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thekinslayed · 11 months ago

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A Kitten Among Dragons

summary | In an attempt to close their growing distance, Aemond visits his sweet sister to find her accompanied by a furry friend.

pairing | prince regent!aemond targaryen x younger sister!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! v innocent reader, dry humping, making out, aemond teaches his sister dirty things 🫢, slight manipulation, big bad aemond creams his pants LMAO

wordcount | 3.4k

note | this idea came after my heavy disappointment of not having the cats included in the show mixed with the hc that peepaw def favors his granddaughters :) didn't intend this for be this smutty, but i got carried away oopsie

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider graphic link)

It was hard to deny that Aemond had neglected you as of late. Between organizing battle strategies with Cole, sitting on his brother’s council, and dealing with his own... problems, the second son hadn’t so much spared a brief visit to his younger sister to check on her wellbeing. It was a notion so unlikely of him, you were his favorite after all. This headache of a war was driving them apart, and he would be direly bereft if he would lose you next. Anyone but you.

But duty was always calling, even more frequent now that he was regent. Hence, as soon as he had dismissed his council, his feet led him quickly to your door. What greeted him was most certainly a surprise, with you on your knees on the floor, bent over while fixating on something underneath your bed.

“Come, kitty! Why do you hide? There is nothing to be afraid of!”

When his initial shock had surpassed, his confusion promptly followed. Aemond cleared his throat, gathering your attention. You turned your head to look at him, greeting him with a quick “Oh hello, Aemy”, before returning your attention to the floor. Your arm was buried underneath the wooden frame in an attempt to reach the little creature, making you huff in exertion.

“What are you up to, my sweet?” your brother asked, approaching your kneeling form. He was tempted to mirror your position to take a peek, but he remained standing.

“I– Gods, hold on, I can feel her. Come on, little one!”

His brow raised when you finally pulled out the critter from beneath your bed, a triumphant smile spreading on your face. It must have been one of the cats brought by Otto after Aegon had hung all of the ratcatchers. They were littered about the keep, some quite diligent with actually catching vermin while most merely hung about and shat everywhere. Such creatures did not interest Aemond, hence the look of contempt on his face at the one you carried like a babe.

It was a furry little thing, fur white as snow, but its paws gray as though they were dipped in ash. A green ribbon was tied around its neck, no doubt of your doing. “Why are you keeping one of those things? They are not to be pets,” he scolded, which earned him a frown from you.

“She is my pet. Grandsire gave her to me before he left,” you reasoned, sulkily walking away to plop down on your chaise. Your brother had followed suit, settling beside you to watch you play with the feline on your lap. It looked to be quite young, quivering on its frail legs in an attempt to stand. You watched it with a fond smile, stroking its soft fur. “I have little companion as of late, though she has kept me quite entertained,” you told him.

He couldn’t deny the pang of guilt at your words. Before the war, you had been practically glued to the hip. His days were spent by your side, in the quiet aisles of the library, under the warm sun in the gardens, even in the skies with Vhagar. You would wake early enough to catch him training in the yard, before sharing a meal immediately after. Aemond was your constant companion, your fiercest protector. The war had changed much of that, and he was the only one to blame.

The prince scooted closer to your side, breathing in your sweet scent. It was one he dearly missed, had thought about on the journey from his victory in battle. “I am sorry, sister. ‘Tis my fault, I have neglected you too much,” he said, covering your hand with his calloused palm. The sparing glance you bestowed him was an arrow straight to his heart, and a stab to his soul when you pulled away, lowering to sit on the floor to play with your kitten instead. It was silent, save for the quiet giggles that bubbled from your lips as it chased the frilly handkerchief you dangled around.

He figured you were right to keep your space from him, to save yourself from being tainted by his blood-stained hands. You were so good, so pure. You were the best of all of them. It was by some miracle that an innocent being like you was born into their sludgy, miserable lot. You were saved from the madness of a Targaryen, and the greed of a Hightower. No, you were formed from the Mother’s rib, brought into the world with lightness and purity.

His mother was right to keep you sheltered away, brought devoutly under the faith of the Seven so you may be guided into the righteous path. Perhaps they just might spare you from this brutality, this hell. They may have not saved poor Helaena, but Aemond prayed there was still hope for you.

A little feline was what you are, in a den full of dragons. Despite the dragonfire in your blood, the egg in your cradle did not hatch. It only hardened into stone after years of hoping, of fruitless waiting. It was what tethered you to Aemond in the first place, forming a formidable bond in your shared isolation. And then he claimed Vhagar, had lost his eye, and then he was not the same. You remained devoted to him regardless, uncaring of cutting yourself on his sharp edges. He was all broken glass, and you were the most pristine porcelain no hand could ever forge.

“They have brought Aegon back, haven’t they?” you asked quietly, still focused on your cat. Aemond helplessly stared at the back of your head, clenching his fist to prevent the urge to caress your head. You wanted your space, and he would respect that.

“Yes, have you gone to see him?” he replied, to which you responded with a shake of your head. “No?” Your pale tresses swayed with your movement, light and soft like feathers. You had ceased waving the embroidered cloth in your hand, fidgeting with its laces instead. Aemond could only watch as you shifted to hug your knees, head dipping.

“I am frightened,” you whispered.

“Of what?” he asked in concern.

“That I won’t be able to recognize him.” Your words made him pause with an odd throb in between his ribs. There was no doubt the state of unrepair the elder was in. All marred flesh, and broken bones. He had lost half a head of hair, and his right ear melted like the Conqueror’s armor that had been plastered to his flesh. It was no sight for you to gaze upon.

Aemond had a hand in his brother’s agony, there was no denying it. But the fool was in his way. Aegon had been told to do one thing, and yet he had failed to even accomplish such a simple task. He was not needed on the field, nor anywhere else, really. Rook’s Rest was not his battle to fight, but Aemond’s. Although, the younger might have him to thank in the grand scheme of things. His brother’s idiocy made him regent, protector of the realm. Aemond had expected you to be proud of him, to be the first to run into his arms in glee with his new position, but you couldn’t be any farther away from him now.

“My own family has felt like strangers as of late. Mother won’t let me come to the Sept with her anymore, Helaena hasn’t been herself since….” you mentioned, finally turning to face him. Though it had only been as quick as a blink, for you have reclused yourself once more, returning your gaze to your pet. It was amusing itself now, rolling around on the embroidered carpet while wiggling its legs. “I scarcely recognize you.”

His frown deepened at your words, even more so at your indifference. It was true. He had not been himself as of late. He had let his weakness get to him, had allowed his temper to go unmanaged. In a pathetic attempt at reprieve, he let his feet lead him to a place that had scarred him, to a person whom he sought a false sense of comfort. She would never give him that, nor the touch that would effectively soothe him. He had only ever found it in one person, in you. Yet he would not begrudge you, despite all his greed.

But Aemond was weak for all that you would give him, if any at all. He could never go long without the sweet home he found in your arms, in every kiss you would bestow on his scars. In a bold attempt, he reached forward to place his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly. “I am still me, hāedar,” he said, gentle and warm. Such manner of speech was unlike the cold, one-eyed Kinslayer, but here, in the quiet of your chambers, he was neither of those things. Not in your presence. A budding hope only ever sparked brighter when you met his good eye, wide-eyed like a doe. You had mother’s eyes, beautifully round, yet none of the sorrow that dampened her brown orbs. Aemond could only hope it stayed that way.

You leaned into his touch when he cupped your jaw, pressing a soft kiss into the inside of his wrist. It was then your brother finally sank to the floor, sitting flush beside you. With a gentle urge, he opened his arms, beckoning you closer. You were all too eager to bury yourself into his warmth, arms finding their home around his neck. Your melancholic sigh wisped the ends of his hair while he planted a kiss on yours, aquiline nose breathing in the familiar scent of rosemary in your hair. “I prayed for you, lēkia,” you mumbled, lips pressed into the pale expanse of his neck. Your warmth was immediately missed as soon as you pulled away to look at him. “I prayed the gods would protect you in battle, and they did,” you told him, to which he smiled at fondly. Though it was shortlived, for you had frowned at the thought of your other brother who laid in your father’s bed, barely holding onto his life. “Though I hadn’t prayed enough for Aegon, and look what happened to him now.”

Tears had started to dampen the corner of your eyes in a flash, lips quivering downwards. One had been traitorous enough to roll down your cheek, leaving its trail on your flesh. Aemond was quick to wipe it away with his thumb. Large, calloused hands cupped your face, urging you to look at him. “No, sweetling,” he soothed, planting a kiss on your cheek. Thin lips caught every salty droplet that escaped your eyes, shushing the sob that had you hiccuping. Your brother pulled you in close, flush to his chest, to his heart. The heart that only ever beat for you. “Be easy on yourself, sister. The gods have decided our brother’s fate, there is naught else you could’ve done.” His tone was firm as he spoke, though never harsh. With a sniffle, you nodded, before planting a kiss on Aemond’s cheek, a sign of your silent gratitude. The small touch alone had warmed his entire being, had his blood running hotter than it already did. It was agonizing that you remained unaware of what you do to him, of how easily you could make him weak. He could only sigh as you planted your forehead against his. “C-can you do that again?” he whispered. “Please?”

You obliged, planting a kiss on his cheek, then one on the other side. His arm kept you close, silently urging you to swing your leg over his hips to straddle his lap. His loins were starting to stir underneath your warmth, only taking a mere second the moment he felt your weight. Such was your power. You continued to pepper kisses across his face, unaware of how your brother could feel the pulsating from your pearl. With a tilt of your head, you pressed your lips against his in a peck, taking him by surprise. “Aemy,” you had said against his lips. A dreamy hum was his only response, his good eye closed from the dizzy haze you left him. “Do you suppose we could try what you taught me last time?”

The devil between your thighs resisted the urge to smirk at your request, oozing with desire. He raised a brow at you in question, tilting his head to the side. “Last time?” he asked, feigning curiosity. You bit your lip timidly, absentmindedly trailing your fingertip in circles on his collar.

“Yes, when you showed me how to…” you trailed off, looking at him with hope.

“How to what, darling? Tell me,” he urged. You shifted about in his lap, timidly looking away. A squeeze on your hips encouraged you to use your words. “To do that thing with… with my tongue.”

Aemond’s grin widened at your words, utterly triumphant. With a nod, he urged you closer, reconnecting his lips to yours. He started with a simple kiss, then with a thumb on your chin, he propped your mouth open and his tongue slithered into your warm cavern. It had prompted you to do the same, following his lead by licking into his mouth. The hot muscle was quite rough with the little dots that functioned to make you taste, and he had such a distinct flavor that felt quite different from your own.

You tried to keep up with his pace, adorably enough, visibly out of breath once you both pulled away. Your cheeks held a slight tinge of a flush, running straight across the bridge of your nose. Aemond pinched your cheek between his fingers, nudging his nose against yours. “You are quite good, sister,” he teased, chuckling amusedly when you blushed. Your lips stayed connected for longer, exchanging tongues and spit in an easy, unrushed manner that made Aemond feel woozy as though his body was lightened by poppy milk. Through the blissful fog he found himself in, the silver-haired prince started to feel your hips squirm, subconsciously rubbing against his cock.

With a whine, you pulled yourself away. “It hurts,” you frowned, brows furrowing in confusion.

“What hurts, my love?” he asked, ignoring the thumping in his ears in anticipation. He had to be patient in his efforts, calm, lest he scare you away.

Your fingertips found the hem of your skirts, lifting the green fabric to your hips to expose your smallclothes. A damp spot had created a mark in between your thighs, glistening with your arousal. Aemond gulped, resisting the urge to palm the growing stiffness in his breeches at that moment.

Gods, you were going to be the death of him.

“Does it always hurt?” he asked, mouth growing dry at the sight of you.

“No, but it did the last time we did this. Though it has grown quite uncomfortable this time around,” you pouted.

What a sweet, innocent little thing you were. There was no doubt you held no knowledge about these things. Your sheltered upbringing and strict lessons from the Septa have left you thinking that the ways of the flesh are of sin, only to be done between man and wife. But gods, there was a world out there Aemond wished to show you. Mother would have to forgive him for many things he has done, including teaching his sister such debauchery. Better him than anyone else, he supposed.

“I can help take that pain away if you want,” he offered.

“Won’t that be wrong, brother? Septa Luelle said—”

“I know, sweetheart, but it won’t be anything like that, I promise.” Your eyes flickered to look into his good eye as you contemplated, resolve crumbling with the comforting smile he offered you. It only widened as you nodded, his slim cheeks dimpling in satisfaction. His hand on the small of your back urged you to press your weight back onto his lap, guiding hands shifting your hips back and forth. You had gasped upon contact, amazed at the stiffness that had grown in between his thighs.

“Were you hurting too, Aemy?” you asked, worry painting your features. Aemond bit back a groan, nodding his head meekly.

“A bit, but I am starting to feel better, sister. All thanks to you,” he responded. His words made you smile, encouraging you to move your hips at your own pace. You mewled, throwing your head back in delight. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

With a furious nod, your hips quickened as the funny feeling in your tummy grew. You held onto Aemond’s shoulders to steady yourself, while your brother rested his head on the chaise’s cushioned edge. It was soon evident you were growing tired of using your thighs, and so he planted his feet firm onto the floor, and Aemond’s hips lifted to meet yours. Your arousal had started to stain the front of his breeches, dampening the dark fabric with your cunny’s tears. The thought of tasting it on his tongue was enough to make his cock jump in his trousers, his tip no doubt weeping tears of its own. How wonderful it would be to get a taste of your sweet ambrosia.

“A-aemond…” you moaned, burying your head into his neck. You held onto him as though you were about to drown, clutching onto the smooth leathers of his doublet like a lifeline. Your release must be steadily approaching, apparent in the steady whines that fell freely from your lips. It began to grow in volume, and Aemond had planted his lips back onto yours to swallow down your moans.

