moaned as his fingers rubbed your clit in circles

Kashimo gets the perfect view of where your bodies are connected, every thrust from your squelching cunt creating a white ring of both your arousals. Your trembling legs were proof of how much you were enjoying it, toes curling and fingers gripping the smooth surface of the table with a muffled squeal.

"Fuck- gonna cum inside, gonna make you pregnant,"

He claws against your waist, the euphoria of him filling you up while your hardened nipples rubbed against the counter from each thrust's friction. Your mouth hung open but no noises escaped your pretty swollen lips. Kashimo loved the idea that his cock was making you feel so good that your brain couldn't even react to it all the while his tip kisses your womb with every push, hitting you in your fucked-out state.

"Can't even speak now? Wanna be a mommy huh? You like that idea?"

You tried reaching back to grab his arm, whimpering to signal that you were about to cum with the familiar coil tightening in your abdomen. Your husband leans down to give you kisses though they were more possessive than caring, giving sloppy french kisses with more tongue than lips. The sweat forming at your skin caused you to slide against the counter with every thrust, trying to grab on to anything for support.

The thought of your belly round with a baby and your fuller breasts being sensitive was enough for Kashimo to cum.

Teeth sinking into your neck to muffle his groans, his hot cum spilled inside of you making sure to paint every inch of your walls white. Spurts of his load fills your belly and he stays there cockwarming until it softens, pulling out.

Your husband's digits went down to spread your lower lips, watching how his cum oozed out of you. He curls his fingers to scoop up his orgasm and pushes it back into you, making sure his beloved wife is full of his hot seed.

"Hajime—"

"Sorry hun, I got too rough didn't I? I was just jealous but I'll make it up to you. I just love you so much," he plants a tender kiss on your back, massaging your sore hips.

Giggling at how he peppers soft kisses all over you, you reassure him. "It's okay, I had fun."

Chuckling, Kashimo nuzzles into your neck, still rubbing your sore flesh and promising to give you a full body massage.

"But hey, you'll make me such a happy daddy."

#kashimo #kashimo hajime #hajime kashimo #jjk kashimo #kashimo x reader #kashimo x y/n #jjk men #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #smut

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haruchi-slit · 16 days

Text

"WHAT GOES AROUND

COMES AROUND"

synopsis: you're a strong love curse who loves to manipulate her opponents mind and emotions and satoru and suguru who was meant to take you out for good but things change..

warnings: p in v, mouth fucking, cunnilingus, threesome, geto never defected, suguru and satoru as teachers

the two men were supposed to be in their vacation but no, no, no, the higher ups said: "fuck your vacation, exorcize this curse instead" and they had to do it.

satoru and suguru were called and got assigned to take you down by end of the day, for you wreak havoc and disturbance to the civilians and other exorcists around japan, you were jumping city by city in order to not be caught but, they got tipped by a civilian that you're near their location after you had been seen fighting a sorcerer, the two men took the mission with no other options left, they took the folder containing your information...and your weakness.

you were feared by many for your ability to manipulate your opponents minds. you were known for your skills not only in combat but also in reading and exploiting your opponents thoughts and emotions.

one of your favorite techniques was to make your opponents sexually aroused. It was a simple yet effective way to distract and weaken your foes.

by using seductive words and gestures to make them lose control of their desires, yeah it was one to make your opponents lose.

however, there were consequences...it was your weakness, everytime you overuse your curse technique the effect of your power reflects to you.

you might be powerful, but luck isn't always on your side.

"fuck-!" you huff as you clenched your hands into a fist. you have just knocked out an above average sorcer, you pulled your hair back and started to catch your breath, you were preparing for your escape until you heard cackling voices and distant murmuring, it made your ears perk up, before roaming your eyes to your surrounding,

"show your self, fool!" you shout, which only made the chuckling voices louder, you feel your sweat trickling down your spine as you shout, you were nervous and definitely vulnerable right now, you knew you should've not overused your curse technique.

as you huff heavily, two figures stepped out off the bushes near you, you tried to stand properly but to no avail you dropped on your knees. they were there the whole time, watching you fight their kind, they emerge with a annoying smirk plastered on their stupid faces.

"no need to stress, babe" the man with snowy locks teased, which made you cringe "how long have you been there?" you struggled, with your voice shaking almost uncontrollably, "long enough to see you struggle with your own curse technique" the raven haired man shrugs, still smirking like an idiot while your body was getting hotter and hotter while the interaction flows thru, you knew you couldn't fight right now but there was no choice.

you need to escape,

so you punched their guts to make a distraction and ran for your dear life, you tried to run as fast as you can but only to be cornered by them, "what the fuck do you want!" you shout, "you've been literally causing disturbance and sucking souls from our sorcerers" the long haired guy sassed with furrowed brows "and you're telling us what do we want?" the white haired man adds,

"I'll kill you both" you threaten, "but you can't your powers are useless" the man with white hair spoke once more, "let me go, can you? i r-really need to go" you used your cursed technique as your last resort and it's the worst idea you've done, I can't blame you though you didn't have any choice.

you flicked your eyelashes at them, as your irises formed into a whirlpool, trying to control their mind- but they remained unfazed. They could see through your every move and were not affected by your words or actions. your curse technique reflected back to you, making you much vulnerable than before, you dropped down to your knees as you feel your cursed technique effect your body badly and there's only one way to get out off this and it's a really bad idea.

you are fucked, literally.

some moments past...

"anghn~ fuck! " you'd stammer as the two men nibble on the valleys of your neck, leaving passionate marks, while the atmosphere gets thicker and thicker with your arousal,

"no more actin' though?" the long haired man laughs, "could've told us you're feeling some..." the white haired man pauses, "things earlier instead of trying to suck our souls" he continues, with attitude, continuing to nibble on your plump skin.

"you fuck-ing! humans-ack!" you winced, once you felt someone bite your neck, "we have a name, you horny little curse." the long haired man stated, "he's suguru, I'm satoru. I'm sure you already heard of us" the white haired man said, yanking your skirt up, "you're so fucking wet..." he grumbles, tugging your panties off, your breathing became uneven, while your pussy pulsed and gripped around nothing, your eyes became hazy and you felt your head almost spinning.

your body shivered as soon as satoru laid his tongue on your cunt,

"ahghh-!" you squeaked, barely standing on the ground, satoru notices it, and quickly placed your thigh on his shoulder. it feels so good, it felt so deadly, your body tingled everytime suguru trails kisses on your neck, it was electric, it felt unreal.

"mgh- don't! don't stop!" you'd wept, as you subconsciously jerk and buck your hips on the bridge of his nose-

"enjoying it?" suguru teased, drawing his calloused fingers on your perked nipples, earning a satisfied moaned from you, "d-don't stop- please.." you begged desperately. satoru gripped your shivering thigh on his shoulder before lifting it up and adjusting his mouth to your clit, once he was satisfied, he drew tight little circles and made sure he never missed a spot, your eyes flutter shut, as your eyeballs falls deep- deep in your skull, "so-" satoru pauses, sucking your juices dry, "fucking-" he pauses again, letting his tongue feast on your luscious cunt, "sweet.." he closed his eyes looking like the luckiest man on earth, as you came. hard. your juices dripped so appetizing, he looked so appetizing.

suguru reaches down on your sopped pussy scooping every cum he can gather on his finger tips, you flinched on his touch, he then placed his finger tips that's dripping with your cum in his mouth, swirling his tongue on his finger tips making sure he savors every last bit of it, "you're right. she's sweet" suguru agrees.

"bend over, curse" suguru commands with a smooth and suave tone as your body quickly moved on it's own, it felt good, too good even.

you placed your hands in a tree nearby before spreading your legs evenly, "good girl.." he purrs before unbuttoning his pants off, revealing his raging pale pink tip, he lets his pants pool down on his knees before he grabbed a handful of your ass, he slides his cock up and down, painfully slow as your body jerked on it's own before he finally aligned his member on your entrance, slowly sliding his cock gently in your gummy walls, "hmff!-" you'd try to suppress your moans as suguru continues to slide his thick cock in, "goodness" he huffs "you're so fucking tight" his face contorts into a pleased emotion, as you feel him fill your cervix, you felt satoru come to your side with his leaking tip out, his uniform tugged between his mouth, revealing his chiseled abs, "don't forgewt mfh", he teased, but you barely understood what he said, you glide your free hand to his cock, palming his cock back and forth, while suguru pounds you with no remorse, that you struggled to stand properly, "ahm!" suguru pounds hard and again and again and again that you've lost count.

you can see satoru's face contort into a fucked out state, his abs flexing and bulging as your hand moved up and down, "k-keep goin'" he struggled to talk, his eyes fluttering shut, damn he's so fucking gorgeous.

as suguru feels your walls clench harder and harder he grips your waist, supporting your body as he pounds deep, so deep in your hungry cunt, "fuck, fuck- ahmn!" you moaned as suguru lifts your leg in the air placing it in his waist, "fuck- you're soo fucking deep- ahg!" you wailed, as suguru reaches the deepest spots of your pussy, as satoru took the opportunity to shove his cock in your mouth,

"mmn! -nnm!" you gawked as satoru pushes his hips with caution, "breathe, baby- fuck your mouth feels so good.."

suguru places your leg down gently before grabbing both of your arms behind your back before pounding once more, "I'm gonna come", "I'm gonna come" was all you can chant in your pretty head as you clenched suguru's dick, you can feel your abdomen move and clench and with suguru's final thrust you came, cum gushes down to your leg as both men continued to thrusts in sync, "you're so cute.." suguru murmurs, "wonder if curses can get pregnant" he banters, with satoru responding with a chuckle, "i hope s-so", and with satoru's last trust he came, inside your mouth, "mhmmnn-!" he hums in pleasure, letting his cock rest in you for a while, while suguru cums soon after, "s-shit.." he grunts, before thrusting in you again pushing back his cum in you, satoru takes his member out your mouth, the three of you catched breaths, before satoru kneeled down to kiss you.

... moments later after satoru and suguru arrived in the school...

"WHAT?! YOU LET HER GET AWAY!?" principal yaga shouts, "we'll catch them, don't worry" satoru assures, chuckling

#haruchi-slit #jjk #jjk smut #haruchi slit #jjk headcanons #smut #jjk polls #jjk smau #suguru smut #gojou satoru x reader #satosugu #satoru smut #suguru x reader #smutty shit

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diagnosedpsychosis · 10 months

Text

Love At First Sight- Jake Seresin

Contains: A little bit of weight/body insecurity from reader, shy/coward jake, just as shy reader, fluff

Description: Jake's been acting a little differently cause he's taken an interest in you and doesn't want you to think he's a jerk. All the while he's too nervous to make a move.

Word Count: 1.4k

___________________________________

Jake didn't know what had come over him so hard that the confident man he was just weeks ago, had been replaced with a coward. He noticed it. His teammates noticed it. Even the bar regulars noticed that suddenly one of the cockiest, loudest, most outgoing men in San Diego had turned into a borderline hermit.

His regular game of darts with Javy had become a once in a blue moon activity. His teasing of Bradley, Bob and Nat ceased the moment they were finished work for the day. Even the usual 6 or 7 beers he'd pound down after a long day had reduced to 2 or 3 at the most.

He had an instinct of knowing when someone was looking at him, like his teammates and would meet their eyes with nothing but a bored stare before they'd look away not wanting to be bummed out by his mood. If only they knew that wasn't how he was feeling at all.

Even tonight, as Jake sits in a corner booth at the Hard Deck, his beer turning warm in his hand, his mouth and the rapid thud of his heart almost betray his exterior as he stares at you across the bar. You're talking to Penny, the easy smile on your face enough to make the corner of his lips twitch as he sits still, imagining all the things he'd say to you if he only had the courage to get off his ass.

Then he feels eyes on him and looks away, shooting a hard look in Javy and Reuben's direction. They both whirl around, turning their backs to him and then he's back to looking at you.

"He looking again?" Penny mumbles, leaning over the bar and grinning up at you. You've been caught glancing around the room again as to not make it obvious you were staring right back at the handsome blond.

"Mmm" You hum, biting on the inside of your cheek to try and stop yourself from grinning like a fool. You glance around again, eyes moving swiftly over him and onto the next person despite the desperate yearning in your chest, begging you to look at him again.

"I don't know why you don't just go and talk to him" Penny leans forward, lowering her tone so that there isn't a chance another guy in uniform hears the exchange. You whine, bouncing your foot like you were trying to get rid of a cramp.

"Have you met me? I'll take two steps and sweat my face off" You've never been overly confident and you had High School to thank for it. It didn't matter that it's been a decade since you graduated, growing up an overweight girl and not dropping the weight until you were in your 20's made you overly receptive to judgement.

You felt better now, more confident and happier, but because you didn't get to experience that bittersweet 'teenage love', you weren't really sure how dates and interest in people being reciprocated worked. Slowly losing weight late when everyone was getting boyfriends, or pregnant or even married didn't help either.

You'd noticed guys flocking to your pretty, skinny friends on nights out, and despite how beautiful your friends promised you were, your weight was the first thing they saw. If you smiled their way you were just the sweet, chubby girl that looked like she'd drank a whole bar empty and didn't know what was in and out of her league.

You'd never really had experience talking to guys, your Dad and brother not included, so the fact a ridiculously handsome man in uniform, that you're sure never would've spared you a glance when you were bigger, had been staring at you for weeks now, made you beyond nervous to make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him like Penny has tried to convince you to do for a while now.

"Well hey, if he doesn't love your nervous sweats then he doesn't deserve you" Penny tried to make you feel better, squeezing your arm before standing back up straight to fix a couple orders from some guys at the end of the bar. Your smile slowly falls from your face and internally you curse at yourself for not having the courage to even just go and say hi.

What you don't realise is Jake's doing the same, beating himself up for becoming so darn weak that he can't stand up, take a deep breath and walk over to you. Flying planes and risking his life were easy, but talking to a pretty woman he's been coming to the Hard Deck every day for 3 weeks purely with hopes of even just seeing? He felt like he couldn't breathe.

But then he watches your exchange with Penny, his heart beating twice as hard when for the first time in 3 weeks he watches the smile he's come to adore slowly fade from your face when Penny turns her back to you. He notices your heavy exhale and the drop of your shoulders. He notices you running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the glass in your hand that you're yet to take a sip of. He notices the slight crease of your eyebrows when you gnaw on your lip, and suddenly... he's never wanted to lift someone's mood so desperately before.

He doesn't give himself even a second to talk himself out of making his way to you, the need to see your smile again all too consuming.

