#in one’s eye the unusual become the usual

[nebbyy]

Can I request king Baldwin being jealous I just would want to see how it everything would go down 🤔🤔

King Baldwin x reader - Jealousy

A/N: uuuuh I like this concept!! I can't lie it was pretty hard imagining him being jealous, especially since I myself wouldn't even look in other men's direction have I had Baldwin next to me😩😩.

Anyway, hope you like my interpretation of your prompt :))

Painting is "A Midsummer Night's Dream - Hermian and Lysander" by John Simmons by the way :))

Warning: angst, jealousy and talks of insecurity. Reader is specifically described as being female!

I think it's common knowledge at this point that Baldwin is a man of many virtues, who likes to act guided by reason, not by the heart

The only exception to this ironclad rule is, well, you. You're his beloved wife, the only woman who had ever walked this earth able to make him swoon and lose his collected reasoning, in the name of his love for you

In his eyes, you were the most beautiful creature God has created, and your virtues to him had to be honored and made an example to the rest of the world

He knew you really had not much choice in marrying him: after all, it was a political marriage. But the moment he saw your cheeks get warmer, your eyes avert his own and your breath hitching as he got closer to you

He couldn't fathom how he got so lucky to be worthy of even the slightest of your attention, let alone your love. It was something that he cherished like the holiest of relics, and he made sure to show it by showering you in gifts, spending every breathing moment he had as close to you as possible, learning your passions and hobbies and introducing you to his own

But as much as he loved to shower you in the affection you so much deserved, he remained a man whose mind reigned over every other part of him, and that meant that he knew that he wasn't easy to love, mainly because of his appearance

He wasn't unaware of the fact that his decayed face, his bandaged limbs, his sometimes showing wounds,.. they made people feel a sense of uneasiness, it even repulsed some at the mere sight of it

He knew that a pair of soft, full lips would be preferred by any reasonable woman over his own scarred and partly destroyed ones

He knew that a vigorous man, strong enough to fight and ride on his own, to carry you and protect you would be much preferred to his weakened, often bedridden, mangled body

And he also knew that it was the norm that in most forced weddings, infidelity was so normal that it was even romanticized by singers and poets

So as time went on and his condition worsened by the day, the dooming feeling in his mind that warned him about you possibly growing a liking to someone else started to become more and more present in his mind

Especially one time, when a dashingly handsome prince has just arrived to Jerusalem's court, and he seems that you have piqued his interest, for he seems to make it his personal mission to be as close to you as he possibly can

It's almost as if he's forgotten that you’re married to the king of the realm that is hosting him!

Baldwin first noticed a rather unusual demeanor from the prince on the first night that he's been there, when he started to make a never ending string of jokes, all in order to get a melodic laugh out of you

Then came the walk through the garden, where you usually went with your husband to unwind from your royal duties. And now there he was, this bumptious young prince that acted like he could win you over your own husband

It was right then and there that his own self deprecating tendencies left him to be replaced by a burning flame inside of him, the desire to publicly show your belonging to him and him alone

And so he took it upon himself to muster up all his strength in the following hours, before making his appearance in the main hall. Of course he knew he'd found you there, along with your suitor

Oh how his heart swelled when he saw your eyes, firstly semi-closed from the boredom the prince was causing you, light up at the sight of your husband entering the room

He confidently walked through the room until he was right in front of you, gently taking your hand in his and bringing it to his veiled mouth and holding it there for just a little longer than usual, while his celestial eyes never leaving your own

The simple action left you breathless, mostly because you'd never seen that fire within his stare before, yet in that moment he seemed to you as if he had been possessed by some sort of force that granted him such confidence

Breathing in the sight of you for just a little longer, he then turned his gaze to the prince, talking in a satisfied tone

"What a sight for sore eyes is my wife, am I right? I feel sorry for you that you can enjoy of her company for so little, but I'm afraid that she's needed somewhere else."

If you didn't know him any better, you wouldn't be able to comprehend that there's nowhere where you're needed at the moment other than your husband's arms, and you're glad to fill in the empty spot without hesitation

Because, let's be honest, you took this suitor's attentions as a tool to spur your husband, to test his devotion to you and his desire to have you all to himself. You wanted him to see you as not something gave for granted, no, he had to fight for you like the knights fighting in the name of the women they love in the jousts

And that he did, and you could swear that you have never in your short life have felt so loved and wanted as he picked you up midway through the hallway, smiling playfully at you as you lowered the veil off his face

"You're gonna make me have a run for your attentions, my dear. But I must inform you I'm not prone to sharing when it comes to my beloved wife"

You wouldn't want it to be any other way, as he gently laid you on your shared bed before joining you. And there you spend the rest of the day, after he'd called off both of your daily duties just so that he could have that time dedicated to just the two of you, to make a point of the tie between you two, that no man, much less prince, could ever break

So yes, at times Baldwin can become jealous because of his insecurities and your undeniable beauty, but his combative nature gives him the right spur to make him act on it, never letting anything get in his way

[dynamic-power]

Steve is walking down the hallway towards his math class when it happens.

Someone bumps into him, a girl he only vaguely recognizes, and she reaches out and grabs his hand to steady herself.

His vision explodes with what he knows must be color. Bright shades assault his eyes, shades he doesn't even have names for. His classmates' clothes, the tiles beneath his feet, the homecoming sign above him. Even the lights have taken on a new hue, washing Steve's entire world in something completely alien.

The girl looks as shocked as steve feels. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth drooped open as she spins in a slow circle. She's pretty, he thinks. Short hair, soft features, an unusual sense of style. She's clutching an instrument case, and he thinks that's why he recognizes her.

"Uh," he says, catching her attention. "Hi."

Her mouth opens, closes, opens once more, and then she dashes away from him, disappearing into the throng of students.

He spends the rest of the day cataloging colors. By the time he's climbing into his car (which is a color he still can't name, but has decided he likes) he's found at least a dozen different shades, and he wonders how they all fit into the seven colors he's been told are in the rainbow.

He tells his mom when he gets home that day. She is ecstatic. When Steve admits he doesn't have anything to tell about the girl herself, his mom turns her attention on naming colors for him.

It becomes quickly apparent that something isn't quite right. He'd been so focused on everything that was new that he hadn't realized what was the same. He still sees a lot of grays. Blues, purples, greens,and violets are all still lost on him.

That doesn't make what he can see any less spectacular, though. Oranges, reds, pinks, yellows. The yellows are his favorite.

He'll meet his other soulmate, his mother assures him, as they sit in the backyard, admiring the rich golds and reds of the trees that he can now see, standing out against the gray of the sky he knows should be blue.

He does, about two years later. He's picking Henderson up from school one afternoon, but instead of Dustin climbing into the front seat like usual, the back door swings open violently and not one but two figures scramble into the back seat.

"Henderson, what the fuck?!?"

"Drive!" Henderson screeches, his head popping up between the seats. "Go, go, go!" A hand, not Dustin's, reaches out as the stranger tries to sit himself up and fingers graze his temple as he's peeling away from the curb.

"Motherfucking assmunch-" Dustin is saying, "thinking he can get away with that shit-"

But Steve isn't paying attention, because the trees are green and the sky is blue and the world is suddenly right.

Steve looks into the rearview mirror and meets the gaze of a shocked-looking Eddie Munson.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (II)

Reader is cozying up to her unusual home, and her new friend decides to surprise her with a romantic gift. Or at least what he considers to be romantic: a small reminder that no one else can mess with her. Continuation to the yakuza landlord idea!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Content: Female reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, violence, death, mild gore

Tags: @depressed-but-make-it-cute

You search for your keys and open the postal box, retrieving a thick envelope. You've been living at the new apartment for several weeks now and truth be told, you could get used to this lifestyle. Your commute to work is much shorter, the path is never devoid of people, and there are multiple bakeries on the way back with some of the best pastries you've tasted in your life.

You turn around and look for Daitou, somewhat distracted and dreamy. It really feels like a Hallmark movie. A peaceful, idyllic life. Ah, there he is! The scarred man is standing guard before one of the stores. The curtains have been pulled, blocking any glimpse of the inside. You walk towards him with a certain joyful bounce in your step. As you approach him, you can hear muffled screams coming from the building. He notices you and flashes you a smile. 

"Don't come too close, I hear the owner's been avoiding his loan payment and getting all friendly with the neighboring Family. We're questioning him in the back."

"Don't you usually do the interrogations?" 

"Only if we don't need them afterwards. I'm not too good at keeping them alive, ya know?" He scratches the back of his head and laughs awkwardly. "Do you need anything?"

You open your mouth to speak, but it's a little difficult to formulate a full sentence with the interrupted moans and cries occasionally making their way out. The door is ajar and you avoid glancing in its direction, fixating on the man before you. 

"I...uh... just wanted to know if this letter is intended for me or the landlord. It looks like an official document."

You show Daitou the envelope and just as he is about to grab it, he notices the blood stains seeped into his glove. He quickly removes it, wipes his hand on his shirt, and nonchalantly plucks the paper from your fingers.

"That's for Boss. I'll pass it on, so don't worry."

You nod and bow slightly before hurrying back home. Well, doesn't make it less of a movie, you suppose. Just more of a thriller. Or something like that. You drop your bag, slip off your shoes and throw yourself onto the futon with a loud thud. The warmth of the sheets envelops you and the wails of the shop owner become but a distant dream. 

Without the worry of stalkers, or finding a roof above your head, you can finally rest. 

Tonight is rather dark, with the moon shrouded in heavy clouds. Daitou yawns silently as he observes the masked man testing out passcodes for the entrance. Every now and then he lets out a whispered curse, crossing out another number combination on his little crumpled note. It doesn't take a genius to figure out this is the famed stalker you'd complained about earlier. No one else currently lives in the building. 

Eventually, the keypad lights up and the door unlocks. The mysterious man lifts a fist victoriously and reaches for the handle. 

"Oop! Not so fast!" Daitou drops his heavy, sinewy arm over the man's shoulders, pulling him in a friendly embrace. Like two old pals meeting at an intersection. "Let's take a walk together, what do you say? (Y/N) sleeps until noon on weekends, no need to hurry."

With a grunt, the stalker tries to shove himself out of the tightening hold, but the yakuza doesn't budge. He towers over his new friend with an unfaltering, unbothered grin. 

"Now listen, I don't blame you one bit, ya know? I ain't blind, at least not in this eye", he continues as he points to the real counterpart of his glass prosthetic, "so I'm damn well aware of a pretty girl when I see one. And (Y/N)? That's some good taste alright." 

He gives the man an affectionate pat over the chest, pulling him away from the building into one of the side streets. 

"If you want, we can have a drink before the deed, I know a good place five minutes from here. We can share some stories of our favorite girl, eh?" Daitou looks at his watch, feigning mild concern. "But I'm afraid you're not leaving this neighborhood either way. In one piece, that is." 

His arm goes limp and the masked man is released from the iron hold, tripping over from the sudden lack of support. He crawls against a wall and fumbles for something, swiftly pulling out what seems to be a pocket knife. His breathing is erratic and he points the tip of the blade towards the yakuza, now with his features darkened by a frown. He sounds like an entirely different person and the instant switch to a ragged voice startles the stranger.

"See, the trouble is, I promised miss (Y/N) I wouldn't allow a fucking dog like you to be in her presence ever again. Sadly for you, I'm a man of my word." Despite the threatening tone, his posture is relaxed and he stands before the stalker with his hands bare. 

"If I were you, I'd use that little butter knife on my own throat. I don't go easy on horny cockroaches. Especially the ones that mess with my woman." His final words spill out in a bitter growl. 

A small animal in the trashing jaws of a predator. Blood splatters and pools in the asphalt cracks and drained hands claw at the walls, hoping for an escape. As despair sinks in, the alleyway becomes quiet again, save for the merry whistle of the remaining party. Daitou carefully ties the trash bags with the focus of a child wanting to impress the parents with a chore well done. Halfway through he stops and gasps, surprised.

"Oh man, did I really just say 'my woman'? How embarrassing." He blushes and shyly pushes the wrapped slabs away. "I haven't even asked her out yet, ya know? Better not rat me out, Mr. Stalker." He snickers at his monologue and continues the cleanup. 

"Can you really not refrain yourself from smoking in here?" You try to fan away the puff of smoke, scowling at the young blonde man sitting across the table. 

"Why do you even care so much?" Kazuya groans and stuffs the remains of the cigarette in the ashtray.

"I don't want my carrot cake tasting like tobacco. You're lucky the old man is afraid of you, otherwise you would've gotten your ass banned a long time ago."

"You know, I've been thinking about it lately - haven't you gotten quite the attitude? You have a big mouth for someone surrounded by dangerous gangsters. I could blow your brains out right now." 

He lowers himself in his seat and briefly lifts his shirt, flashing a carelessly tucked in gun. He stares at you for a few seconds, as if expecting a reaction, then lets out a chuckle upon seeing your indifferent expression. 

"Shameless. You could at least try to pretend you don't know I have a soft spot for you."

"Just a wild guess, but your Boss probably wouldn't appreciate you shooting civilians in the middle of a café. That's all." You respond with a shrug. 

Your banter is interrupted by Daitou's heavy footsteps nearing in your direction. Kazuya waves, signaling your location, and kicks a chair out, inviting his friend to join. 

"Where the hell were you last night? I thought you'd come with us for drinks after that long ass questioning."

"Sorry, I had to take care of something." Daitou returns an apologetic smile and tilts his head to gaze at you. "Which reminds me, I brought you this."

Your eyes widen in surprise and a faint red tints your cheeks. Was there some special occasion you didn't know about? He places a small box in your hands and leans back in his chair with a cheerful smirk on his face. Kazuya watches the interaction, equally curious as you. 

You open the mysterious gift, giddy with anticipation. The nauseating smell abruptly invades your nostrils and you can feel the contents of your stomach bubble up and pile at the back of your throat. You gag involuntarily and slap your hands over your mouth, as the box tumbles down. A single severed human finger and some teeth glistening with moisture roll out. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Kazuya jumps from his seat, toppling over the table in the process, and lunges at Daitou's throat. The latter can only stare in shock, baffled at a reaction he didn't foresee. There's genuine confusion shaping his features.

"But-...I thought..."

"What the hell did you think, that you'd show up with fucking human remains over some tea and cake?! Jesus, Daitou, she ain't our Lieutenant!"

"But I did- I did tell (Y/N) I'd..." he tries to find you with a pleading, worried look. 

Once the risk of vomiting on the floor has diminished, you shove yourself between the men and gently try to remove Kazuya's arm, still clawed around the other man's throat.

"Let him go, Kazuya. He didn't mean to scare me." You glance at Daitou reassuringly. "Does that mean the stalker guy is now a solved matter?"

The yakuza nods energetically, his eyes now sparkling with pride. He knew you'd understand. Once the tension is lifted, you quickly sweep the gory tokens back into their box and explain the situation to Kazuya. He collapses back in his seat with a frustrated sigh, facepalming himself. 

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I should've told you he's being serious when he says shit like this." He glares at his friend. "She didn't actually expect you to go ahead and do it, dumbass. Couldn't you just mention it or something? 'Hey, I took care of that pervert following you around'! You think she would've demanded proof?"