You lapped at him with desperation, spit smearing past your lips, though neither of you cared. Your release broke through you with little forewarning, coming with a cry of his name. Aemond had always thought you beautiful, but as your eyes screwed shut and your jaw fell slack, he was sure there was no other mortal being who could ever come close to your beauty. You looked like a goddess reborn, with your flushed cheeks and glistening lips. The sight of you alone drove him to his end, creaming his trousers like a pubescent boy. It left a clear stain on his trousers, yet he cared little.

“That felt quite nice, won’t you say?” he asked, equally dazed from the high of his release. You bit your lip, nodding, before burying your head into his chest with a giggle. Satisfied, Aemond caressed your back comfortingly, planting small kisses into your hairline.

There was no way for him to ever let go of you, not when he had you moaning his name so sweetly like this. You were his and his alone, his little kitten. He would find a way to make your union happen, to have you both married under the eyes of the Seven before his enemies’ corpses go cold. Hells, he would marry you now, if you wanted. He would find a Septon the moment you asked for it, or have the robes readied if you wished for a ceremony done by your Valyrian ancestors. He would do it all, and he can, now that he was regent. Mother would surely be displeased, with the growing animosity between her and Aemond, and the fierce protectiveness she held for her youngest daughter. But she would have to accept it either way. Who else was more suited to be your husband but he? Aemond would rather see the realm burn twice than have you married off to some insignificant lord. No, none else would hold a truer love for you than him alone. It’s been proven by the gods deeming it fit to intertwine his soul with yours.

A scratching by his side had pulled him from his reverie, turning to find your little feline. You took her into your arms with a coo, practically shoving the furry thing into Aemond’s face with a grin.

“Pet her,” you urged gleefully. You stayed settled on his lap, much to his delight. Aemond shook his head to refuse, but he could never really deny you, could he? Sighing, he caressed the cat, scratching the spot in between its ears per your instruction. It purred with his touch, reminding the dragonrider of his mount whenever he would do the same with her maw.

“Hm, she’s quite like Vhagar,” he mused. It didn’t take long for him to enjoy playing with the furry thing, spending the rest of the remaining daylight by your side.

Perhaps cats weren’t so bad.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader

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un-fwuit-un-fwog · 3 months ago

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First Choice

Synopsis: The Prefect has to choose a dorm to move into, and they immediately think of Leona.

TW: it's relatively vague, but it's mentioned that The Prefect was uncomfortable with the thought of staying in other dorms for reasons you would imagine a woman wouldn't want to stay in a space with all men (specifically, she's overheard jokes, and noticed looks that made her uncomfortable (I try to keep it vague though))

Fem! Reader x Leona

You sat in Crowley's office with your arms crossed and a tired expression on your face. You had walked back to Ramshackle after another long day of classes and mayhem just to find the roof had caved in.

Crowley sat in silent contemplation as if he were actually mulling over the issue like someone who actually cared before snapping his fingers with a triumphant smile on his face: "Because I am so kind, I shall allow you the opportunity to choose one of the 7 dorms to move into!"

Your face remained blank. It's not that you disliked the idea of being able to sleep in a building that you didn't have to worry about leaks, mold, collapses, and cave ins, but you weren't too fond of the idea of having to live with a bunch of men.

You mulled over your options for a moment before sighing and pulling out your phone. Crowley looked at you quizzically. "I wanna make sure it's okay with him first" you mumble under your breath.

Moments later, you get a text from Leona: "Whatever."

You figured that would be as close to a yes as you could get, so you relayed the information to Crowley.

Just then, another buzz of your phone came: "Don't bring the d*mn cat."

Well, that complicated things. You weren't too fond of the idea of leaving Grim behind. Crowley, on the other hand, thought it was a glorious idea. He'd send Grim off to Heartslabyul (without consulting with Riddle first, of course). Surely, some time in the strictest dorm would do the little critter some good.

Before either of you could protest, he was already out the door holding grim by the collar.

When you arrived at Savanaclaw, it was already late. Ruggie greeted you with a snicker and tossed you a basket of laundry to bring up to Leona's room.

"Can't have ya freeloading" was the hyena's excuse.

"Delivery." A yawn slipped from your mouth as you dropped the basket of laundry just inside the door.

A rustling came from the bed before moments later a grumpy lion finally lifted his head to look at you. "The h*ll are you doing here?"

". . .You said I could stay, remember?"

Leona's tail flicks back and forth a few times before he flops back down. "Was half expecting ya to choose a different dorm instead."

With a hum, you closed his door and picked the basket back up to set it next to his closet. "Now, why would I do that?"

You heard a scoff come from Leona "In case ya haven't noticed, Savanaclaw isn't exactly a prissy little proper dorm with a-"

You cut your upper classman off by throwing a pillow at his face.

"Oops, my hand slipped" you hum as you set the laundry basket down again.

Leona growls, but he doesn't move. If anyone else were to throw a pillow at him, he'd likely rip their throat out, but with you, he didn't have that compulsion. "The h*ll was that for?"

"Is that really what you think I'd be looking for in a dorm I'll have to move into?" As you speak, you casually sit on the edge of his bed so you can meet his eyes and give him a 'really?' look.

"Yes." His response is blunt and to the point.

A sigh slips from your lips as you stand up "Seriously?"

"Well what else would you be looking for?" He scoffs with a roll of his eyes "And which of those criteria would you find in this dorm?"

"You're here." You reply without having to think and as if the answer is obvious.

In response, Leona just stares at you disbelievingly.

"I'm serious. The moment Crowley said I had to move into a dorm, this was the first one I thought of, and because of you."

He remains silent, his expression only becoming more skeptical. Don't get him wrong, when you said he was your first thought, your first choice, it made something tighten in his chest. However, anyone can lie, and your current sentiment sounds completely improbable to him.

Another exasperated sigh leaves your mouth before you motion for him to scoot over.

Surprisingly, he complies and gives you space to sit crisscross next to him. "I'm the only girl in this school."

"Obviously." You give him a quick warning glare at his snarky comment, and he raises his hands.

"As I was saying, I'm the only girl in this school. I'm not saying I particularly distrust the other students here, but that doesn't change the fact that I constantly find myself in settings here that make me feel unsafe."

Leona's once swishing tail stills, but his expression remains neutral.

"Sure, I have friends in other dorms, but, for one reason or another, I never feel fully at ease in those spaces."

"And you do here?"

"Yes."

The room falls silent for a moment before you continue: "I can't fully explain it, but. . .I said that the reason I chose to come to Savanaclaw was because you're here. That matters because. . .I feel safe around you."

Leona scoffs before he can stop himself. "I tried to kill you."

"Yes, but I've never worried that you'd do worse."

Leona's eyes widen a fraction at the statement. He debates asking for a moment, but eventually decides to: "And you have about others?"

Silence falls once more, but this time it feels much heavier.

"Some of it is just a lack of knowing,. . .but sometimes I hear people make unsavory jokes. . .and sometimes I catch a glint in people's eyes that I'm not sure I want to know the thoughts behind."

Before the atmosphere can get too awkward, you clap your hands together, "That or sometimes I just feel like people don't know how to treat me because I'm a girl." you add, trying to lighten the mood.

"But I've never felt that way with you. You respect my space and my boundaries but still treat me like a normal person."

Deciding it's probably best not to talk about the previous subject too much as you seem uncomfortable with it (not that he's going to forget it though), he follows along with the topic shift. "Nobody else in any other dorm does that?" he scoffs "It's the bare minimum, nothin' special." His words don't come off as being said in a way to subtly tell you to pick a different dorm to stay in, that he doesn't want you here, but rather as genuinely curious and with a barely noticeable undertone that way maybe. . .threatening?

"It's not that nobody else does. . .it's hard to explain. You not only treat me with respect, but by doing so, you encourage others around you to do the same. Last time I stayed here, you always seemed to be there to step in if anyone crossed any boundaries or said anything that made me uncomfortable. When I returned to your room looking even slightly uncomfortable, you'd notice and take me seriously when I had a concern instead of brushing it off."

Noticing you had just rambled off praise, you quickly add "And you're a dorm leader, so staying in your room would surely deter anyone from trying anything! Cause you're big and scary. . .haha."

Leona is eerily silent for a while before he huffs and lets a grin creep onto his face. "I didn't know you thought so highly of me, Herbivore."

You roll your eyes and lightly punch his arm, grateful for how he lightened the mood.

"Well, I could easily give the same praise to plenty of other people, some of whom are even dorm leaders." you scoff playfully. "I genuinely don't know why it's just you that makes me so comfortable."

"Maybe ya have a thing for me." the lion jokes.

Normally, you'd be put off by such a comment, but coming from Leona, you can tell it has nothing nasty or creepy behind it.

"As if!" You try your best to sound firm and to match his sarcasm, but a light blush creeps to your face.

Leona originally wasn't going to push the matter, but seeing your positive reaction, he continues, "Oh? I seem to recall you mentioning that I was your first choice though."

"You know I didn't mean it like that!" you hiss, irritated by the smirk on his face.

You move to get up, but before you do, Leona lightly stops you. "What are you-"

He cuts you off by resting his chin on your shoulder from behind and lifting his phone into the air. You catch on to what he's doing, and decide to just go along with it. . .but not without getting him back for a bit of his earlier teasing.

You lift one hand to cradle his cheek that isn't pressed against your neck and give your best smile. If Leona is phased by the action, he doesn't show it as he quickly clicks the picture and posts it on his virtually dead magicam account, making sure to tag the other dorm leaders in the post.

"You're a jerk" you sigh, watching him hit post.

You leave the room a bit later to take a shower in the bathroom attached to his room, and only then does he allow the faintest of blushes to creep onto his face.

Partially because of you holding his face, partially because of your praise, but mostly because of something you said much earlier.

He was your first thought. He was your first choice.

Leona was never first.

You had 7 dorms to choose from and you chose his arguably unappealing one where it was always humid and full of sweaty guys roughhousing.

It wasn't that you thought of the dorm first, you thought of him. He was your first choice. He is your first choice.

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rafeslvbug · 9 days ago

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fratboy!rafe letting gumdrop!reader sign his dashboard…

“rafe..” you turned your head to the side to look at him, scrolling on his phone in the drivers seat of his car, waiting for the food you guys ordered.

“oh dear god,” he groaned, letting his head fall against the wheel, phone dropped into his lap.

you furrow your brows, lifting your head from the headrest of the passenger seat. “what? i didn’t say anything!” you said defensively.

“bullshit! you said ‘rafe..’ so i know you’re gonna say somethin’ stupid i won’t like,” he bites back, mocking you and peeking out at you with one eye.

“just don’t say no yet,” you tell him, chuckling as he lets out another loud groan, heel of his palms pressing into his eyes. when he pulls back to look at you, he looks like he’s aged about fifteen years.

“what?” he asks gruffly, “what do you want?”

you blink at him, then hold up the gold marker you bought earlier for ‘no reason’. “can i sign your dashboard?”

his mouth falls open.

rafe has limited prized possessions, he doesn’t care about what he spends his money on and didn’t care when he bought you that dumb marker, pegging it down to some of your weird shit again.

but now, this weird shit was going to affect his car.

his car.

he loved his car, like he loved nothing else - well maybe he loved you as much. and that was a thin maybe seeing as you wanted to deface his beauty.

“not a chance in fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“rafe come on! you can get it cleaned afterwards!” you reason with him but he’s adamant.

“no, princess, i let you put your stupid plastic keychain and dumb apple animal thing on my car keys-“

“it’s a calico critter, rafe,” you add into his rambles.

“fine! cat lick critter or whatever! i let you put your shoes, that have god knows what, on the seats!” he gestures wildly to the way you were sitting in the passenger seat, legs crossed.

“okay..and what’s letting me do one more thing gonna do to you?” you ask, looking over his concern for his car.

he falls speechless again, blowing out an empty scoff, running a hand over his face and shaking his head.

he took bites of his burger in between watching you with a look of disgust and pain, like he couldn’t bear to watch what you were doing to his car, but couldn’t look away at the same time.

your food was abandoned on the side, fry in your mouth for too long while you held your gold marker in your hand. deciding on what to write, you settled on your name in cursive, along the front of the dash opposite the passenger seat. you embellished it further with little golden stars around your name. satisfied with your work, you clicked the pen lid back on the pen, taking another french fry and glancing over at rafe who looked like he was suffering both emotionally and physically.

“well? d’you like it?” you ask expectantly, throwing the pen in the back where the other things you bought are, before picking your burger up.

rafe’s face is a frozen look of horror, half-eaten burger stuck between his fingers. “that’s fuckin’ hideous.”

you burst out laughing, sipping on your coke and shrugging. “oh well, it’s done now.”

“oh my god,” he mutters under his breath. “why’d i let you do that?”

you just shrug again, “because you like me..?”

“nah..that’s not it,” he shakes his head, still stunned. “you gotta be a witch or somethin’. i mean look at you, dressed the part, and the spells..d’you put something in this fuckin’ flower thing?” he asks, flicking the green plastic flower hanging off his car keys.

you look down at your outfit, something you considered decently mild today. “i am not dressed like a witch! and no the flower isn’t cursed!” you exclaim, slightly offended, but smiling regardless.

“jesus..i’m fuckin’ mad then,” he groans, throwing his head to hit the headrest behind him.

“that, i agree with.” you quip, earning a glare from him.

“i’m wipin’ that shit off the moment you get out this car.”

inspo : https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNdBRtaKJ/

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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F***ing FINALLY!!! I've been looking for stuff with a Reader saving Dogday since he's been introduced and I've only got like, three so far-

And I want this Reader to be resourceful, using anything to patch Dogday up(including scraps of Miss Delight's dress)

I hear your calls <3

...............

"You're wasting precious time, angel. Poppy needs you. I'm only gonna slow you down. Just leave me here, and tell her I'm-"

"You'll get to tell her that yourself, Dogday. Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

With a huff, you used the grabpack to wheel in a cart filled with an assortment of items you picked up around the Playcare area: doll parts, plush felt, metal bars, and even Dogday's other missing leg, which you have miraculously found in the playhouse.