Whatever's on your mind has your full attention, that even when the guy you've been watching for the last 3 weeks sits down on the stool beside you, his knee grazing yours, you fail to notice and keep tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.

Jake didn't know what the hell to say that didn't make him come across as an obsessed stalker, so he tried a humorous take instead. "You know, I almost wore that exact same top today. How embarrassing would that have been if we matched?"

His voice floats right into your ear and you turn your head, sucking in a sharp breath when you realise the person that's just spoken to you, is the same person you're making yourself insecure over. You open your mouth like a goldfish, not knowing what to say as you're still trying to process the fact he's finally spoken to you, before closing your mouth again.

You look down at the obviously very feminine top you paired with plain jeans, and finally his words sink in. Your lips curve up and the moment of internal terror Jake had as you stared at him in silence, washed away.

"Only embarrassing if you pulled it off better than me" Jake's mouth pulls up into an easy smile as he stares right back at you, both completely oblivious to the group of pilots watching the exchange in surprise.

"I find it hard to believe anyone could" The flirtation rolls of Jake's tongue and he can't help grin at the sight of your cheeks flushing as you turn your head away from him slightly, looking ahead. Jake's eyes bounce over your features up close and he wonders how somebody could look so beautiful from afar, and even more mesmerising up close. He regret's not talking to you the second he saw you.

"I'm Jake" He blurts the words, almost like he can't contain them any more. The longer he goes without properly introducing himself and learning your name, the more desperate he becomes to know anything and everything about you. You look back and his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips as they curve up in the most beautifully natural smile.

Sure, he's wanted to kiss you since the moment he spotted you, but right now, as he stares at your mouth and the faint dimple poking at your cheeks, he's never been more content seeing another person happy in his life.

"Y/n" You reply softly and immediately your name is carved and filled with pure liquid gold, in Jake's heart. His heart beats to the letters of your name in morse code. His eyes fill with so much hope as he stares at you, like finding out your name is the greatest gift he could've ever gotten.

And as you stare right back at him, he wonders if telling you he's in love with you before even the suggestion of a first date is too soon.

________________________________________

My first Top Gun: Maverick short. Hope it was okay <3

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 month

Text

Whiskey, Neat

Summary: Y/N is sweet and awkward, how will that work out for her when she meets the world's hottest rockstar.

Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/18+: Smut. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (m&f receiving). Vaginal fingering. Bit of dirty talk. Shy/Awkward reader. Jensen being an absolute rock god. Jensen being irresistible. Jensen being the hottest mofo on the planet.

Word Count: 5,154

A/N: So I got a couple of requests (here and here) for a rockstar!jensen fic after the shows in Austin that murdered us all. I already had every intention of writing something to try and slake our thirst, so I hope this satisfies what you were looking for my friends! Got it out a day earlier than I thought I would! Yay! 😁

I also took some inspiration from this unbelievably hot TikTok. 🥵🥵

As always, of course, this is a single, multiverse version of Jensen. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. ❤️

Jensen Ackles was a fucking, rock god; Y/N wasn't denying that.

Her friend, Angela, was shaking her head at her and throwing her arms wide.

“He's fucking amazing! Girl! Why wouldn't you go? They're backstage passes and he is the sexiest fucking man on earth! How can you pass this up?”

Y/N's face became pleading, willing her friend to understand her trepidation. “Because he's the sexiest fucking man on earth, Angela! And what am I supposed to say when I meet him? ‘Hi my name is Y/N. I have four cats, and an inability to speak without horribly embarrassing myself. Please don't look directly at me or I might burst into flames.’”

Angela rolled her eyes. “All you need to say is, ‘Hi, I'm Y/N and I'd be happy to suck your dick.”

Y/N felt her cheeks get warm. “Not likely.”

“Y/N!” Angela whined. “You have to come. You won the passes and they're in your name. If you don't go, I can't go, and you'll be denying me my god given right to maybe fuck Jensen Ackles.”

Y/N scowled at her. “Your god given right? Really?”

“Okay, fine. My god given right to go drool over him up close!”

Y/N was hesitating and Angela could sense she had her on the ropes as she continued. “Look, you've been looking for ways to get over your shyness, right?”

Y/N scoffed. “Yeah and those ways don't include making a fool of myself in front of a rock god.”

Angela pouted. “Please? It will be so much fun.”

Y/N felt her stomach clench at the idea but finally relented. The truth was that alongside the unbelievable fear at the idea of meeting Jensen Ackles, was an equal amount of ridiculous excitement.

She sighed. “Fine but if it looks like I'm gonna throw up, you need to promise to get me out of there.”

***

The crowd was screaming and jostling Y/N around as she stood in the floor section, about five feet from the stage. Jensen hadn't even come out yet, but the musicians that backed him on tour were coming on stage, and everyone knew that meant he was minutes away from coming out.

Angela was quite possibly screaming the loudest. It was a lot for Y/N to be immersed in the noise and chaos. But she also had pleasant butterflies in her stomach, allowing the excitement to override her extreme nervousness.

Finally the lights went down in the house and the lights pointing at the stage came up, bright and colorful, and zooming around the stage.

The first blaring notes of Jensen's latest hit started just as he leapt out on stage. He began to sing the driving melody, using his rough, powerful voice to give the lyrics the feel of a battle cry.

The first four songs were performed one right after the other, whipping the crowd into a frenzied, frothing mob.

After that, he slowed things down a little, introduced the band and promised them all an unforgettable night.

He did a couple of medium tempo songs from previous albums, and one of his slow, slightly melancholy hits. Y/N sang along with every word.

She could have sworn that when he was close to the edge of the stage and looking down at them all, he made direct eye contact with her. It was only for a moment, and he may have been looking at something behind her, but that stare still made her toes curl.

The rest of the concert was incredible. Jensen dripped sex on stage, his body drenched in sweat. His voice cast a spell over the crowd as it moved back and forth from rough and full of grit, to velvety and full of warmth.

He did two encores before he left the stage for good. When he was gone, Y/N stood in the aftermath feeling like she'd been given a pleasure overload.

And now she had to go meet him.

Angela grabbed her hand so they wouldn't get separated in the throng, and followed the signs pointing the way for those with backstage passes.

They walked down a long rope line until they reached the very end. They waited behind the velvet rope for Jensen to arrive and start signing autographs.

It was easy to know when he emerged from the stage door because a wave of hysterical screaming started up once again.

Y/N could see him approximately twenty feet away, making his way down the line, smiling at fans and taking selfies with them, signing CDs and posters of him. More than one woman pulled down the neckline of their t-shirt so he could sign the heavy swell of their breasts.

As he approached them, Angela started screaming for him and waving her CD towards him. It was at that exact moment and not a moment sooner that Y/N realized she had nothing for him to sign. She carried nothing with her and there was no way she was bold enough to get him to sign her boobs.

Jensen approached Angela and smiled at her before shooting a quick look at Y/N. He focused his attention back on Angela as her friend gushed and yelled at him over the crowd.

“You're the absolute best! The show was incredible!” She told him.

He smiled, thanking her and handing her back the signed CD, before obligingly leaning in slightly to allow for a selfie.

Finally Jensen reached Y/N, the very last person in the line. He stared at her for a moment and Y/N just stared back, falling head first into the green magic of his gaze.

He raised an eyebrow and leaned a little closer to be heard over the crowd. “Got something for me, Sweetheart?”

Angela's voice was in Y/N's head and she was about two seconds away from shouting. “Sure, I can suck your dick.”

Thankfully before that happened, he made a motion like he was signing something and she realized he meant, did she have something for him to sign.

She shook her head. “No, I…I'm sorry, I didn't think. I don't have things.” She said, slightly rambling.

He smiled warmly and Y/N practically melted into the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West.

“Well, we gotta fix that.” Jensen said, nodding to the bodyguard standing at the end of the rope. The giant man unhooked the velvet barrier from its pole, holding it out wide so that Y/N could leave the line.

Jensen leaned towards her to make himself heard again and she was almost completely undone by the scent of him; clean sweat and salty skin combined with something masculine and tangy that made her desperate to bury her face in the t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

When he spoke into her ear, goosebumps spread over every inch of her body, and it took her a minute to actually process his words.

“Come on into the green room with us and we'll find you a CD so I can sign it for you.”

Y/N swallowed convulsively and then waved at Angela vaguely. “My friend…”

He smiled at Angela again and waved her forward. “She's welcome to come too, the more the merrier.”

Angela shoved Y/N forward in her excitement to follow him and Jensen reached out to steady her.

He grinned at her. “You good?”

She just nodded emphatically.

“What's your name, darlin’?” He asked, and his soft Texan drawl made her woozy.

“Y/N.” She answered in a shaky voice.

“Well hi, Y/N.”

Jensen ushered them forward, letting them precede him into a short, slightly dark hallway. As they turned a corner and continued down a longer, better lit hallway, the noise of the crowd slowly receded.

It was only a minute until they reached a big brown door and the bodyguard opened it for them.

Inside was a party. There was a makeshift bar at the back of the room and the band was already a couple of drinks ahead. They’d obviously brought friends too, some men, some women. Music played loudly and everyone gave a cheer as Jensen walked in.

They were quickly surrounded by people clapping Jensen on the back and congratulating him on a great show. There were some press people there as well, wearing press passes and snapping photographs.

Y/N was overwhelmed by everything happening around her, and she turned to Angela to silently freak out with her, but her friend had been immediately and completely distracted by the drummer who had approached her. She seemed to be very caught up in him as she wandered away from the group to chat with him quietly. Y/N shook her head, trying to snag Angela's attention again and force her to come back, but that was apparently impossible.

Finally as the crowd around him parted, Jensen looked back at her.

“Give me ten minutes to shower and change and I'll be back. Can I get you a drink first?”

Y/N shook her head no and then answered anyway. “I'd like a water.”

Jensen seemed slightly surprised by her choice, but smiled and took her hand to lead her to the bar, where one of the bodyguards was doing double duty as a bartender.

Jensen leaned over the makeshift bar and spoke loudly, above the music. “One water and one whiskey, neat.”

Y/N felt ridiculous as the bartender passed her a water bottle before pouring out about four fingers worth of Whiskey for Jensen. She wasn't a big drinker, but she'd certainly drank before. She liked vodka, she could have asked for something with vodka.

Jesus, I'm completely out of my element here. She thought, starting to feel a bit claustrophobic even in the wide and spacious room.

She looked down at her feet as she spoke to Jensen. "You know, you don't have to sign anything for me. I mean...I don't wanna trouble you. I don't need anything."

Jensen tipped her chin up with his forefinger. "I'll let you in on a little secret sweetheart."

He smiled flirtatiously and his bright green eyes sparkled. "I didn't actually bring you here to give you an autograph. I just thought we could get to know each other a little."

Her heart started to hammer against her ribs and she blinked owlishly at him. The sexiest man alive just wanted to spend time with her?

His flirty expression softened a little and he dropped his hand, taking a step back.

"But if you just wanna go, that's no problem."

Y/N shook her head adamantly. "No, I wanna know you. Get to know you."

Jensen nodded. "Good."

He took a quick sip of his whiskey and then set it down beside her. "Then, guard that, will ya? And I'll be back in ten minutes max, and then maybe we can get some fresh air? You look like you could use it."

Y/N nodded in relief. "Yes." She said quietly. He reached out and squeezed her hand before striding off to disappear through yet another door.

Y/N stood awkwardly by the bar, occasionally making eye contact with someone and quickly looking away. Angela seemed to be the only person who's eye she couldn't catch, mainly because she was in a lip lock with the drummer.

Thankfully Jensen was as good as his word, because ten minutes hadn't passed before he returned.

His hair was wet from the shower now, and he wore a clean white t-shirt and pair of black jeans. He looked utterly scrumptious.

He picked up his glass and took a sip before smiling at Y/N. "Thanks for keeping it safe for me."

She shrugged. "I live to serve." She frowned at her stupid response and wanted to take it back, but Jensen chuckled and thumbed towards the ceiling.

"So there's a rooftop patio if you don't mind climbing a couple flights of stairs."

Y/N nodded. "Okay."

He place his big, warm palm on her lower back, guiding her through the room and making a shiver run up her spine from where he touched her.

As they left, she still couldn't get Angela's attention, so Y/N just took out her phone and sent her a text to let her know where she was so she wouldn't worry.

If she even noticed.

After walking up a couple flights of stairs, Jensen pushed through a metal door and they emerged onto the rooftop. There were a few tables and chairs set up, as well as a very comfortable looking, if slightly worn, leather couch. It was sitting inside a big canvas tent - likely to keep it from getting ruined if it rained.

There were a few other people sitting around the tables chatting quietly. A cool but gentle breeze blew and Y/N sucked in a big breath of it, exhaling slowly.

“Better?” Jensen asked, a smile in his voice.

Y/N nodded. “Much, thank you.”

“Good. You looked like you might pass out if we didn't relocate quickly. Even in the autograph line you looked a bit shell-shocked by everything.”

He was smiling but Y/N felt her cheeks get warm. Had she really looked so stunned and out of it standing there?

“No, I was…I mean I loved it. The show. You're so…you were so good.”

She wanted to scream at herself for using such an uninspired word. "Good" didn’t really describe the experience of watching him command the stage and hold every single person there in the palm of his hand.

But he just nodded. “Thanks. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I really did.” She said trying to imbue more of her true excitement into her words.

Without discussing it, they wandered over to the couch, and set their drinks on the small table beside it.

“So, what do you do, Y/N?” Jensen asked as they sat down.

Their conversation was slightly stilted for the first little while, which was completely down to her. She was trying, but her words tended to be choppy and stiff as she second guessed everything that came out of her mouth and awkwardly tried to explain away her awkwardness…which in turn caused things to be…awkward.

Slowly but surely, though, as a couple of hours went by, Jensen pulled her out of her shell - charmed her out of it, really. He was funny and warm and his calm demeanor and patient, understanding vibe eventually made her feel relaxed and happy. Soon they were sitting close together, talking about when he’d started playing the guitar.

“I was about six.”

“Six?” Y/N asked incredulously. “Could you even hold onto the guitar at six?”

Jensen chuckled. “Amazingly, yes. And it was good I started young cause you need years of practice to build up good calluses on your fingers.”

Jensen picked up her hand, turning it palm up in his.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head like he was disappointed, but his voice was soft and teasing. “Could never make a guitar player out of you with these soft hands.”

He ran his fingertips over her smooth palm before raising it slowly to his lips. He placed a small kiss there and Y/N's stomach fluttered and her heart beat fast. Her breath was shaky and shallow as Jensen shifted his gaze to her mouth. He let go of her hand to cup her cheek and run his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Its got me wondering if your lips are just as soft.”