Daitou is nervously fidgeting with his glass eye, as if searching for the proper words.

"But you always say women will like you more if you surprise them with gifts." He concludes with a pout.

There's a prolonged moment of silence and you burst our laughing, as the blonde simultaneously lets out an exasperated whine. You cannot get over the bizarre sight in front of you: someone as massive and imposing as Daitou, cornered like a punished school boy. 

"See, this is what I've been telling Boss. You're a lost cause." Kazuya rests his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between him and Daitou and continuing with a lecturing tone. "If you got a crush on someone, you bring them flowers or something! What are you, a crackhead? Do I have to teach you basic manners?"

"More importantly, uh...what should I do with these? I guess jewelry made of teeth is a thing, but the finger? Won't it go bad?" you cautiously dangle the package next to your ears, listening to the rustle of its contents. 

Kazuya rips the box from you.

"I'm starting to suspect you don't have all the tiles on your roof either. I'll get rid of it, so you better pretend nothing ever happened. Are we clear?"

Both you and Daitou nod obediently.

On your way back, the man can't help the excitement building up in his chest. You liked his gift, didn't you? He hasn't done anything wrong. Does that make it official, then? As he ponders the implications, he peeks at your small frame, barely managing to keep up with him. Would it be alright if he reached for your hand? Is he supposed to ask first? All these steps confuse him to no end.

Nonetheless, he couldn't be more thankful for you. 

[ivyblossom]

I Have Become a Crow Friend.

It started because I commute to work on an e-scooter, and a couple of crows had started to fly along side me. I mean close, maybe two feet from from my face. I know this isn't unusual behaviour for a crow, but for me it's magical. I am flying with crows! I presume they're gliding in my wake and it's fun for them, because they started to do it every morning. I wanted them to know that I admire them and want good things for them, so I started to travel with a bag of unsalted, unshelled peanuts. When I got to the end of the road where they glide with me, I stop and leave some peanuts on the grass for them, and then I continue on my journey.

Well, they certainly know who I am now, and so does their extended family. They get my attention in a number of ways. Sometimes they will fly directly in front of my scooter, and I fear I'm going to hit them, but I don't, because they know what they're doing. They will fly in my eye line and land in a place where I can't miss them. There is one set of cousins down the road who thought shouting at me and waiting for me to come out of a building would be a good idea, but I did not reward that, and it hasn't happened since. They don't normally shout at me, they just flirt with me by flying with me, being beautiful in my presence, and giving me the eye. Then I give them treats.

One day I couldn't ride my e-scooter because of the weather so I walked my route. I traded my usual blue coat for a warmer red one with the hood up, and no orange helmet. I figured my crow friends would ignore me, since I am no longer a wheeled creature with blue feathers and an orange head. But no: they know who I am. They know the scooter is a vehicle that I ride, they know the coat and the helmet are things I'm wearing. My crow friends recognize my face. I know this totally normal behaviour for crows, but I am honoured by it nonetheless.

I always talk them. I greet them. I warn them about weather that's coming. I ask them how they're doing. My ultimate goal is to have them talk back to me, which I know they are fully capable of doing. And one day maybe the crows in this area will spot people walking alone in the woods and will shout out, "Hello, friend!" and freak them the fuck out. That's the kind of legacy I'm after. My quest continues.

[mammonsrockstargf]

It starts small. You honestly don't think much of it. Crows begin leaving you gifts in your window frame. It's pretty rocks. It's a small screw. It's coins and grimm, it's a button from a shirt, it's shiny beads.

You bring it up to Mammon randomly one day. He stares at you wide-eyed. "What, you mean crowns leave ya gifts? Sound ridiculous," he says and you shrug.

"I mean, I've heard about crows leaving gifts for humans before. It's not that unusual, but usually, the humans give something to the crows in return," you say, thinking aloud. "That's the part that confuses me. I haven't given anything to the crows, so why do they like me so much?" Mammon's cheeks are bright red by now, the blush going all the way down his neck. Your brows furrow with concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" you ask and he nods quickly. "Yeah, 'm fine, gotta-go-see-ya! " he stutters and quickly leaves you, practically running away. You look after him in confusion. Weren't you both just supposed to be headed home?

The gifts continue. You get a single earring. At one point you get a small bone and at another time you get a tooth which leaves you a bit unsettled but also intrigued. You treasure every single gift, keeping it in a small box by your desk. You begin to leave the crows gifts in return. You find that they like peanuts and berries. One time you experimentally leave a big piece of watermelon, only to find it devoured within minutes.

The next day there's a pretty locket with what looks like a flower engraved in it. You gape at the locket and instantly put it on, proudly wearing it around your neck. You make sure to leave the crows a feast that day.

Satan is the first brother to notice it when it slips out from the collar of your uniform one day. "Is that new?" he asks. "Oh yeah, I've befriended a bunch of crows." Satan stops in his tracks and stares at you.

"You've befriended crows?" He repeats and you nod. "Yes. Why is everyone so weird about this?" A knowing smile creeps onto his face and he shakes his head.

"Why do you think the crows like you so much?" he asks. You hum, considering it for a second. Eventually, you have to draw a blank and look at Satan in defeat. His smile only grows wider.

"Ask Mammon. He might know."

You find Mammon in his room, lying in his bed. He smiles when he sees you and pats the bed, motioning you to come over. "Come here," he says and you do, lying down next to him. He huffs and pulls at you so you're lying on his chest. You can feel his heart beating and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Hey, Mamms," you say and he runs his hand down your back, rubbing circles into it. "Hey, treasure," he says and grins.

"Satan says you might know the cause of my new friendships." His cheeks turn crimson in an instant and he lets out something akin to a nervous laugh. "Oh, the crows, you mean?" you huff and playfully roll your eyes. "Come on, big guy, spill the beans," you say and Mammon sighs.

"So, the crows like you, because, well, I told them about you," he says and a grin spreads across your face. "Go on," you say.

"Okay, I have crow familiars, you know what a familiar is, right?" he says and looks at you expectantly. You rake your brain, remembering briefly having about it in one of your classes. "Yeah, it's like witches with black cats, right?" you say and Mammon hums.

"Yeah, kind of, but anyone can have a familiar and it can be any animal. The whole black cat thing is just something the catholic church made up." You nod in understanding while Mammon continues to rub patterns into your back. The beating of his heart seems to have become louder underneath you. "So what you're saying is you can't shut up about how awesome I am and now a bunch of crows are obsessed with me?" you say and Mammon hides his face in his hands. You giggle and pry his hands away, smiling at him adoringly.

"Please don't make fun of me," he huffs and you pout at his antics. "I could never tease my lovely little bird boy," you coo and Mammon groans while pushing you off him. He turns his back to you and you laugh manically. "Come on, Mamms, It's cute," you say and press soft kisses to the nape of his neck. "you're cute," you say and throw an arm and a leg over him, attempting to spoon him. You feel him instantly melting to your touch, completely unable to keep his resolve. It's almost too easy when he turns around again to face you. You smile at his pink face.

"I really like the gifts the crows gave me," you reassure him because you genuinely do. It's become something you look forward to when you open your window.

"You do?"

"Yeah, absolutely," you affirm and he smiles sheepishly. "I once tried to train them to steal money for me, but it didn't work."

a/n: thanks for reading! find my other stuff here <3

[thecharacterchronicler]

There Will Come A Ruler (1) || Coriolanus Snow x Reader (+18)

Outline: You agreed to a marriage of convenience with Coriolanus Snow to please your parents and be an asset in his campaign to become the new president of Panem. On your first wedding anniversary, the man who you barely spend time with and hardly know, tells you that he wants you to give him a heir.

Word count: 3’938

Warnings: pregnancy (TTC), marriage of convenience, explicit smut (+18)

(( Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top )) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable ))

You sat at your vanity, adjusting the necklace of pearls around your neck. The reflection in the mirror showed such an elegant woman, with the poise and grace expected of a future First Lady. You had even managed to master the art of making your fake smiles appear real, leading on everyone to believe that you were living a dream, even though things were nothing like what you’d let on in front of the people of Panem.

You repowdered your face, and brushed your hair to make sure you looked flawless before taking a deep breath and leaving the intimacy of your bedroom, the one only you slept in, to go downstairs and join your husband for dinner.

Tonight was one of the few nights he wasn’t working late or had a business dinner or event to attend. Those nights dining in your manor, just the two of you without any guests always felt strange since they were so unusual. You had a cook and a waiter, employees hired to serve you and care for everything so that the only thing expected from you was to show up, dressed and polished for the occasion. Not that Coriolanus would have noticed if you had showed up for this dinner in your pajamas and messy hair, he’d usually be too busy reading the newspaper or writing his next speech to even look at you during the meal. Then, you’d retire back to your bedroom and he would stay working late in his office until he too, would go back to his room, at the far opposite of yours in the opulent manor you resided in.

It had been a year of this routine, ignoring each other unless there were some peering eyes to scrutinize you or some important people to impress. You couldn’t say you were unhappy because what was there to complain about ? You lived in a gorgeous house, you had the privileges associated with being a powerful man’s wife and you were free to spend your days and money as you pleased, the only rule being to never, ever, do anything that could reflect badly on your politician of a husband. Days were sweet and easy. A lot more than what you had imagined when you were told that your parents had agreed for you to marry a complete stranger, just because it was an honor and a wonderful opportunity to be chosen as the fiancée of one of the most important people in Panem. The fact that you had never talked to Coriolanus Snow once before didn’t matter, the papers were signed and three days later, you found yourself walking down the aisle to a blond man, dressed in white as you were, to vow each other love and support until death brought you apart in front of a crowd of cameras, reporters and nosy onlookers.

You made your way to the dining room. With its large windows, it offered one of the best views on the garden and greenhouse, which were always well taken care of, not a single strand of grass out of line or a single rose withering without being cut off of its branch. The furnitures were simple, yet luxurious and the long table was perfect for you to sit at opposite ends from your husband. It was much easier for you to ignore each other, separated by two rows of empty seats and various dishes and platters scattered across the table.

The cook always made five courses meals , with refined food and expensive wine , and although it was only the two of you, tonight was no exception. The hors d’œuvres and entrees had been served already, red wine filling the crystal glasses on each end of the glass table. However, one thing wasn’t right…

“Mrs Snow.” Your husband greeted you, with the same politically warm smile you had mastered to do too by taking example on him.

You stopped on your way to your seat, unsure of what to expect. Despite the few meals you had shared in privacy, he had never been waiting for you standing by the window, with a glass in hand and a gorgeous rose in the other . Nor had he been so perfectly dressed and groomed for such an occasion. Usually, you could tell he had spent a long day working or attending events, his clothes always classy but his light hair frequently tousled and light purple lines under his eyes. This time though, it looked like he had dressed and prepared himself just for you, wearing his best suit and his blond locks perfectly combed back.

“Mister Snow.” You replied, observing him with a sucpicious expression.

“Happy anniversary.” He said, taking the few steps that still separated him from you to hand you the white rose he held. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, something definitely wasn’t right as he never had such caring gestures towards you if they weren’t witnessed by others. But you took the rose, politely thanking him. And surveyed the room carefully in search of a camera or an important guest you might have missed… But you didn’t find anything to justify his odd behavior. “I asked the chef to make your favorite dish for the occasion.”

You knew Coriolanus had no idea what it was, but the fact that he had been so thoughtful to ask should have been enough.

He pulled your chair for you, like the perfect gentleman he was but never bothered to be if it didn’t benefit his image, and you sat at the table, taking in the carefully presented trays of all the things you liked to eat in front of you.

The waiter entered to serve both of you, because since you became Mrs Snow, you apparently weren’t required to do the most basic things, such as filling your own plate with food yourself anymore.

Coriolanus raised his glass of wine to you, proposing to toast to the first of many years together before drinking a long sip out of his beverage. You knew you didn’t have a choice but to do the same, as etiquette dictated it, but his sudden acknowledgment of your existence was enough to make you want to throw your glass at his face and demand he told you what he was up to. But of course, you knew better than to cause a scene, even in privacy.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to know sixty percent of the voters are favoring me for presidency.” He stated, with a proud smile you couldnt quite tell if real or forced. “Gaul says that with a few more efforts, I should be able to gain the majority, and then I’ll unquestionably win the elections.”

“That’s wonderful.” You replied, truly hoping Coriolanus will be elected to rule over Panem. It was the only thing he wanted and cared about, you didn’t want to imagine the depth of his misery if he didn’t make it. You also might have not known your husband intimately at all but, since you often had to accompany him for official duties, you had learned a thing or two about the way he’d address important business. “Is there anything I can do to help ?”

You saw him smile at your question. A genuine smile, letting you know you were asking exactly what he was hoping you would.

“Well, according to the surveys, I seem to have convinced most of the older electors . However, one part of the population seems to still have doubts about my program.” He explained, while the waiter refilled his glass of wine. “Apparently, families don’t believe I have their best interest at heart.”

“A few more events centered around children and education and I’m sure they’ll be acquired to your cause.” You said, understanding that he probably meant to ask you to accompany him more often to those, as a proof that he cared enough.

“Surely, but Gaul also suggested we start a family of our own to appear more relatable.”

You swallowed your wine with difficulty, the bitterness burning down your throat at his words. Your chest tightened, your heart pounding wildly.

“We agreed on having our first child after five years of marriage.” You reminded him, and by the way his pale eyes focused on you, you knew you were about to start an important business negotiation with him.

“Unfortunately, I need the support of these voters now, not in five years.”

“We signed a contract that detailed this topic very clearly.”

“And in that contract, you vowed to support me in my endeavors and give me two heirs at minimum. I don’t think getting started on our family now instead of later will make much of a difference to you.”

“You are asking me to carry and birth a baby but it won’t make much of a difference to me ?!” You snapped, raising your voice louder than you should have.

“What I meant to say is that you’re going to have to do it sooner or later. Might as well be now so you’re done with this part of your duty. It would benefit me greatly, and you too.”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from shouting at him. The way he was so detached about it all made you unreasonably angry. You had agreed to give him children and he was right, you knew that sooner or later you’d have to get it over with but in all honesty, it wasn’t the idea of being pregnant that gave you anxiety but the thought of what you had to do in order to achieve that.

You were good at putting up a show for the public, pretending to be perfectly in love and happy together but in truth, you didn’t even know this man. He was a stranger, living in the same house as you and that was about it. Imagining anything more intimate with him seemed preposterous.

“I’ll need to think about it.” You told him, and he nodded quietly. He was gracious enough to accept that answer for now but you knew he’d have things his way, wether you agreed or not.

●○●○●○●○●○●

You spent a sleepless night tossing and turning in your satin sheets, mulling over Coriolanus’ request. Damn Dr. Gaul and her bright ideas ! It already was her fault if you had been chosen to be Mister Snow’s perfect wife, an honor in the eyes of most but it felt oddly similar to being picked as a tribute and sent into the arena to you. You didn’t have much say in what you wanted then, you knew you didn’t have anymore to say now. You really were faced with only two choices; either agree and conceive a child, either take the risk of being replaced by a more willing - and less opiniated - new wife.