You did your best to stitch them back onto his body, although the real challenge was fixing them up first--considering how badly they got mangled by the smaller Smiling Critters. Through sheer luck, you were still able to recognize them as his legs.

And conveniently, you've retained some of your craftsmanship skills from your days working with Playtime Co.

You were given some praise for being able to speedily patch up broken and torn-up toys, but you've never touched upon any of the "Bigger Bodies" despite seeing similar injuries on them. They simply never gave you that clearance, and dealing with blood and organs (and possible death) was something way above your paygrade.

But with Dogday, you were able to apply similar techniques you used in doll repair. You made patches out of Miss Delight's polka-dot dress to cover up any tears, and you created small mechanisms to put inside his legs that would (hopefully) enable him to walk again.

It was like you were performing a surgical operation..

Except, well..that's exactly what was going on.

Despite your unwavering determination--and the fact that you succeeded in reattaching one leg to him so far--he insisted that you were only putting yourself at risk trying to help him.

Hell, you nearly got torn apart by those little Smiling Critters who chased you both down, being scared off by the flares you shot at them. He didn't think you'd have enough..but by the grace of god, you did. And you escaped and found a safe place where Kissy Missy and Poppy were also hiding out.

Not only did you finally get a breather, but also a chance to help one of the few toys left here who somehow didn't lose their humanity.

Even so, Dogday still feared for your safety.

"You know..this will only enrage Catnap, right?" He rasped, choking out a wet cough. "He'll know that I'm missing. And he'll know you have something to do with it.."

"Wait.." Pausing in your work, you glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would he care about where you are? Or better yet..why would he keep you alive at all?"

"...because I was his favorite."

"Huh..?"

"Before the Prototype became his sole focus, we did everything together." He explained somberly. "We helped the others fall asleep, stayed out of trouble. Catnap and I..we were like day and night. Two peas in a pod. He brands me a heretic now, but...somehow, I don't believe he likes doing so. Maybe..he hasn't forgotten our friendship, after all."

'Well, stringing someone up by belts and ripping off half their body doesn't sound like something a good friend would do..' You thought to yourself, although you understood where he was coming from.

Yet it didn't change the fact you still wanted to kill that stupid purple cat. Especially after he gave you that hellish nightmare of Huggy crawling out of a television.

"I know you wanna believe there's still good in him, but..he's long gone." You shook your head. "Those critters..they tried crawling inside your body, and he was just gonna allow it all because you didn't wanna follow the Prototype's will."

"........"

Silence was your only reply, but you decided to shift your focus back on repairing the other leg. Dogday allowed you to work, no longer protesting as he instead looked at the stitches on his arms, feeling grateful yet unworthy at the same time.

Him and the others...they were all monsters. He never killed a single human in his existence (or at least none that he could recall), but he felt like he was just as terrible as those who did.

Eventually, you finished, and his ears perked up at your sigh of relief as you set down your tools and pushed the cart away. "There we go. Try to stand up, but take it slow. Okay?"

He nodded, feeling quite nervous as he looked at his legs, before he slowly pushed himself off the ground. For a few moments, he was able to stand, but he wobbled a little and had to hold onto the nearest wall so he didn't lose balance.

'When was the last time I had my legs? It's been so long...'

Then he felt your grabpack's hands gently steady him, and soon enough he could stand on his own without their support.

You smiled and retracted them. "How do you feel?"

"Much better...thank you, angel." Dogday looked down at you, the corners of his wide smile turning further upwards. "You truly are something divine. You've come to heal us, mend all of our broken pieces, even when we do not deserve such kindness. How could I ever repay you?"

Right as you were about to respond, you heard sounds of plush feet moving and turned around, seeing Kissy and Poppy entering the room.

You didn't really he'd nearly be as tall as Huggy's spouse.

"You fixed him! What can't you do?" The redhaired doll gasped in awe, hopping onto Kissy's hand before she was carefully transferred over to Dogday's paws, stepping into them.

He held her gently, smiling. "Poppy."

"It's so good to see you, my friend." She smiled, although it was quick to disappear. "I thought all of you were gone."

"It's just me now, and...I'm....I-I'm...." He began to sniffle, his voice breaking as the weight of everything that's happened came crashing down. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...I-I failed! I couldn't protect them!"

Thin streams of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, darkening the fur along his cheeks. "Kickin'...B-Bobby..they all died because of me! I was supposed to be their leader, but all I did was lead them to their demise! I-I should have joined them in-"

"There, there..it's going to be alright." Poppy softly hushed him, patting his arm in comfort. "You did your best to protect them given the circumstances. I promise we'll have our chance to avenge them. But you must live, for their sake..and for [y/n]'s sake, too. They went through a lot to fix you up."

"I know but..I-I'm so scared. I don't wanna face him alone-"

"You won't be alone, because I'm gonna take care of him."

With another sniffle, Dogday looked down at you, feeling you gently petting his ear as another comforting gesture. Your eyes held nothing but sympathy and heartache for this poor creature. "I'm sorry, but we have to put him down. It's the only way we can move forward."

"Are you sure?" He mumbled. "He's gotten more powerful, and hungry-"

"So were Huggy and Mommy, but I saw how [y/n] dealt with them..and they're more than capable." Poppy remarked. "But now that Catnap's onto them, they'll need all the protection they can get."

"Then..I'll do my best to help." He finally declared, smiling at you.

You blinked, surprised that he was willing to stand up against the one who tortured him. But you simply nodded and smiled back, watching as he returned Poppy to Kissy, before he turned back to you and crouched down.

He enveloped you in a warm hug, the vanilla scent still seeping from his suit and helping you feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Dogday." You chuckled, hugging him back.

"No..thank you, my guardian angel. I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

#clanask #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime poppy #kissy missy #platonic #poppy playtime spoilers #hurt/comfort

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potatobugxo · 4 months ago

Note

Omg hey ;) Could I get another headcanon or a part 2 where yarnaby is like a pet to you since you helped him get the metal piece out of his paw, so he always follows you around and always purring around you to the point he’s like glued to your side, even at the safe haven poppy, kissy and doey questions on how you got yarnaby as your ally

oooh yes I love this!!

warnings: none!

pairing: platonic!pet!yarnaby x player!reader (pt.2!)

-now that yarnaby had declared you his friend, having a giant toy lion bodyguard sure had its benefits!

-the little critters who roamed around the factory who had hunted you before now no longer even LOOK in your direction (because they know yarnaby will eat them)

-when you meet back up with poppy and kissy, they are both VERY startled to see that yarnaby is on your side now, basically body guarding you

-"hey guys, so, uh, this is... Yarnaby?" you introduce your new lion friend to poppy and kissy. yarnaby sits down beside you, tilting his head at poppy and kissy curiously

-a welcome ally to say the least, in poppy's eyes, that makes another toy who can fight against the prototype

-when poppy takes you and yarnaby back to safe haven, doey is even more surprised, and frightened at first to see that the giant toy lion is now on your side

-"how on earth did you manage to tame yarnaby?" doey asks, completely baffled.

-"he was injured, so I helped him," you replied simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, while the other toys stare at you as if you were insane

-the little smiling critters toys that make up the majority of the safe haven survivors steer clear of yarnaby at all costs, too scared to go near him

-even though now he's as docile as a house cat, if a house cat was the size of the house

-doey is skeptical of yarnaby 's loyalty and insists everyone keep a watchful eye on him, believing he may still be under the doctor's influence

-poppy is surprisingly accepting, and insists upon you using yarnaby to fight the doctor and the prototype

-while on one hand, you do have a literal powerhouse of a toy on your side, on the other, you want to protect your new lion friend at all costs, and don't want to force him to fight

-you've grown fond of yarnaby, and he's grown fond of you!!

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #yarnaby #yarnaby x reader #hcs

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sonotpattismith · 5 months ago

Text

ruin it all over

pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 12.9k content: angst, insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, reader low-key crashing out, hurt w/comfort, loss of virginity, there's a happy ending here somewhere pls bear w/ me, smut, 18+ a/n: continuation of where I first saw you

Ryomen was a guarded guy. Sure— he was getting a little better at the small talk he once thought was so pointless, but it was only because you always seemed genuinely enthralled to hear about what kind of cereal he ate that morning or what song he was listening to on the car ride to work (even though you had no clue who the artists were that he would name, but you were keeping a running playlist). He tried, but it certainly didn’t come naturally to him.

No, because it was much more entertaining for him to listen to your sickeningly sweet voice ramble on and on about the exam you almost missed because you were trying to give a stray campus cat your leftover egg salad sandwich, or how you started keeping tins of actual cat food in your bag just in case even though the critters never seemed to appear when you were actually prepared for them.

The silent man would go about whatever he was doing— closing up the shop with you perched on the counter awaiting him, cleaning his car as you sat in the passenger seat pretending not to stare at the way the sweat clung to his bulging arms as he wiped down the dashboard, shaving his face as your voice fluttered through his phone on the sink— he was taking in every word with as little as an occasional grunt that proved he was still listening.

His favorite part though, was nearing the end of your drawn out stories, when your words would start to trail, and your face would begin to flush because you realized— god, you really have been talking for a long time. Whenever he’d notice those little queues, he’d always look up just in time to watch as you buried your burning face into your hands, muttering out an apology about talking his ear off, and he would smile, because something about that gentle timidness contrasted so deliciously with his brash and jagged edges. It lit a fire in his chest each time, one that had him reminding himself to reel it back in before he scared you one of these days.

So, he’d bite down the urge to pounce and opt to flick at your forehead, tutting softly as he urged you to not leave me in fuckin’ suspense as soon as you’d peek up at him through your fingers.

His crass mouth was another aspect of him that didn’t seem to phase you as much as he thought it would. In your eyes, he could curse like a sailor and scowl all he wanted, because none of it ever took away from the way his typically rough hands handled you with the delicacy of fine china, and how he always seemed to remember the little bits of you you’d shared when you were sure he hadn’t been listening. It also didn’t hurt to have someone without any hair on his tongue around when the cafe got your order wrong, and you were too scared to say anything.

So, maybe you weren’t sure exactly how to label whatever it was that had been going on between you two for the past couple weeks, but you knew you were actually excited for something other than your frequent dance practices for the first time in months. Shrugging on a sweater and a pair of sweatpants over your leotard and tights, you scooped up your bag before tossing a rushed goodbye out to your teammates and bursting through the doors.

Your feet still ached from the extensive time spent awkwardly constricted in your pointe shoes, but Sukuna had texted you just before practice asking (demanding) to meet him at the shop afterward since his last appointment was ending early. He’d offered to come pick you up, but the last thing you wanted to do was become a burden on him after he’d been working all day. So, you trudged through the dull pain and walked as fast as your throbbing feet would take you through the campus.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you busied yourself with checking the train schedule as the breeze messied your once neat bun. Glancing up after you narrowly avoided getting knocked into one too many times, you had to do a double take when you saw the familiar mop of pink hair in the distance. Biting down your tickled smile, you shook your head at his stubbornness. You picked up your pace a bit, but slowed down just as you were a few feet away from him. It had become a self-appointed challenge, your constant attempts to scare him as it seemed nothing swayed this man.

With an unnecessary burst of adrenaline, you made a running start before pouncing on his hoodie-covered arm with an exaggerated shout, an eccastic grin lighting up your face at the sound of his abrupt yelp.

“Hah! So much for— oh my god!” It was now your turn to yelp, because the startled face looking down at you was free of all the intricate tattoos that you’d grown so fond of, and the bicep in your grasp was most definitely a few inches smaller in circumference than you remember. Perhaps you should have known, because the hoodie you were clinging onto was a baby pink color, and you were positive you’d never seen that man in anything other than black.“I-I’m so sorry, I thought—” Your mortified apology died on your throat, because now that the jolt of fear had somewhat subsided, you noted that this was a damn near spitting image of Ryomen. “Oh my god!”

Stumbling back with a start, your foot twisted awkwardly on the rocky pavement below you, nearly sending your ass tumbling to the ground when the black haired man in front of him, whose eyes had since been shooting daggers into your skull, jolted forward to steady you. Stammered apologies continued spilling from your lips as you crouched against the sudden pain in your foot that had already seen better days before your tumble.

“I’m so sorry, it’s just that you look exactly like—”

“Ohhh,” The doppelganger cut you off, an amused smile of recognition finally lighting up his once startled expression. It wasn’t long after though that his face quickly scrunched up in disbelief once again as he took in the way you starkly contrasted his gruffer counterpart. “Wait, you’re the one seeing my brother?”

You blinked once, then twice, mouth hung open as the puzzle pieces began clicking together. Ryomen had mentioned that he and Choso have another brother, but he left out the arguably major details that for one, you two attended the same university, and two, that they were—

“Twins?”

Sukuna had already wrapped up his last appointment by the time you waltzed through the doors of the parlor, your eyes narrowed at the back of his head as he cleaned his station absentmindedly. Pausing your hunt to offer a warm smile to Choso as he greeted you, you quickly locked back in. It didn’t seem too busy in the shop today, only one other customer in the back getting the finishing touches of their ink.

Taking advantage of his lack of attention, you quietly made your way over and took a seat in his tattoo chair, holding back a groan of relief at the weight being taken off your twisted ankle. As he turned back around, it didn’t surprise you that he didn’t jump in the slightest at your sudden appearance. Hiding the tiny smile tugging at his lips with a short scoff, he reached up to flick at your forehead before swooping in with an urging hand on your jaw to press a kiss to your temple, your cheeks mushing together under his grip.

“There you are, geez. What took you so damn long— got lost?”

“No, funny story actually,” You began, watching with a tilted head as he began putting his supplies away. “I ran into this guy that looked just like you. Pink hair and everything!”

This made his movements falter for a fraction of a second, and you could practically see the realization don on his face that he’d forgotten to tell you something. Playing it off as he always did though, he only hummed in response. Narrowing your eyes again, you finally thought of the one thing that might actually startle him for once.

“Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I accidentally kissed him and—”

“You kissed my brother?” His baffled shout echoed through the shop, the bottle in his hand clattering to the ground abruptly.

“You kissed one of his brothers and it wasn’t me?” Choso shouted incredulously from the front, face morphed in bitter betrayal. “Yuji doesn’t even like girls!”

Sukuna felt his eye twitch, and he wasn’t sure which one of his siblings’ necks to wring out first. Deciding that Choso was closest and therefore easier game, he quickly pivoted on his heels to make a beeline for his target before you squeaked at the predicament you’d caused, snatching him back by his wrist with poorly disguised laughter.

“Wait! Wait! I surrender, I was kidding— spare him!”

The pure mass of him had you tumbling from the chair, clinging onto him desperately to give his half-brother a running start to lock himself in the bathroom. A pained yelp fell from your lips as you stumbled after him. This had him abruptly whipping his head around, staring down at the way you limped back over to the chair.

“The fuck happened to you?” He was kneeling down before you had the chance to answer, grasping at your calf as his other hand worked the fleece-lined boot from your foot. Leaning back on your hands, your scrunched face stared down at him as he carefully peeled your sock back to reveal the red skin that was paving the way for a gnarly bruise. Along with it though were the scars and blisters that your pointe shoes had graced you with over the years, and he tutted under his breath.

“Well, it kinda freaked me out when I saw Yuji.” You explained sheepishly, wincing as he ran a thumb over the warm skin. “And my feet were already killing me from practice, so I tripped up a little.”

“Can’t blame you— punk’s got an ugly fucking mug.”

Despite the searing ache in your feet, you couldn’t help the airy laugh that bubbled up your chest at his ridiculous claim. A smirk slid onto his lips at the sound. From your peripheral, you saw Choso poke his head out of the bathroom to check if the coast was clear, and you offered a subtle thumbs up, biting back an amused smile as he carefully slipped out to quietly take his place back at the front.

Sukuna ditched the plans he had to take you to lunch, opting to take you back to his place so you could get off your feet. You flushed initially at the idea, still never having stepped foot into his apartment since you two started… whatever this was that you two had started. Your unease was palpable as you sat stiffly on his couch, watching as he bustled around the kitchen after having told you to wait here.

He almost looked too large for the space he was residing in, the appliances in his kitchen appearing ridiculously small next to him. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in his pajamas, hovering menacingly over that stove as he cooked you breakfast after—

You quickly cleared your throat, cheeks burning as you tore your gaze from him in search of anything that might distract you from your impure thoughts. With a wandering gaze, you landed on the picture frame sitting idly on his side table. Sukuna had his middle finger positioned at the camera, partially blocking his face as his other arm was slung around the neck of the boy that had startled you so badly just hours prior, his brother's finger hooked into his already beaming smile to pull at his lip. You smile softly at the picture, being able to detect the subtle softness in the brooding man’s eyes even with all the layers of stone he always seemed put up before him.

“Alright, take them dogs out.” The man in question commanded as he trudged back into the living room with a bucket in tow. Your brows furrowed as he set it down on the floor in front of you. As if you had already been taking too long to comply, he kneeled down with a disapproving tsk to snatch your socks off himself and roll up your sweatpants before lowering your aching feet into the water.

“Ah—” You hissed as the warm water enveloped your inflamed tendons and skin. A few short pants escaped you before morphing into a sigh of relief as you felt your feet throb as if thanking you for showing them mercy. Slumping back against the couch, your eyes shifted apprehensively between him and the bucket. “Um, Ryo, do you happen to have any—”

“Salt? I already put a shit ton in there.”

“Oh.” You blinked in surprise, watching as he finally stood from his knelt position to trek back to the kitchen and procure a water bottle from the fridge. Finally sinking into the spot beside you, he passed over the bottle. “How’d you know to put it in there?”

A small, questioning hum left him, and you tilted your head down to the bucket.

“Punk’s been running track for years.” He explained as he slung an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. “If you think your toes are fucked up, you should see what I’ve had to soak off that bastard’s feet— shit’s not natural.”

A laugh attempted to leave you, but it came out closer to a groan than anything else, your head falling back against the cushion in agony over the state of your feet. Shifting your head to the side to look up at him, you found that he was already looking down at you. The intensity in his eyes seemed to suck you in, opening the smallest window to the inner thoughts that he seemed so protective of.

You found yourself flushing at the way it never wavered, unabashedly trained on you as though he could possess you by will alone if only he tried just hard enough. His fingers caught your jaw as you tried to escape it in hopes of calming your racing heart, ruby eyes dragging down your face until they fell upon the lips that were smushed between his fingers.

“You didn’t really kiss my brother, did you, doll?” He tested, his hot breath creating a mind-numbing humidity over your gently parted lips. The faintest of whimpers escaped you, and you quickly shook your head in hopes that he’d put you out of your misery already and kiss you as you’d been waiting for all day. Your response made him smirk, his nose brushing against your as he seemed to inhale each shaky breath that left your mouth. “Good, cause I woulda’ hated if I had to scrub him off of ya’.”

Lord, if you’re up there, please spare me.

Your frantic inner prayer seemed to fall on deaf ears though, because Ryo was swiftly pulling you in for a nearly bruising kiss, barely giving you the time to relish it before releasing you all together. He always loved the look on your face— the tiniest of disappointed furrow in your brows paired with that glossed pout— it drove him to the brink of insanity each time.

Gluing your eyes to your lap for the sake of having anything else to concentrate on, your fingers dug into your thighs for a moment as you thought of something to say. Hearing the sloshing of the water bucket as you shifted uncertainly, you were reminded of why you were in this position in the first place.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a twin?” You finally broke the tense silence, the one during which his gaze not once left your delicate side profile. A dainty smile pulled at your lips when you glanced back up at him. “Probably would have saved me the embarrassment— his boyfriend looked like he was going to kill me on the spot.”

“Why— think you’d like the other one better?” It was so like him to brush off your questions with a jab and a matching smirk, though you had a feeling there was some truth hiding in the depths of this one.

“Is that what you thought?” You questioned, not matching his banter as you usually did. Instead, your voice was level, careful in how it broached this topic with him.“That I’d prefer your brother?”

The reaction he tried to disguise revealed itself within his fluttering blink, the way his smirk faltered for even just a millisecond before he scoffed. You caught it though— that rare sliver of vulnerability in his eyes just before he turned his head away from you under the guise of pushing his hair from his forehead.

“Bullshit,” He quipped, that guarded smirk back on his face faster than it had left. Reaching down to scoop up the towel he’d left beside the bucket, he placed it in his lap before abruptly pulling your feet out of the now luke-warm water to dry them. “Brat might be nicer than me, but he sure ass hell don’t got my hands, huh?”

Before you could even consider flushing at the implications of his words, said hands were kneading into the searing arch of your feet with more pressure than any of the myriad of foot rollers you’d come to know in all your years could ever manage. All thoughts of Yuji and his brother’s oddly stubborn defenses vanished from you as you fell back horizontally against the couch, a gutteral groan leaving you that Sukuna hadn’t even realized could come out of such a comparably small person.

“Geez, doll,” He whistled lowly through the pure mirth etched onto his face as he drifted his focus down to your heels, rolling his knuckles over them tantalizingly. “Not what I imagined when I thought of you all spread out and moaning on my couch, but I’ll take it.”

With a burning flush, you dug the back of your head into the cusion below you to shield yourself from his teasing gaze.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, covering your timid face behind your hands with a blissful sigh. “Just haven’t had much of a break lately.”

“Take it easy the next few days.” He grumbled as though he hated how his own concern sounded in his ears, fingers trailing up to gently massage into your calves. His neck nearly snapped with the abrupt turn it took at the sound of your quiet, incredulous laugh at his suggestion. “Did I say something fuckin’ funny?”

“No!” You squeaked, though the amusement still lingered in your tone as you peaked at him through your fingers. He only raised his brows at you in challenge. “That’s just… not possible right now. Swan Lake is only like a week away, remember?”

Of course he remembered— he had been reeling to see you perform again since that first night you took his breath away, though he’d never admit it. The air of nonchalance that waved from him when your ecstatic voice squealed through his phone weeks prior that you had been picked to portray Odette was carefully calculated. In truth though, he felt as though his chest might burst with a sense of pride he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced before.

Sure, he hadn’t the slightest clue who the fuck this Odette character was, but he wasn’t at all surprised after a quick google search that you would have been the only choice fit for the lead role— though perhaps he was a little biased. The stoic man wasn’t upfront with his praises though, but you heard it loud and clear in his simple response of yeah, no shit you got picked, a hidden smile lingering in his otherwise gruff tone.

“Yeah? How you gonna play Odyssey with no fuckin’ toes left?” He quipped, purposefully mistaking the name just to hear that saccharine laughter of yours as he paused his massage to creep between your legs.

“It’s Odette, Ryo!” You giggled, pushing at his chest to no avail as he hovered over you to pepper wet kisses along your jaw. “And I can’t afford to slack off.”

“You’re taking a day offa’ practice.” He grumbled against your ear before snagging the soft lobe between his teeth. Your breathless pants tickled his neck, and the hands that had since been haphazardly shoving at his broad shoulders curled into the neckline of his shirt.

Those pretty, pink lips that took up so much space in his mind circled into the gentlest of oh’s as his hand wandered down your waist and grasped at your hip, pulling it up to press you against him.

“I-I can’t—”

Slipping that same hand down, he cupped at the warmth between your legs purposefully, sending your back arching up from the plush cushions.

“Hm?” He hummed tauntingly at your sudden loss for words, easing up the pressure on your center just enough to make you beg him for it. “You gonna stay home and rest those pretty little legs of yours tomorrow?”

The heat radiating from your cheeks warmed his lips as he traced them up your face and nipped at your pouted lips. You nodded deleriously, tangling your hands into his hair to pull him in to properly kiss you.

“I’ll take a break.” You barely got out against his curled up lips before he was consuming you once again.

His once idle hand eagerly snuck up to dive down the front of your sweatpants, and he tsked in aggravation at the barrier that was the leotard and tights you had yet to change out of. Pulling away from you with a wet smack, he instead focused his efforts on snaking down your body, pressing kisses against your clothed chest, across your ribs and down your stomach.

A faint rumble had him pausing his pursuit to glance up at you, that familiar glitter of amusement hidden in his ruby eyes. You quickly shook your head, mumbling that you were fine, and your eagerness had all but convinced him that you were, diving back down to slip his fingers into the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers danced up to tangle into his already mustled hair, lifting your hips ever so slightly so he could tug down your bottoms. They had only just barely grazed the swell of your ass before he heard it again— this time more vengeful than the last.

“Okay, put your fuckin’ shoes on, we’re getting you a burger.”

Much to your dismay, Ryo did convince you (stood over your shoulder until you texted your instructor that you were sick) to take the day off of practice the next day. In his defense, the foot that you had injured the day prior had begun to take on a faint purple hue along the bridge. Still, you couldn’t help but barely relax the entire day as you were meant to be doing— too caught up in the fear that the mere day you were taking would set you back tremendously.

Truthfully, while you were completely over the moon to have been given such a coveted role, one you’d dreamt of since you were little no less, the years of buildup had paved the way for a blackhole of self doubt. Not only were you given the opportunity to perform your dream role, but you knew for a fact there would be recruiters for at least three professional dance companies in attendance for the show. Additionally and nearly as nerve-wrecking, Ryo would be there, and it would be the first performance he would see following that first night you two had spent together.

With how matter of factly he always spoke of your dancing abilities, you couldn’t bear the humiliation of messing up under his watch. Aside from him, your identity as a dancer was all you had since moving here. Without it, you weren’t sure there was anything left to you at all. There was a gnawing fear sprouting roots in each of your bones that told you that Ryo wouldn’t find much else either. Perhaps it was unfair, unhealthy to be putting such pressure on yourself, but you’d much rather drown in your contradictions than bear the weight of swimming up to the surface to confront them.

Maybe it was the fact that you had worried yourself into the early hours of the morning when you should have been sleeping to prepare for the hours of practice that would be awaiting you when you woke. Even more likely was the fact that it was the barely healed, blackening bruise lingering maliciously on your foot that assured that you just wouldn’t for the life of you land any of your grand jetés, your aching tendon simply dipping too far under the leaden weight of your drops. Your partner, who would be fulfilling the role of Prince Siegfried alongside you, really did try to help, his hands tightening in a barely noticeable fashion around your waist each time you came down from your leaps in hopes of easing your landing so that you may execute it with more grace— but not even his mercy seemed to save you. Whatever you could inevitably point the blame at though caused you instructor to finally snap about four hours into practice that day.

It took barely a sharp glare, a hushed critique, but it sliced through you like a knife. Over the years, you had of course learned to take and constructively use the feedback given by your instructors, though the weight of your role’s importance to the success of the show perhaps made her words cutting and her eyes despondent toward your previously blossoming potential. You could even feel your partner’s typically playfully smug expression boring into the side of your head with barely concealed sympathy, but not even Satoru’s usually life saving swoop-ins could pull you out of the hole you were throwing yourself down.

You could hardly think of a thing else when you left that evening, sun already prepared to retreat soon for the night. The score played resoundingly in your headphones speakers that sat snuggly against your ears, aiding in your wide-eyed, mental rundown of each number on your trek back to your dorm, every muscle in your body seemingly screaming with every dragged step.

Nothing would allow you to let up on yourself, it seemed. You stared blankly into your fridge for nearly ten minutes following your scalding shower before deciding your mind was far too preoccupied to conjure up any sort of appetite. And so you didn’t rest when you got home that day. With the increasingly taunting melodies of Tchaikovsky's compositions filling the already tense air of your dorm, you continued your trembling fouettés and pirouettes until each of your steps wavered and it became glaringly difficult to lift yourself from your rocky landings.