Y/N swallowed loudly and shocked herself with her response.

“You can check if you want.”

“Thanks, I think I will.” Jensen said with a wicked grin as he lowered his head, breathing softly against her lips. The whiskey on his breath made her dizzy, or maybe it was his scent surrounding her again. Either way her heart was pounding and her lower belly tightened almost painfully.

Jensen pressed his lips to hers and they were soft like silk, but warmer. Before he could even press his tongue to her lips, she opened up inviting him in immediately. Jensen groaned quietly as he slid his tongue inside. He tasted like whiskey and mint and she was instantly starving for him.

He kissed her senseless for several minutes, pulling gasps and groans out of her easily. He began to let his hands roam as he moved his lips down the side of her neck and Y/N let out a soft, breathless cry, throwing her head back as his big hand palmed her breast through her t-shirt.

Her mind whirled as he laid waste to her senses. She couldn't believe any of this was happening, but she chalked it up to a vivid dream, and she refused to do anything that might derail it. So she urged him on as he let his hands reach up under her shirt to squeeze her lace-covered breast and tease her skin where it swelled above her bra.

“Yes, god, your hands feel so fantastic.”

“Mmm…” Jensen moaned as he licked her pulse point. “Calluses aren't too rough? Cause, fuck baby, you’re soft all over.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I like them rough.”

Jensen pulled his hands out of her shirt and sat up slightly, making Y/N whine at the loss of his hands pressing firmly into her flesh.

He nodded sideways towards the tent opening. “Should I close that?”

Y/N remembered suddenly that there were people at the tables barely thirty feet away. She was surprised to find she didn't actually care that they would likely hear them and guess what was going on inside their little enclosure.

She nodded at Jensen and he rose quickly, pulling the sides of the canvas together and tying them closed.

He moved back towards her, but instead of sitting beside her again, he pressed his hands into the back of the couch on either side of her shoulders and rested a knee on the seat between her legs. He hovered over her for a moment, fixing her with a stare that made her toes curl, just as it had when he looked at her the same way during the concert.

Her voice was hoarse with desire when she spoke.

“Was I imagining things, or did you notice me in the audience tonight.” It was a bold question, and ordinarily she wouldn't have the courage to ask it. But the look of heat and need on Jensen’s face as he stared at her so intensely made her feel fearless.

He shook his head in answer to her question. “No, you weren't imagining it. You were just so beautiful, you snagged my attention and made it hard to look away. Your expression was so wide-eyed and sweet.”

He leaned down a little and kissed her softly. “You sure you're okay being here with me, sweetheart? I don't wanna pressure you into anything.”

Y/N was shaking her head before he'd even finished his sentence; she spoke loudly as she desperately tried to reassure him.

“No, trust me. I wanna be here. So much wanna be here. Never in a million years would I have thought that I WOULD be here. Like, if you'd asked me which was more likely to happen tonight…aliens descending from the sky in hot pink convertibles to take over the world, or me having sex with Jensen Ackles, I can tell you I would have been looking for our alien overlords.”

Jensen looked slightly bemused at her rambling. “Wow.”

Y/N blushed. “Sorry, I’m quiet to start, but once you get me going, I can be pretty loud.”

A slow, sexy mile spread across Jensen’s face and Y/N blushed a deeper red. “Sorry, that sounded a lot dirtier than I meant it.”

Jensen shook his head, still hovering over her, trapping her between his arms braced against the couch.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I like dirty.” He kissed her softly. “I like sweet too. They make a pretty incredible combination"

He pulled back from her and slowly lowered himself down till he was on his knees in front of her. “Just two things.” He said, raising two fingers. “One - I’m just confirming that you did in fact say you were going to have sex with Jensen Ackles, right? That wasn’t me just hearing what I wanted to hear?”

Y/N laughed breathlessly. “No, you heard right; there's no way I wanna stop at just a make out session.”

Jensen bit his lip, and his gaze smoldered hot enough to burn her to a crisp. As a result, her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke.

“And what’s the second thing?”

“I just wanted to tell you that, when I make you scream my name? You don't have to call me Jensen Ackles. Just Jensen works.” He smiled mischievously. "Course, 'Oh Daddy!' works too.”

He shrugged. “I’m easy.”

He winked at her and Y/N felt her breath leave her body as he pushed her t-shirt up a bit and began to lick and nibble at her stomach, before he pulled it all the way off and tossed it aside, leaning forward to gently bite her nipple through her lacy bra.

Y/N shivered and stifled a moan. He slid his hands around to her back, unhooking her bra, which she pulled off. Keeping his strong hands pressed into her upper back, Jensen held her in place while he licked her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hard before letting it go so he could flick the tip of his tongue against it.

He paid the same attention to her other breast and then alternated back and forth between the two. Soon her breasts were heavily marked with small purple bruises he’d sucked into existence.

He let go of her so she fell back against the couch, as he deftly unbuttoned her jeans, and slid his fingers under the waistband to pull them down. He nodded to her.

“Lift?”

She obliged and he slid her jeans over her hips and down her legs. He quickly pulled off her shoes and then took her jeans all the way off. He ran his big, calloused palms up and down her thighs and she trembled.

Everything still seemed a bit surreal, and the sensations he was evoking in her only made it seem more likely that she was dreaming. Outside of her own imagination, she never thought she’d feel this kind of thrumming need run throughout her body.

He spread her legs wide with his broad shoulders as he settled between her them. He pushed her panties to the side so he could lean forward to teasingly touch the tip of his tongue to her clit. He swirled it there for a moment, making her buck her hips and push her hand into his hair. It was still slightly damp from his shower, but incredibly soft between her fingers.

Jensen spoke and his breath was hot, even against her burning skin. “God damn, baby, you really are too sweet.” He said licking his lips.

He paused to slide her panties down and off of her, and then quickly buried his face in her cunt. She yanked hard on his hair, surging up against his lips and clamping her thighs tight to his ears. He wrapped his arms around her legs and pried them open again, holding them in place, while never once stopping his oral onslaught.

His tongue was magic, his mouth was heaven. Pure. Heaven.

He quickly had her on the brink of climaxing, but he pulled away, making her gasp in dismay. “Please, Jensen…” She begged, tugging a little on his hair and trying to direct his mouth back to her.

“Patience baby.” He cooed against her thigh as he nibbled on it. “Just let me take care of you, just let yourself feel it.”

She could definitely feel it. Blood pulsed in her throbbing clit and her muscles shook with her need. Still Jensen just teased her, sucking more marks into her inner thighs and occasionally lapping his tongue through her slick folds, making her jolt upward as though she’d been electrocuted.

Finally, when she was whimpering quietly and begging him to end the pleasurable torture, she felt his thick middle finger slide through her folds, teasing her clit briefly before pushing inside her slowly.

“God! Fuck!” She moaned as Jensen added a finger and stretched her open.

“That’s it, baby.” He said as he began to feel her walls flutter and tighten around him. “Come for me now.”

Proving he had complete control of her body, Y/N felt him press against the spongy spot inside her and she immediately followed his command and came fast and hard, clamping down on his fingers. He stopped pumping them, keeping them buried inside her, pressing on her g-spot over and over again, bringing on two more orgasms in quick succession.

As she was laying there trembling like Jello and recovering from her third orgasm, Jensen stood up, stripped off his shirt and yanked down his jeans and underwear. Her slightly blurry vision cleared immediately and she quickly focused on his cock, semi-hard and jutting out from his body.

Without even thinking about it, she just melted off of the couch and onto her knees, leaning forward to suck his tip into her mouth.

“Unf - fuuuck.’ Jensen groaned, drawing out the word.

He pushed his fingers through her hair, so that he could cup the back of her head with his hand. He slowly pushed her further down his dick before making a fist in her hair and pulling her off of him just as slowly.

She gasped as she came off of him, spit and cum keeping them linked. He took hold of himself with his free hand and tapped his cock against her lips.

“Open up, sweetheart. I wanna see you stuffed full of my cock while you look up at me with those beautiful eyes, gone all wild and needy.”

Y/N moaned and opened her mouth immediately to let him push further down her throat. Her eyes watered and saliva dripped out of the corners of her mouth as she looked up at him, and began moving up and down his thick cock.

He guided her head as she bobbed on his dick, and praised her with disjointed compliments.

“Fuck, Y/N, yes. So fucking perfect. You’re doing so good, baby…just…fuck me! Just like tha-”

His words cut off with a deep guttural groan as she slid slowly off his dick, hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard.

He threw his head back, and she could see sweat glistening on his neck. His face was contorted in pleasure and his teeth were sunk into his bottom lip, making her clit start to throb at the sight of him.

He whimpered slightly as she popped off of him. “God, baby!” He said, pushing her back down his length, even though he was shaking his head. “You gotta stop now or I’m gonna come down your throat and I’m way too desperate to ruin that fucking pussy for that.”

He tugged her off of him again and he helped her up off her knees, pulling her close against him so she could feel his burning skin against her own. She ran her fingers across his wide chest and over his flat belly, sighing as he slotted his mouth over hers to kiss her deeply.

She could taste herself on his tongue, overriding the whiskey, and it made her pussy clench just thinking about everything that very talented tongue had done to her.

Finally he pulled away and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her lips and then pushing it inside, pumping it shallowly. He raised an eyebrow.

“How do you want it, baby? I can put you on your knees on the couch and fuck you from behind, or bend you over. Or you can sit in my lap and ride me; I can lay you down beneath me and just bury myself in you so deep.”

His voice felt like warm chocolate and was just as delicious. Y/N nearly stopped breathing as she contemplated her choices.

He pulled his thumb out of her mouth as she finally she decided. “I just wanna be able to see you, that’s all I care about.”

Jensen kissed her again, soft and sweet, walking her backwards a few steps. He lowered her to the couch before following her down, placing a knee on either side of her hips. She looked up at him as he towered above her and felt a shiver of want run through her body. Her pussy was clenching painfully around nothing, desperate to have him inside her.

Taking hold of his cock, he pushed inside slowly; when he was about halfway in he stopped to give her time to adjust. He was very long, and very, very thick so she appreciated the time to get used to his size.

But very quickly she was desperate for more, pushing her heels into his thighs to urge him in deeper. When he was sunk into her completely he groaned and collapsed on her, holding some of his weight on his forearms, but still crushing her into the couch cushions, which felt absolutely incredible.

Then he began to move in and out of her in perfect rhythm, pumping his hips in long, fluid strokes. Y/N moaned deeply as she scored her nails across his shoulders. The action made him grit his teeth and increase his pace. She gripped the sides of his hips with her knees, her whole body tightening as he began pounding into her like a freight train.

She was crying out in ecstasy seconds before her climax even hit. The feel of him ramming into her body so deep, making her breasts bounce with each thrust, was just too perfect, too incredible to hold back.

As she was coming down, he rubbed her clit in fast, tight circles with his middle finger, making her scream and fall over the edge again. She opened her eyes in time to see him throw his head back again, a harsh, prolonged groan ripped from his throat as he thrust deep one more time, and came inside her, flooding her cunt with warmth.

He shuddered a few times, hips bucking sporadically as he emptied into her completely before his muscles went slack and he crushed her even further into the couch.

She laid there, happily running her hands up and down his beautifully muscled back until he pushed his torso up so he rested on one elbow, looking down at her, and pushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead.

“How you doing, sweetheart.”

Y/N nodded dreamily. “So good. Like…SO good.” She emphasized, making Jensen chuckle.

“Good.” He said, kissing her lips briefly. He shifted their position so that he laid with his back against the couch, stretched out on his side. He pulled Y/N back to spoon against him, tucking her head under his chin and offering his bicep as a pillow.

He nuzzled against her ear. “You were amazing, Y/N. This was amazing. I gotta admit when you ordered the bottle of water, I wondered if maybe you were just a bit too sweet for me.” He teased, chuckling low in her ear and making her stomach tighten pleasantly again.

Y/N reached over her head to grab his glass of whiskey. “Definitely not.” She said, arching a brow and taking a sip. The liquor burnt a path down her throat and she started coughing and choking almost instantly. Jensen calmly took the glass out of her hand and handed her the bottle of water.

His eyes danced and his smile was wicked as he watched her gulp down the water. “So, it might be a while before you’re ready to drink whiskey neat, but we can start with like, a wine cooler?”

She wheezed at him. “Good plan.”

He laughed softly before lowering his mouth to hers and sucking the whiskey from her lips.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

@kr804573

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous

#jensen ackles rpf #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #rockstar!jensen #jensen ackles one shot #jensen ackles fan fic

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noira-l · 2 months

Text

Just the Two of Us

chapter summary: there is nothing like arguing with your pretend ‘husband’, right?

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 2,9k

warnings: swearing, argument, adult life is kinda hard, higher-ups are fools, angst from Megumi, mature themes, slight mentioning of sexual activity, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: well, we began here. I hope you like it, and I can write you more. I'm still experimenting with style, and genre, so please be understanding. You're welcome to leave some notes and comments to help me grow :3 I would appriciate it.

s.masterlist

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 '𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡'

You used to love summer.

Beautiful weather, long bike rides through the unknown corners of Tokyo, trips to arcades with Suguru, the beach with Shoko and Utahime. Just the good old days.

Now you hate summer.

You feel like a curse has fallen on every summer, starting with the star plassma vessel incident. All the worst things that are supposed to happend, happen in the summer.

And this summer was no exception.

Tsumiki, whose condition no one was able to recognise.

Megumi, who, due to her sister's situation and the stress of his lack of fully mastered powers, made him even more grumpy than ever.

And Satoru.

Oh fuck Satoru

You've never seen him so pissed off, higher-ups have never been kind to you, you've always known that. You've seen it yourself many times. But now? Suddenly now they have a problem with Megumi attending Jujutsu High?

The number of your visits to them has increased dramatically, which has only contributed to constant bickering over really unimportant trifles or hiding grudges where there were none. Your home turned into a veritable minefield filled with anger and bitterness. And every day you wondered what you were going to step on this time.

You knew that if things didn't improve, all those wounds and worries would seep deep into each of you, and you didn't want that.

Even though your marriage only existed on paper, you genuinely genuinely cared for him. And he cared for you.

After Suguru left you didn't think anyone would be able to understand what you were feeling, Satoru proved you otherwise. You were both experiencing the same thing, it brought you together in a way, enough to open up between you and form an alliance of sorts that no matter what fate brought your way, you would deal with it together.