It took you until the next evening to finally accept that you only had one resonable answer to give him. Unfortunately, the hours seemed to pass by way too slowly since Coriolanus wasn’t home for supper that night, leaving you alone in the empty dining room with your thoughts. You had waited for him for a while, enjoying the cosy living room as night fell over the Capitol until you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore and fell asleep on the teal sofa by the chimney.

When you woke up, the flames that had kept you warm were merly embers. You hadn’t noticed the difference in temperature, thanks to one of the house employees who had been thoughtful enough to cover you with a warm wool blanket. You rose up and stretched, deciding to finish your night in the comfort of your bed but when you walked passed your husband’s office, you noticed a light seeping from underneath the door.

After a gentle knock, you tentatively turned the knob to enter the room you had never been in before. Just like his bedroom, his office usually was a place you avoided in order to keep the distances between the two of you when you didn’t have to fake a happy marriage for others.

You weren’t too surprised by the luxurious items that decorated the room, the white couch and the very large desk in the center of the room were very much in Coriolanus’s style; classic and elegant. But what really caught your attention in this unknown territory was the man behind the desk, dishelved, with his tie undone and the first few buttons of his shirt opened. In a year of living together, you had never seen your husband look so… common.

“You’re awake.” He remarked, leaning back in his armchair and rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“And so are you.”

“I usually don’t go to bed before three or four o’clock.”

You glanced at the clock on the mantel of his fireplace, indicating three twenty five. You quickly did the math, realizing how little sleep he got since most days, when you got up and had breakfast at seven in the morning, he always already was off to his other office in town.

“Don’t you think you might be overworking yourself ?” You asked him, finally daring to fully step inside the room and approach his desk.

“It’s better than having nightmares.” He confessed, matter of factly before looking away from you, as if he hadn’t meant to say something so personal to you. “Did you need something ?”

You stopped in front of the white desk, standing with your thighs pressed against the edge. Even sitting, he still looked quite taller than you.

“I’d like a whole new wardrobe designed by Fabricia Whatnot, a pond in the greenhouse with koi fishes and to add some shelves to the library with more up to date books, mostly romance.”

Coriolanus’ intrigued pale blue eyes observed you, the ghost of an amused smile on his lips.

“And what will I get in exchange of all of this ?” He asked, although his smirk showed he already knew the answer.

“A heir.” You replied, with the satisfaction of at least gaining the most you could ask for out of the deal. His smile grew wider, and you wondered if it was a genuine one. It had to be. It seemed so much warmer than his other ones…

“Then you’ll get everything you want, sweetheart.” You smiled at him, genuinely happy with this outcome although the perspective of what was meant to happen next still terrified you.

He stood from his chair, eyes remaining fixed on you as he walked around his desk to join you on the other side. You felt a shiver run up your spine once he was close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his skin onto yours.

With a hand on each of your hips, he lifted you up to sit you down on the edge of his desk. He looked down at you, his face so close to yours and even if it caused your heartbeat to go wild, you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. He never did.

Instead, he finished unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, revealing his unexpectedly muscular chest, a vague testament left of his previous life as a peacekeeper in the districts.

He placed his white shirt on the desk next to you, careful to fold it neatly enough to avoid creasing before focusing his attention back on you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his hands on you again, first against the bare skin of your legs and slowly but unmistakably making their way up to your thighs, bringing your skirt up in their wake. A ragged breath escape your lips when his fingers trailed the elastic of your underwear, exploring the shape of it by following its lines until suddenly, the warmth and roughness of his fingers had slipped under the fabric and pressed directly on your skin.

He reached between your legs rather gently, a finger slipping between your folds and softly tracing a few lines connecting your entrance to your clit He was being considerate enough to take things slow and prepare you for him, which was something you strangely didn’t expect him to do. Well to be fair, in all twelve months you had been Coriolanus Snow’s wife, you hadn’t given much thoughts to what intimacy might be like with him. Of course, you knew it would have to happen eventually, you had signed a contract after all but you usually avoided fantasizing about it.

You knew Coriolanus probably had an abundance of mistresses to please him whenever he wanted - or needed - them. He was a very good looking man. You knew that already, but seeing him as he was tonight, without much care to his appearance, was yet another proof of how devastatingly handsome he could be.

You liked the way he caressed you, it was the most intimate touch you had ever shared together, and it somehow felt nice to connect with him. But it also was pretty obvious that, even in a situation such as this one, he still was very much in control of himself and of every aspect of what was happening. It was unfair. If he was asking you to let go and was slowly but surely awakening your desire for him with the way his finger still circled your center, he might as well abandon his pretenses and enjoy it too.

Determined to help, you reached out for his pants, unbuttoning them before he could protest and pulling out the hardened length of his cock out of his underwear. It was so rigid and warm in your hand, dark veins running all along his shaft up to his pale tip, which was slightly glistening already. You looked back at him unable to conceal your surprise at how ready he was for you already. You hadn’t done anything to get him in the mood, nor had you removed a single piece of clothing yet but he already seemed to be throbbing with desire with the simple anticipation of what was about to happen.

You ran your thumb over his tip, collecting a drop of his precum with a blush creeping to your cheeks. He stared at you as you did, refusing to let any emotions show on his face but unable to stop himself from shuddering. It helped you feel more confident. With a soft smile for him, you used your other hand to undo the bow around your waist, which held your dress together. It came undone by itself, revealing your chest to him which caused his eyes to darken slightly.

A silent struggle seemed to take place in his mind, hesitating between following his plan as he had imagined it, methodically proceeding in order to procreate or giving in to the violent pulsion of pure lust he felt at the sight of your gorgeous body , taking you like a wild animal rather than pretending to be a gentleman.

You huffed in surprise when you felt his finger slip once more into your wetness before he pushed it inside you, as deeply as it could go. In return, you pumped his cock a few times, enjoying the sight of him trying to resist the pleasure it instantly gave him. He moved his finger in and out of you in synch with your own movements along his shaft before deciding that you were stretched enough to add another one and try to expand you a bit more. You moaned and immediately bite your lip to silence yourself, if he was being careful to not lose control over any of this then you were determined to do the same. But the way he smirked with satisfaction as the sound of your whimper of exctasy when he added a third finger inside you almost caused you to climax already.

You lifted your hips up, trying to move your body and get him to hit even deeper inside you which seemed to amuse him. He liked the way you were slowly starting to lose your mind over the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you.

You gently tugged on his erection still firmly squeezed in your fist, attempting to bring him closer so that he would understand that you were more than ready to take him, as big as he was.

His fingers left you, your walls pulsing with a need for more but instead of his cock pushing past your entrance, it’s his lips savagely crashing against yours that you felt. It was a messy kiss, full of unspoken words and concealed passion finally pouring out. A kiss that was nothing like the chaste, picture perfect, kiss you had shared on your wedding day.

The next moment, his lips were gone and he yanked you to the edge of his desk by a tight grip on your wet panties. They teared under the pressure of his movement and, with the fabric out of his way, all he had left to do was press his hips between your legs spread opened and slam his cock inside you. It was so sudden, your eyes rolled back with the intensity of it all for a moment.

A panted breath escaped his lips, letting you know you felt as good to him as he felt to you. He was trying to stay focused on you, trying to keep his first few thrusts slow and long but as soon as you moaned, the last of his restrain dissolved and he slammed himself back in, shoving his entire length inside you and hitting deep where you so desperately needed to feel him.

With one hand on your hip and the other reaching for your bra, he rocked you in rythym with his blunt thrusts and you definitely gave up on staying silent, letting your loud noises fill his office and probably resonate in the entire manor.

Your body tensed, clenching his cock so hard that you felt it even deeper and it sent you off the edge. Your legs trembled and your vision blurred as a wave of exceptional pleasure took hold of your entire being, making you feel dizzy and satisfied all at once. No matter the strength of the orgasm shaking your body, your husband kept thrusting abruptly in and out of you at the same pace for a bit longer until you felt his warm release filling you up and he collapsed in your arms, panting.

You brought your hands to his soft blond hair, gently playing with his curls as you kept your eyes shut and tried to regain your senses, your legs still shaking and your core still pulsating around him.

A moment went by during which you almost felt close to the stranger you had married, like you finally knew a very intimate part of him but as soon as he had managed to catch his breath, he pulled out of you and regained his flawless, controlled composure.

“Do you think it worked ?” You asked him, still lightly panting.

He put his softening erection back in his pants and reached for his shirt before taking back his place behind his desk.

“I think we should keep trying, just to be sure.” He replied, with a glance at you that clearly betrayed the excitement he felt at the idea of doing it all again with you.

Next in this series:

[cho-aaacho]

Jealousy isn't really your style, is it?

Masterlist

Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.

Gojo Satoru

He becomes increasingly silent—too silent until you can't detect his emotion. His appetite vanished as waves of jealousy showered on his mind. You don't even notice that at first, thinking he might be tired from work.

However, as the sun goes down to the horizon and is replaced by the moonlight, his smile fades whenever your eyes meet his. He refrains from calling you endearing nicknames, skips the usual sensual morning kiss, and avoids his favorite cookies. When you suggest playing video games, Gojo simply groans and leaves you alone.

What's happening to him? Did you hurt your sweetheart? No. Until the sky falls, you don't have a heart to hurt your sweetheart.

You can't let the stillness linger; you can't leave everything unresolved. It's so hurtful, to be honest. Why would Gojo be so selfish like this? You need to find out what's going on with your little sweetheart.

That night, Gojo stood in his favorite spot within the apartment, drowning in the beautiful goldfish in the aquarium. Golden and yellow, reflected in his eyes like sunflower petals.

He gently tapped his finger on the aquarium's glass, making the whole atmosphere feel so cold. Gojo seemed unusually relaxed, in contrast to the person he once was. 

"I know I might come off as a boring and annoying man. People often say that, and I usually don't care about it at all because I understand it's not important. But when it comes from you—please... I don't want to hear that."

You do not quite understand what he means, but Gojo appears deeply hurt. His azure eyes, his words, his breath, the cologne he uses this time, the way he gazes at you—something feels off and unplaced.

This is the first time you've seen him so blue and so pained that the warmth in his lovely presence is almost undetectable. Everything is gone.

"Hey, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it hurts me when you smile at other guys. I want you to be mine, and only mine, and no one else. Please don't do that again, because you're irreplaceable. If I lose you, I can't find another like you."

Geto Suguru 

At first, he doesn't show his jealousy because Geto is the sweetest.

However, there comes a moment when he becomes more affectionate—increased physical touch, frequent kisses, hugs, showering you with praise, texting you almost every hour.

And when he does these things, he always leaves a sarcastic comment like, "I'm a better man, aren't I?" or "Can you see how much I care about you more than anyone else?"

and "I hope you're not blind enough to understand my affection."

also "I know you're not stupid enough to leave me alone. Because I hate being a loner."

It's somewhat annoying because Geto rarely behaves like this. It's simply... so strange, leaving you confused about whether it's a prank by the twins, if something horrible has hit him, or maybe he is too much into reading a weird romantic novel.

That morning, when you are sleeping on his lap, feeling his love, warmth, and kindness, he delicately traces his fingertips across your cheeks, down to your jawline, then meanders to your nose, pinching it gently, leaving a small chuckle before circling back to playfully tease the contour of your lips.

He leaned closer, sealing a gentle kiss on the nose tip and moving before grazing your lips with a small nibble. "Did Satoru ever kiss you like this? I doubt he has done this to you."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion etching your expression. "What do you mean, Suguru-kun?"

He sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed, cutie. I may not match Satoru's strength, but I'm not stupid. What were you up to with him last week? You seemed quite charmed with him, didn't you?"

He added. "Should I end both of you, so he can't have you and you can't have him? But I lack the heart to harm you, sweet love. Stop talking with that man. Because I hate sharing my love with someone else."

Nanami Kento

A tough man, he doesn't even realize if jealousy is starting to invade him; perhaps you might label it as denial. 

He puts on a facade that everything is fine, brushing off any concerns by assuming them to be mere imagination or work-induced stress.

No, you didn't cheat or talk with another man. You're always a nice woman to Nanami Kento, and of course, never in your wildest dreams will you hurt your man. 

However, a weird sensation starts to trouble him the next day when his coworkers engage in silly gossip about him and you. 

Whispers float behind him, dripping with a sarcastic tone like, "How could a good woman like her date someone like Nanami-san? He's so boring."

and someone chimes in. "Yeah, I heard she dumped Gojo-san and went with him; why does she think like that?"

From that moment onward, everything feels upside down.

Each day, each time, every time he sees your face, catches your gaze, and hears your voice echoing in his ears, all of these hurt him. 

He feels like he doesn't deserve you and thinks that perhaps you can find another guy, someone special, someplace that would make you safe and happy, someone who could make you feel at home whenever you run to them. 

And that man is not me.

"I realize I might not be as caring as other men, or perhaps I come off as too boring for someone like you. Honestly, I don't wish for your kindness to be shared with anyone else—even a fleeting smile from you stirs a deep ache within me. Maybe it's an obsession, but if you allow me to share my jealousy, I don't want you to meet that guy, Gojo Satoru. For heaven's sake, I fear losing all control and ending up hurting you. I love you." 

Fushiguro Megumi

Honestly, his anger management is the worst. There are scenes when he appears calm, collected, and cute, but, again, it's merely a facade he is creating, especially in your presence. 

When the flames of jealousy shower on Megumi, flirting with his life, everything transforms into a hellish field.

He loses his temper and becomes easily offended whenever Yuuji attempts to engage in conversation with him, roasting everyone in sight. The situation continues until Maki beats him and tells him how annoying he is.

He has a terrible urge to throw punches at everyone, driven by the need to tell them that you belong to him. He needs to make it clear that you're already committed to someone else and that your heart is sealed with Fushiguro Megumi. Only with that man and no one else.

His intention is not just to show his obsession but also to dissuade others from bothering both of you. He longs to compel them to kneel, satisfying his fleeting sense of pride.

It's pretty hilarious because whenever Gojo catches wind of it, he bursts into laughter and playfully teases Megumi all day. Well, it's natural for anyone to have jealousy within them, but... doesn't Megumi take it a bit too far?

You've observed this pattern and tried to convince your dear boyfriend that everything around him is just his imagination. He shouldn't be worrying, and he just hurts himself by treating people like that.

Yet, Megumi is Megumi.

"I don't think I'm overreacting to this. When I'm upset, I express it openly. It's frustrating when people assume I'm obsessed with you—I'm not. I just don't want you to get involved with someone who isn't worth it for you. I fear you'll end up hurt. You can choose me; I can prove not only to you but to everyone that I am the one who truly deserves you."

Choso

Choso isn't typically the jealous type, but when he notices a certain closeness between you and his brothers, everything changes. 

He genuinely cares for his brothers, going to great lengths to ensure their happiness and love. He values the bond you share with his brothers and cherishes the love and affection you have for each other.

However...

It's hard for him to put it into words. Everything is stuck in his throat and sealed inside his head. 

Every time he sees you with his brothers blossoming an indescribable feeling within him, it's a burning sensation that's hard to bear. The flame is starting to burn him alive.

The way you share meals with them or laugh at their jokes—all of these irritate him to the point that they make his heart beat so fast. Choso is aware that these emotions are too complicated; he can't hate his brothers, but the heart has a way of contradicting logic. 

How could God put love in his heart?