There was barely a glimmer of sunlight left shining from your window, and you weren’t sure how long you’d been furiously torturing yourself for, each falter or misstep being met with blindly frenzied repetitions. A sharp rap on your door seemed to shake your resolve, almost drowned out by the volume of your music that had been steadily ticking up and up and up until the fact that you hadn’t received a noise complaint had to have been chalked up to a heavenly intervention.

It startled you in the midst of your leap, reducing whatever semblance of grace you had prepared for your landing into a thudding heap on the floor. Your knee’s resounding smack against the wood floor along with your frustrated cry was only followed by a harsher pound at your door, and you were sure you saw the door frame rattle even if just by a hair.

“I’m coming!” You tried to sound as though you weren't ready to open your window and scream your miseries out to the world, though you weren’t sure how well it translated. A shuddering breath shook your frame as you rose from the floor to make your way to the door one wincing step at a time. You had barely the chance to crack the door before it was being pushed open, and the spine-chilling scowl on the face of the man who invited himself in would have had you calling campus security in any other situation. “Ryo?”

“What the hell happened to you? I haven’t heard from you since this morning. Ain’t been answering any of my—” His exasperated interrogation died in his throat as he took in the state of your dorm— namely the main floor, where your modest couch had been pushed haphazardly against the far corner of the room, with your rug rolled up and slouched against the wall. The body mirror that typically hung on your bathroom door was ripped from its place and leaned against the wall to face the makeshift practice space.

You watched with a waxing humiliation as his expression morphed into a startled disquietude he did little to mask. With a flickering gaze, the cool air of your space whipped against your burning cheeks as you shook your head, placing your hands desolately onto his shoulders in an attempt to push him back toward the door.

“You should go, I—”

“Like hell I should go, what the fuck is going on?” Sukuna’s venomous tone contrasted the desperately gentle manner at which he reached out to grasp at your cheeks. In his frenzied inspection of you, he noted how your flushed face and damp skin paired painstakingly with the droop of your exhausted eyes. “Have you stopped at all today?”

“I—” Your weak stammer pitched until you could no longer hear it falling from your lips. The fat of your cheeks squished against his palms as you slumped defeatedly into his grasp, a traitorous tear slipping down your burning eyes. You tried to cast your gaze downward in search of any solace against the way you were breaking down so pathetically before him, but his insistent fingers prevented you from doing anything of the sort.

His incredulous eyes widened as one tear turned into several, until no dam could possibly stop your abrupt onslaught onto the tightening grasp of his hands. And god, how he felt he was the worst person to have stumbled upon such a scene, because Sukuna had never in his life been sure what to do with tears. In all his years, he’d solved matters with his sharp tongue and barreling fists— though he’d never quite mastered the intricacies of handling anything with fragility or care.

So, as comforting as he thought he could manage, he stiffly pulled your head against his chest, sighing in modest relief when you buried your nose in further. The motion gave him hope that just maybe whatever foreign moves he was making didn’t come off as horribly stiff and unnatural as they felt to him.

“I kept messing up my choreography today, a-and I just— I can’t—” The choked sobs were rendering your frenzied explanation nearly incomprehensible as you began heaving out your breaths. Your shoulders were jostling with the sudden expended efforts of your erratic breathing, and he decided that perhaps a hug wasn’t going to cut it, because your skin was clammy and you were choking on your breaths and he was sure you’d pass out any second now.

“Nah, c’mon, get it together f’me.” Ryo muttered with a crippling effort to not raise his voice and make the situation worse. With a firm hand on your nape, he began urging you toward the hall where he nearly tore your bathroom door off the hinges opening it. Twisting on the faucet of your ivory sink, his hand pushed you down until your frazzled face was a mere inches from the now running water. Cupping his hand under the stream, he ran the starkly cool water down your feverish face. You gasped softly at the way it seemed to shock your already strung-out nervous system. “Breathe, dammit.”

But the much needed air was already crashing against your withering lungs like waves against an unsuspecting shore as his hand continued splashing at your face.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry.” You finally rasped out, feeling as though you were at last breaking through the surface tension that had been trapping you in your haze. The grip on your nape slowly loosened in tandem with your leveling breaths, and you leaned against the counter for support.

Sukuna switched the faucet off before turning you to face him once again. There were stray droplets of water still rolling down your face and dripping into the divets of your collarbones, and he swiped at your dribbling jaw as he waited for you to collect yourself. It was silent as his intense gaze burned holes into your forehead, and it pushed the few stray tears lingering in your waterline out.

“She told me that I—” You cut yourself off, face scrunching up in embarrassment, but he gently jostled you to urge your continuing. “That I-I’m not taking this seriously.”

“Fuck that—”

“No, she’s right, Ryo.” Your sudden insistence caught him off guard, his eyes searching yours incredulously because he couldn’t think of one person who could’ve grasped at their goals as tightly as you had between your delicate fingers. “I skipped practice yesterday, and I haven’t been putting in as much time as I can— I’m gonna mess everything up.”

“Hey, no that’s bullshit, you hear me?” His fingers squished at your cheeks in order to urge your wet gaze onto his grave eyes. “You ain’t a damn machine— how the hell do you expect to put in a hundred percent when you’re grinding yourself stupid? Huh?”

You didn’t answer him, instead opting to squeeze your eyes shut, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You need a break. You need to fucking relax, alright?”

“I can’t— I don’t know how.” You admitted meekly as your own trembling hands came up to grip desperately at his wrists. The scent of his cologne helped marginally to ground you as he leaned down to press ardent kisses against your temple and forehead. “I feel like I’m possessed or something. I can’t sit still, I can’t—”

“You gotta try for me, baby.” The way his gruff voice reverberated in his chest had you pulling yourself closer to him, desperate to drown in the intoxicating distraction that had been laid before you. Because Ryomen— he smelled like a forest, his hands were so sure in their pursuit of you, his voice flowing like the most expensive of wines, and he had never called you that before, and you thought there was nowhere you’d rather plummet into insanity than his fortifying embrace.

“Can you…” Your soft whisper drifted in apprehension, a deep scarlet painting your still drying cheeks. He hummed in question, already terrifyingly resolute in his decision that he’d burn cities down to complete whatever request it was that would fall from your lips if it meant that painstaking little crease of worry between your brows would leave you alone. “Can you help me? You know… r-relax?”

And oh how his chest filled with pride, because the tears and the speeches were lost on him but this? This he could do, he determined as he sank to his knees before you. He’d felt utterly hopeless at the hands of your tender nature and gentle touches, because he knew that anyone else would be able to reciprocate them to you far better than he could ever hope to, though he knew one thing for certain as he tugged your bottoms down, chin propped on your navel to look up at you in that sweltering manner he was so good at— there was no one alive or dead that would be able to take care of you like he intended to.

Your hands found purchase on the counter behind you in desperate pursuit of support as he nudged your legs further apart and buried his head between them. His tongue was warm as it lapped mercilessly at your center, urging hands gripping at the back of your thigh to wrangle one of your legs over his shoulder. He moaned against you as you arched into him, his grip around your thigh tightening as if to encourage your movements, and you found yourself crying out along with him. Your chords meshed together and danced harmoniously off the thin walls of your dingy, dorm bathroom.

The mystery raced through your mind of what planet this man had come from, as he was managing to pull at threads you hadn’t known existed in you with each skilled thrust of his tongue. Your balance wavered on the leg that remained standing, trembling on its tiptoes as it attempted desperately to keep up with him to no avail. Just as you slipped forward, Sukuna’s bicep was hooking under the wavering limb before hoisting himself up along with you.

Your back fell against the mirror once he dropped you onto the counter, and his fingers were soon replacing his tongue just as all your crippling thoughts of self doubt were soon replaced by him. Him as he lurched forward over the sink to capture your lips, allowing you to taste yourself lingering on his tongue before leaning back to watch the way you began to desperately grind yourself against his fingers.

“What are you thinking about right now?” He all but growled out as his fingers found a blistering rhythm within you, the continuous, wet smacks of his palm against your heat making it difficult for you to think of anything at all though. So, you only whined out in response, your feet craning up to gain any kind of leverage on the counter’s edge. At once, his free hand was grasping at your nape to angle your gaze to look up at him, his incandescent eyes demanding to be met. “I asked you a question.”

“You!” You gasped out, the searing pleasure making way for the tears that gathered in the corner of your eyes. He smiled wolfishly at your response, and you moaned softly at the sight. “Just you, I’m thinking about you, Ryo.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna muttered smugly, grasping at your leg as it continued to slip against the counter in search of support.

His heated touch ran down your calf teasingly until it curled around your ankle that was still partially covered by the ties of your pointe shoes. Ever so slowly, as if testing the spellbinding flexibility that had had the perverse wheels turning in his head since he first witnessed it on stage all those weeks ago, he inched your leg up and up and up until the bridge of your foot brushed against the mirror only a mere inches away from your rapturous face. For once, the wind felt as though it had been knocked from his lungs at the sight, but he worked to quickly compose himself lest you bear witness to the slip in his resolve.

So, he instead leaned in closer to you, the back of your thigh now flush against his chest as his hand kept your leg pinned up. A shuddering moan slipped from you at the feeling of his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“And what am I doing in those thoughts of yours, doll?” The whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but turn your face away from him bashfully. Tutting softly in mocking disapproval, he nudged your face forward once again with a push of his nose against your chin. “Hm? Speak up now, I can’t hear you.”

But your climax was nearing closer and closer, evident in the way your warmth squeezed around his relentless fingers and your breaths grew choppy. Perhaps that was the only reason you had the nerve to actually answer him.

“Y-You’re— ah!” A sharp gasp shook you as he angled his palm to brush against your clit with each stroke, but he quickly ground out for you to keep talking. “You’re making love to me, Ryo.”

Your high came crashing down onto you just as your words seemed to shatter his mind, his mouth falling open in tandem with your pitched cries as you peaked. His brows drew fiercely together, his teeth gritting together as he worked you through the waves of your release, and he no longer cared if you saw the way his thusfar fierce front had fallen, because Ryomen couldn’t possibly want anything more in that moment than for you to allow him to bring your lust-clouded thoughts to fruition as he leaned forward to swallow your moans.

“Can’t talk like that, doll.” He groaned despondently against your lips, foreheads brushing together while your lower half jolted against him.

“Why?” In your delirium, you could have cried at his disapproval.

“Cause I might just fucking do it, that’s why.”

It fell silent in the already small bathroom that seemed all the more cramped with Sukuna’s Herculean figure occupying the majority of it. Your soft pants puffed against his mouth, eyes fluttering out a stray tear as you reached up to grasp at his nape. The sensation of your nails dragging down the blunt hairs of his undercut made his fingers curl deeper around your ankle, scrambling for any semblance of restraint. It would never come though, because you had the gall to pout against his parted lips, your grip like a vice on his neck as you whispered to him.

“Please, Ryo.”

He certainly didn’t feel as though he deserved such a privilege, but it was also far from him to make you beg for a part of him that was already wholeheartedly yours. So, his grip fell from your leg in favor of scooping you up by your thighs, your dripping core soaking against his shirt as he moved through your dorm like a man possessed, kicking at your bedroom door impatiently.

You barely had the chance to recover from the abrupt manner in which you bounced back against your mattress before he was wrangling your sweater from over your head. Sighing wantonly at the sight of his tattoo marked proudly against your heaving sternum, he leaned down to sink his teeth into it. Any semblance of rationality seemed so far from you as your jaw hung open, and you blindly reached down to tug at the back of his shirt until he disconnected from you to pull it off.

In a lust-filled haze, you reached out to trace the black ink that ran down his chest, making him hum appreciatively, his own hands capturing yours to hold them against him even if for just a moment longer. Slowly though, those sinful hands were drifting down your bare sides until his fingers dug into the swell of your hips to yank you down until your ass was just barely kissing the edge of the bed.

“These legs drive me fucking ballistic.” His sultry confession would have made you blush had you not already been spread open so vulnerably before him. Laden fingers dragged down your legs as he gathered them up to rest against his chest, turning his head to press salacious, open mouthed kisses along your calves. With a feather-light touch, he drifted up toward your ankle before tugging at the tie of your pointe shoes hungrily. That fervid, side-long glance he tossed your way as he worked the stiff shoes off you was nearly too intense to take head on, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you that you should know better than to look away.

The offending shoes fell against the floor with a soft thud. The keen gaze he kept on you should have sent you sprinting, akin to an apex predator scouting its next meal. As you assured yourself just moments prior though, you knew better. So, you stayed perfectly still, save your heaving breaths, as he dug a small, gold foiled packet from his wallet, holding it between his teeth before working his belt off and allowing his pants to pool at his feet.

There was the slightest hint of a pause as Ryo allowed the scene to settle in— to give you a chance to turn back at the very moment you’d left off on the last time your fates brushed this closely. That resistance never came though, and your ankles dug into his shoulders in anticipation. Your eyes fell on their own volition as he pushed his boxers down to join the rest of his clothes, and you thought you might swallow your own tongue in the midst of your shock.

His erection sprang from its cotton prison, ever so gently brushing against your core in its escape. You shuddered at the sensation, but for once your tremors rooted not in fear but instead in an aching anticipation. Much like the rest of him, as you had assumed, he was intimidatingly… above average— not that you had much by way of comparison. Gulping down the saliva that seemed to pool dramatically on your tongue, you took note of the black rings that circled his upper thighs, and you couldn’t help but let your lips curl up at the sight.

“What’re you smilin’ at, huh?” Ryomen teased through clenched teeth, the condom still hanging between his lips. An adoring smirk was splitting across his own face as he took the opportunity to pump leisurely as his leaking cock, using his free hand to smooth up your navel.

“You just… match everywhere.” Your timid giggle had his length twitching in his grip, his intense gaze softening just a bit. Abandoning his caress against your lower half, he reached up to tear open the foil between his teeth.

“What— don’t like ‘em?” His husky question was followed by the teasing plap of his heavy cockhead on your sensitive bud. The amused smile on your lips quickly fell into a sharp gasp at the sensation. Sukuna hummed as he rolled the condom over his aching length before guiding it through your folds.