The foundations of a perfect marriage? You laughed under your breath. If this marriage was still made for purposes other than convenience in paperwork and ease of custody. You have never had a wedding, you don't even wear rings, you don't even act like a couple. You are both just good friends who grew up to become good parents. Always complementing each other. At least you tried.

The beginnings were difficult, that's a fact, you were both still young at the time, you didn't know how to do certain things, and raising 2 children was never part of the Jujutsu High education programme.

When you graduated, you both left school with broken hearts, old hurts and the hope that your dream of a better future for the young would become a reality. There was almost no talk of romantic feelings.

Almost.

On the day of your fifth wedding anniversary, out of boredom and slight compulsion, because you should at least celebrate the round anniversaries of your arrangement, you opened the sake that Nanamin had bought you for your first anniversary. As a conpensation for saving him from death on that day, which was technically supposed to be free for you. Both of you ended up on the couch, after drinking the entire bottle, fucking like the horny teenagers you still were somewhere deep inside. Satoru never had a strong head. Both of you, in the morning after a strong moral and general hangover, decided that it was better not to return to this situation and just forget about it. As far as this situation can be called a romantic feeling. Although you wouldn't call it that.

Satoru did not know the concept of personal space. And everyone who knew him was able to confirm this. Interestingly, you were the only one who was able to get close to his real personal space. Sleeping in the same bed with you for so many years, he had learned to reflexively switch off his infinity and cuddle with you in his sleep. At first the single bed was because you couldn't afford more than one, Satoru wasn't yet the head of the clan at the time and thus didn't have access to this sizeable fortune. Over time you just got used to it and the idea of sleeping separately seemed strange to you.

You caught yourself dreaming of a bed and his warm arms after another hard mission. You know he had the same thoughts coming really late at night, just to undress himself, and hug into you.

You both crawled into your routines. You've built what you dare to call 'home' on these foundations.

It was not perfect, the life of a jujutsu sorcerer was never strewn with roses or easy decisions but this 'home' was yours. You knew it along with him. And you were proud of what you had achieved together.

You didn't want all that had been built up with your hard work to be undone by one really hard summer. You didn't yet know how you were going to resolve the situation and how to talk to Satoru about it, but one thing you were sure of - you weren't going to give up.

There really is something wrong with this time of year, you sighed as you entered the flat you were renting.

"I'm back." you said rather loudly, you knew Megumi should be home at this hour. You went to the kitchen, put away the shopping nets you had made earlier and began to arrange the goods you had bought, leaving only what would serve for tonight's dinner. You took a small box of strawberry mochi out of the nets, you knew they had been going around Satoru's head lately. You placed them on the kitchen counter, adding a small heart sticker. For some strange reason, everyone in the household liked how you added those colourful stickers, even Megumi loved them, though he wouldn't admit it like Tsumiki did.

My little Tsumiki.

You were angry with yourself, unable to recognise what had actually happened to her and why it had happened so suddenly. You were angry that no one could recognise it. The amount of time you spent guessing, trying to recognise and the trial and error method, exceeded the numbers you knew. You tried, but it wasn't enough. You blamed yourself in advance for not defending her against it.

"What's for dinner today? I'm starving honestly~" you heard a voice behind you and turned around.

"Oh, Satoru, I wasn't expecting you so early. How was the mission?" you had already started preparing today's dinner. Satoru sat down at the kitchen island, not far from you.

"Can we not talk about this shit?" he sighed playing with some dark-haired boy's pencil.

oh…it's bad, isn't it?

"We can." you replied trying to think of something quick to talk to him about. "I bought you something." you pointed towards a small box. The white-haired man just glanced in that direction and a smile dawned on that face again.

"Aww~ Is that for me?" he reached for the casket with his long hand and opened the lid. "Did I mention you're the best wife in the world?" his giggle would be heard from down the street.

Of course Satoru loved sweets, especially the ones you bought him, because you always took care when choosing them, not buying just anything, but really what he liked.

"Sometimes you mention it to me." you said, throwing all the ingredients into the pans.

"I should to it more often then," he said with his mouth stuffed with one of the mochi. The sight of his satisfied face really filled you with small happiness.

"Where's Megumi?" you asked while stirring the contents of the pan.

The strongest merely sighed.

"I asked you to avoid difficult topics" his face was again filled with another mochi from the box.

You walked over to him and took the box from him.

"Why? You're so cruel, you know?" he merely asked pouting at the sight of you taking his joy.

"You'll get the rest of the packaging, after the meal." you stressed, and he continued to pout. You put the box back in the cupboard

"So, where's Megumi?" you asked a second time, pressing for him to answer you.

"You know how young people are today, they just leave without asking, without saying anything to anyone" now your sigh was overwhelming.

"You two had a fight, didn't you?"

"Ayay, I wouldn't call it a fight, more of a youthful rebellion on his part, you've been seeing this kind of behaviour more and more lately. You know, he's maturing. Aren't you proud?" you grabbed your temples where am I going to find him now?

"And how long ago he went to his…" you looked at him seriously "…'youthful rebellion'?"

Satoru glanced at his watch "Hmm…. Like 3 hours ago?" your eyes were the size of coins "But I'm not sure." he added in wonderment

You're going crazy here.

"And you allowed him to have these rebelions at this hour?" Satoru merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you mean, if he wants to go out then let him go out, he is capable of defending himself, after all he has unlocked to some extent his powers-"

"But not as much as we would like" you sighed "not as much as he would like." you vigorously stirred the contents of the pan, trying to pour all your anger into it so that it wouldn't accidentally be shown in words.

"You're being dramatic, it's only true to a certain extent. He has more potential than anyone else so far, I believe in him…. Which doesn't mean he's not a little weak right now." you froze, stopping the wooden spoon you used to turn things in the pan. Your own memories flowed into your head like water.

He had said something like that to you too. When you were still in high school, he could, like a complete asshole, ridicule you for hours and hours, about how you had no powers at all and were weak. You always ended up then in Suguru's arms, who was probably the only one who seemed to know what you were up against in those moments.

As it turned out, his derision found no cover in reality when one morning, after Suguru had left and after your arrangements had been made, you flashed the same eyes at him that he has, explaining to him why he could not use his techniques at that moment. The shock and disbelief that appeared on his face was payment enough, for the lack of apology on his part (for which you are still slightly angry) and for all the mockery you have bravely endured over the years.

You know what it's like to feel weak. You know what it's like when no one believes in you, when you yourself want to give up on yourself, trying to convince yourself that what everyone around you is saying is not true. You know how much hardship and effort goes into not just training, but convincing yourself that you are worth something. You don't want Megumi to ever experience the same sense of powerlessness that you had to endure. Especially not from the same person you had to endure it from.

"Did you tell him that?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him, trying to control yourself.

"What?" he asked still playing with the pencil in his hand.

"That he's weak." you must have said it really threateningly because Satoru's face immediately changed expression, you were able to see it right away despite his bandages.

"I didn't necessarily use those words." he said moving his gaze from your face to the pencil.

You took the frying pan off the fire and gave the pot of water in its place.

You sighed gathering in yourself not to do anything stupid today, although he really asked for it.

"You can't spill such words right and left. Not you in particular. " you said it as calmly as you could, turning towards him.

"I don't see the problem. I told the truth, besides I also stated the fact that he has potenc-"

"Of course everyone for you is weak, Gojo" he knew that when you addressed him by his last name, something was wrong or he fucked something up. "Which doesn't mean that everyone wants to hear about this fact. Do you realize what he's going through?" you asked the question into the ether, after a second adding "Well, yes, of course you don't, you've always been the strongest after all." The stupidity of your statement was killing you. You were able to understand his lack of competence in identifying with those weaker than himself, what you were not able to accept was how he was flaunting it.

"You are not weak." he said this while looking at you intensely.

"And after how long did you find that out? You oppressed me for years. It only changed when I showed you my technique." why do you sound disappointed?

Satoru would be lying if he said that his respect and view of you did not change after you showed him your powers.

"You know the higher-ups don't want to think about letting him go to school, and I don't understand why at this point in time you have to conclude that he is weak."

"Just not this topic, again~ We were already at such a family atmosphere." White-haired growled sighing, squirming in his chair

"What do you mean, I was the one who had to defend him from them again today-" you crossed your arms

"You talk as if I didn't do it myself yesterday" he growled, his voice rising "They keep sending me like an errand dog, on every fucked up mission they can think of, and I do it all without a moment's rest. Today I refused to meet with them, I'm shirking everything I can. I'm sick of listening to old idiots who care about rules that have long since ceased to apply. And! Of course the Zen'in clan has a problem with everything."

"As if your clan was so conciliatory.." you snarked with a wince.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he indignantly replied.

"I met your mother today and she made it clear that she was 'expecting a grandchild' " you turned quickly to throw things into the pot of boiling water, you could see Satoru grabbing his head "She stated that 'it's my duty as your spouse', it's enough for her that she covered herself in shame when our secret wedding came to light. It surprises me that she is eager to make such statements, not being the head of the clan and still having a problem about what was almost eight years ago."

"Don't worry about it, I'll call her out." Satoru sighed. Despite the fact that you were standing with your back to him now, you could feel his gaze on you.

You needed a break. A break from the curses, the higher-ups, the arguments and the flurry of responsibilities. You knew Satoru needed one too. You stood there in thought, leaning against the countertop and looking at the pot with its boiling contents, when unexpectedly you felt a touch on your waist.

You looked up to see his silhouette pressed against your back. "I'm not the best at words or expressing feelings, as you've become familiar with more than once.." he laid his head on your shoulder "but I don't want you to feel like shit, these last few weeks are probably making you tired too."

Gojo was known for not respecting other people's personal space, this time he used it in a good way. You turned to him and snuggled into his warm torso. He held you in his arms for a few moments, stroking your hair and inhaling the scent of your perfume that he, himself had bought you for Christmas. He casually turned off the cooker, when he decided that what you had thrown into the pot, had cooked.

You didn't even know you needed it. His uniform completely smelled of him, despite the fact that you picked it up from the laundry literally yesterday.

It's funny how much his smell started to be associated with safety for you. Maybe it was because of that one mission where he held you the whole time in his arms when you almost died, or maybe it was just out of habit and years spent with him. You'd swear, you could fall asleep here and forget all your worries.

The sound of your burbling stomach snapped you out of this bliss. You looked at each other, you with an embarrassed face and he with an amused smile.

"It's going to be all right, we'll work something out, as always." he said, kissing you on the forehead. You didn't expect such a gesture from him. He guessed it from your face as he took his hands off your waist, moving away from you and putting his hands back, this time on your shoulders.

"Now let's eat something, you're not the only one who's starving." he said then turned on his heel and headed to his previously occupied seat.

"Find Megumi first, then you'll get your portion." you said and he snorted with laughter "Are you ordering me around?" that smile of his lead you to many things.

"No, I'm giving you a challenge, if you find him quickly your dinner won't get cold." you waved your spoon at him lightly.

His smile only deepened "I can take orders like that every day~" he said then immediately disappeared behind the wall, leaving you alone.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #gojo x reader #fluff #tsumiki fushiguro #satoru gojō x reader #masterlist #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #years to come #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo

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hazashiovo · 7 months

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korra (legend of korra) x reader angst to fluff 🙏🏻

I gotchuuu 😉👍

Korra x reader

+slight Kuvira x reader cause I have a huge brain rot for her🥲

Angst to fluff,mentions of trauma,long fic because it has plot in it.

Korra has been...distant.

Ever since Zaheer and the red lotus poisoned her and forced her to fight in the avatar state she's been different,to you and to her family.

She doesn't eat,when she sleeps she has nightmares, she doesn't talk to you...and it's worrying you so much,your heart aches each time she sends you away with her deafening silence.

You try talking to her about Asami's accomplishment or Mako's new job,even how Bolin made a name for himself.

But each time she'd have that empty look in her eyes,as she sits in that wheelchair she despises so much.

Sometimes you wish you could read her mind,chase away the memories that are tormenting her.

"Please Korra,I'm begging you,try...for me,just...I know you can do it." You sit on your knees,hands on her knees. Eyes looking at her pleading.

"I'm not who I used to be, (Name). Stop trying to save me." She turns her head away, avoiding your pleading eyes.

"That's not true,and you know it!" You cup her cheek, bringing her face closer to yours,yet your eyes hardly connect with each other.

She grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from her face."I don't need you and your pity, so find someone else to nag and leave me alone already!" Korra snaps,anger running trough her body.

Your eyes whiden in shock and you feel like she squeezed your heart with her harsh words.

"Do you even love me?" You bite your lip, waiting for an answer you know you won't get.

You avert your eyes from her face. Disappointed with her lack of will to be with you.

"That's what I taught." You get up and turn around ready to leave. Ready for a new start away from here,from Korra.

"(Name) i-" she wants to get up,run after you ,hug you and tell you she loves you more than herself. But she can't even gather her words properly.

You stop for a second , wishing to hear those words,only fooling yourself further.

With time Korra started getting more ambitious. She wanted to return to the person everyone knew her as. The avatar.

Her wish to prove to you that she can do better was growing by the day. Even so,the last time you spoke to here was the day you left, a day she still regrets even now.

Sometimes she would just feel like giving up,but you reminded her who she was doing this for,giving her the will to fight.

It's been a year since you've left the south pole. Being there with the shell of your lover was too much for you to handle.

Since you returned to Republic city you've been reunited with Bolin, helping Kuvira restore order to the earth kingdom.

It really took your mind off Korra. Now that you joined Kuvira, you got stronger. Unlike someone,you didn't let your trauma and past tragedies hunt you anymore.

"Well done (Name), you're getting stronger by the day." The dark haired woman smiles, hand laying on your shoulder proudly.

You wipe some sweat of your forehead, smiling back at her. "That's the goal I'm reaching for." She nods, looking at your form.

"I remember the first time Bolin introduced you to me and my cause." She wraps some bandages on her wrist, preparing to spar with you, "You were so lost." You watch her moves carefully, getting in a fighting stance.

"Im not the person I used to be." You speak,words giving you a sense of deja Vu.

Kuvira lounges , throwing some big stones at you. You grin, dodging them.

Once you find your opening,you make some ice disks and throw them at her.

Kuvira bends herself an earth wall,then throws it at you.

You make yourself a wave of water,going around Kuvira's wall, your water wave is circling the older woman. Once water is all around her ,you let it fall,and freeze, traping her in ice.

You move towards Kuvira's frozen body. "You cold in there?" A smug smile adorns your face as you slightly bend down to meet with her face. Your hands lazily lay on your knees.

She smirks,your metal collar suddenly pulled towards her. "Don't get to cocky now. It's just the first time you finally got to beat me. Let's try it with metal bending next time hm?"