He fondly recalls the first snow you experienced together, the gentle embrace of summer against his skin, and the golden glow of spring's sun. 

But he still wonders when he falls in love with you. Maybe since the first time he met you? Or else?

"I find immense joy in sharing my time and days with you. My brothers seem to love you as well. Everything about you is beautiful, and I cherish the moments we share. I fear losing you and our precious time; that's why I act this way when you're with them. I want to be the one you choose."

[uluvjay]

Daddy?- M. Verstappen

Max Verstappen x fem! Reader

Request: Max finding out that he’s gonna be a dad and then wearing his daddy shirt

Warnings?; Fluff, pregnancy announcement, kissing, cursing, talks of anxiety and worry, lightly proofread, i apologize for any errors!, ending isn’t the best im sorry

You knew the shirt was the perfect way to tell him the second you found it online, after years of jokingly calling him daddy after a tweet you’d seen early in your relationship this was the best way.

However it was no longer a joke and within a few months he’d actually become a father, your little boy or girl soon to be welcomed into this world.

You set everything up while he was at training, in a pretty white box you placed down your original test next to the ultrasound you’d gotten at the doctors a few days ago before covering it up with the shirt.

Putting some pretty white flowers in a vase you set them next to the box, getting the tiny cake you’d ordered ready in the fridge.

You waited until you heard his keys fidgeting with the lock before jumping up and making your way to the front door.

“Hi Schat, everything okay?” He questioned at your unusual greeting.

“Mhm, have something i wanna show you.” You smiled reaching a hand out for him to grasp.

“Okay.” He nodded sliding his free hand in yours and dropping his keys into the bowl my the door.

Letting you guide him into your large kitchen max stayed silent, his eyes admiring the way your hair flowed and the pretty white dress you were wearing hugged your body.

Stopping at the counter your turned around smiling at him brightly, “are you ready?” You asked softly and he could hear a hint of worry in your voice.

“Yes.” He laughed.

Moving out of the way you revealed the box, max looked at you a little confused at the sudden gift.

“If I knew you were getting me something I would’ve gotten you a gift on my way home.” He grumbled, hating when you spent money on him and didn’t allow him to repay it somehow.

“Just shush and open the box.” You laughed.

Max mocked you with a laugh before opening the box, his laugh echoing through the room as he read the shirt.

“A daddy shirt? Who put you up to this.” He smiled looking down at you.

“Pull it out of the box and you’ll see.”

He shook his head before pulling the black shirt out of the box, his bubbly demeanor calming down in seconds at what sat below him.

Picking up the ultrasound he brought it close to his eyes, making sure he was seeing things correctly.

“I-is that…are you-are we pregnant?” He spoke looking down at you.

“Mhm.” You nodded, lip stuck between your teeth in anxiety.

“Oh my god..we’re having a baby?”

“Holy fuck we’re having a baby!” He smiled, thick arms wrapping around your body as he lifted you into the air.

Your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms went around his neck. All the anxiety you’d felt moments before washed away the second his arms went around you.

“I can’t believe this.” He whispered into the crook of your neck.

“Me either.” You laughed, leaning back slightly to wipe the tears that had fallen.

He held you for a few more minutes before setting you softly on your feet and dropping to his knees, his hands rolling up your silky dress to reveal your stomach to him.

“Hi Schatje this is your papa speaking, we’re so excited for you, me and momma can’t wait to meet our little lion.” He spoke softly, his lips placing pecks along your skin.

Standing to his feet Max pulled you into him, his lips locking with yours pouring all his emotions into the kiss, this one was different then his usual strong and dominant kisses.

Pulling away he pressed his forehead against yours, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, daddy.”

-

[mochinomnoms]

The second morning Yuu wakes up after becoming Floyd's mate, they yawn, as usual. Floyd interprets that as "I'm horny," as morays do, and, when Yuu tries to go about their daily routine, Floyd does NOT allow it. In his eyes, that would be letting his mate spend all day pent-up and needing to cum, which would be what a bad mate would do. Floyd won't let himself be a bad mate.

One problem: he doesn't have the energy to bang right off the bat, nor the time to let himself gain that energy before fulfilling his mate.

One solution: eating Yuu out first thing in the morning. And then they're panting with their mouth wide open, so back in he dives! Again, and again, until Yuu is too tired to open their mouth that far. Then, of course, like a good mate, he makes them breakfast, feeds them in bed, and carries them to the bathroom to brush their hair and such. Rinse and repeat for a few days.

One morning, Floyd wakes first (as usual) and smells something unusual. His mate wakes up slowly, from the pain, and doesn't yawn. That's odd. Normally, he'd eat them out a few times to satiate them before facing the day.

So, he does the moray thing and sniffs Yuu, because something smells...off. A little like... blood? So, he starts at the neck and moves down to the collarbone, then the chest, then the tummy, then the crotch, where he stuffs his nose RIGHT against his mate's hole- underwear in the way- and freaks the hell out, because his precious Kokoroebi-chan is bleeding. From there, still panicking, he wraps them in the blanket like a burrito and it's away to the nurse!

Screw the door to the infirmary, it's in his way, and now the nurse has to explain periods to a moray on the brink of tears- nope, wait, he's crying. What do you mean, "every month?!" What do you mean, you, "can't just end them?!" What do you mean, "they're natural?!" He doesn't care! His mate's in pain! They're hurting! Do something, bitch! Wha- detention?! Shut the fuck up and help them!

Meanwhile, Yuu is just now realizing that of course Floyd doesn't know what that is, he's a fish.

After that chaos, Floyd tends near obsessively to his mate, doing everything they ask and everything they don't but need anyway, like food. Yuu decides morays are way better than moray for the simple reason of no human male would be this doting and helpful.

-nightshade anon

GOD YOUR BRAIN IS SO BIG IT HAS SO MANY FOLDS I have so many thoughts about this that i simply do not have the time to put INTO WORDS AAAAAAA

*slams fit into table* the urge, THE URRRRGE to write a fic this!!!!

[sayoneee]

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑵ㅤㅤ january free requestsㅤ ㅤ trafalgar law x f! reader

🕊️ request: @leftladyluminary ⋆｡˚ Hello ( ^ω^ ) I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem!reader exploring a temple together that turns out to be a uh “procreation” temple the strongly affects those who enter? Please and thank you~ （╹◡╹）♡ 🕊️ tw: mdni. raw, rough sex. vaginal. nipple play. pregnancy ideas implied. cream pie. wc: 1650 🕊️ masterlist

Zou is a humid place, very muddy as well. Your boots are dirty, and your clothing soaking wet. Those “Eruption Rains” become pretty inconvenient throughout the day, but they are necessary.

“I shouldn’t have worn a white shirt…” you tell Law, crossing your arms over your breasts.

“I would say you shouldn’t have worn it without a bra, (Name)-ya” Law says, squeezing and twisting his hat to drain it from the excess of water.

You sit down on a rock. Was it really necessary to say such thing? At best he should be a little bit happy to see your body through semi see through fabrics. What Law has just said felt painful to you, to say the least.

“You are right, I’m sorry” you mumble, walking away to find a proper place to hide and change your clothes. You are sure the ones in your backpack are as wet as your current ones, but something darker will do to cover up.

When the rivers formed in what are usually trails on top of Zuneesha’s back are finally dried, you find a very interesting construction ahead. Curious, as always, you come closer to discover it is a shrine.

“What a beautiful place” you comment in awe. Law seems to be anywhere else. He is probably near, but not close to you.

Curious, you put a step inside the shrine. It isn’t necessarily different from the rest of the temples you have attended in this long journey of piracy. However, somehow in the aura feels unusual to you.

The scent of incense smells more flowery, sweet, maybe even a little bit spicy. The Vitreaux windows create incredible depictions of Orchids on the ground, as the sun filters its rains through them. And the altar has a very distinctive little statue that calls for your hand to touch.

“I wonder what’s this shrine about? What god is meant to be built for?  In fact, do Minks have gods?” you ask yourself, making mental notes to ask Wanda once you are back from your expedition.

Your eyes scan the golden sculpture, it looks like two creatures tangled into each other. You would lie if you said you didn’t think of them having sex, and in fact you giggle for your “witty” thoughts.

There isn’t much to discover besides what you have just seen, but a little sign engraved in an old piece of wood.

“you shall keep your blood flowing; the warriors of the Sun must never disappear; they will fight for freedom and unity during this dark night”

You smile; and immediately after reading you remember Luffy. Even Law recognizes he is as shiny as the Sun itself. You don’t really think much of the true meaning of the sign, and soon after find Law looking at you from the very entrance.

“I turned around and you were gone, I didn’t know where you were” he asks, still soaking wet like a cat left out in the rain and looking a little bit mad at you for disappearing.

You could have picked a fight; you probably could have just brushed it off. But neither of those were your reaction, and unconsciously you lift your arms to stretch. The white shirt, still soaking wet, kept the transparency and with that the show off of your hard nipples presented to Law in its full beauty.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for a place to change” you tell him, with a rather sexy tone.

Law’s sun burnt cheeks turn red, golden eyes widening, pupils getting bigger. The little hints of black eyeliner smudge on his already dark tinted under eyes, the juicy pale lips of your captain slowly separating.

“You thought of changing on a shrine? Getting naked on a temple, (Name)-ya?” he asks, coming closer to you as he lets his yellow bag fall on the floor. Law walks like a snow leopard, slowly, menacing, sexily…

You swallow. That’s not his usual self, not at least with you. He looks like he is about to fight you, or even hurt you.

“L-Law, I wanted to put on a shirt over this one so that my breasts won-“ you shut up, as he strikes you and pins you against the altar.

You put your arms back to get a grip of something as you lose balance. Your hand reaches something cold and tiny and immediately after, his warm inked hand falls on top of yours.

Both, at the same time, touch the little statue behind and it feels like a new energy begins to run through your veins. It doesn’t take you long to finally succumb into a lustful, inappropriate kiss. His hands, all over your waist, lift the wet shirt that’s begun to get hot and too heavy on your skin.

“I have no idea what force is making me do this, but believe me I am not mad about it, (Name)-ya” Law whispers, in between panting and with his lips grazing yours.

“I have no idea either, but don’t you dare stop…”

The Surgeon of Death attacks your lips once again, this time while freeing you completely from your wet coverings… even if, something else in you was getting wetter by the moment.

Maybe it was the force of doing something so incorrect, so unholy on a sacred place… or maybe it was your love? Or even, both? Who knows, perhaps it was something else but the more you kiss, the more your bodies slide down until your back hits the red carpet covered floor.

Law’s tattooed hands squeeze and play with your breasts, almost like a beast ready to engulf his prey. “You wanted me to do this, don’t you?” he asks, reaching for one of your hard nipples, kissing the erected surface and then trapping it with his lips.

“Honestly, yes. I missed your touch…” you moan, realizing you are finally able to indulge in sex. It’s been long enough since you could touch each other, since you could be this intimate.

“I know, I’m sorry…” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your chest.

You know there is nothing to forgive, and immediately after you notice his stitched arm holding the weight of his body on top of you.

“Law… can I be on top this time?” you ask, kissing the scar of his biceps.

His golden eyes shine brightly, apparently he loved the question and nods energetically, even if he felt embarrassed seconds after for doing so.

Soon, you take his place, undressing him faster and straddling your hips on his lap. He is hard, and the grey underwear completely soaked let nothing to the imagination. Deliciously tempting, you feel the impulse to your use your mouth before anything else, but the need of having him inside you is stronger… something invisible is making you desire his seed would fill your womb on and on and on.

You lift your ass from his lap, just a little for your hand to pass through your moved to the side panties and his hardness.

Law gasps when he understands you are not there to waist time on any other type of pleasure that his dick deep inside you.

“Now? but I don’t- I don’t have prot-“ he stutters, fighting in between the need of fucking you rough and reproduction health matters.

“You don’t really need it, I want you raw and rough in me…” you purr, guiding his sex towards your dripping entrance.

Your labia devours his tip, engulfing it with a warm slippery sensation. Law’s neck muscles tense, his head gets thrown back, a moan escapes his lips that resonates all over the shrine.

You do the same as you let yourself fall on top of him for his shaft to be finally entirely inside you. A whine so loud that mixes with his, and it becomes never ending as you start to hump on top of him.

Your hips move up and down, back, and forth and also in circles. Law’s fingers carve marks on the side of your hips and sometimes travel to the small of your back to press you against him with divine force. His hips, who up until now where immobile as pleasure struck him harder than he could ever expected, begin to move too.

“Nggh… let me fuck you faster…” he moans, using all of his strength coming from his core to impale you harder and synchronized to the rhythm of your jumps. The sound of wet sweaty skin slapping against the other become a sacred melody all around, while your nails carve marks as you grip from his heart tattooed pecs.

It doesn’t take you longer for your climaxes to arrive, and while your fingers intertwined with Law’s, your spasming walls milk him so violently… so needy, desperate for his release…

His frown intensifies, he even bites his lower lip but his eyes never shut as his pupils only fix into yours. As if his gaze was trying to anticipate something both knew, willingly to do whatever it takes to make his seed plant on you… deep, inside, of you.

“Fill me up…” “Keep it all inside…”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ...

“Wanda, may I ask you something?” you tap on her soft furry shoulder.

“Yes, honey. Tell me, what is it? Are you ok? You look very tired” the mink says, curious and perhaps a little worried about your state… truth Law wasn’t satisfied with just one round.

“So, I found a Shrine on the forest. It had a little statue; I didn’t get exactly what it was representing. But I remember reading a sign that said something about the warriors of the sun should prevail” you explain.

Wanda giggles. “Well, now I know why you are that tired… you went there with Trafalgar, didn’t you? it’s the procreation shrine, ruled by the sun lovers. That’s where we go to pray when we wanna bear children.. it said to be special forces that help us get pregnant”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Oh…”

[notakoala]

Bakugou cries in front of you, and you only.

In the first few months of your relationship he keeps up a hard and cold barrier, of course getting his usual hot-headed self when someone even slightly irritates him, but you calm him down eventually.

It's not like he has no emotions other than anger, he just had difficulty showing them, even if he really really wants to, he can't.

So when he's hurt one of his friends greatly, he slams the door of his bedroom, laying on his back, on his bed. He even locked the door for good measures, but you had a key anyway. It's not like he couldn't keep you out anyway.

It's when his eyes start to water and he can feel a lump stuck in his throat, it's when he messages you. He normally doesn't use punctuation in his texts, but it's when he's upset he does.

'Come here.'

That's all he messages, even if you haven't messaged him back, he knows you've seen it, or you've heard it from someone that he's slammed his door.

In his past he used to cry a lot too, but only at home and when his mum or dad was with him. His mum would comfort him the best she could, after all she did care about him. Even if he was a bit of a jerk to her sometimes.

She would wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tightly, pecking his forehead softly, running a hand through his hair. Her words would be a lot softer than her usual yelling behaviour.

When he burnt his hands from using his quirk too much she would scold him before comforting him, tending to his wounds before sending him off so she can get back to whatever she was doing before.

"Katsuki?" Your voice sounds out into his pitch black room, the hallway light shining underneath the small crack of the door. Knocking quietly, and trying the knob, it didn't move at all.