“I love them.” Your sincere, breathless confession caught him off guard. “You look like… a piece of art, Ryo.”

For the first time since knowing him, you watched a genuine flush fall over his face at your words. Wide eyes were staring down at you as though he’d never received a compliment a day in his life, but, truthfully, he wasn’t sure anyone had ever bothered showing him such tenderness, always preferring to veer off his path lest they get caught in his crossfires. There was a barely noticeable tremble in his breath as he sighed out.

“Art, huh? Nah.” He murmured, pushing forward until his tip dipped into your straining entrance.

You cried out softly at the abrupt stretch, and he quickly hushed you with a soothing hand up your thigh. It felt so incredibly cathartic, enduring the dull pain at the hands of Ryomen. No matter how much you felt you might split in two as he gradually introduced each inch of himself into your honied heat, you would have done it all over again if it meant you’d be able to see that look on his face as he bottomed out. Eyes rolled back, fingers clutching at your thighs as they rested against his chest with a bruising grip, with a gaping mouth that curled up at the corners in a lingering, intoxicated smirk.

He fell forward until your knees pushed up against your breasts, moving one hand to fist the sheets beside your head to pace himself as he licked at the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“This is art.” Sukuna corrected as he dipped down to capture each, pained whimper that fell past your lips until it was your moans would soon compete against his favorite of artists, because if he was art then you must be a masterpiece.

You slept with a serenity that rivaled a corpse that night, your dreams floating through clouds as your mind was utterly consumed by him. For the first time in weeks, something had rivaled the searing ache in your feet, and it was the dull reminder of Ryomen between your thighs— though you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to deem that particular pain unwelcomed as you stirred from your slumber.

The frigid air bit at your bare skin, sending a tremor through your shoulders. Cracking your eyes open, you were greeted by the sight of the man so many seemed to fear, his lips gently pouted as half his face molded against your pink pillow sheet. You wondered if it was his perpetually defensive nature that made him sleep on his stomach, the idea putting an amused grin on your tired features as you observed how his arms clutched onto the pillow under his head.

His legs were tangled into yours under the covers, giving you the vital information that he seemed to be putting out far more body heat than you could hope to at this hour. Shuffling closer to him, you carefully placed a hand under his arm in an attempt to lift it just enough to slip into his warm embrace for solace against the cold.

“What’re you doin’, brat?” His gravelly voice cut through the morning silence, catching you red handed without ever having opened his eyes.

Biting back the disappointment upon realizing that you weren’t nearly as stealthy as you thought, you smiled sheepishly despite his closed eyes.

“I’m cold.” You whispered softly.

“No one told you to get this thin ass blanket.” He grumbled, and you let out a quiet huff of disappointment before turning over and pulling the covers tighter over yourself. It only took a mere few seconds though to hear the rustling of sheets behind you, and you were soon being enveloped in a bear-like embrace nonetheless. His arm dipped under your head to cross over your chest, and you smiled against the warmth of his forearm. “What’re you smiling for? Too fuckin’ early.”

The fervent kisses he began pressing against your shoulder contradicted his grumpy rambling though, and he was soon nosing at your jaw for you to expose your neck to him. His teeth sank into the new area bared to him, and you arched against him just as his tongue began circling the attacked skin.

“Hmm,” He hummed in a deep baritone, his hand running up your thigh before dipping down to where you still ached of him. “Better cancel whatever fuckin’ plans you had today.”

Just as you nearly allowed yourself to succumb to him once more, his words sunk into your still barely functioning mind.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, shooting up from his grip and nearly tumbling off the bed as you reached for your phone.

“Woah, woah, settle down. What the hell are you tweaking about?” Ryo groaned, rubbing at his now ringing ear as he propped himself up to watch you.

“I’m late! Oh my god, I’m so late.” You rambled through trembling breaths. It was like watching a tornado ripping through your tiny room, clothes flying as you wrangled on whatever was closest to you. He quickly sat up at your frenzied movements. “I’m supposed to be at practice!”

“Hey, take a fucking breather, you’re gonna pass out.”

“I can’t take a fucking breather, Ryomen!” His eyes widened at your uncharacteristic tone, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such… unsavory language falling from your lips. Tears of frustration blurred your vision as you began shoving your abandoned pointe shoes haphazardly into your bag. “I keep messing everything up, I’m such a—”

“Nothing’s messed up—”

“Everything’s messed up!” You cried, grunting in frustration as you shoved your aching feet into your boots. “My foot is still messed up, my routine is messed up, my instructor thinks I’m a joke, and I’m about to screw everything up because I keep letting myself get distracted, and I—”

“Distracted?” Sukuna scoffed, pulling on his boxers as he stood up to follow you out of your bedroom. “Is that what I was fucking doing last night? Distracting you?”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Ryo.”

“Well you better find some fucking time before you mess this up too.” He regretted them as soon as the words left his mouth, but his entire nervous system had switched onto the defense at your ruthless undermining of what had transpired between you two last night.

The wounded expression on your delicate face told him he should drop to his knees to beg your forgiveness, but the wounded pride of the rejected child in him refused to submit so easily. So, he simply stared back at you with that callous expression you hadn’t ever seen him dare direct your way. Wiping furiously at your traitorous tears, you slung your bag over your shoulder and left, slamming the front door behind you.

That door had shut in his face five days ago, and you had yet to hear from him since. In hindsight, you knew that what you said was out of line, and it was clear that you had hurt him in a way that he would refuse to outwardly display. Sukuna would always bare his teeth before showing his belly— you knew that whole heartedly even after knowing him a mere few months. Still, his words stung, and you were too afraid of how the things he’d left unsaid might feel if you should reach out to him first in the midst of his anger.

You tried to use his absence to your advantage, throwing yourself wholeheartedly into your now daily practices that went hours on end. Your grief, anger, and betrayal fueled each twist and turn, each leap you aimed to perfect until you could convince yourself it was worth what you had damaged in the name of your passion. Even when you finally received that pathetically anticipated approval from your instructor, it no longer felt as sweet.

There was hardly time for you to wallow over Roy’s radio silence though, because Swan Lake was in a day, and you weren’t even sure that he’d still show up. The thought clutched at your chest, but you were quick to dismiss Satoru when he’d whispered his concerns into your ear during your final dress rehearsal. It felt as though you were back in that desperate solitude that had inadvertently veered you on his path in the first place.

Sukuna had been pretending that it wasn’t eating him alive that you had yet to crack first, but he sure as hell wouldn’t do it. Everyone around him could tell though. He was quiet— even more so than usual, and the fuse that they were sure couldn’t get any shorter was blowing easier than ever. Choso was met with a biting snap when he dared to ask why he hadn’t seen you around lately, so he figured you must have something to do with it, and he’d be damned if he sat back and simply watched his brother fuck this up.

“Hey,” Despite his determination, his tone was still careful as he approached the pink-haired man who was still hunched over his client, brows furrowed as he concentrated on the cat he was coloring in on the woman’s thigh. It so obnoxiously reminded him of you and the soft spot you held in your heart for the damned feral animals. Sukuna grunted in question at his half-brother. “You still coming to the show tonight?”

He paused his careful strokes for a fraction of a second before blinking away his frustration.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

His gruff response made Choso’s eyes roll in annoyance. It was so like him to pretend as though no one could tell that something was going on with him.

“Well she just texted me to ask, so I figured there was a reason.”

It took every bit of restraint in him not to jolt in surprise and completely fuck up this client’s day. Why didn’t she text him? Why the hell did she feel more comfortable going to his damn brother than him? His jaw clicked as it clenched in indignation. An aggravated huff escaped him as he wiped at the woman’s tattoo and prepared to wrap it up.

“You can tell her that if she wants to know that she can ask me her fucking self.” The dark-haired man’s brows rose at his brother’s tone, pursing his lips as he turned on his heels with a shake of his head, a motion that certainly didn't go over Sukuna’s head. “You got something to say?”

“Other than you’re going to regret whatever the hell it is you’re sulking over in a few days? Nah, it’s all good. I’ll let her know that Yuji and I are still coming.”

He didn’t give him a chance for a rebuttal before he made his way back up to the front. A grumbled tut left him as he cleaned the tattoo before him and began wrapping it.

“That sketch is gorgeous.” The client commented as he busied himself with her wrap. He glanced up at her in question before following her gaze to the sketch that he’d created for you that night and inevitably inked on you. The original was still taped to his station, always having been his favorite reminder of you to get him through his shifts. “You the artist? I have a friend who would probably love to get that inked.”

Faster than he could even fully process her request, he was adamantly shaking his head with a fierce defensiveness. Even through the haze of his hurt, he knew that that drawing would never grace the skin of anyone else— no one else would be worthy of a piece inspired by you, no one had the right. He couldn’t bear the thought of tainting its sanctity with the likes of some of the scum that came through here.

“Out of commission.” He gruffed plainly, not bothering to grace the notion with an explanation. Ripping off his gloves, his eager fingers dug his phone from his back pocket, but he was only met with further disappointment at the realization that— no, you still hadn’t reached out.

As he walked his client to the front, he could see his brother typing away adamantly on his phone, and it pissed him off to think of you on the other end of it with the reassurance that his damn brothers would be coming to support you tonight.

Sukuna couldn’t drag himself outside fast enough, hiding under the guise of needing some air when, truthfully, he was tempted to rip the stupid fucking buns right off Choso’s head if he heard his phone ping one more time. It was his rage, that’s what he’d blame it on as his thumbs furiously pounded at the poor, unsuspecting screen of his phone before hitting send.

I’ll be there.

You were sure you would throw up if there had been anything in your stomach to begin with that day. With your nerves so overwhelmingly shot, you could barely stomach a few saltine crackers before even they were making you nauseous.

Staring back at you in the mirror was the woman you had been fighting tooth and nail for for so long. The white, feathered headpieces sat snuggly against your temples and into the sides of your slicked-back bun. You almost didn’t recognize yourself in the dramatically winged, dark shadow that shrouded your eyes.

You couldn’t be sure if the reassurance that Ryo would be coming despite your near week of radio silence comforted or intimidated you even more.

From the closed door of your dressing room, you could hear the orchestra performing each intricate number as act one got the ball rolling. There were dancers in and out of the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move, stuck idly in your chair as you awaited act two to begin with your entrance.

No matter how much you had soaked it, iced it, rolled it— goddamn it, prayed over it, your foot still throbbed under the constraints of your pointe shoes. It only needed to get through the next hour and a half— that’s the mantra that played like a broken record in your head in hopes of calming your very real fears of it failing you mid-performance.

The minor piece of solace you had apart from that was that your sudden change in behavior had urged you and Satoru to get a bit more comfortable with each other as you had to begrudgingly explain to him why you had been a bit off your game. You were shocked when the man, who you were sure hadn’t a sincere bone in his body, reassured you that he’d be more cautious with you with each lift and land the two of you had ahead of you tonight given your injury.

You watched with bated breath from the side stage as Satoru aimed the prop crossbow before turning to prance toward his stage left to mimic his hunt, the long awaited queue for your entrance. The peripherals of your vision blurred as you allowed your muscle memory to take over, and you were soon landing your grand jeté before dipping into your first bow as Odette.

Ryomen felt each last puff of air in his lungs abandon him at the sight of you with your breathtakingly intricate, snow-white costume, truly embodying a princess. He had admittedly been growing restless throughout the first half hour of the production without so much as a glimpse of you. Now though, as the glimmering crown tucked into your hair shimmered under the stage lights, he was sure he’d wait it tenfold to relive the magnetic way you commanded the stage upon your first arabesque.

The grip he had around the base of the bouquet he’d brought you tightened as he watched you and your partner float about the stage, twisting and turning against and around each other with a synchronicity that embodied just how much dedication you two had put into your performative chemistry— at least that’s what he hoped as your noses brushed in an almost kiss.

Not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought he’d ever find himself sitting through a two-hour ballet, but you had him completely enraptured. He recalled what you had mentioned about the recruiters that would be coming to this performance, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was your night. The recruiters had to be captivated by you— just as every soul that was surrounding him seemed to be.

As the show progressed, it was clear how you lost yourself inch by inch to Odette, and you soon weren’t sure where you ended and she began. You had just been starting to convince yourself that you’d make it. There was but a half hour left, and though you could feel your injured foot growing angrier and angrier with each pointed formation, you were pushing it to the back of your mind, something to be dealt with later.

But somewhere after the fourteenth of the iconic thirty-two fouettes in a row you had to execute as your darker counterpart, Odile, was perhaps the beginning of the end for your optimism. As fate would have it, each gruelling fouette was meant to be spun off of that fucking foot, and by the end of them you were sure your face was tinted red from the way you held back your cries of pain.

Ryomen could see it too, despite how well you disguised it as an expression of passion. His fingers dug deeper and deeper into his thighs with each spin during the sequence, because he could practically feel that bruised foot crumbling under such pressure. Despite it all— you did it, and, not only that, you made it appear damn near effortless.

It was nearing the final number now, and he had been watching your eyes morph with each second that passed. Perhaps it wasn’t clear to anyone else, but he knew that glassy look wasn’t just your impeccable dedication to the scene. You had been changed back into your white swan costume, taking the stage with both Prince Seigfried and Rothbart as you gracefully dashed yourself between the arms of each man. It wasn’t until the final leap that Satoru would catch you from that you felt it.

Just as your pointed foot hit the stage floor, you could all but hear the tiniest of cracks. Your breath hitched, a nearly muted choke catching in your throat that luckily the audience couldn’t hear over the orchestra. Satoru did though, his hands on your waist tightening as he attempted to subtly lift you ever so slightly to take some of the weight off your foot. A whimper lingered in the back of your throat as the pain radiated up your leg.

“It’s okay.” Your white-haired partner whispered subtly so as not to break the illusion of the performance. “You just have to make it to the lake.”

His near silent reassurance into your ear was fleeting as you spun away from him. Make it to the lake. The words were chanting like a mantra in your head.