You roll your eyes, releasing Kuvira from the Ice cage that kept her down. "I'm confident in myself,but not that confident yet." arms crossed as she rubbed some sore spots on her cold hands.

"Can't you have some faith in yourself?Keep going like this and you won't be far from becoming my second in charge." She smiles.

You smile proudly, happy you can finally accomplish something more for yourself.

Another year passed,with you growing stronger and smarter every day,but the taught of your former lover never ceased to fade. Even now ,her return growing closer by the day. You wonder how she's doing, from what Tenzin has told you,she's having a great recovery.so far. Finally able to walk again.

You worked hard to become Kuvira's right hand,and you're now closer to your goal than ever.

So many cities you helped bring back order and balance , so many lives you saved while being part of this cause.

Unfortunately, Kuvira soon has to step down from her spot,the council finding a new king for the earth kingdom while your boss brought peace wherever she went.

"Oh and Flying monkeys!" You blink, looking at Bolin. "Isn't that what Avatar Aang had ?" You raise a brow,not remembering how this conversation even started. "That is so incorrect." Bolin crosses his arms. Looking ready to give you a lecture. "Avatar Aang had a flying Lemur AND a bison as his animal companions. Not a flying monkey, (name)." You roll your eyes. "Whatever you say rock brain." You smirk noticing his anoyed expression. "Hey! How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" He pokes you in the waist,making you joilt up. "Stop that!" You glare at him,poking him back.

The two of you go on like this for a little while, attracting a few stares to yourself.

Until someone clears their troath.

"Am I interrupting something?" Lin stands towering over you and Bolin, giving you a bored look. "Chief Beifong!" Bolin is quick to bow down, dragging you with him.

"You little-" you stop yourself, locking eyes with the police chief, now giving her an awkward smile.

"If the two of you are done acting like monkeys,could you follow me?" You and Bolin now stand straight, noticing Lin's mood is lower than usual.

"I can't stay for chit chatting,maybe (Name) could solve this? I remembered I was supposed to meet with mako,like 30 minutes ago." The brunette boy gives you a sorry smile as you glare at him. "How convenient." Your comment followed by narrowed eyes,sent chills down his spine. Bolin took a quick look at chief Beifong,then left.

"Good. I wanted to speak to you anyways." You raise a brow curiously at the older woman's words. "You did?I mean ,you do?" She nods,not saying another word until you get to a remote Cafe.

The two of you sit down in a corner, quite remote from the rest of the people in the public space.

"So ,what did you want to speak to me about Chief?" You start, looking at the window.

"It's about Kuvira." Your face turns to Lin as she got your interest.

"What about Kuvira?" You tilt your head.

"I'm worried she won't step down and allow the prince to rule the earth kingdom." Lin stops,as a waitress brought the two of you two cups of tea,"Kuvira seems to take great pride in what she accomplished,but I don't think she's willing to stop there. People of earth empire call her The Great Uniter." The chief looks at her mug, waiting for you to respond.

You fiddle with your fingers, searching for the right words to describe Kuvira's wishes. "She has done so much for the earth kingdom,and she's a strong woman,in combat and in mind,the name fits her ,if km honest."

You stop to drink a little from your (chosen) tea, "And I know it's not my place to talk but...ever since Korra is gone,the people see Kuvira as their savior."

Lin sighs, "Kuvira is forcing people to do labor work for her , threatening them with their lives." You whiden your eyes at the words spoken from her.

"I know how she can be..harsh,.but she wouldn't do such a thing." Your gaze moves to the window.

"She is manipulating you (Name), because she knows how strong you are. Should I also remind you how you used to date the avatar?." You close your eyes tightly, trying to push away the taughts of Korra. "Why do you think she chose to have you so close to her? If Korra ever becomes a problem for her,she'll have you as leverage." Lin's fist tightens, looking at your expression.

"It's not true. If you saw the way she acts...you wouldn't say that.Kuvira wouldn't just use me like that." She sighs at your way of defending Kuvira. How could you defend such a woman?

"Everything Kuvira does is for a reason,keep that in mind (Name)." Lin gets up and leaves some money on the table.

You remain there , trying to piece together your racing taughts.

And just like Lin said,once it was time for Kuvira to back down and allow the prince to rise,she made the announcement that from then on the earth kingdom would be under her rule.

The rule of The Great Uniter.

This got you contemplating ever joining her,it doesn't feel right with you.

Bolin chose to stick around,but you wanted to leave. Being in a situation like this was too much for you.

"So you planned to just abandon me?" The person you didn't want to see the most right now was behind you, leaning on your door frame.

"This isn't right,Kuvira." You stated, covering your arms as you turn to see her.

"This is exactly what's right for the earth kingdom. I can't let that spoiled Prince destroy everything we accomplished." She pushed herself of the door way, moving closer to you.

"It doesn't feel right,I can't fight for something that doesn't feel right with me." Kuvira sighs. She places a hand on your shoulder. "I know what I'm doing,but I can't do it without you by my side. We accomplished so many great things together." She starts slowly guiding you towards a window. "Just look at how much good we did" her hands point at the window. "The land is safe again, raiders are not attacking innocent people or stealing. What more could you ask?" you look at one of the cities she got back and supplied,it looks at peace. What if she was right?

You bite your lip, "What happens with the people after we leave?" Her eyes meet yours,

"We give them a job, something to do to make the earth kingdom a better place,even the raiders."

Even if your gut tells you not to trust her,your mind reminds you of the great things she did so far. Kuvira never left you down.

"Are you telling the truth to me?"

She smiles, holding eye contact with you.

"Why would I lie?"

This is getting out of hand, Kuvira wants to attack Zaofu, Suyin's home simply for not obeying her terms.

"Kuvira this is madness,you can't do this!" You enter the command center ,she dismisses the people that were in the room, leaving you two alone.

"No. It's necessary for me to do this. Once Zaofu finally surrenders to me I get total control of the earth empire."

You scoff at her words.

"Do you even hear yourself?" Pacing around the room,you can't help but glance at her troops just outside.

"I thought you were with me on this, remember everything we fight for." Her armor slightly clangs as she walks towards you.

"I fight to make this world a better place,you fight to take control and rule and empire, excuse me but there's a difference." You move away from her,scoffing at the taught of helping her bring Zaofu down.

Kuvira glares at the back of your head.

"I'm doing this because no one else was willing to. And I have to make some tough choices that many wouldn't,why can't you see?" The tall woman runs a hand trough her hair, trying to calm herself down.

Now it all makes sense,Lin was right and you were stupid for doubting her.

"I'm leaving and you can't stop me. Not this time." She sighs, once you start moving towards the door, two of her metal bands parts push you to the wall,hands stuck above your head.

"Let me go."you glare at her trying to get away from her metal.

"I expected better from you." She shakes her head disappointed. You look around the room, trying to find a water source, yet nothing in sight.or reach

"Lock her up tight. Make sure she gets no visitors." Kuvira calls for two of her guards.as they take you away,you see the shrinking image of Kuvira's disappointed face.

You watch as Korra fights with Kuvira for your life,and Suyin's.

She got so much better,but there's still something wrong with her you just know it.

Kuvira seems to have the upper hand,until Korra knocks her down. She was so close,but she hesitates suddenly, giving Kuvira the opportunity to trap Korra.

"No!" You scream,Kuvira turns her head to look at you,a smile adorning her face. Looking around desperately,you see a little source of water, hopefully close enough to you.

You move your hands that are tied behind your back to use the water,creating a razor form to slice trough Kuvira's metal.

You take off running, attacking Kuvira with spikes of ice.

The metal bender pushes herself away from Korra , creating a shield for herself.

Kuvira Is pissed,how could you escape? Are her soldiers good for nothing at all? More importantly,what are you going to do?

You create a big ice shield that goes all around to fit you and Korra trough,finally getting to touch her after so long.

"Korra please get up!" You cradle her head in your arms as her upper body lays on your thighs (Kuvira is jelly~~) she opens her eyes,bright blue eyes you would lose yourself in.

"I came back for you." She smiles touching your face lightly,fearing you might be another one of her illusions. Your eyes whiden, smiling at her words

"I shouldn't have left you in the first place." A tear falls on her face (imagine Kuvira trying to break the ice while those two have their moment ☠️)

"I didn't mean anything I said that day,I'm so sorry,I didn't mean to send you away." Korra gets up,now on her knees ,face to face with you. Her hands cup your face, staring at you lovingly." I Love you." Hearing those words,you jump on Korra,giving her a big hug.

You sniff, smiling at her. "We should really focus on getting out of this situation now." Your voice cracks as you joke.

Korra stands up,ready to fight once more, her will stronger than ever.

I originally wanted to write something else,but this plot came so I just rolled with it. ┐⁠(⁠ ⁠˘⁠_⁠˘⁠)⁠┌

#x reader #korra x reader #korra #avatar korra #the legend of korra x reader #the legend of korra #reader #gn reader #kuvira x reader #kuvira #tlok #avatar #fluff #angst #love triangle

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edgeray · 12 days

Text

"FIGHT SO DIRTY BUT YOU LOVE SO SWEET

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth" - Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

MAFIA AU Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot | Part 2 of "LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME"

A/N - As promised, here is the (albeit, very late) 250 follower special. Art by M-Alexa. Content Warnings / Info - Arlecchino uses they/them pronouns, sugggestiveness, pet names, borderline smut, no feminine pronouns for reader, 10.7k words

Monsters are very real. You know that they’re tangible because they’ve touched you in ways so intimate you could delude yourself in being familiar with them despite how icy their touch is. What draws the line between monster and human? You can't say anymore, not when involuntary sensations and uncontrollable emotions have entangled you with the Fatui, the Fourth Harbinger to be exact, a monster in every right, and yet…

You used to think that the line was cut-throat, a visible drawn etching in the sand–so easy to see when someone passed through. As obvious as their appearance once they've entered through the doorway. It was evident in those that were painted in wretched and jagged scars like their skin was a blank canvas. Perceptible in those that too rarely stifled their brash volatility, taking pride in their bruteness and their trigger-happiness. Apparent in those with their sly-eyed, piercing scrutiny, silent as the dead they were, yet it was usually among these archetypes whose power reigned the most throughout. Discernable in those that can wear many faces, spilling a hundred lies from their lips with as much effort as it takes for them to breathe; typically, they were as inviting as a puppy guiding a lamb to a den of wolves.

You couldn’t discern anymore what kind of monster Lord Arlecchino matched. Was it that they were never a monster to begin with, or is it just your irrationality muddying what should be the obvious? It should alarm you that your mind doesn't perceive them as such anymore, despite knowing so little of the danger they grasp underneath their fingertips. How quick they were to wrap their hand around your throat, tantalizing you with each scrape of carmine nails against your kiss-bruised skin.

But monsters are incapable of love. You think you've been fooled in believing in it when they trace your body with their touch, but then again, what monster's touch can be akin to that of an angel’s? Maybe angels themselves were also monsters. It's how you knew they were the most fatal mistake you could have made but you remain unapologetic shamelessly. Why should you, for indulging in something so tasteful? Is it not human desire to be selfish, to satisfy oneself? It's only natural to savor sweet fruit.

Their touch still lingers, on every inch of skin their depraved and gluttonous they could reach, the heat from their contact ever present like bubbling magma underneath the surface. Even after they're gone, it still tingles with sweltering desire and comes with the vivid image of their imprintment on you. How you remembered their wet lips against your neck, teeth sunk in and the rough drag of their tongue across, while their fingers edged closer to the waistband of your fishnets. Oh, how you remembered the delicious grinding of their hips against yours, a coarse friction that sends shocks of pleasure through you as they swallow every wanton cry from your lips and stifle any movements from you with a tight grasp of your waist. As red stained marks were stamped over the expanse of your bare clavicle, you remember a particular sultry chuckle from them when they captured your wrists in one hand effortlessly, willing you unable to touch them even when you had begged to do so. How cruel of them to deprive you of what you so avidly coveted, but you think their touch is rewarding enough to dismiss the one-sidedness of the physical intimacy.

Though, you hesitate to call it physical intimacy. Somehow, the touches that lit your heart ablaze the most only scrape the surface of indecency, as nothing transpired beyond kisses and love marks. It was the first time you left a private room relatively untouched, and though they had definitely teased you of it, no action slipped lower than your collarbone–not even a single piece of clothing peeled from your body. It leaves an unsettling, complex bundle of desires: wanting more and less of their touch simultaneously: you long for their touch, to feel that addicting fervor again, for your own unchaste gratification, however, having not been used as a tool for sensual fulfillment, you almost find it…nearly comforting–freeing may be the right word. A relief from what was usually an obligation. It’s… strange, is the least you can account it to. You’ve never wanted more from a client. Every past one has been just a means for income, hardly even considered cheap entertainment, and yet… you find your thoughts returning back to them, ensnaring your mind and plaguing your consciousness with memories of your two’s ‘unchastity.’

Lord Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fourth Harbinger of the Fatui, stole your thoughts just like a thief in the night, the ghost of their whispered words frequently haunting you. “‘I think I’ll keep you to myself after this,’” they had said with such certainty, and that voice would repeat indefinitely in your ears. For the most inexplicable reason, you found yourself eager, having believed them, however, you quickly discovered how naive you were–foolish to have ever hoped in such a shallow assertion and absurd to have wished for that in the first place. How dim of you to trust words influenced by fleeting ardor, for allowing irrationality to creep up in your vulnerable state of intoxication from them. They had left your body that night, with little to no effort, unsatisfied yet marked by them entirely, remnants of their presence still scattered on your body. How cruel, and yet very characteristic of them, though the latter recognition almost physically burned you to admit. A burn that you couldn’t quite associate one feeling to it.

You think the feeling is akin to abandonment, maybe betrayal, but you couldn’t fault Arlecchino–not when you were the one to have fallen for their lies. In the heat of the moment, their amorous words had done nothing less but stroke an ember within your body, fueling your own feverish arousal, amplifying your experience, but that was all it was. Abandonment couldn’t be correct, not when you were never theirs in the first place and you had willingly offered yourself to them. Nor can betrayal suit it; there was no foundation of trust built between the two of you either. You should have known that trust, among your clients especially, is as flimsy as a sheet of paper. But what can explain this obstinate hollowness in your chest, unable to be filled no matter how many meaningless acts of intimacy you throw at it, or how many fantasies you’d delude yourself once you're in the solace being underneath your covers? It’s a clawing irritant that occupies your mind when you’ve found yourself alone, seeking for the phantom presence of them.