The doorknob clicks and you can only just see inside of his room, pushing the door open gently, Katsuki was already sitting back down on his bed, looking away from you. The door clicks closed when you push it back. Leaving the room in darkness again.

All you can hear is the small sniffling coming from him, your steps quickly shift to the foot of his bed. Crawling towards him and giving him a hug, bringing his head to your chest and whispering to him.

"What's the matter, what's got you so upset babe?" Your soft words make him settle into your skin instantly, a small patch on your shirt becoming wet with his tears.

His voice was still harsh as he spoke, but his tears and upset state made his speech croaky when he spoke. "I fucked up babe... M' a shit friend."

"Don't talk down to yourself."

Your words were still soft as you lifted his face and squeezed his cheeks, looking into his tear-stained gaze. He hides his face in your neck and lays down on his back. Bringing you with him and you huff a strained groan, rubbing his hair and breathing in his scent.

His body shudders against yours and your heart aches for him, he squeezes you tighter before letting you lay down next to him, wiping his tears and looking up at his ceiling. Still avoiding eye contact with you.

Sitting up and tying your hair back into a low bun. Your legs cross and you stare at him in silence for a good minute or two.

"I said something about Shitty Hair's past. When he told me. I‐" His voice cuts off as he breathes down the lump in his throat. "I told him it was stupid to think like that."

You stay silent, not wanting to say anything that might anger or upset him more, all you did was nod to his words.

His eyes well up again, before rubbing his eyes with his hands and sobbing again, his hands and arms covering his face so you couldn't see him like that. He hated it when you saw him cry anyway, knowing you didn't mind but the embarrassment in the near future got to him.

Sliding next to his head, you run a hand through his hair and stay quiet. He was quiet, which was unusual of him. But this was a different circumstance, on that you have seen before but never really shown.

You knew your words would comfort him but wouldn't help with the situation, so you sit there and let him cry it out.

Even if he would end up sorting it out he probably wouldn't apologise, or at least give a shit apology. He would go back to you and fall asleep in your arms, asking if he fucked up anymore, to which you would reply that time would tell.

God he hated when you did that.

This was completely based off an image I saw on pinterest, its not the best work I've done but I do have more planned in the future (・ε・｀ )

Now officially edited and proofread

Should I make this a story?

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about Nikto, and that anon ask I answered just a bit ago.

CW for dissociation/depersonalization, unhealthy (but not harmful) coping mechanisms, codependence, Nikto is a very traumatized man

After the hallway incident you’re a bit shaken. A life of a heavy burden, but your shoulders are used to the weight; you’re a medic. But what Nikto offered you in the hallway — no, not offered, but gave, devoted. It makes it hard to breathe.

You’re not sure if what he’s seeking (or perhaps found?) is solace or penance. You don’t think you have much say in the matter really. If God asked His disciples to stop worshipping, would they?

The comparison feels too bold, even in the privacy of your own mind. Smacks of narcissism and ego. You don’t feel powerful. You feel scared. Of what it means to hold this broken, burdened man in the palm of your hand, trying to keep all the pieces together without cutting yourself on them.

Don’t be so careless with your life, you told him.

He’s taken those words as religious creed. He doesn’t storm around corners, guns blazing anymore. Doesn’t drop from heart-stopping heights to stamp-sized targets. Hes not the first one out nor the last one in anymore — though he never lets you get out first or hop in transport last either.

Suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise.

He cares for his wounds now, too. Cleans and changes them regularly, doesn’t over exert them before they’ve healed. You’re so dizzy on pride in him that you kiss the front of his mask one day, telling him “thank you”.

He grunts in something that sounds almost like shock and shakes his head at you. You figure he doesn’t feel he deserves praise for doing as you’ve told him. You do it anyway.

Things start to settle into this new normal.

Until you can’t find him anywhere. He’s become your new shadow, another limb, and suddenly he’s gone like so much smoke. You’re both fresh off a rough, but successful mission. You’ve just finished a stint in the infirmary and your debrief. Usually hed take that time to clean off and change in privacy, back before you could miss him.

Where is he?

You find him bleeding in his room, trying to care for his own wounds. Mask off, shirt gone, a new knife wound added to his macabre collection. You scramble to his side and collapse at his feet, snatching the needle from his shaky, slippery hand.

“Don’t you ever—” you choke on the words, unusual tears welling. You’re a medic; you’re not allowed to cry during treatment. But all you see if Nikto and blood and—

“I am okay,” he says in that low, crackly voice. Gravel in a blender. “It is not bad.”

You swallow and don’t answer, can’t because you’ll start weeping into his wound. Just stitch him up, hands steady even as you sniffle and the rest of you trembles.

When it’s done, you start wiping away the excess, prepping a bandage. He’s so silent you can even hear him breathing, but you feel his eyes like a physical touch. Finally make yourself look up at him meet his piercing eyes.

“You come back to me from now on,” you say. Quiet, firm, fervent. “I don’t care what it is, you return to my side always.”

The silence stretches and stretches, and he just stares with that unfathomable gaze.

“Understand?” you insist.

“Yes.”

Those two commandments become that basis of his new existence. Nikto once thought he survived it all because he still had work to do. He was wrong; it was because he still hadn’t found his purpose at all.

He’s found you now though, and you are a demanding god. But not a cruel one

Your first commandment is atonement. This vessel requires so much work. Food and water and rest. Maintenance for every abrasion, upkeep to stay strong enough to stand at your side, to protect you. It is endless, bitter work. He doesn’t care for the labor itself, but it must be done.

It is made bearable with you.

Your second commandment is salvation. Your quiet chatter during meals, the lingering taste of your mouth on his water canteen. Your kind hands mending tears and holes, keeping whatever he is now whole and hale. Your company in the gym, on sparring mats, at his side at the gun range. The smell of your sweat past the mask, your laughter goading him into another round.

You let him sleep in your bed. Let him wake you with nightmares or memories. Keep him warm because this thing he inhabits doesn’t always remember it’s not dying anymore. You are so very alive, the realest thing in any room. Your touch is the only thing he can feel sometimes.

It takes him a long time to realize that his body (because it is a body you tell him, a living one that needs care) reacts to you.

That some mornings the press of you against him is especially sweet. That there’s more than relief and pride when you pin him down. That, at most points of the day, his body wants your touch for more than just grounding.

He’s hard most times that he’s with you, simply for the fact that you are there. And he is with you almost always.

(That it is not actually always grinds at him, niggles in the back of his mind. A sticking point. He wants it to be always, you with him at all times. Like when he used to wear a cross pendant.)

You notice, of course you do, sensitive to your most loyal devotee. He can’t tell if you’re offended, but you haven’t sent him away. Sometimes you flush and he thinks he’s certainly upset you, but for all he’s survived it would kill him to break your second commandment. And so he stays, even if he waits to be told to leave.

“Nikto?”

You never need to call his name, he is always listening. He likes the sound of it anyway. These syllables and sounds that have a meaning, that you use for him.

“Do you… want to do something about that?” you nod to his crotch. There’s a blatant bulge pressing at his tac pants. At some other time, he would probably would have found it uncomfortable.

“Do what?” he asks.

You shrug. “Get off? I could leave—“

“No.”

You blink but don’t seem surprised. “Do you want to just ignore it then?”

He shrugs a bit. There’s a flicker of amusement in your eyes. You like when he makes gestures. He tries to remember common ones, and when to do them, and tries them out for you. Though you never seem to mind his stillness either.

“It does not bother me.”

You hum, look like you’re going to go back to your tv show.

“Does it bother you?”

Your eyes dart up, mouth parting in surprise. You didn’t expect him to continue the topic. Neither did he.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you reply, tilting your head. “But if you want to do something about it, we can.”

We.

“We?”

“If… if you want me to do something… I would.”

He couldn’t ask that of you. Not ever. He’s not allowed to want anything of you when you’ve given him everything.

“No,” he says quietly finally. “Just ignore it.”

“Okay.” You smile at him, touch his hand. It is bare, mangled tattoos on display. He wishes he could feel it more. “Come snuggle in?”

Snuggle in.

Such a quaint turn of a phrase for a creature in your room, wearing a man’s face. He climbs in, shoes gone, mask gone. You wedge yourself against his side and he stares absently at the screen as you continue your show.

[ozzgin]

I love your work! you have such a fun take on yandere's and I would love to see what kind of yandere hcs you could cook up for a host-club / paid to go on dates with you yandere ❤️ double points if you can make it so that the reader is never really one to cross a line or think the yandere really likes them...

If you don't want to do this prompt tho I completely understand ❤️

The idea makes me a little nostalgic as it gives me Ouran vibes. Also reminded me I've never played 'Men of Yoshiwara' past the prologue, which also has male courtesans ready to service you. In any case, it's definitely something I can expand on! :)

Yandere! Host x Reader

You've never considered yourself to be the type frequenting host clubs. Yet the loneliness is becoming noticeable and perhaps it's your lack of experience keeping you out of the dating scene. Mingling with paid professionals could prepare you for a future boyfriend. Except your assigned host has other plans in mind for you.

Content: gender neutral reader, inexperienced reader, obsessive behavior, manipulation

Ah, you definitely don't belong here. He can tell within seconds and he hasn't even reached the table yet. You're nervously readjusting the sleeves of your shirt - do you usually not wear such outfits? - and merely glance around the room for a brief moment before casting your eyes back down in sheepish modesty. Well, not necessarily a sight of unpreceded novelty. Many people are intrigued by the idea of a host club, so even just idle curiosity is enough incentive for one to end up among the charismatic crowd of paid affections. Today it's you who has stumbled into the hungry mouth of the wolf, and he happens to be the one to entertain you away from whatever unpleasantries are currently consuming you.

He gently stretches his slender fingers across your shoulder, a feathery touch light enough as to not startle you. You look up and acknowledge his presence, ready to stand up for introductions. His hold on you is firm, letting you know there is no need to leave the comfort of your sofa. "Now then, this isn't a job interview. You don't need to be so formal." He explains with a chuckle. You nod. Embarrassingly enough, your eyes are glued to his face for longer than what you'd consider polite admiration. A waste of good looks is your immediate thought. Surely someone as stunning as him could've worked as a model or actor. You suspect he isn't as enthusiastic to meet you as his voice leads one to believe, so the ability to pretend certainly isn't missing.

One peek at the table next to you, and the answer quickly presents itself. An older woman is inspecting the menu, surrounded by multiple bottles of champagne whose name even you recognize. You doubt the average acting career could provide this amount of luxury. The corners of your lips curl slightly upwards in a pitiful self awareness. Sadly for this guy, you're not a big spender. Whether he, too, is aware of this disappointing fact is impossible to tell. His handsome features remain cheerfully relaxed. "Tell me about yourself. What brings a darling like you here?" He inquires graciously, resting his chin on the back of his hands as he settles before you with an intent gaze.

You narrate your hardship: whether because of your looks or your awkwardness, something impedes you from having acquired a partner; and so the idea of gaining experience through less orthodox means came to fruition. Your host listens carefully, refilling your glass every now and then with a compassionate frown, lips parted in unspoken sympathy. Of course, he understands. Naturally. Once you're finished, he straightens himself in newfound determination: worry not, he will be your coach in love.

Thus begins the unusual partnership. You hadn't expected the man to readily agree to such a ridiculous request. A handful of visits have made it clear to you he's in high demand, most likely one of the top earners. Why would he waste his precious (and otherwise profitable) time with a humble customer like you? Maybe it's bad form to refuse lower paid offers too often, so he's keeping you for balance. You'll never know. His professionalism betrays no hint of annoyance.

You cannot help but marvel at his masterful lying. It becomes quite clear to you why so many people fall helplessly in love with paid hosts. Everything is executed with the utmost care for detail. The loving caress of the cheek he occasionally initiates, seemingly unprompted. The long, ardent stares into your eyes, as you must practice your eye contact. His hot lips brushing against your fingers while he spoils you with diminutives and sickly sweet words of appreciation.

You frequently have to remind yourself that everything is dictated by a contract. A code of conduct meant to be replicated for you and all other clients coming afterwards. How many other poor souls fawn over this alluring devil? You wouldn't want to burden him with an additional customer who forgets boundaries. You know your place too well.

Admirable manners. Frustratingly so. He wishes you'd just give in already and drop the shy act around him. You've caught his interest from the moment he spotted you in that cluttered, crowded room reeking of overpriced alcohol and solitude. Everything about you signaled blindingly clear: you're someone others can easily take advantage of. To think you would've landed right in his hands, to be molded as he pleases. The little sob story about being inexperienced with men, your clumsy attempts to follow along his flirts. Oh, you're just begging to be defiled. Again, and again and again, until there's nothing left of you. Then he'd caringly patch you back together and start anew. His very own corner of innocence.

The indecent daydreams are cut short when you proudly announce, during one of your dates, that you finally feel confident enough to pursue a genuine partner. You have booked a nice hotel room for this occasion; One last gesture of grandeur to show your gratitude for all the advice and love (even though it wasn't genuine). He's sitting on the edge of the plush mattress, dumbfounded, fiddling with the thick, ornate border of the bed runner. Huh? What the hell are you talking about? He's spent all this time getting to know you. What gets you flustered and bothered, what makes you excited, sad, anxious, angry, bored. He taught you how to come out of your shell. Why, so you can go ahead and waste yourself on some fucking idiot?

"My, aren't you eager. You haven't even had your first kiss." He says with a cheeky smile. "I think I can manage-" you want to say, but he quickly interrupts with a curt: "No one likes an amateur kisser". You're immediately silenced. His voice sounds cold, with a hint of anger in it. "I'm sorry, darling love, it's true." He resumes in an entirely different tonality, dragging his words with an eerie kindness attached to them. He tuts a little, turning towards you and patting his knees. There, there, don't look so deflated. If a simple observation like his hurt you this much, how would you handle the much meaner, downright heartless world out there?

Such is reality. Men are cruel and you had the bad luck to be born with a gentle heart. He delicately guides you to sit in his lap, cupping your burning face between his large hands. He knows this expression too well - you're humiliated. And thus, can he truly allow anyone else out there to see you so vulnerable like this? No, this kind of intimacy is reserved for him. You must understand. He has disciplined you to his liking, and simultaneously learned all the nooks and crannies of your being. It's too late to go back to a simple host and client relationship.

"Why don't you practice with me first, love?" He breaks the silence, placing his lips against your forehead in encouragement. You feel a sudden pressure faintly throbbing underneath you. "T-the kiss?" You ask hesitantly, trying to ignore the sensation and squirming in his tightening hold.

"Everything."

[nichuuu]

Show Me

ft. Karina

Word count: 5K+

You weren’t too sure what you were expecting when you got that text from her in the wee hours of the morning.

When it came down to Yoo Jimin, a text at two in the morning was never a request to cuddle up and watch a movie. Simply put, it was a booty call. With all this in mind, you still found yourself taken aback by her bluntness. 

Now to be clear, Karina could hypothetically have half of the men in Korea at her disposal if she wanted. You knew at least ten guys that would willingly throw themselves at her if they had the chance, and they’d certainly kill to be in your position. 