Ryomen thought the armrest of his seat would snap under the pressure of his grip, watching in horror as a single tear slipped down your cheek upon that fateful landing, and he knew something had gone wrong. Judging by the way your partner seemed to subtly lean in to whisper in your ear, he knew he was right.

Still, your remaining bourrees across the stage were flawlessly executed despite you feeling the likely fracture in your foot arguably worsening with each step, and Odette was finally taken up into the arms of Rothbart, lifted high above his head to take her behind the veil of the lake to die— and that’s certainly what it felt like you were doing.

Sukuna was out of his seat before Prince Seigfried could even properly fall to his knees to mourn the loss of his love, practically hopping over seats to get to the back. It was proven difficult, what with all the attendees rising to their feet to offer a standing ovation as the show concluded. Finally making it out of the row, he shouldered into attendants and workers until he found the backstage entrance sign.

A worker placed a hand on his shoulder to inform him that he wasn’t authorized to go back there, but he knew the man wasn’t about to be stupid enough to fight him if he pushed his way through those doors anyway. There were troves of ballet dancers moving like ants through the hallways, all looking up at him in bewilderment as he pounded toward the dressing room at the end of the hall.

“Oi, you all had better be fucking decent cause I’m coming in!” It was the only warning he gave along with the three cautionary pounds against the door before he burst in. There in the far back surrounded by a myriad of frazzled dancers was you, still hauntingly enchanting in your Swan Queen costume as you heaved out cries against the cold floor. The pointe shoe on your injured foot had already been wrangled off, and Satoru was frantically tearing your tights between his fingers from the ankle down to observe the damage.

You looked up at the sudden commotion. The dramatic, black makeup that had been so intricately painted onto your face was now streaming down your cheeks in ugly, noir waves as your face scrunched up heartbreakingly at the sight of him standing before you.

“Ryo.” You choked out helplessly between your heaving sobs of pain, and he felt his heart shatter all at once. Parting through the sea of dancers, he shoved at the white-haired man’s shoulder.

“Move the fuck outta my way.” Sukuna bit out, probably much harsher than necessary for someone who seemed to be trying to help, but he did just watch this dude grabbing at your waist and thighs and caressing your face for damn near two hours straight. And sure, he knew it was all part of the performance, but fuck you didn’t warn him that you’d actually be kissing the dude. In spite of it all, Satoru didn’t need to be told twice before he was standing to let him take over.

“I-I think it’s broken. I can’t m-move it—”

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” He urged, his fingers just barely ghosting over your calf as he took in the sight of your mangled foot. It had swollen considerably within the confines of your pointe shoe over the past few hours, and the nearly black skin was hot to the touch.

“The recruiters, Ryo— I screwed it up, I—”

“Fuck the recruiters, I’m taking you to the fucking hospital.” You didn’t get much of a word in edgewise as he scooped you up, darting through the parted crowd and out the back exit.

Though he wasn’t quite sure what he would say if given the chance, your frenzied sobs filled the air around you two the entire drive. He tried to calm you, but it was proven difficult with his split attention on the road. It also wasn’t clear if your cries were mainly attributed to the pain or the mental anguish. Still, with sweat beginning to bead at his temples, he grasped at your hand and placed it over his chest in a desperate attempt to get you to match his breathing. Although it seemed like you were truly trying, you continued choking up with each throb of your foot.

Sukuna’s perpetual feeling of being absolutely worthless continued as you sat silently in the hospital bed, only your occasional sniffles breaking through the white noise of the room as you awaited the okay from the doctor to be discharged. The xray they performed confirmed your suspicions, and you had been suffering from a stress fracture. He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his thighs as you stared blankly at the stark white cast now covering your foot and ankle.

Neither of you were quite sure what to say to one another. Your current state was… delicate, and he wasn’t sure that bringing up the fight would be the best idea for you right now. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he straightened his posture, eyes fluttering over you apprehensively before he cast his line out.

“I don’t know how you do it.” He confessed sincerely, watching as your eyes cast a sidelong glance at him.

“What, manage to fracture my foot during one of the most important performances of my life?”

“How you let yourself feel so much for everyone to see.” His response made you flush, your brows furrowinf as you looked away from him once again.

“I couldn’t really help it, my bone was kind of split—”

“I’m not talking about your damn foot, doll.” Ryomen sighed in exasperation. It was already difficult enough for him to be so sincere in his appreciation, and your making him spell it out was twisting the knife in his already wounded pride. “The show. I… I ain’t ever seen anything like that before. You’re just not fucking scared of yourself.”

Twisting your arms around yourself, you gulped down whatever emotions his words seemed to ignite in you.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter now. I screwed it all up.”

“Bullshit, you had everyone hanging off their fucking seats.”

“And they all watched me ruin it with that— that stupid landing.”

Sukuna blinked harshly in disbelief at your self-critictism. With an incredulous laugh, he leaned forward to look you in the eyes.

“You played that shit off like nothing happened. No one noticed.”

“You noticed.”

“Yeah, cause I fucking love you.” It tumbled out his mouth faster than he could have reeled it back in. For the second time that night, he was struck by the gruelling confusion of how the fuck it came so easily to you to pour your heart out, because it felt like he was chewing on glass right now as he awaited your response. Your glassy eyes finally looked up at him, face stained by makeup and disbelief. It all showed so clearly on your face, so bravely and unabashedly. It made him want to stand resolute for something for once in his pathetic life. “I love you.”

Soon, your lip was trembling once again as a fresh stream of tears stung at your already burning eyes. Burying your face into your hands, you shook your head.

“I said such awful things to you, Ryo.” You cried into your palms, the guilt that had been festering over the gruelling week finally coming to fruition without the distraction of your performance to keep your mind from dwelling on it. “Y-You were just trying to help me—”

“Hey, I say mean shit all the time,” He reassured, moving from his chair to squeeze beside you in the bed. “You should’ve beat the shit outta me if we’re really trying to get equal.”

Your back shook, and he knew this time it was finally from your laughter instead of those gut-wrenching sobs that had been frequenting his ears. Desperate to catch a glimpse of your smile after so long of being met with your frown, he gently pried your hands away from your face. Ryo sighed wistfully at the sight of your wobbly grin, reaching up to wipe at the smudged makeup under your eyes.

“You look more like a fucking racoon than a swan right now.” Your teary-eyed gaze didn’t seem to help his lack of brain-to-mouth filter at all, and he smirked at his own pathetically weak restraint. “See? I should’ve gotten my teeth knocked out for that one.”

But, of course, you only smiled at him— that glimmering eyed smile that even after all this time he felt so undeserving of.

“Well, you’re lucky I love you then, huh?”

His heart pounded embarrassingly against his chest, blanketed with the safety of your reciprocity.

“The luckiest bastard I know.” He whispered before pressing a kiss gentler than he was accustomed to against your awaiting lips.

There was a soft knock at the door that had him sighing in frustration against your face, but he pulled away from you nonetheless. When the door cracked open, it wasn’t the doctor as the both of you had been hoping so you could get the hell out of here. Instead, Choso and Yuji both filed in hesitantly as though they weren’t sure what kind of energy they’d be met with. When you smiled brightly at the sight of the various flowers in their arms, the pair felt more at ease as they stepped fully into the room.

“That was the most metal shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” Choso was the first to gush excitedly, setting down both his and Sukuna’s abandoned bouquet in your lap.

“So sick— I can’t believe you just walked that shit off!” Yuji was rushing to the far wall of the room to snatch the marker off the whiteboard containing the nurse’s information on it. He continued to ramble enthusiastically as he sat himself at the foot of your bed to doodle on your cast. Your eyes fluttered between him and his twin, and it was a bit disorienting seeing them side by side for the first time. “You’re a total badass.”

“Oi, easy with her fucking foot, brat.” Ryomen grumbled as he flicked his brother in the forehead, already annoyed at both his brothers for butting into you two’s moment.

It was clear that his bright-eyed counterpart was used to his brash nature as he completely brushed it off, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on his drawing of what you could only assume was supposed to be a swan. It was clear his twin got all the artistic ability while Yuji was left with all the sunshine. As if his drawing triggered his memory, he quickly perked up.

“The casting was crazy too! That girl playing the black swan seriously looked just like you.”

A quiet disbelief fell over the three of you as the boy continued marking up your cast.

“Yuji—”

“Don’t bother,” Ryo quickly stopped you from correcting him with what could only be described as a fierce look of exhaustion on his face. “He’s a little slow— it’ll come to him.”

All the artistry and the brains— got it.

tattoo artist!sukuna and ballerina!reader Valentine's Day part 3 YIPPEE◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

gojo and itafushi crumbs because your girl is starving

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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donutz · 1 year ago

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Yandere Dogday x smiling critters cat reader

A/N|| I kind of.. Completely forgot that Dogday was supposed to be a yandere, but he really wouldn't do much as one so... I think it's okay! ^_^

Request from Wattpad—! Here you go Shaymi999 ☆

Your ‘name’ was SleepyMew. Not so good is it? Well stick with it, it’s what they named you. You had some resemblance to Catnap, you both were about sleeping, and you two were cats.

So when you arrived, the other critters were all over you, saying that you were similar to Catnap. While Catnap stared from the shadows.

It wasn’t impossible to see him up there, cats do have night vision after all.

While almost every critter was surrounding you, Dogday stayed behind. Getting a gooood look at you. You noticed that too.

Dogday snapped out of his trance and told the other critters to not crowd you, especially since you’re new.

He asked for your name and you said, “SleepyMew, though I don’t like the name…” You rubbed your eye, because you were just sooo sleepy!

One unique thing about you is that you didn’t have a permanent smile, you could actually move your mouth. Even with your cool feature, nobody was jealous. They found it amazing!!

“Well I like the name!” Dogday exclaimed, causing the other critters to look at each other. Not curious, noooo, they think somethin new is goin on with Dogday.

“He has a crush on Mew.” KickinChicken whispered to Hoppy Hopscotch, and since dog’s have excellent hearing Dogday heard every bit of Kickin’s claim, “Hey! I do not!”

Kickin realized he was caught and said, “What? I never said that?? Man who said that…” Causing the other critters to giggle.

“... Anyways! Would you like to be shown around the place?” Dogday questioned you, still suspicious of what Kickin said.

“Uhh, yeah sure.”

“Great! Come this way!” He softly grabbed your wrist and led you towards areas of playcare.

Even Catnap was a little bit suspicious of Dogday’s feelings.

After Dogday gave you a tour around the place, you settled in and started doing what you were made for. Calming down the kids. There were a few 5-6 year olds that were too excited, and the kids needed to be more chill for the activity.

You lazily walked over to them, asking their names. The kids stated them, and you dealt with their ecstatic energy. Meanwhile, Dogday was watching you deal with them, feeling both proud and impressed at your work.

His feelings growing bigger.

After a few months of working at playcare you and Dogday were together.

You two were sitting on the couch, while Dogday was right next to you, his leg over your lap. He has his arms lightly wrapping around your neck, his head laying on your shoulder. Obviously his tail was wagging.

“Hey… You know how people get rings on their finger in shows…” Dogday said.

“Yea, but how do you know that?”

“I saw it on a show once. Anyways, do you want that to be us?” He looked to your eyes.

You looked back at him, “Yea.”

After a few days you guys actually had this marriage. You didn’t expect it to happen but that was okay.

Cutely, you guys had these little toy rings, KickinChicken was the marriage officiant, “And you may now hug each other not just the bride.”

Then you two had a big hug, with a big smile on your face. Now that was rare.

Years later, all was hell, hundreds of dreaded screams filled even the smallest cracks of Playtime co.

All critters were trying to find a way to live, except one, Catnap.

Dogday was trying his best to get people to safety, while simultaneously worrying about you. “Where’s Catnap?!”

“Catnap is one of the murderers Dogday, we need to go.”

His eyes went wide, he never knew Catnap was doing this.

“WHAT?! How do you—”

“I saw it. I saw him violently kick away the children just so he can have his fill. Catnap isn’t going to leave with us, in fact, he’s following the Prototype.”

This was so sudden for Dogday, his best friend was the cause of all of this?!

“I know a spot where we can—” Your fur stood up, your hairs itching at your toy skin. Your irises went smaller and smaller, you slowly turned your head towards him. Towards Catnap.

The much bigger Catnap.

Knowing you were in danger, you started growling(you are a cat after all), but Dogday was… surprised. What you said was true, it’s not like he didn’t believe you, it’s just he didn’t expect to see it before his eyes.

“Dogday, run.” This was a fight between two cats, it’s better not to try to stop it. It can get quite bloody.

“WHAT?! NO I CAN’T—”

“GO.”

Reluctantly, Dogday sped away.

“THE PROTOTYPE WILL SAVE US.”

“...”

Then, the cat fight started.

Dogday was helping out others get to safety, as the nice dog he is… He was waiting for you. Hoping you’d make it out alive.

An hour later, he was looking for you. He found you! And you weren’t dead! You were very bloodied up, laying on the ground.

Dogday hurried over to you, happy you’re still alive. You wanted to yell out, tell him to not come over, but he is listening. So you shook your head really hard, something you did before this all happened. Why? Because that's how you indicated to not do it, to do anything(you did it when you didn’t want to talk).

Thankfully, Dogday was watching you and not just doing actions. So he stopped. Catnap was right there, he could strike at any moment. You didn’t want that to happen to your precious Dogday.

Even if Dogday didn’t come out of the hallway he was in, Catnap still attacked. Well tried to. Dogday dodged in time and ran over to you, picking you up and high tailing it outta there.

You two managed to get to a somewhat safe area, and Dogday had time to be alone with you. There’s some bandages and rags in the area so he could heal you up, just a little bit.

Dogday was trying to calm down, but couldn’t. As the smiling critter who’s supposed to help relax others, you took action.

“It’s okay Dogday. I won’t die.”

“...” He looked up at you, with sincerity, “I should’ve never ran away…”

You cracked a small smile, “Hey, at least I got like… 5 scratches in?” Dogday furrowed his eyebrows a little, “Mew don’t joke around right now.”