You miss them–at the very least, their touch–you realize belatedly, and for that you couldn’t consider yourself to be more pathetic. Never before in your experience have you ever thought of a previous client but you suppose every day is an opportunity to discover something new. Attachments were a sure way to kill yourself in this business, in the underground. You had intended on keeping yourself alive, but here you are. How degrading of you, you internally admonished, fool, fool, fool.

What was it about them that had captivated you so much? Perhaps it was their unique charm. Curt and sharp as they were, you could not help but admit there was something alluring about their words, the authority that dripped from them, instilling you to do nothing but obey them. Perhaps it was their captivating appearance, a masterful and tasteful blend of ruggedness with class, snow white hair adorned with ebony streaks framing their porcelain-like face, but their stature was nothing of that case. Though lean as they were, from the rare prodding touches they allowed you where you could feel their toned physique, you can tell strength and power laid underneath their fingertips; if not from that, then perhaps how easily they nearly suffocated you with one hand alone, or how they had easily hoisted you up and against the wall. The red crossed pupils were nothing like you’ve ever seen and underneath that ever-piercing behold you’re little more than a timid prey before a hungry beast.

Your interactions with Lord Arlecchino were like being teared by the fangs of a voracious wolf. Every delicate sense–touch, hearing, sight, smell, and taste–pecked away little by little until all you could register in your lust-brimmed mind was their entirety. Sapping away your strength and resistance, impelling you to submit your all to them, through their every feverish touch; deafening your eardrums with each wet noise that followed their lips; dizzying you with their faint, earthy cologne; your eyes drinking in their appearance with every chance; and oh, their sickeningly sweet taste–far too depraved and far too addictive. You’re breathless everytime you think of it. When they finally released you, peeling away from your form, your body looked as if it had just barely escaped a maiming from a wild animal: teeth indents, light scratches, and red blotches of their lipstick flecked your upper torso and face.

They parted from you hours into the early morning. It felt like they had been stealing your breath for hours. You couldn’t count how many times their lips met yours, but it was enough where you could memorize the texture of them, of their warmth and sweetness. You couldn’t recall the duration the two of you spent locked with each others’ lips, but you could recall the various positions they had you. One such position, you muse with clenched thighs, was when they towered above your lying form on the couch, a bent knee in between your legs and their arms on either side of your head, planting their palms onto the cushion underneath you while they descended down to capture kiss after kiss from you. You remembered the tickling sensation of their ivory and raven strands that fell on your cheek, and how you raised a gentle hand to brush them away. In retaliation, what could only be described as something in between a growl and a grunt came from the Harbinger’s throat, one of their hands moved away from its resting place besides your head and clasped with yours, before firmly planting it against the sofa–a clear lesson not to touch them so casually, to which you smiled cheekily. They stole that smile away with little wasted time using a harsh nip on your bottom lip.

And then, like that, they left.

A week has gone by–more accurately, six days–since they had last appeared, and in that period, you’ve yet seen them. You worked consecutively, opting to even neglect your free work day, with the hopes of catching a glimpse. Ultimately, however, your efforts bore no fruit; not a single of your customers was the white-haired devilish angel that plagued your thoughts. White-hot shame and crushing disappointment grew with each passing day. The first unspoken word of advice amongst your fellow dancers was that attachments to customers are never worthwhile: even frequent customers disappear, and if you are lucky, you discover why. The reasons ranged from death to simply boredom, but the latter is always the most devastating, an agonizing reminder of how insignificant your life can be.

You had hoped to consider yourself among the smarter of your coworkers. You thought yourself immune to those follies, impenetrable to the charms and advances of all your customers–none to date had made your heart palpitate the way it did in the Harbinger's presence. It's unfathomable that you allow yourself to sink to such depths, to find yourself coveting for something you shouldn't, for something you can't have, for something that is beyond the likes of you. Convincing yourself with certainty, you were sure that you were above the idea of ardor–percase, your mistake was appraising yourself of just that. Now, you struggle against the very woes your coworkers forewarned you about.

Lying conscious on your wretched mattress, the cycle of rue repeats internally, battling against the drowsiness from your day's work. The thin and tattered sheets do little to provide you with the warmth you seek, and the lumpy, yet simultaneously, feathersoft pillow fails to ease your neck. The discomfort is only heightened by the darkness that plunges your chamber, like an abyss that's consumed you whole– just like your thoughts.

You urge your mind to settle, to calm a roaring yearning forever left unsatisfied, for even a single minute of slumber but it's futile. Once more, your thoughts drift to your angel donned in scarlet–divine touches and blest hymns. If touching this bit of heaven garners this cruel punishment of eternal desire, then you will cling onto these phantom traces of theirs until the gates of hell swallow you whole.

Soft, thudding noises approach you from the foot of your bed’s direction. Lifting your gaze to the door, the question comes of whose presence this is. Already having worked your shift, there is the possibility your manager came to you because of a unique request–one that he himself couldn't refuse. A weight manifests in your stomach, unease slinking towards your thoughts; this is your off-time after all and . There’s the foreboding knock on your door, before the knob turns with a click. Your manager walks through, his short, plump silhouette before you–

Your oxygen is teared from your lips, making you breathless as an imposing aura overtakes your entire form, as if gravity grew exponentially stronger just then, pushing down on you with the goal of crushing you until nothingness. Your lungs burn from the deprivation of air and a prickling sensation coats your skin, the combined effect making you tremble like a meek sheep before prey. Their footsteps as they enter your dwelling increases the pressure on your shoulders, forcing you to shrink into yourself. This commanding presence is far from being foreign, there are only a few customers–mafia members–that come to mind that can inflict this kind of dominion. Frozen in place, your heart quickly halts as your sight takes in the person before you, a dawning recognition falls upon you: this isn’t your manager. Instead, what replaces him, is a taller, leaner stature, vaguely familiar but distinctly not him. Plunged in darkness, you couldn’t discern any more details, and the unknown identity induces every hair on your limbs to stand up.

And yet, despite the unrest that forms inside of you, for an inexplicable reason, there comes a lilt in your heart, your roseate thoughts returning to one individual with a dire need.

The person makes no movements nor noise, but they are certainly aware of your presence. They remain in place near the doorway, as if prompting you for any action. Yet you’re too unsure, too cautious to act. With each passing second of silence, the air thickens, making it increasingly harder to not sink into the covers of your bed and allow your blanket to swallow you whole. Disbelief settles within you as the two of you linger in silence. Your whirling thoughts start to justify those doubts, crushing that meager hope inside of you. It is not them, because you have been deceived, tossed aside like a broken doll, no longer of entertainment or use to them; abandoned by someone who never truly considered you as theirs in the first place.

Still, you couldn’t discern the reason for the palpitation of your heart at that moment–isit out of fear or anticipation? Likely, it's a combination of both. It hums in your ear, your pulse faint but tangible and steady, and a chill crawls up your spine, eliciting you to tremble in place like a mouse about to be preyed upon. Becoming more certain that they are not the Harbinger, terror worms into your mind and inflicts upon your heart. Your heart rate skyrockets as if the beating organ is thumping out of your chest, deafening you with nothing but the erratic drumming. Have they come to end you? Have you displeased a customer so much that they intend to make you repay the price with your life?

It is a simple utterance. It is a single word that echoes through the room, one syllable that rings through your ears. And yet, it is this sound that rips your heart from a cold, drowning, lonely abyss and plunges it into the warm, welcoming depths of a familiar company. It shreds any lingering doubt within you like claws would to paper, eradicating it as if it was nothing more than a miniscule pest. In your veins does your pulse sing, humming a delightful hymn, the returning sensation of warmth fills you. Had you been anyone else besides yourself viewing this, you would call it a pathetic sight, but in this whisper of time, a wild inferno of your desires is lit and swarms over your mind. With just one simple utterance, you had turned from a scared, cornered mouse into an awaiting puppy–tail wagging and ears perked–for its approaching owner.

“Doll.”

You know of that voice far too well, for only having heard of it for one night. A persistent, almost tantalizing voice that creeps into your dreams at all hours of the day, murmuring with an alluring lilt the same pet name in your ear like the Harbinger had done six nights prior. It is the voice of a seraph under the guise of a demon. And when an ethereal being beckons you, you have no other obligation but to respond.

“Sir?” The softest of whispers escape you, bated breath evident in your voice. You worry that the barely audible title doesn't reach their ears, but then the soft thumping of stilettos reverberate through the room, matching the pace of your rapid heart, nearing you, until they appear by your bedside. Upclose, you swear that red x’s glint dimly. An obscure shadow casts over you and the silhouette of a hand reaches out; their palm grazes against your throat as slender fingers seize your chin to tilt your head up–a familiar hold that involuntarily soothes you given the sigh you release.

“I told you, didn't I?” They say with an alluring lilt, a telling sign of a smirk on their features. They stroke their thumb over your bottom lip, before pressing down. Involuntarily, your tongue peeks out to lap at their thumb pad. Your cheeks swarm with an unbearable calidity, which spreads to the rest of your body, suffocating flames that scorch your entirety.

“I said that I'd keep you as mine. Or did you forget?”

Forgetting their words was as plausible as you learning how to fly. You stopped yourself from carelessly revealing how their discrete promise haunts your ears, ringing through your thoughts at any spontaneous minute; you had no desire of disclosing just how much of an influence they have on you–whether that was to persuade them or yourself more. Instead you offer them a wordless shake of your head.

Arlecchino lets out a content hum, before their hand slides down from your chin to your arm, grasping it with a bit of firmness.

“Come with me, Doll. Such a quality doll such as yourself deserves a suitable dollhouse, is that not right? This,” You assume that they gesture to the room from the shuffle of clothes. “is hardly fitting for you, the sad state that it is.”

Your heart beat falters for a moment, as contemplation befalls you, attempting to properly comprehend their words. You surmise that the Harbinger is offering you for a new accommodation but you ponder the cost–surely, they would not provide it out of the goodness of their heart, and you were uncertain if they even held such a thing. As delightful as they are, forgetting your place in relation to others will only spell hazard for you. A ‘doll'–whatever that pertains to–is the service they likely seek from you, and you have a few estimates as to what it is.

It's dreadfully tempting. A chance to escape from your current workplace, but what of your wellbeing? At least, here, you could sustain yourself, shelter, food, and warmth are provided, but could you expect the same with the Harbinger? If you were to come with them, would you only be pulled deeper into the underground? Was the mafia a company you wanted to linger around? As you continue to swat back the clouds of infatuation, rationality returning to you, there are too many unknowns to recklessly comply with. Then again, what would the Harbinger do to you, if you were to refuse them? For now, you're in their favor, but who is to say you will not lose it in some erratic way?

Perhaps they will grow bored of you. Perhaps you won't satisfy them enough. Or, perhaps, they have even more nefarious intentions. The mind of a criminal is fickle and, more often than not, unstable, and in the first place, such individuals are rarely credible. If they were to promise beneficial conditions for your being, there is no way to ensure they keep to their word. Your debt, at the very least, serves as a form of protection: the nitery wouldn't be able to work you until they regain every penny you borrowed if you were dead. Arlecchino, however? They have no need to.

“You must be reconsidering my offer. That's to be expected, of course,” Arlecchino interrupts your train of thought, not a single break from their calculated way of words; it almost makes you shiver at how well they seem to read you. It truly is no wonder why they’re the fourth among the Harbingers, they truly are cunning. Do they have something to offer you for additional encouragement?

“I have no doubt that some unfortunate circumstance must have brought you to an establishment like this. With that knowledge, hm…” Arlecchino pauses, before you feel their hand leaves your arm. The darkness of the room provides little information on what they're doing, until one of their coarse hands slides underneath your palm, lifting it slightly. Cool metal slides over your left thumb.

“This…”

“Yes, it's a ring,” the mafia leader confirms. “More specifically, it is my ring.”

You trace your right thumb over the ring, feeling some sort of round jewel over it. Underneath your thumb pad, is a small etching, which you trace.

“From now on, this ring is yours. While it's not visible as of right now, etched onto it is the symbol of the Tsaritsa. It symbolizes my Harbinger status,” they continue, and you whip your attention towards them.

“Why would–” You halt yourself before you say anything impulsive. “Thank you for this, Sir, but… if it is of such significance…”

“–why am I giving this to you? Consider this an investment. Here is my preposition to you. Come with me, and you will be fed, sheltered, and spoiled by me–my protection and overseeing of your health is, undoubtedly implied. If you are displeased with my treatment, you can leave freely, anytime, anywhere, and nothing will be asked of you–not so much as an explanation for your departure. In fact, at this very moment, you could leave right now. I will not stop you.

“The ring, being the mark of a Harbinger, will almost certainly protect you from anyone sensible enough not to touch those under the Tsaritsa’s grace. Beyond that, you could always sell it to a trustworthy jewelry inspector; I know of one if you need a reference. I guarantee you that what you will earn is enough for you to live comfortably in society for at least a decade or so.”

“You would…” You stop to recollect your thoughts, as your body shakes, brimming with thrill. Your mind is still trying to encompass all of the capabilities this very ring contained. It may very well be worth ten times your entire life, and yet you possessed something such as this. With this, you could leave your hellish life behind. Everything you have always wanted could be right in your grasp now. You could finally enjoy a luxurious life, just by yourself.

“You would really give this to me? Something so precious?” You question breathlessly.

“Yes. If you would consider my preposition. So?”

A beguiled smile makes its way onto your lips.

—

The existence of monsters should not comfort you, but yet it does. No, that is wrong–there is just one exception. Having heard of such hushed stories, warning you to be wary of such shadowy beasts, the ones that lurk in unsuspecting corners and stalk the most innocuous of lambs, nonetheless, the notion of who can be considered as a ‘monster’ has been shattered by one individual. A monster in every right, except in any respect to you, can a diabolical angel still be deemed as such? Do they deserve to bear such a title, when every breath exhaled sends welcomed shivers down your spine and every contacted surface is blessed under their touch?

Perhaps you are still one of those very lambs for them. There is the possibility that you are just another sheep ensnared by a charming wolf, but then it raises the question of why you haven't been devoured yet. You have no doubt of the appetite that such a beast like them would carry, but nonetheless you remain. Will your time for slaughter come? Like herded sheep, you're fenced in, grazing through the grassland placidly, but how much longer will your freedom and life extend?

Does it still make you a sheep, if the most miniscule, internal sector of you would indulge in being devoured?

It's something you could not help yourself from wondering, even with the graciousness from Arlecchino. They've taken care of you far better than the nitery had ever, in the span of the few weeks you've agreed to stay with them, serving as their ‘doll.’ As restrictive and degrading as the role sounds, actuality does not propose the same. You're still tied to the Fourth Fatui Harbinger–come when they beckon, obey what they will–but you have a daunting amount of individual freedom you previously could never afford. Necessities, such as a living space, meals, and clothing, are all provided, lavishly, unlike your previous work environment.