She’d picked you out from a crowd of delirious fans at a concert, locking eyes with you while you were silently marvelling at the beauty of the girls from where you stood. She’d fixed you with a curious gaze, her head cocking ever so slightly as she squatted down, as if she was getting a better look at a product that she was about to buy. Then she stood up, whispered something to her members, then whispered something to the security guard who raised an eyebrow. He looked at her, then at you. 

A couple of minutes later, you found yourself in Aespa’s dressing room, seated on a couch that felt far too expensive for your ass to be on and drinking bottled water from a straw. Jimin came in just a couple of minutes later. Her explanation for your presence in the dressing room was plain and simple. 

We are going to fuck. Now take off your pants.

Karina blew you, you ate her out, then she rode you with your head between her cleavage for what felt like hours. The sex was mind-blowing, leaving you panting and sweaty on the floor of the dressing room. After you’d recovered, Karina called in her manager, who brought in a contract for you to sign. 

“Once you sign this,” Karina had whispered into your ear, the smell of sweat lingering around her, “you get to fuck me and the others all you want…”

In a heartbeat, your signature had been scribbled on the line given.

Just like that, you’d become one of Aespa’s toys. Including you, there were four other guys that served the same purpose that you served, and that would be pleasuring the girls. Each of them was handpicked by one of the girls, and they would serve the idols whenever they called for it. More than one man could respond to the call of one of the girls, depending on who was free at the moment that the message was sent into the group chat. They’d usually send a timing, followed by an address and a couple of suggestive emojis, or a nude if you guys were lucky. In the name of preserving the image of the global stars, you were to discreetly come to the locations sent, ensuring that no one—even your family and closest friends—were to be divulged in the nature of this “occupation”. Should you fail to adhere to this, you would face immediate termination.

With such an intricate and well thought out system, you were surprised when Karina had privately messaged you that night. It was unusual for her to break away from the well established procedure.

After that first time with Karina, you never really had the time to respond to the calls of the girls since they came at such inconvenient hours. You knew for a fact that the three other guys—who were all older than you—Actively responded to the booty calls, the naughty videos of their sessions sent into the group chat being your indication.

When you arrived at the location sent to you, you found yourself at the door of a penthouse in some posh condominium. Karina opened the door for you, clad in nothing but a bathrobe and a set of bunny slippers. 

“Welcome! Glad you could make it,” she smiled, stepping aside for you to enter. She offered you a beer—which you gladly accepted—then directed you to the couch. 

“Haven’t seen you around much… You’ve been busy?” she asked, cracking open the can of Jim Beam in her hand. 

“You could say that…” you replied.

“No worries, I know that life can get busy,” she assured you, “though it wouldn’t hurt too much to let us know, you know? The girls have been eager to meet you since I picked you up.”

She took a swig from her can, then got straight to business. 

“I want your cock.” 

That’s how the night with her started. 

You blinked.

“Huh?” you expressed blankly. She picked up the beer can once more. 

“Your cock,” she repeated, “I want it.”

You were a little surprised by her sudden request, and even more surprised that she’d spoken it so plainly. She may as well have been asking about what you’d been up to that night, for all the flatness and normality of her tone. 

“Why didn’t you call the other guys?” you continued to ask. 

“Why do you think I messaged you privately?” 

She was seated next to you on the couch, a can of beer in her hands as she stared at you. The frivolity in her voice was hard to ignore, the mischievously innocent twinkle in her eyes making you feel all sorts of things, fuzzy being the predominant sensation. 

“I don't know… Maybe it was to deliver a pizza or something,” you answered her. 

She laughed. “God… You’re refreshing in comparison to the others.”

You managed a shy smile. “I um… Thanks?”

Karina leaned forward in her seat. “It’s always those other three who come and fuck us when we call for it, but never you… I’ve gotten used to them, now I’m pretty curious about you.”

She folded up her left leg and tucked it beneath her right. 

“Those guys are all the same—Really horny older men that just want a chance to fuck an idol,” she continued. Then she pointed at you, the base of her slender index finger wet with condensation from the beer can. “But you… I don’t know a single thing about you…”

You sat there silently for a moment. “Well there’s… Not many interesting things to know about me.”

“Nonsense,” Karina scoffed, “everyone has their flair or some kink. You just have to discover it”

Her eyes twinkled as she studied you for a moment. “You strike me as a guy who’s more on the shy side… Am I right?”

You pursed your lips, then nodded.

“And you’re pretty young… A lot younger than those three.”. 

You nodded again. You knew that you were the youngest amongst the men because the other three had put their ages in their descriptions. All of them had nicknames, but you had yet to earn yours.

She let silence hang in the air for a moment as she took a swig. Then—rather abruptly—she asked you, “so how do you like your women?”

You hated how casual Karina’s tone was.

“What do you mean?” you clarified. 

“You know… In bed,” Jimin explained, “how do you like them? Submissive? Dominant? Shy? You have to have a preference.”

Your sex life was pretty lacklustre in your opinion. Vanilla was the only subset you’d ever engaged in, and your session with Karina in the dressing room was the wildest thing you’d ever experienced. You never really ventured outside what you were comfortable doing, staying within the confines of what you were comfortable with. 

“I never gave it much thought,” you admitted. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Then I’d like to see what you can do then.”

She kept her eyes locked on you as she raised the can to her mouth. Dominating a woman in bed was not something you actively craved, though the thought of doing so with Karina did excite you to a colossal extent.

You waited till she finished her long sip. Then, your hand reached for her beer can, removing it from her slim fingers. You placed it back on the coffee table, just a little to the left of the ring of water droplets it’d formed. 

Her eyes remained on you as she tried best to hide the anticipation in her tight, curvy frame. Her lower lip folded inward to allow her front teeth to bite softly into it, the slightest quiver in her soft, pink lips. Your hand slipped past the bath robe as you began at her breasts.

As your fingers wrapped themselves around the swell of her bosom, a soft gasp left her mouth. Your fingers worked in tandem with your palm, squeezing, kneading—Pleasing Karina as you played with her well-formed chest, the soft mound spilling out through the gaps between your fingers. Your fingertips played lazily with the nub that stood at attention, grazing and pinching the brown nipple as you felt her core flutter in anticipation. Her breaths quickened. She trembled with need.

Your hand began its slow journey upward. Your palm—pressed flat against her skin—slid up her tits, past her collarbone and reached her throat. When your fingers closed themselves around her windpipe, she let out a strained gasp, her pupils dilating as her eyes gained a new look, a new gleam.

Want.

Your hand closed around her throat as you wordlessly urged her up on her feet. You started to push her away from the couch, and she stumbled initially, but she quickly found her footing as you dragged her to the nearest wall, small hands clutched around your wrist. When you reached the wall, you pushed her roughly against it. The back of her head made a deep thud as it hit the plaster. You hoped to god that you hadn’t hurt her, but one look at her smiling face told you that you needn’t worry. 

“That’s it,” she drawled, “show me what you can do to me.”

Hand still tight around her throat, you crushed her lips with yours, frenzied, passionate tongues duelling within the confines of her wet, hot mouth. Her hands reached around, gripping the back of your head as though wanting to press her tongue as deep as she could. With your free hand you reached up and squeezed a trembling, soft breast through her bathrobe, then it slid back down her body to untie the string that held the bathrobe together. Karina let the garment slide off her milky shoulders, the glory of her nude body now on full display.

Your fingers found her dripping slit. She moaned into your mouth. Your hand tightened around her throat, her moan slipping into a strained gasp.

“Get on your knees,” you hissed.

Karina slowly dropped to her knees, eyes locked on yours all the while. They were  wide open, dripping with anticipation and perverse gratitude. You could see her body trembling with excitement.

Her fingers worked with practised grace at your pants—Unfastening, undoing, undressing. She unwrapped you like a present, the fiery hot lust in her gaze bleeding her doe-like eyes with want and desire. Your cock sprang from its bounds, hard and stiff, and there was no hesitation when she stuck out her tongue. She began at your base, nestling her entire face into your crotch before her wet, warm tongue darted out and licked you from base to tip. Slowly, she lathered your shaft with her glistening saliva, curling the tip of her tongue around, beneath and all over, licking up your already leaking juices that oozed from your tip. 

Your hand found the side of her head. With care, you gently combed a hand through her soft, silky hair, watching contentedly as Karina’s tongue made a repeated commute on the path that was your shaft, sliding from base to tip, base to tip, over and over and over. She smelt of soap, a sign that she’d gotten ready for you. It would be a shame that the work put into smelling good would come undone in a matter of minutes.

Your right palm approached the front of her head. You pushed forward until you heard a not-so-gentle thud—The sound of her head hitting the wall. The needy moan that left her lips at the impact told you that what she felt is not at all pain, rather a sense of pressure that was derived from a dark part of her. You continued to press her head against the wall as you slid your cock into her mouth, her soft pink lips parting to take it in.

With your hands on either side of her skull, you began to fuck her mouth.

She choked slightly on your first few thrusts, gagging and retching slightly at the unforgiving, stiff meat invading her mouth at a merciless pace. But soon, she got used to it. 

Soon, she adapts, her surprise giving way to experience and lust. Soon, she learned to brace her hands against your thighs in order to keep her head and mouth at a steady enough level to take you again and again without gagging. 

You groaned, moaned and sighed with each thrust into Karina’s mouth, her eyes staring up at you all the while. Her mouth was wet and hot. Her tongue was aggressive and teasing.

Her lips—Those pretty, plump fucking lips that looked so good around your cock—Were wrapped tightly around the thick, hard cock pumping in and out of her face. 

The sight of your shaft, slick with her spit as it plunged in and out of her mouth, was sublime. You can’t keep your gaze from her eyes for long, quickly flicking your focus back on the orbs that were wide open and locked on yours as you took pleasure from her pretty little mouth. They were still needy, wanton and lustful. They still showed her craving, her want, her longing. They began to water, tears falling down her cheeks as her  mascara started to streak her face. She couldn’t give a damn about the mess you’ve made of her face, not when you were using what was yours. Your cock stretched her mouth, made her jaw sore. She didn’t care, didn't even feel the pain. All she could feel is your stiff shaft, pumping in and out, burying and retracting at a relentless pace.

When the tip of your cock first pushed into her throat, she gagged sharply. You were almost afraid you’d crossed the line, afraid you’d actually hurt her. But when one of the hands she had placed on your hips slipped down her body and dove between her legs, you knew that she was loving every second of the treatment. You pushed, thrusting deeper and harder into her mouth. Your head invaded her willing throat with each thrust into her mouth, wet, slurping, gurgling sounds of her slick mouth being fucked over and over again with your  hard throbbing cock filling the air, a lewd melody to your ears as you properly fucked Karina’s pretty little face. 

Soft thuds of the back of her head knocking against the back of the wall resonate in your ears, small muffled and strained moans that escape intermittently floating through the air. There were so many sounds, and they deluged your senses, turning you delirious with pleasure.You used her, and you used her well. The minutes passed, but they felt like hours. Her mouth felt like heaven.

“I’m going to cum down your fucking throat,” you growled. The wet, wordless gurgle that escaped Karina’s throat might have been the most arousing sound you ever heard her make.

With a final thrust, you push your cock as deep as you can inside her mouth, and you release.

When you cum, your cock spurts thick, hot semen right down her throat. She gagged and gurgled, almost choking on your hot load. Her hand that was busy between her legs quickly returned to your thigh, and she quickly learned to swallow to keep pace with the thick liquid being shot into the back of her mouth. 

It was utterly sublime. The sight of her on her knees with her eyes locked on yours, eyelids quivering as she struggled to swallow your semen fast enough only heightens the sheer pleasure of it all. Thick semen mixed with spit spilled from the corners of her lips with a wet cough when she finally failed to swallow fast as you could unload it into her mouth. She gagged again, but made sure to keep your spasming, quivering cock inside her mouth until you finally ran dry and your slick, still-hard cock slips from between tired lips.

She licked it all up, cleaning it all, every drop, from base to tip. She licked you clean, even if she herself looked dirty and filthy while doing so. Her cheeks were stained with dark streaks, her lips and chin glistening from spit, saliva and cum that dripped down her neck.  You reached down and caressed a tear-streaked cheek, taking in her unkempt appearance that paralleled her usual complex. 

“Get up,” you told her, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Her obedience was delightful. When she rose, you spun her around and—not too gently—pushed on the small of her back. Her mascara streaked cheek contacts the plaster, her body arching deliciously, her ass protruding towards you. She looked so deliciously fuckable, and you knew damn well that she knew that too.

“This is what you wanted, right?” you growled, “you wanted to see how well I could use your little body, didn’t you?”

“Fuck yes,” she hissed back immediately, her voice hoarse and raspy, “I want you to fucking use me, use ever part of me to your liking…”

She gasped when your still hard shaft rubbed against her heat. Her hands braced themselves against the wall, her body relaxed and resigned as you deliver a slap to her ass. 

“Fuck Karina,” you couldn’t help but vocalise as you squeeze the firm flesh, “I love your body so much…”

“Do you?” she whispered, “then please fu—”

She never expected you to slip into her mid-sentence. Her sentence is abruptly ended, making way for a moan that cuts in and leaves her mouth. 

“What’s that Karina?” you taunted, “I can’t hear you.”

Her body shuddered as you sheathed yourself completely with her hot, tight pussy. Her walls squeeze down on either side as if they were taking a mould of your cock, imprinting its shape, size and length to fit it like a glove. Then shamelessly, Karina lets her plea tumble from her lips.

“Fuck me.”

The moan that filled your ears was nothing short of erotic when you began to thrust into the waiting depths of that amazing body. Her soft breasts became your surface of contact—your grips on her tight yet curvy body as you pumped yourself deep into Karina’s wanton pussy. She felt tighter than the first time you’d entered her, her moans even more needy than the first time you’d heard them, her body even more delicious than the first time you’d seen it. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders, and you made the effort to push it away so that you can get the best view of her arched back. 

“Fuck! Your—hngh… Your cock is fucking me so good! Ah!” 

For a long few minutes, your eyes stayed on the tantalising curve of her back, admiring the sweat slicked skin that glistened in the light on the apartment as her ass cheeks rippled with each thrust made into her dripping wet slit. Her breaths quickly become ragged, Karina’s lungs quickly becoming unable to keep up with the demand of oxygen that was needed to take the pounding you were giving her. She struggled to stay on her feet, her knees buckling under the weight of the arousal in her being. You had to step a little closer to support her against that wall.

The arousal derived from the videos of her getting fucked by the other men were a mere grains of sand—nothing in comparison to the pleasure that you were experiencing. You’d watch the videos that were taken, observing through the screen of your phone with wide eyes and a rock hard boner as Karina’s body was ravished by another guy. Her cute moans—even cuter in person—would fill your ears through your headphones at home, a rock hard shaft eliciting more cries of similar quality as the sound of her skin slapping against his would emanate from the earbuds in your ears. You could only re-imagine the feel of her warm cunt wrapped around your length, pulsing and pressing in on your member as your hand pumped you to completion. Now that she was right here, getting fucked by you right here, right now, you found that your imagination pained in comparison to what you had pictured in your head. 

To say that her pussy was sublime would be an understatement. You didn’t know what the best word to describe the sensation of fucking her was, but you knew that it would follow closely along the lines of divine. Each entrance felt like heaven, each thrust felt like the embodiment of bliss. The holy grail that was Yoo Jimin’s body was bringing you pleasure like no other, an unparalleled, unchallenged taste of heaven. 