Arlecchino personally had a room selected for you, a sizable, decorated chamber that housed a Queen bed, along with an ensuite bathroom. Restful sleep comes easy to you now that you've acquired a plush bed that dwarfs your figure. You've been spoiled with not only nourishing, but delectable dishes that you've never encountered before. Not only that, but they were made and served by personal chefs of the Harbinger. Upon arriving at your new accommodation, your wardrobe was brimming with all types of clothing that was suited to your size in all sorts of colors.

Perhaps it is because you haven't received such treatment before, but if you had such audacity to assume, you would compare yourself to that of a monarch's favored consort.

Your work as a ‘doll’ doesn't consist of much–that is what makes it more perplexing to you. It's not like any job or gig–you're not paid but it is no less rewarding. A ‘doll,’ from what you can presume with what they've requested of you, is a sexual partner, for when they're in need of ‘relief.’ Though you'd like for your relationship with Arlecchino to be perfectly encapsulated as just that, even that fails to entail entirely of what it is. This statement comes apparent with the case that you've yet engaged with them intimately.

You cannot deny that with this comes brewing frustration and consolation inside of you.

In the few weeks having lived at the same residence as them, which also doubles as a base of operations for the Fatui, there's quite a few things you learn of the Knave. Their assertive presence alone commands the room upon entering, and it is felt by every single soul in their proximity. Apathetically and brutally effective is how they function, no matter their audience, though strangely you are an exception to that. Stoic as they are in every aspect of their life–whether that handling mafia matters or simply eating–they have shown acts of mercy and repayment towards their subjects, especially the younger ones underneath them. Requital seems to be one of their core values, a quality that is often paired with their demand for control. Just as they oversee all around them, they themselves are not beyond their charge.

You see the discrete conflict in their eyes before each press of their lips against yours, and in their twitching fingers, which tremble in the same reluctant manner as yours does, always lingering around your waist. Every kiss is greedy and ravenous, with the intention of stealing every bit of morality within you as they draw you in, but their touch is notably neither of the two. The Fourth Harbinger exercises an awkward balance between restraint and surrender of desires–as if they craved further connection from you, but you dare not to assume so flatteringly of yourself. For this reason alone, you do not question the Knave, but it is no less vexing.

Beasts like themselves do not hold themselves back. They are voracious and all-consuming, they are merciless and eager in their plunders, second to none in selfishness and brutality. If Arlecchino is truly among them, then their behavior proves to only be baffling. If you cannot expect the worst from them like all monsters are, then what can you predict from them? For what reason do they restrain themselves? Why would they limit themselves when they have more than enough authority and force to take what they desire. You wish you could know, if only to end this constant, frustrating game of desire that you are losing.

You don't understand the casual gestures that imply something more romantic if you didn't know better. The invitations to dinner, the outings with them, the chaste kisses and fleeting touches. In each interaction, you have to remind yourself of your status–that you still hold little value, no matter the change of management, and at every drop of dawn, when you lie alone in your bed, that hollow ache sweeps over you and engulfs you whole into a riptide. What more use are you than entertainment just as empty as yourself?

Still, it is irrefutable that you hold a certain attraction to them. You covet for their contact and gaze to loiter over the expanse of your body, for their voice to always ring through your ears, for the time between the two of you to stretch past infinity; it soon occured to you that something lies deeper than just lust for the Harbinger, something you did not want to acknowledge but it has prolonged since after the first night you met them. Though Arlecchino does not place a label on the relationship, even for as foolish and swayed as you are, you could not dream beyond the contacts that hold no significance or the words that contain no promises. The knowledge of this places a heavy ache in your chest, one that pings every now and then with every meeting with the Harbinger. Knowing how futile it is, a part of yourself wants to strangle these yearnings, so that all that is choked out is a shallow, physical urge, and you no longer drown in the abyss that is Arlecchino.

It is only natural that when you harbor such complexities towards them, sexual desires, too, are a part of said twisted conglomeration of hazy emotions and affections. How many times were you in need of relief, murmuring out their name as you intensified your movements in between your legs, only to be left empty and disgruntled? If you had to give an estimate, it would be a dozen or so times. While your circumstance could no longer be judged by typical morality, the very act of yearning feels sinful, a wrongdoing, a refutal of your values. No lamb lusts over a wolf, after all, but this knowledge doesn't lessen the ache.

So, like the meek sheep that you are, you say nothing, even when Arlecchino once again requests your presence for dinner–through a relayed message from their subordinate of course. You wonder if they're aware of the very effects they imposed on you, how the simple act of inviting you to dinner makes both your heart swim and sink simultaneously.

You knock on their office door, waiting for permission until you're asked inside. You enter with a brief awed gasp, greeted by the usual suited appearance of Arlecchino. They sit behind their desk and donning a stark midnight blazer, over an ash-colored and blood-crimson vest paired with a matching loose tie underneath the collar of their white buttoned dress shirt. A lit cigarette is perched between their lips and a pair of black reading glasses nestled on the bridge of their nose. Upon your entrance, they reach up, wrenching the cigarette from their mouth to snuff it out, rubbing the butt of the stick against the ashtray beside them.

Near instantaneously, your stomach coils with an insufferable fervor, and you had to suppress the urge to squeeze your thighs, unless you wanted their observant eye to notice. You avert your gaze from the handsome sight to hide your flustered expression. Unfortunately, your efforts are in vain when in the corner of your eye, the ends of their frown twitch.

They instruct you to sit at the chair across from theirs with the motion of their eyes, and you take your seat at their desk, two plates of food sitting on the wooden surface.

“You have no issue with shellfish, do you?” Arlecchino inquires, their eyes scanning over your figure for any objections.

“Not that I know of, sir,” you answer. The mafia leader pushes a glass with a crimson liquid in it–wine, you presume. You take it. Arlecchino is an avid wine lover from what you've discerned during past dinners; although you've done this quite a few times, the thought is dizzying of how you're holding a wine that's more than likely a thousand dollars per bottle. Like with all the previous privileges the Harbinger gifted you, this is yet again another lucrative item. It only makes you wonder to what extent the Fatui's influence goes to be able to afford such expenses on ordinary things. You swirl the drink in your hand before taking a tentative sip. Each time you drink, it’s akin to dumping gold into the sea–wasted extravagance on the likes of you.

The wine sours the taste in your mouth but you don't make it apparent.

Dinner remains an awkward constant, nearly unnerving. You tether between the line of being cautious and being casual. Their methodical brutalism discourages small talk from them–given the fact that they favor intention and meaningful gestures–seeming perfectly content in the silence while you stew in chagrin. With this comes their manner of eating. They eat robotically, as if the gourmet foreign meals are nothing but nourishment, and perhaps such trivialities are of no matter to them, only further emphasizing the stark statuses of you two. Their request, however, made them seem almost eager–as eager as one could possibly be for someone so stoic– given how they requested for your presence as soon as possible. Perhaps what they look most earnestly for is observing you. You're torn between thinking they enjoy your discomfort underneath their gaze, or simply find you that fascinating. Either of them escape common reasoning.

You opt to just eat with your head down to avoid their piercing gaze throughout your meal, the only noise filling the room is the clinking of metal utensils. Struggling with removing the lobster meat from its tail, you fumble with the fork, an abashment swelling in your cheeks with the knowledge that Arlecchino was most definitely observing your tactlessness. You’ve never had shellfish prior to your stay with Arlecchino, and that was more pronounced by your lackluster attempts of stripping the shrimp shell. You attempted to learn through observation of Arlecchino, who utilizes cutlery with their typical efficiency and gracefulness. Even in the simple act of eating, they are refined in their precise and minimal movements. Unfortunately for you, that poise cannot be obtained through just viewing.

A pale hand extends and rests on top of your hand holding the fork, the sudden contact ripping you from your thoughts and your shoulders tense. Glancing up from the shellfish, Arlecchino's ever so puncturing gaze is set on you. The thumping organ in your chest pauses for a beat once your eyes lock, manifesting a silence between the two of you. There is not a hint of irritance in their expression, and perhaps you are mistaken, but there is the gleam of amusement in their pupils.

“Allow me,” they finally voice, their tone on the edge of venomous allure, and you could only comply immediately. Placing down the cutlery onto the plate and pulling your hands away, you expect for them to pick up the silverware again. Instead, they firmly hold down the lobster tail with one hand, the other hand pinching the succulent flesh before shredding it effortlessly from the shell with their. Such an uncouth movement that almost seems unfitting from the Harbinger, however, simultaneously, you cannot see their crude method out of place. The chunk of meat is then dipped in the aioli.

“Open,” Arlecchino commands, and you swallow thickly, your mouth inexplicably arid in a single moment. Once again, your easily influenced heart pounds resoundingly in your ears, no doubt induced by the most miniscule of moments from the Harbinger. Their red-crossed pupils stab into you, expectancy in them, wordlessly urging you. You open your mouth and they lift the piece of lobster to your lips, sliding their fingers and the shellfish flesh inside. You clamp down on the flesh while Arlecchino fishes out her digits, pulling away with glistening liquid on the tips of her index and thumb.

The sight makes your stomach flutter with a sensation unlike any other, an inferno emerges in your pit paired with an indisputable throbbing between your legs that makes you clench your hands into fists–a desperate attempt for restraint of your impulses. Cheeks flared from both arousal and humiliation of your indecent thoughts, you mindlessly chew on the meat, absentmindedly staring at the Harbinger while combating the vulgarity within your mind. Your liberated imagination reacts, substituting the fluid for something of a similar look that originates from a different orifice, before you banish the impurities away, remediate your thrashing heart before it threatens to collapse in itself. Finally, you swallow a bit of shellfish down your throat.

Arlecchino hums, satisfied, before they probe your lips with their slick fingers, intent, almost predatory, gaze upon you, and their pupils glint with a faint crimson.

“Clean them,” they order, and oh, if they knew what those two words do to you. Hot spikes of arousal pricks you everywhere in your body, and your loins grow damper, pulsing with need.

You part your lips obediently as they insert two of their fingers. Your warm, moist mouth wraps around them. The pads of their fingers press firmly against your tongue, and compliantly, you drag the slimy surface of your organ on the undersides, lapping at the faint taste of lobster with remnants of the aioli, before swirling your tongue around to coat the entirety with your saliva. A disgusting moist squelch flees from your mouth as you continue the ministrations of your tongue, gentle and deliberate traces to make sure that their fingers are properly cleansed.

A sudden idea comes to you, a dose of boldness injected into your veins as you continue locking their eyes with them. If they are so amused by your performance, then surely they would enjoy a little show? You silently wish for the mafia leader's grace before you act– perhaps you'd be forgiven? Better yet, you hope that you will be rewarded. They're acutely aware of the mischief in your eyes when their eyebrows lift, but you do not allow them to anticipate for long.

You hollow your cheeks and suction around their fingers while intensifying your tongue's movements. To add to it, you lean forward, slipping their fingers deeper until your lips reach the base of their final knuckle, nearly gagging from your impulsive action. Still, it does not dissuade you, and you continue your behavior, aware this very gesture was the epitome of playing with fire. More slick sounds erupt from your suggestive acts.

You scrutinize their facial expression for their reaction in an attempt to gauge their response, and quite notably, their pupils are darkened. Instead of the previous ruby hue, they are now a deep scarlet, bordering on maroon, and are brimming with an emotion so intense you feel as though you could be devoured whole just by their dark abysses. Their usually maintained and composed face is cracked by the parted lips of theirs, as if they were in awe of your impudence, and the slightest knit in between their brows, implying more than their regular apathy. You have drawn their attention just as you wanted, but now you fear the consequences.

“Feeling bold, are we, doll?” They murmur in a low, tantalizing purr as they extract their fingers from you with a wet pop, and you nearly whine from the loss of contact. A dribble of spit escapes from the corner of your lips and they wipe it away with their thumb. Their middle and index finger gleam enticingly as your slaver drips down. Bringing their hand to their lips, they reward you with their own show, a slow deliberate act of tracing their fingers with their own tongue, their attention still fixated on you throughout its entirety. Watching the organ's motions further stirs the boiling desire in your groin. The Harbinger never fails to tempt you, provoking a visceral reaction from you with just the minutest gesture.

They must know. They must know how deeply influenced you are by them. You make your allure to them unmistakable, their actions signify their awareness, and they use this to further taunt you, to further bait you into their trap. For what reason, you're not privy to, but they prey upon your desire for them, stringing you along on for their entertainment. Are they aware that this game is comparable to torture to you? Like dangling fresh greens in front of a dying, starved lamb, your ache is palpable to only you. To long for something that you cannot. It is tormenting and demeaning, though maybe that is suitable for a monster.

A devil in the guise of an angel truly. Maybe they are purely enjoying your suffering, knowing that your every action can only be done by their whim. You have fallen in their hands, utterly dependent and reliant on them but no less grateful. A deceived sheep in the claws of a cackling wolf. It is a game to them, you are just a toy, and you would be foolish to think otherwise. So expectedly cruel, and yet it crushes your heart. You are tired of the charades, of your affections hardly acknowledged and no doubt unreciprocated, and you are tired of how their presence plagues your thoughts entirely. They are eager to use you just as they had always wanted, a ‘doll,’ something willing to twist and bend to their desires.

You wish that you are more than just a doll. That your skin is not made of plastic, that your limbs are not so manipulatable, that the attire that you wear cannot be so easily altered based on the spontaneous desires of someone else. You do not want to take only what you've been given. Is it hopeless, brazen, to want more despite your place? Does it make you nothing more than simple-minded and naive, to wish that their touch expressed beyond the voraciousness and obscenity?

“Did you enjoy it?” Arlecchino pries you away from your thoughts, and you flick your eyes towards them. Blinking, you finally recall the context, and fumble with your words.

“Ah, uh, yes,” you stammer, forcing a small smile, berating yourself for your blundering response. “The lobster was great. Thank you so much, Sir.”

Their pupils still remain on you, hardened with their usual frigid gaze. “Then why do you appear so downcast? Is the meal not to your liking? I will make sure the chefs prepare something else for you.”

Your blood freezes and you go wide-eyed. Of course, they would notice your absent-mindedness, you have still yet controlled your emotions. Reprimanding yourself internally, the desire to scream out boils within you, like a pot that threatens to boil over–you want to exclaim that they are the reason you are like this, why you are in a constant state of conflict and anguish, why your heart can never rest when their presence is near. Instead, you find your throat caught in a trap, preventing any words from escaping, and any voice you try to grapple slips through your fingers. The very notion of requesting for more is insolent; had they not provided you enough? Ingrate is what you would be if you vocalize anything.