“Oh go… M-My pussy feels so fucking full… O-Oh!” she managed to gasp, “y-you’re filling me! My pussy has never… Felt… So good!” 

You leaned in such that you were right in her ear. “Do you like how my cock stretches you out, Karina?”

“F-Fuck yes! I love it! I… Ah! Fucking love it!” came her whiny reply.

Her body began to rock back against yours, her crotch crashing onto yours. You gritted your teeth; your grip on her left breast tightened. Karina’s hair whipped back, raven black, sweat matted strands sent flying. She looked back at you, her face scrunched in an expression of bliss. Her lips, wrapped around your cock mere minutes before, were slightly parted, giving space for moans and sighs and gasps to spill freely from her throat. Her eyes were filled with need. Against the wall, her hands tighten into fists.

“Pull… On my hair,” she requested wantonly, “pull on it like I’m a fucking doll.”

The emphasis on the word doll aroused you to no end. Your right hand left her breast, capturing a handful of Karina’s hair in a makeshift ponytail that you gripped tightly. You yanked back. Her pussy tightened. An expletive comes flying from her mouth. Your shaft glistened with the mix of her juices and spit, slipping in and out between her flushed, slick folds seamlessly as you held on to that lock of hair like reigns on a horse.

“Yes… Yes… Just… Just like this!” she cried, “fuck me just like this!”

Her eyes were half lidded with pleasure, the tender flesh of her ass cheeks bouncing and rippling. You wished you had a mirror before you, that way you could watch the hypnotic bounce of her breasts as her body was rocked with your thrusts, but you could settle with the view of her trembling back. The tiny, slim figure that so many adored quivered before you, pleasure and excitement wracking her nerves and filling her muscles, occupying every cell of her body while you fucked her with deep, fast thrusts. It looked exactly as it had in one of the videos in the group chat, only difference being that it was more raw and far more lewd.

You freed your left hand from her left breast to push down on her back, the gradient of the curve of her spine becoming steeper as you forced her lower. Your cock reached new depths in this position, spearing deeper into her willing pussy and filling her in a more intimate manner. Her moans, gasps and sighs were lewd notes of pleasure, and they began to crescendo as the thick, hard, throbbing meat plunging into her tight little cunt heightens the pleasure coursing through her system.

At some point, you started to feel her walls growingly tighten. You increased your tempo, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you didn’t pull out more than halfway, concentrating instead on pumping hard and fast. Her body quickly adapted, crashing down harder against you each time you bottomed out inside of her. Her moans turned into her cries, her cries turned into mewls. 

“Oh god… I-I’m—”

She never got to finish her sentence. It took an otherworldly will to not join Karina in her bliss when she came. With a strained cry, you felt her walls clamp down, her body twitching and convulsing. Her legs shook violently, her mouth frozen in a silent scream as you step forward and flush her body completely against the wall. For long minutes, you stayed buried deep inside Karina as she climaxed, holding on to her slim waist to support her. She shook in your grasp, the orgasm overtaking her brain functions and overwhelming her to the point of speechlessness. She takes a moment to wind down. 

“Karina…” you whispered. When she turned back to look at you, you gently placed your lips on hers. She kissed you back with equal tenderness, a small sigh escaping her as you gently fondled her breasts. 

“You’ve been holding on to my tits this whole time,” she remarked, breath fully returned. “You must really like them, huh?” 

“Can you blame me?” you asked. Karina smiled teasingly.

“I can’t… All of the guys love my tits,” she told you, “you’re the only one that hasn’t fucked them yet.”

You took the hint, your cock slipping out of her freshly fucked pussy with a slick pop as you stepped back. Her sweaty body had left an imprint on the wall, the spot where her cheek had been pressed a dark spot of moisture. You could only look at it for a second longer before Karina took you by the hand. She led you back to the couch, getting you settled in on it before she took her place on her knees. 

With a smile, she cupped her heavy breasts with her hands. “You don’t have to tell me when you’re going to cum. I like surprises.”

Karina took a moment to spit on your cock, a long rope of her glistening saliva landing squarely on your head. She pumped your shaft a few times, ensuring that her spit was mixed thoroughly into the mixture of her juices that slicked your member.

When she leaned forward and captured your shaft between her soft, warm breasts, your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, everything seemed to go quiet. It was only when Karina started to move that your senses were restored to you. 

Trapping your cock in a tunnel of warmth and wetness, she began to bounce her mounds along on your length, thrusting the shaft between her breasts—up and down, up and down. You watched the scene play out in front of you, enjoying the pleasure radiating from your shaft, travelling up your spine and intoxicating your brain. Her hands travelled towards the front of her breasts as she captured her own nipples with her index finger and thumb, pinching the stiff peaks as she bounced her mounds up and down on your stiff dick. You weren’t shy, conveying your pleasure through soft groans and sighs. All the while, Yoo Jimin fixed you with a smile, one that was pure and innocent enough to make the adulterated act seem so pure. 

“Do you like it?” she whispered, “do you like my tits milk your cock?”

“Fuck yes Karina,” you hissed. 

She suddenly stopped for a moment. You felt her hands grasp on to yours, guiding them to grip either one of her amazingly soft breasts in each hand. 

“Take control,” she invited you, “set the pace. Cum whenever you want.”

For a moment, you took in the sight of Karina’s tits wrapped around your slick shaft. Then the pure, animalistic desire for pleasure took over, and you were squeezing her breasts together, keeping them tightly-knit around your dick like a sleeve while you pumped between her sweaty cleavage. She let her hands rest on either side of your thighs, a soft gleam in her eyes as she watched your cock disappear and reappear between her mounds.

When she started to stick her tongue out to catch the underside of your sensitive head, the curse that flew out of your mouth was one that was loud and resonant, travelling up into the air and blending with the lewd squelching and slapping in the air. You heard her giggle, a warped sound of delight as she watched you pump faster and faster between her breasts. Her hot breath blanketed the head of your cock, the softness of her tongue cushioning your dick against it as it made it disappeared and reappeared through the tunnel of bliss.

When you came, time came to a standstill. You could pinpoint the exact moment when the first rope of cum left your dick, smearing on the insides of Karina’s tits as your shaft speared past the summit of her breasts. Then you held your position, hot, thick ropes of semen spurting forth and creating a mess out of Karina. She closed her eyes, letting the warm fluid coat her face and chest in content, her hands cupping her breasts for you as your orgasm inundated your mind. Every corner, every inch of your brain was wracked with ecstasy, a feeling like no other washing over your body. 

You weren’t sure when your eyes had shut themselves, but when they opened, you found that Karina had resumed the movements of her breasts up along your shaft, gently and tenderly milking every last drop out of your spent and sore cock. She waits till your dick stops twitching to withdraw before proceeding to eagerly clean herself up, scooping up the gooey ropes that painted her upper body with her fingers so that she could send them into her mouth. You watched her clean herself thoroughly, leaving no stone unturned. 

With a look of satisfaction, she rose up and settled down next to you on the couch. Her hand slipped under your chin, gingerly turning your face towards her. 

“I don't think I want to share you with the rest,” she whispered, “you can be exclusively mine… How does that sound?”

Wearily, you nodded. 

With another one of those pure smiles that purged the sheer filth of the act from the air, Karina sealed the deal with a kiss. 

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

Hello, this was a pure BFH fic that I wrote, so it's not exactly the most coherent and well edited, but I just want to get it out :p. Hope you guys enjoy!

~Nichuuu

[kaisacobra]

Calypso's Curse - Tara Carpenter

Summary: Tara was used to having bad things happen to her all the time. She was used to see people leave her life as if she meant nothing, but she never thought you would be one of those people, especially if she was the one who caused it.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, mentions of violence, angst

Word Count: 5.1k

Second part of Second Best

Tara had gotten used to waking up with the sunlight bothering her eyes and having a strong headache caused by the hangover. Like any other Saturday, she got up slowly and stretched with a grimace, proceeding to go through the rest of her morning routine.

Everything seemed to be as usual until she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. There she felt the unusual heavy mood in her apartment, normally filled with life and multiple voices chatting animatedly. Something had happened the night before. Something was wrong.

Sam had her back turned, cooking something in a pot that smelled very good. Sitting at the table in front of the stove, their roommate Quinn was scrolling through her phone with no expression until she noticed Tara standing right in front of her. With a playful smile, the redhead lifted her head to face the girl.

"Good morning, roomie. Did you have fun yesterday? I heard it was a blast."

Tara noticed when her sister's back tensed upon hearing about her presence, but she still didn't take her eyes off the stove to even offer a greeting. Flashes from the previous night appeared behind the younger Carpenter's eyes, and she remembered some things, especially the part where Sam broke into the house and tased a guy.

If anyone should be annoyed, it should be me. She thought with irritation as she crossed her arms. Deciding to ignore Sam's apparent bad mood, Tara turned her gaze back to Quinn, who still had a look of amusement on her face, as if she knew something Tara didn't.

"It was great! Until someone ruined my fun." Tara replied with sarcasm in her voice, making a point to increase the volume of her speech so that Sam could hear it well.

Perhaps it was a bit unfair to be so rude to someone who only wanted to protect her, but Tara was fed up with feeling like she was in a prison while attending college in a city of endless possibilities. The girl didn't want to be stuck dwelling on the past, and what better way to keep her mind occupied than drinking and dancing with strangers until 5 in the morning?

Besides, she wasn't alone. She knew that y/n would never let anything bad happen to her. Tara was safe.

"Oh, I think you had more than enough fun." The older Carpenter finally turned around, carrying a plate of omelets and a judgmental tone. She placed the plate on the table in front of Tara, and the girl felt some of her anger dissolve with her sister's gesture. "You don't remember anything that happened?"

From the corner of her eye, the younger girl could see Quinn looking back and forth between the two sisters as if witnessing a tennis match. Tara sighed and finally sat at the table, picking up a fork to start her breakfast. "I remember you ruining the vibe by attacking some random guy."

"There's even a video!" Quinn added with a laugh, placing her phone on the glass surface of the table and showing the screen to the two girls. The video was an endless loop of the exact moment when Sam used the taser on the guy's groin, and he fell flat on the ground. The redhead lifted her head, expecting to see smiles on the faces of the two sisters like hers, but upon seeing Sam's stern expression, she quickly added, "But he deserved it, Tara. He was a jerk."

"No, no." The older Carpenter shook her head negatively, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter behind her, her face displaying a mix of irritation and sarcasm. "Apparently, Tara's idea of fun is to be harassed by a disgusting man. I'm so sorry for ruining your incredible plans to become a victim of some idiot."

The younger one huffed with irritation and aggressively stabbed a piece of the omelet with her fork. Deep down, she was grateful for what Sam had done, even though it might become gossip of the week at her college. But Tara was too proud to admit it. So, instead of thanking her sister, she rolled her eyes and started chewing on her breakfast. "Nothing serious was going to happen, okay? Y/n was there; you know she would never let me do something like that."

The already awkward atmosphere in the room seemed to chill even more. Sam straightened her back further, and her jaw clenched as she stared at her own feet. Quinn, notoriously known for not taking anything seriously, raised her eyebrows and looked at Tara like a deer caught in headlights. Something was definitely wrong.

"What?" The girl asked, trying to swallow the food in her mouth, pretending that her anxiety didn't weigh on her throat like a bowling ball.

"Tara, you were awful to y/n yesterday. Seriously, she left the party crying because you said some outrageous things." Sam sighed and ran her hand over her forehead as if she were exhausted. Her tone wasn't angry, but it was worse because it was the calm voice of someone so disappointed that they had given up. "Why do you do this? You know she loves you, so why do you hurt her like this?"

Tara's stomach twisted into a knot upon hearing what she had put you through last night. It was true that she wasn't the best friend, but she would never wish harm on you, especially if she were the one at fault.

"Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don't enjoy breaking her heart into pieces every time, and she brings you the shards, hoping you'll glue them back together?"

"Shut up." Tara silenced her intrusive thoughts and looked at Sam as if nothing were wrong with her. "We're friends. We argue sometimes, but it's normal. I'll talk to her today, and everything will be fine."

That statement sounded more like wishful thinking from Tara than anything else.

"I don't know, maybe you should call her to make sure," Quinn spoke again, this time looking at Tara with a kind of amusement. "Who knows, maybe she's tired of being your plaything?"

"Oh, because you know all about turning people into your playthings, don't you?" The younger Carpenter retorted angrily, grabbing her phone with a sudden need to prove the redhead wrong. She searched for your contact number and pressed the call button, muttering a curse at her roommate. "Fuck you, Quinn."

The call rang twice. The other two girls stared at Tara with curiosity as she held the phone close to her ear, silently pleading for you to answer soon so she could wipe that smug smile off Quinn's face.

"The number you called is currently unavailable."

Huh?

The girl looked at the screen with confusion on her face. That had never happened before. You always answered her calls, even the ones made at 4 in the morning. Could it be a signal problem?

She went to her text messages and started typing a message. It wouldn't be as instant as a call, but at least you would respond when you read it. Tara typed a simple message (are you up?) and pressed send, but...

The text was green. Why was it green?

"Oh... Maybe she blocked you, roomie." Quinn's voice made Tara jump a little. The girl was so stunned that she didn't even realize she had spoken aloud. She looked between Sam and Quinn, one with evident disappointment and the other with mild surprise.

"No! No, this..." Tara vehemently shook her head, gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. "...This has to be a mistake!"

"Tara, I told you that you went too far-"

"NO! Okay, just... just no!" The girl interrupted Sam with a shout. Her breathing was erratic, and she suddenly felt dizzy. You always promised her that you would be here, always came back, no matter what happened. "I'll call Mindy, okay? They must be together, and y/n will explain that her phone broke or something. Everything's still fine."

With trembling hands, Tara searched for Mindy's name in the contacts list and pressed call as soon as she found it. Her feet were tapping on the floor at a frenetic pace, and she had to restrain her own hands to avoid biting her nails and showing even more of her anxiety in front of Sam and Quinn.

Tara knew that sometimes she pushed you too far, but she only did it because it was necessary, right? She wasn't like her intrusive thoughts suggested, she didn't truly wish you harm, right? She couldn't have hurt you that much, she just... couldn't.

"Tara, why the fuck are you calling?" Mindy questioned as soon as the call was answered, not waiting for any greeting beforehand. Her voice overflowed with impatience, which wasn't uncommon for her personality, but Tara felt surprised by how hostile the tone sounded.

"Shh. Speak quieter; Y/n just went to sleep." A whisper belonging to Anika was heard not far from the microphone. Mindy apologized, lowering the volume of her voice, but Tara had already heard enough to feel her heart racing.

"What do you mean, she just went to sleep? It's 9 am!" She spoke with concern, standing up from the chair she was sitting in, letting her restless feet carry her back and forth. "Is she sick? Does she need me to bring some medicine?"

On the other side of the table, Sam frowned in concern at what she was hearing. "Y/n is sick? Does she need anything?"

Tara gestured for her sister to wait with her free hand as she tried to calm herself. She could barely remember the last time you were sick, but she vividly remembered going to your house and seeing you lying in bed, looking like you’d been hit by a truck, loopy with fever. She was so young at the time that she had been terrified, thinking that her curse would finally catch up with you, and she would lose you to some stupid illness.

She remembered helping your mom make soup and feeling like the happiest girl in the world when she saw you eating it with great effort despite your sore throat, just because she had made it.

The curse didn't catch up with you, and Tara felt useful for the first time in her life.

"She's not sick; she just took a while to sleep because she was too busy crying her eyes out yesterday." Mindy retorted venomously. "What the hell is your problem, Tara? You destroyed her!"

"I-I didn't mean to... It wasn’t my intention to..."

"Wasn’t your intention?" Mindy interrupted the girl's stammer with an aggressive whisper. "You've been an asshole to her for years, and you still want to tell me you had no intention?!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why..." Tara let the words come out of her mouth with effort, trying not to let the tears that threatened to fall escape. "I don't know why I'm like this; I just... Tell her I'm sorry."

Mindy scoffed mockingly. "Tell her yourself. And preferably, wait a week to do it because I don't think Y/n wants to see you anytime soon."

When the call ended, Tara could swear she heard her own heart crack. She looked at her hands, one still holding the phone, not knowing what to feel or what to do in the moment. Maybe in a few moments, everything would hit her like a tsunami. Anger, shame, panic, sadness, all directed at herself. But at that moment, she just felt nothing, as if a void had opened in her chest and gradually expanded, consuming her entire being.

Sam asked if you were sick again. Quinn wanted to know how you were feeling. Tara didn't answer any of the questions and ran as fast as she could to lock herself in her room.

_

It had been a week since Tara last saw you.

Your absence hit her like a train, but the girl was doing her best to respect your space since all this situation was her fault anyway. It was so strange not having you by her side, even as a silent presence, that she felt like an incomplete puzzle.

At least she knew you were okay, and that was enough to calm some of her nerves. Of course, psychologically, you weren't in the best place, but Mindy had assured Tara (after much insistence from the girl) that you were eating, sleeping well, and attending classes just like always, which made the younger Carpenter feel relieved for not ruining even more of your life.

The group of friends seemed to be under the custody of divorced parents. One day, Tara would meet Mindy and Anika for lunch, and they would talk civilly, even though the disapproval of the twin about her actions was evident. The next day, she would have lunch with Chad and Ethan, who tried to lighten the mood with silly jokes and sought Tara's opinion on "guy stuff."

She knew this rotation scheme was also happening with you, and Tara couldn't help but wonder how you were dealing with it. Did you talk about her when she wasn't around? Or maybe you were trying to erase any trace of Tara from your own mind?

Either way, in your absence, Tara had plenty of time to sink into her own pit of guilt, which gave her time to analyze her own actions. She didn't know how things had escalated to this point, but she knew exactly how they had started.

_

You were both 13, nearing the end of summer, and about to embark on the frightening world of high school. Tara remembers every detail of that day perfectly because it might have been the best day of her life. She recalls the two of you lying on her bed, the bedroom door closed to keep the cool air from the air conditioner from escaping into the hallway. Her mom wasn't home, as usual, but Tara couldn't remember the excuse this time.

Tara remembers seeing you laugh at some scene from Child's Play playing on TV while finishing your watermelon popsicle. She noticed that the sweet treat seemed to make your lips redder and more hydrated, and a question about their taste seemed to pound in her brain like a drum. She shook her head to shake that off, feeling her own face warm.

"What nonsense! Can't you just, like, kick that doll hard?" You were lying face down, but turned your head to flash a smile at Tara. She could barely comprehend your words, finding it more interesting to notice how your legs were stretched upward in the most adorable position and how your eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement. You were clearly happy, and Tara was happy about that.

"It's the power of the script! I don't think you can defeat a possessed doll with just a kick." Tara answered your question, shrugging and looking at her own hands, where the remnants of a strawberry popsicle were. Anything to avoid looking at you and feeling whatever was happening in her chest.

A moment of silence settled for a few seconds, and Tara thought you had returned to watching the movie until she heard your voice again. "Was it good?"

She raised her head in confusion and looked at you with a frown, which was met with a thoughtful look from your side. "What do you mean?"

"The popsicle. I wanted to taste it, but I know strawberry is your favorite, and there was only one." You pouted, and, God, how Tara felt something inside her sway. Her gaze fixated on your lips for a few seconds, and all her thoughts turned into mush.

"You can taste it on my lips if you want."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The girl closed her eyes and grimaced, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. Damn her intrusive thoughts. "I-I was joking, sorry." She spoke next, trying not to make the situation even more awkward.

Still with her eyes closed, she felt the warm touch of your hand on her arm, and one side of the bed sank a bit closer than before. "No! It's fine. You know, it's not such a bad idea..."

"What?" Tara widened her eyes, unable to believe that she had actually heard that come out of your throat. She could see you clearly now, sitting cross-legged with both your thighs almost touching.

"I mean... All our friends have kissed someone." You started to argue, gesturing with your hands as you always did. "Chad has already kissed someone, Mindy even kissed a girl! I don't want to go to high school and be teased for being a bad kisser! At least this way, we both would have some experience!"

Tara felt her own head short-circuit. She couldn't even interpret what she was feeling with your suggestion, with sweaty palms, a rapidly beating heart, and a dry throat. Maybe she was just too scared by the idea of kissing someone.

Yeah. That makes sense.

"But we're friends. Wouldn't that be weird?"

"Of course not!" You countered with the energy of someone who clearly had thought about the answer to that question before. "It's even better! If we're bad, we can just tell each other and practice until we get it right!"

The young Carpenter's head was spinning just by thinking about kissing you not only once but multiple times. She couldn't stop staring at your lips, the question about their taste now seeming more urgent and necessary, like some kind of thirst.

Without trusting her own voice, let alone her self-control, Tara just nodded and hoped you understood the signal to take the initiative and get even closer.

Your mouth still carried the scent of the damn watermelon popsicle, but the fragrance of your subtle perfume also mixed and invaded Tara's senses with the force of a wave. She kept her hands close to her body, not knowing what to do with them as your faces got so close that your breaths collided.

When your lips finally met in the sweetest and gentlest kiss possible, Tara saw an explosion of colors behind her closed eyes, like fireworks. In fact, her whole body seemed to catch fire, and her chest could barely contain her heart. That was the first time Tara felt so... alive.

She understood everything now. She loved you. Fuck, she loved you.

Fuck. She loved you.

Tara immediately felt panic churn in her stomach, but she acted as if nothing had happened, just like you did. Inside, however, all her senses were on high alert for an imminent catastrophe.

She loved you, really loved you, and Tara knew you well enough to know after that kiss that you felt the same way about her. That was the problem. Tara wasn't made to be loved; she didn't deserve it.

You see, Tara felt like a myth she studied in one of her history classes, the myth of Calypso. A nymph who had been trapped on an island by the gods, and her eternal punishment was falling in love with people who could never be with her, causing a cycle of broken hearts and unrequited love for millennia.

Every time Tara loved too much and was reciprocated, the universe took someone away from her. It had happened with her father, with Sam, and more recently with her mother. She couldn't let it happen again; she couldn't lose you.

It was then, in desperation, that she stopped talking to you for a week, trying to make the feelings of at least one of you decrease until they completely vanished. But the days passed, and nothing changed. Tara still felt intense and conflicting emotions for you, and from the messages you sent, everything pointed to you feeling the same.

Avoiding you forever wouldn't work, and Tara missed you too much to simply cut you out of her life completely to avoid future suffering. She decided, then, that the best way to resolve this mess would be to get closer to other people, trying to force what she felt for you onto someone else.

She could lose anyone else, but not you.

A few weeks later, high school finally began, and she met Amber. The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Tara Carpenter might have many flaws, but one thing she had always been good at was reading people and their intentions. The moment she met Amber, Tara could identify that the girl was exactly what she needed: interesting, attractive, but fundamentally distant.

She knew it hurt you. The distancing, the increasingly scarce conversations, her sudden interest in someone else even after you had shared the best kiss of your lives. Tara didn't want to hurt you, not really, but it was necessary if it meant she could keep you in her life.

And Amber... Amber was perfect for the role. Tara always knew that the girl would never love her more than she loved herself, knew that she was the type to disappear for a few days without explanation, but always came back with a sly smile and lame excuses. Tara loved her because she would never love her enough to leave, she could love without fear, even if the feeling wasn't reciprocated with the same strength.

At the end of the day, what mattered was that the relationship made Tara suppress what she felt for you, so nothing bad would happen to your friendship, right?

You loved her. She loved Amber. No more Calypso's curse.

_

After replaying all these memories in her mind, Tara felt a desperate urge to laugh. Wasn't it at least a little funny that she had concocted this entire plan and included a psychopathic killer in her group of friends (which consumed her every day as she blamed herself for last year's attacks) only to end up losing you anyway in the end?

She shouldn't be laughing, but Tara didn't know if she had the capacity to control what she felt anymore.

It was expected that the halls of Blackmore University would be empty during that afternoon period. Normally, other students were attending elective classes, participating in clubs, or training in some sport to enrich their academic resumes. Tara, contrary to that, roamed the halls like a lost soul without direction, as if walking aimlessly would solve any of her problems.

But maybe this walk had indeed been a good idea, as she managed to see the exact moment when you came out of the campus counselor's office. She sighed when she saw you, looking carefree and definitely less miserable than she was. You even smiled, and even though the smile wasn't for her, just that sight made her heart beat excitedly and a sense of peace ran through her body.

At least, that was until the girl who was receiving your smile appeared in Tara's view.

She was... something. She had a confident posture that made her seem even taller than she was and a carefree expression on her face that was almost charming. The girl seemed well-off, dressed in clothes that seemed to be designer and a sports duffel bag hanging from her shoulders. She was... pretty, maybe? Tara didn't know why, but she was reluctant to give any compliments to that stranger.

Maybe because Tara didn't know her, but you spoke to her with the ease of someone who had known her for a lifetime. You were laughing together and maintaining eye contact in a way that, for some reason, bothered Tara. So, she let her impulsiveness take over and marched toward you without the slightest plan.

"Y/n? Hi!" She announced her presence, and something in her chest hurt when she noted the change from your previously happy expression to a closed one. "I haven't seen you in a while! I thought it was because you were sad and needed some time, but you're clearly better than I am!"

She didn't know why she had said those words in such a passive-aggressive tone. Tara knew she was in the wrong, but still, watching your interaction with this stranger made her blood boil. However, she felt shame for her own reaction when you looked at her with a disappointed expression.

“Seriously, Tara? Is that all you have to say?” You spoke, crossing your arms as if you needed protection. Tara couldn't help but notice how the icy tone in your voice was new and cut through her like a razor.

The blue-eyed girl next to you seemed to straighten even more, positioning herself a little closer to you as some sort of bodyguard. Ridiculous, if you asked Tara. "Is there a problem here?"

"And who are you?" The younger Carpenter asked, trying to control her own voice not to make you even more annoyed. The new girl didn't seem to care about the hostile atmosphere and flashed a confident smile, looking down at Tara in a way that she didn't know if it was intentional or not.

"I'm Kate. Kate Bishop. Maybe you've never seen me if you're the same age as y/n here." Kate made a point to touch your shoulder when mentioning you, and Tara felt like a tsunami of hatred was forming in her stomach. "I'm a junior, so we probably don't have the same classes."

"Speaking of classes..." The taller girl turned completely to you, as if Tara wasn't even present. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later, y/n?"

Tara watched begrudgingly as your face formed a small smile when addressing Kate. "Sure. See you later, Bishop."

You exchanged a hug that, again, in Tara's opinion, was a bit longer than it should have been. She watched as the so-called Kate Bishop walked away down the corridor, adjusting the sports bag on her shoulder and striding like a damn show-off model.

"If she's a junior and you're a freshman, how did you two meet?" Tara inquired, feeling protective of you. After all that had happened in the past, she thought she had a bit of a right to doubt people's intentions. That was the only reason she was so intrigued by your new companion, obviously.

You sighed tiredly, as if you already expected that kind of behavior from her. "We met in the counseling center line." You pointed to the counseling center door a few meters to your left. "I'm going to therapy sessions, you know? Not that you'll care."

Tara felt an immense guilt instantly. She could now see the dark bags under your eyes and a clear loss of the bright energy you normally carried with you. The girl wanted to cry and plead for forgiveness, but she knew that would only make you feel worse.

Maybe Tara, overall, would only make you feel worse.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I said horrible things, and-"

"Apologies won't work now, Tara." You admitted, turning your gaze away. "It's not just about what you said; it's about how you've been acting for a long time. I shouldn't have to put up with this kind of thing."

"You're right, I know. I feel-"

"What? You feel sorry?" Tara was startled to hear your tone becoming more pained as you interrupted her. She had never heard anything like that come out of your mouth before, and she almost wished you were shouting in her face instead. "Tara, you can’t even give me an explanation for why you do this kind of thing to me? Do you find it amusing to make a fool out of me? Is it fun to hurt me and see me coming back to you like a fucking boomerang?"

"No! I just... I don't know why I do this." The shorter one confessed with a trembling voice. "I swear to you that I... You are one of the best people in my life, okay? And I know I don't do enough to deserve you, but I... I need you. I'll do anything, just... could you forgive me?"

She wasn't lying when she said she didn't know the reason for continuing to hurt you this way. She didn't know why it had been so easy to listen when Amber suggested that you might be Ghostface. God, she didn't even know why she kept bringing up Amber, even though she preferred to forget about everything Amber caused.

Perhaps Tara just felt the need to make you feel the same pain she felt inside, so that you would be intertwined even unconsciously.

"I don't know if I can, not now. I have to put myself first at least once in my life, Tara. I'm really sorry." Your eyes were still avoiding Carpenter's, avoiding her gaze like a plague. "But if what you say is true, and you don't know why you do this... Tara, you need help. Professional help. I can't be your therapist, let alone your punching bag."

The girl nodded slightly and bit her lower lip to keep from crying in front of you. With a remaining bit of willpower and a little courage, she lightly touched your hand, silently pleading for your attention. "If I do this... seek help, i mean. Will you forgive me? Please, I don't want to lose you because I'm an idiot."

You looked back at her, and Tara could almost see conflicting feelings swimming in your irises. Finally, something seemed to snap you out of a trance, and you gently squeezed Carpenter's hand, a small gesture of support. "I don't know, Tara. I hope so, but that's not up to me, you know."

When you took a step back, and your hands parted, Tara almost let out a sob from her throat, instantly missing the touch. You hesitated, as if you wanted to say something, but chose to shake your head and quickly wipe away a lone tear rolling down your cheek. "I hope you get better, Tara."

The girl watched helplessly as you walked away, clutching your own bag as if it would keep you grounded in reality. She hated herself for making you feel this way, hated herself for being a problem for everyone she loved.

Maybe there was never a curse on Tara. Maybe she was simply the curse in other people's lives.

She glanced at the door to her left and sighed resignedly. As immense as her pride was, and as much as she had avoided this moment until now, she had promised you that she would change, and she couldn't break another promise. She swallowed hard and let her legs guide her to the frosted glass door.

Tara read and reread the words on the door. Counseling Center. And with one final sigh, she entered.