Shaking your head, you reply with, “No, it's okay. There was nothing wrong with my meal. I was just preoccupied with my thoughts for a little bit, I apologize, sir.”

“Please inform me what it was that was entertaining you for so long.” The implore leaves their lips as they tilt their head, propping their elbow against the table and leaning their cheek into their palm. Their attention is utterly consumed by you.

Your lip quivers. So many unspokens lay on your tongue, awaiting for an emergence that never comes. ‘You’ is the most dire utterance, but you bite your tongue and purse your lips. Flitting your eyes down to your finished plate, you avoid their boring gaze which drills right through your skull, and manage to note your arms, which are dotted with the occasional burn scar–courtesy of the more unsavory customers–an agonizing momento of how filthy you are, sullied by many before. How you could compare to a doll is unfathomable to you. A doll's skin is not tainted, marked with signs of impurities. Even their touch, as angelic as it, could not cleanse your surface, why would they dare engage with you?

“Trivial matters, sir,” you respond with, unable to admit the snaking insecurity up your spine, that would only have them throw you away. You gather that insecurity had no place in the Harbinger's home, that needless feelings were to be disposed of immediately. Searching their features at any hint of persuasion, their blank stare offers nothing to you. The mafia leader picks up their glass of wine, lifting it up to their lips for a sip.

The, the glass is placed firmly on the wooden surface of the table, accompanied by a loud thud, the abruptness causing you to flinch back; your entire form taut as every fiber in your being tightens, your heart rate reverberates in your eardrums, and a cold shiver sneaks over your back.

“Do you take me as someone so easily deceived?” They demanded, their voice instilled with cutting authority, sharper than any knife as it stabs into your gut. The lit fury in their eyes is enough to make you recoil in your seat, shrinking into yourself as if you could become small enough to disappear, and underneath their scrutiny that is all you want to do. You tore your eyes away from them, the weight of their burning stare unbearable, almost with the intention of cremating you in the very chair. A part of you wishes that were the case, if only to flee from the crisis you are now a part of, only caused by your idiocy.

The Fatui Harbinger, for how generous they've been to you, is no less deadly, and perhaps you’ve had a healthy dosage of dismissing apparent hazards when it comes to them. Whether it be due to Arlecchino's unique charm and ambiguous benevolence, or your stubborn child-like innocence–the one that still yearns for affection and company in a cruel world–that refuses to yield, subconsciously, you knew that you would never truly be safe. No amount of self-delusion masked by wishful thinking could ever make that fruition, it will not erase the fact that your life balances on the careful palms of an awaiting wolf, whose intentions are mysterious. Nonetheless, this moment creates a no more nauseating moment that strikes your gut and fills your head with a haziness that is as oppressive as it is harrowing.

You hardly believe that you can lie once more–for all that you are aware of, Arlecchino may punish you with your death for disobeying–though with the imminent danger you’re still conflicted. You wanted to drown your fondness for them in the sea of your consciousness, anchor the hefty mass so that it could never resurface, no matter how much it struggles to swim. Complying with the mafia leader's demand means plunging your hands into the water and unlocking the chains, letting the emotions swim beyond your reach and leaving you stranded in the midst of riptides and storms. If it meant many more years without turbulent waters, then you'd never unchain them, because that is the only way to stay afloat.

But dying due to the fear of rejection is truly a pathetic way to go, even to the likes of your already pathetic existence, isn't it? You’d like to pride yourself as above those standards, at the very least. However, unveiling your naive attachment to them is unfavorable. Whatever may come from defiance, you are not sure it is worth condemning yourself to, not for someone seemingly as volatile as they are.

Perhaps you could still spare your buried endearment as well–twist and mangle your words until what the Fourth Harbinger knew was only the mishap-twin of the authentic version. Let them misinterpret and craft their own figment to be as far-fetched yet close from the truth as possible. Paint over and ornament your hopeless ardor until it is unrecognizable to the artist and only that. Half-truths and omission sculpted into something believable in the eyes of Arlecchino.

“You,” you declare simply, looking up back at them with a poor imitation of their repose. “It was you, Sir.”

Arlecchino stews in silence, although not visibly, you could presume that they have some amount of shock from your words, and the questions in their head. Their eyes darkened slightly, like dark abysses preparing to consume you whole if you so much as misstep once.

“For what reason?”

Gulping considerably, you pull together your resolve and start. You look up to meet their steady gaze. “A quality doll requires proper care and maintenance right? Like when you said that a quality doll needed a fitting dollhouse.”

Their hand reaches for their wine glass again.“Yes, that is true.”

“But a quality doll is wasted if it is not played with properly.”

Arlecchino breaks away their stare to intake their wine, a longer sip than their usual. “Are you implying that you are not satisfied with my treatment, Doll?”

“No. No, I am not satisfied.” You wince at your direct response, but you are not left with any other option–you can only pray that Arlecchino doesn’t take offense to it.

“Greedy,” the Harbinger remarks as they place down the drink. “But perhaps there is some merit to it. You are right: It is my responsibility to take care of my things and it seems that I've been neglecting you.”

They flit their eyes to your plate. “Are you finished eating?”

“Ah, yes?” You stumble over your words, a bit on edge now that their inquiry implied they had more in plan with you. It is not out of the question, though typically when they did invite you to meals like this, they would dismiss you to do what you wish afterwards, sending you away with a drawn out kiss. You're yet able to know what to make of your current situation. It required little words to gain what you wanted from the Haringer: more attentive treatment from them without the implication of your desires, so easily accepted by them. Maybe then, you wishfully

They rise from their chair, removing their reading glasses and setting it on the surface of the desk. Strangely enough, they take their wine with them.

“Sir?” You question as your eyes follow their movement. They maneuver around their desk, heading towards the door.

“Follow,” they state, though there is no real urgency or demand for it, more like a suggestion. They turn their head over their shoulder, examining you–testing you, you guess–and how could you deny? You trial them after them, with an enthusiasm which you hate having to compare that to an anxious puppy. The two of you exit the office, and you’re guided to an adjacent room, this one you've never been to before, nor has ever seen its content. Since your time here, it's remained secured and you've yet seen a single soul enter.

You're not quite sure what you expect when Arlecchino leads you inside but it certainly is not a bedroom. Nonetheless, that is what is presented to you. Simultaneously sleek and modest, adorned in splashes of black, red, and white–a color palette you associate with just one individual–it is the epitome of sophistication without bordering on extravagance and a starking reminder of the presence beside you.

For some reason, it never occurred to you that Arlecchino necessitated slumber. Perhaps since you've always considered them something else entirely, something beyond human, you feel what borders on astonishment with the discovery that, indeed, the Fourth Harbinger does sleep. To say that it humanized them in your eyes is a stretch, but it is a signifier that they are not as infallible and unfeasible as you believe.

The implications of being guided to their bedroom, however, also creates havoc among your thoughts, and your ears all but physically singe from your mortification. Vulgar fantasies invade your mind, with images of your nude body tangled together in the satin gray sheets with varying positions. Your heart, the fickle and persistent thing that is pulipates again, pumping through your ears. The setting only enforces your wanton imagination, exacerbating its control over your mind. The delusions become not just visual, but auditory and haptic too–their whispered, husky voice murmuring sweet promises in your ear as their nails trail lower and lower from your stomach, their fingers exploring uncharted territory.

Choosing that the best course of action would be to ignore the astir depravities, you instead propose a question to the mafia member as they allow you to enter the chamber first.

“This is… your bedroom, my Lord?” you question anxiously, taking the time to observe the room as the Fourth Harbinger enters behind you. “How come you've brought me here?”

“I am not fond of letting blunders remain as it is for long, less of all those that are my own fault,” Arlecchino answers, the shutting of the door momentarily interrupting them. “If it can be helped, oversights must be corrected immediately. Let problems fester for too long, and they may grow beyond my control.”

You note that it's a rather vague response. As you turn around to further confront them, there is the sudden and firm tug of your arm, and far quicker than your mind can comprehend, you're whirled around and pressed against the surface behind you. You suck in harshly from the rapid movement and an arm besides one side of your head locks you in your place, sandwiched between the door and Arlecchino with no exit available.

Flaring crimson irises meet your vision, inky pits brimming with what could only be described as a fervor drill into you. Wildly, your heartbeat thuds against your ribcage, your breath effectively robbed by the towering being before you. Below your skin, exhilaration floods through your veins, spreading the incessant heat through your entire form, most especially to your loins. Their hot breath skims across your inflamed cheeks, and their lips only stray a few centimeters from yours.

Involuntarily, your focus darts to their enticing mouth, which tastes like the finest of wine–so extraordinarily sweet that it is intoxicating. A flavor that keeps drawing you in, making you an alcoholic as you drink yourself dizzy from a sip, then another. And you would do anything for just another sample. You want Arlecchino to consume your entirety, your taste buds, your consciousness, your senses, surrender every part of you if it means gaining the most miniscule pieces of themselves. A plea rests on your tongue and in your wide, crinkled eyes you make your intentions clear.

Wordlessly, you beg for them to devour you like the monster that they are. Lure you in with their touch again, which they know burns every single rational thought away and spreads a relish that feels like a religious blessing. Take you, if only for a single second, because a second will always be sufficient enough until the next, when you cannot help but wish for it sooner.

“Do you desire me?” They speak, as if the answer is not apparent. As if the evidence is not in your trembling body, bristling with elation, or in your needy hands, which all but reach out to grasp them closer. As if they are not aware of the effects of their numerous taunts, how they fluster you enough to force you to glance away or stumble over your speech. They are aware of it as well as you are and it is with this that you realize the insinuation of their question, and this understanding is what evokes the hitching of your breath. They ask for confirmation, for approval–for consent.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, no need to expend more words for something so simple. How else could you answer otherwise?

Arlecchino does not grant you the kiss you so very much desire. Instead, they maneuver one of the arms propped against your head, their hand cups your chin with a tenderness so unlike them, and their thumb grazes over your bottom lip. Their gaze becomes entranced, fixated on your mouth.

“Given your past employment, I was under the assumption that any gesture more sensual would unease you. For that reason, I was hesitant to initiate more. After all, nothing is more unpleasant than an unwilling toy, who does not desire to be played with. My oversight, however, has affected you adversely, which I hope to fix currently.”

Flicking their hardened stare to your eyes again, they add, “If you will allow me.”

Stupefaction befalls upon you, your mouth parts as you grasp onto the new information. If their words are true, then it means that your attraction to them is mutual, not one-sided, and their established distance was out of consideration for you. The thought is more than enough to spark giddiness within you. The Harbinger may not be so inaccessible as you previously thought, perhaps your affections could reach them.

They hardly seem so monstrous as they did three weeks ago. Maybe they never were one to begin with. Your elated-addled brain can hardly produce a coherent string of thoughts, leaving you to only feebly nod.

That is enough as a response for Arlecchino as they descend upon you, slotting their lips over yours in a way that can only be described as perfection. Their lips drains you of your oxygen, but were you capable of it, you would allow them to steal every part of you with their perfect mouth. The succulent flavor of them remains constant, delectable as they were on the first night you met the Harbinger, and even after the numerous kisses you've shared, they are just as intoxicating. You briefly wonder if you're only drunk off of their taste because of the taste of aged wine still abundant on their lips. Arlecchino swallows you up into an eternal riptide of their taste, and you willingly drown, surrendering the rest of your senses to delight in this.

This is the type of sensation that comes from dancing around a demon, the sort of feeling that makes such heartache involving the fallen angel all the more worthwhile yet agonizing; it serves to only lure you further in its trap that you can't fathom escaping from. Now, your body buzzing with an elation that can't be matched by another, all you can wonder is how you've been able to live this long without this very gesture that breathes back life through your veins and makes your heart swell with vitality. With this, you believe this is the pinnacle of your life–no other experience that can quite enrapture you like this–a phantom ache finally filled, finally whole.

Half-lidded eyes with crimson x's lock on yours, and you think you may have rediscovered your favorite color.

You lift your arms over their shoulders and fold them behind the mafia leader, locking them in place. With a gentle tug forward with your arms, they lean deeper into your kiss, and a deep grunt rumbles through their chest, inducing goosebumps over your skin. Meanwhile, your fingers card through their silky, snow-colored strands, tugging lightly as you moan softly against their lips. Something warm settles on your right cheek, cupping that side of your face delicately.

The rough texture of their tongue presses against your lips, before their lips latch onto your bottom one. They suckle with such a gingerness you forget about the depraved hunger behind their x-pupils, a plea for permission, for entry which you allow instantly. You part your mouth. With a fevered haste, their tongue slips into your orifice, and you let out a throaty groan. It invokes a rumbling through their throat, a sound that must have belonged from seraphs. They urge on, exploring the contours of your mouth with the intent of diligently memorizing the relish and texture. Committed to familiarizing themselves with every crevice and curve, they scrape their tongue against yours, before prodding gently deeper, grazing the roof of your mouth.

In turn, you playfully drive your tongue forward, caressing against the bottom of their flexible organ. A pleased hum resounds through them, the reverberation making you shudder delightfully. Your body feels like it's being swarmed with an oppressive heat, willpower and sanity suffocating under the mafia leader's every action, and every thought replaced with the stabbing desire that courses through your veins. Every second that they linger, an invisible string tugs you towards their direction with the lightest pressure, and you’re once more in their neatly filed claws.

Is it really sending a lamb to the slaughter when the lamb is willing, or when the wolf is so inviting?

The lack of swelter is palpable once they suddenly break away, and you realize belatedly the lack of air in your lungs. You heave for air, and Arlecchino does the same, every brief exhale tickling your cheeks. Silence, save for your rapid breathing, fills the room, but the mutual eye contact says more than enough between you two.

“Do you want to…?” The Harbinger inquires, their words halting into a tense silence, vigilantly examining your features.

“Please,” is all you could whisper out, as if that very word carried your entire soul with it, and the singular murmur shatters the being before you. Just a second ago, what stood before you was a person of authority and restraint. Arlecchino was esteemed among the Harbingers, a mortal representation of poise and dignity. Never before has their composure faltered, not to any enemy or ally; there’s yet been an instance that the mafia’s leader's repose was weakened. However, you have always been an anomaly.

Her crimson pupils pierce into you, as their hands linger beneath your hips.

“You truly will be the death of me.”

---

Reference for Arlecchino in the second half.

Smut will be in part 3.

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