“Sorry…”

After all this time, you wondered where Dogday was. Alive, hopefully. Apparently an angel entered the building, and was able to get by all the chances of death.

You don’t know where they are now, but you hope they could save Dogday.

“Hey.. It’s… Okay it’s not alright, but try to think about the positive things..” Poppy comforted(tried to).

“I am, but it doesn’t help at all unless I know that he’s safe.” You were shivering, hoping the positive scenarios you thought of were true.

Few hours later, Poppy and Kissy found a safe place where the player, or Dogday, could be.

Though you didn’t know Dogday was going to be there.

So once you saw him, you sped over to where he was and picked him up(you were in your larger form like Dogday).

You were crying, that’s the first time you’ve cried, even when Catnap was nearly killing you.

“I miss you so much love..” … Love? That’s a new one.

“Since when did you start calling me love?” You said with a smirk.

Dogday got a little flustered, “Uhm, I remembered that you didn’t really like your name, so I just thought of it…”

“Mhm.” You looked down and saw that he had no lower half. “Oh, that’s also new. Is that why you were so light?”

“... Yes.”

“Hm, player, do you know how to put together his body?”

They nodded and they immediately started working on putting his body back together.

After an hour, he finally had his legs back, he was still shorter than you though. “Hah! I’m tallerrrr!!” You bragged.

“... Really…?” He wasn’t annoyed, in fact he was happy, that he gets to see your smile again.

Player suddenly remembered that they found a ring while ‘adventuring’.

They mentioned it and asked if that’s anyone’s ring. Yours and Dogday’s eyes went wide. “Dogday is that your—”

“MY RING!!”

The player unknowingly just caused the biggest reaction from you two, just because they wanted to search around a little more.

“Angel, where did you find this?!”

They said it was in this area with a big paw pillow in the room.

“Catnap was keeping your ring?” You questioned.

It went silent, not for too long as your cat growls slowly filled the area.

“I’m killing that stupid cat.”

“Love, don't say that!”

He was secretly hoping you’d actually do it.

#poppy playtime #poppy platime fanfic #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #catnap #dogday #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn reader #dogday x reader #fluff relationship #poppy #kissy missy #kickinchicken #hoppy hopscotch #dogday x smiling critter reader #dogday x smiling critter cat reader

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maiko-san · 1 year ago

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Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 1 )

Part 2 >>>

Relationship : Fluff

Reader : Female, age 20.

Plot : You are one of the Playcare employees that looks after the Smiling Critters and makes sure all the mascots are in good shape.

The very first day you were assigned to the Playcare, you didn't expect the mascot to be huge and very tall. Hell, even taller than Huggy Wuggy themselves!

You were nervous to be around these mascots but it was your job to keep them at a top notch.

Dogday, the leader of the smiling critters was the first to greet you. His personality is as bright as the sun necklace around his neck.

The others follow his lead and greet you with smiles on their faces, welcoming you to the daycare.

Well, except one.

Which was Catnap.

The purple cat mascot is high up on one of the buildings, watching everything from above and his eyes looking down at you, judging you from afar.

For the first week, you monitor the smiling critters and their behaviours. The others are fine interacting with the children, except for Catnap who prefers to be on his own.

You tried to get the cat to do his job but the mascot refused to listen to you. Which was frustrating.

You were amazed that the technology in place is far more advanced and the mascots in this Playtime Co. have their own personalities like a real person would which was..... intriguing and at the same time.... terrifying.

According to Dogday, Catnap used to be very friendly but he had been distancing himself from the group recently.

He never knows why.

The supervisor told you that Catnap was the most troublesome in the group and they said to keep an eye on the cat and make sure he does his work and doesn't get in any trouble.

It would take time for you to properly work with him. So, you respect the mascot's boundaries and try interacting with him slowly.

Day by day, you make sure to visit him first every time your shift starts. you greet Catnap with a 'Good morning' and 'How are you doing?'.

The cat only stares at you with a swishing tail, you set down a bag of croissants and look up at the mascot.

"Hey, Catnap! If you're hungry, you can have these croissants! Eat it while it's still fresh, okay bud. You can't work with an empty stomach!"

"......"

Again, he just stares at you.

You also learn that these mascots are able to consume organic matter which again shocks you, so you always sneak in some food from the cafe for all the smiling critters, in secret.

The smiling critters began to like you and saw you as their favourite out of all the employees.

Things go on normally in the daycare, the smiling critters keep themselves busy with the children ( that you weren't allow to interact with )

You spend your time in the office and look through the papers. When you were about to take a sip of the hot drink from your cup—

"Hiya, there! Mrs. (L/n)!"

"Oh, f—k!"

You jump out from your seat and some of the hot drink spilled onto your pants causing you to curse under your breath.

It was Dogday.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!"

The dog apologises for startling you and offers you a handkerchief that magically appears out of thin air.

You said you were alright. You turn to ask what makes Dogday come to your office.

The smiling critter just said he wants to see you, saying to you that you have been coup up in your office for hours now.

You were grateful that he was concerned about you but you told him that the papers kept you busy.

"Sorry, bud. I just have a lot of papers to look through. Ya know, I have to keep all of you in shape"

"I see. Thank you for caring and taking care of us angel........unlike the others—anyways!"

Dogday whispers the last part which cannot be heard clearly by you.

"Do you need help with anything? I'm free! I can help you with everything and as a leader of the Smiling Critters, it is also my job to help you too!"

Dogday offers a helping hand, his tail swishing as he awaits for your answers.

You told him you do need help sorting out the papers into the folders which the dog excitedly said yes.

He sits on the floor next to you, since how tall he is. You point out the paper that he needs to sort out in the correct order.

Dogday have trouble picking up the papers with his large hands. You couldn't help but stifle at the sight, yet he managed to find a way of picking up the paper without crumpling it.

After a few hours passed. The bell rings loudly, signalling it was recess time.

You stretch your limbs and stand up from your chair, you turn to Dogday who already finished sorting out all the papers.

"You did a great job there, Dogday. Thank you!"

"Hehe, no problem Mrs. (L/n)! Glad to help!"

"Just call me, (Y/n). Dogday. No need to be so formal and besides I'm not THAT old..."

"Alright, (Y/n)!"

You yawn escape your mouth as you rub your eye, a nice nap is the only thing that comes to your mind after a long hour of paperwork.

Dogday notices how tired you look.

"A good nap will make you feel energetic afterwards!"

"Yeah, it does. I'm going to the staffroom and sleep there. You can go back to the playcare, Dogday"

But the orange dog didn't leave and instead picks you up which surprises you.

Dogday held you close to his body and said.

"No need! You can sleep here with me!"

His arms wrap around your smaller body, your face buried into his chest and his fur smells like vanilla. Which was comforting....

Before you know it, you already drift off to sleep.

"Sleep well, angel...."

Next day.

Following the same routine, you visit Catnap again but the cat was nowhere in sight.

You call out for the feline and you hear a loud thud behind you. Hot breath tickles your back which causes you to quickly turn around to see the purple cat staring at you with beady white eyes.

You hold out an apple pie to him, which the cat takes and devours with a wide open mouth.

"I want....more"

"Huh?"

"More....sweets..."

It was the first time you heard Catnap speak, his voice was deep and distorted.

You now have learned that Catnap likes sweets. Which gives you quite an advantage over him.

"Yes, you can have more sweets.....If you do your job"

You told the cat which he grunts roughly in return.

"You can request any kind of sweets you want in return, I promise. Just as long you do your job as a play care attendant"

Catnap seemingly thinking about the deal that you had offered to him. The sweets seems to get to him since he never gets to eat such food....

It was tempting and he finally agrees with you.

"Okay..."

With that simple okay, Catnap begins to do his job in the play care to Dogday's delight.

After the shift is over, you give Catnap his sweet treats as you promised.

"Haha! See, it wasn't that hard, right! You did a great job there, Catnap! If you keep doing that, I might bake you a cake!"

You praised the feline mascot with a bright smile. Which causes the feline to look away slightly.

The feeling of praise makes his heart flutter with warmth.....

It was a very long day at work and you bid the smiling critters a good night before you leave the playcare.

Unknown to you, some of the higher ups have noticed how well you do with the Smiling Critters.

You are safe....

For now....

A/n : There will be more interaction with Catnap in the next chapter! I am aware that Catnap is Theo which is a child!

I am not sure who resides in Dogday and he might be one of the employees of the playcare since he knows so much.

Relationship between the three would be fluff. If romance, it could be focused on Dogday maybe...?

Well, it's up to you guys.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday #catnap #dogday x reader #catnap x reader #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #various x reader #fluff

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sleepiedahlia · 2 months ago

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OBEY ME BOYS X HYPERFEMINIE READER!

FEATURING: LUCIFER,MAMMON,LEVITHAN,SATAN,ASMODEUS,BEELZEBUB,BELPHIE X (IMPLIED GIRLY!READER)

Tw: so much love n fluff!

Authors note: hello, sorry for being gone so long:( but requests are open, and I’m back and hopefully won’t be leaving again for 7-8 months lol! But I hope y’all enjoy this and I’m happy to be back writing again!

LUCIFER

- he will buy you anything you want he doesn't even complain about you spending his money

- when you do work with him he'll use all your pink stationary like one time he used a pink glitter gel pen on a document to diavolo and diavolo thought it was so funny and made him do that from now on

- watches the real housewives with you but criticizes it like he hates it but secretly loves it! his favorite is the real housewives of beverly hills.

- loves when you do skincare on him because it relaxes him from all the stress of the day!!

- he lets you put clear nail polish on his nails but that's it because he doesn't want his brothers (especially diavolo) to think he's getting soft

MAMMON

- he literally loves you being more girly because he can spoil you with more stuff the usual!!

- buys you an insane amount of makeup!! like your running low on foundation? it's been ordered and there on your desk in a few hours. (poor lucifer's credit card bill bc of this)

- you convinced him to get his car wrapped in a light pink color and he actually does not regret it at all!

- you two have matching juicy couture track suits!! his is in black and yours in pink and you walk around the house in them and it's one of the times Lucifer genuinely smiles:)

LEVIATHAN

- he literally adores seeing your pink outfits because he thinks you look so cute but every time he tries to say that he blushes so hard and stutter so much:3

- sings jpop with you (or kpop) he also sings anime theme songs with you!

- buys you so much stuff for your collections especially if you have a small anime or even a big one he always adds to it!

- if you sew, he has you sew him cosplays so you two can go anime cons!

SATAN

- you were the reason he got into lana del ray, he LOVES cinnamon girl!

- he makes stickers with you (this is one of my hobbies lol) and half of your guys stickers are calico critters more specifically the cats! (you make stupid ones of lucifer too and put them around the house)

- he will let you put pink sheets on his bed (they had cats on it)

- you two have matching jewelry!! you both have these matching bracelets yours in pink, his in green!

ASMODEUS

- HE LITERALLY LOVES IT!! it means he can be girly with you!

- you guys do nails every week and he always does any shade of pink on your nails, and he does his to match!

- LITERALLY SHOPPING EVERY DAY!!! you need a knee outfit because your not an outfit repeater? you go shopping! (poor lucifer's credit card pt2)

- every night you both try new ways to curl your hair like, heartless curls, braids, ect!

- also will buy you make up like mammon and you two do it on each others faces and so far you both really like the gyaru style of makeup! (also flower knows makeup brand is a must.)

BEELZEBUB

- literally takes you out to eat and tries one of your lippies while eating to see how long it lasts

- he will let you try new makeup styles on him but he's snacking for half of the session TT

- supports your collections and obsessions 100% like he loves when you get a new pink stanley cup and show it to him and one time you got matching ones and he used it at practice everyday

- will watch the real housewives with you pt2 but doesn't understand it at ALL.

BELPHIE

-he's honestly fine with it, until you turned his room into a pink explosion

- sleeps in your pink blanket hoodies you bought at the mall in devildom

- will let you put makeup on him as well!! but he hates the coldness of the foundation

- you have your own side of the room in his room and his side is mostly blue and cow print while yours is pink and girly and filled with plushies and pillows he bought you! (you did make him have pink bed sheets)

@SLEEPIEDAHLIA

- PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK! BUT PLEASE ADD CREDIT IF YOU USED MINE AS A REFERENCE FOR A POST! PLEASE AND THANK YOU! -

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trumpkinhotboy · 1 year ago

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Little critters

Pairing: paul lahote x fem!reader

Type: requested

Warnings: nothing, pure fluff!!

Word count: approx 800

Requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia and heartstopper

A/n: loved loved this request it's so cute and I think the vibes are adorable hehe seeing sam being so soft for emily🥺 so thank you again for this nice request I always love writing for you guys

"Aren't you the most adorable little creatures I have ever seen?" "You're so cute. I want to keep you forever!"

Passersby probably took Emily and you for some deranged ladies when they saw you crouched in an alley, apparently talking to the ground.

But they couldn't see the adorable little balls of fur meowing back at you with impressive intelligence lighting their eyes. You were leaving the grocery store when you had heard plaintiff meowing sounds and discovered kittens shivering in an old cardboard box.

There was two of them, a fiery black one, who hissed when you first came close, and a grey one who immediately approached you, looking for pets. It had been 10 minutes, and since then, you had dug in your bags to give them water and food. By the way they devoured the bit of ham you gave them, you knew they had been there for a while.

"We can't leave them here," sighed Emily as she petted the black cat on her thighs. The grumpy cat had seemed to take a liking to her incredibly quickly.

"But where can we bring them? I'm scared if we leave them at the pound, they'll be forgotten," you pondered while delicately petting the gray head of the little critter bundled up in your lap.

As if you had just communicated telepathically, you and Emily looked up with a knowing light in your eyes.

Without having a plan, you brought the kittens back to Emily's to give them proper shelter and a long-awaited bath.

The four of you were now on the couch, extenuated after this eventful day. Junior and Paulie, the names you had settled on because of their resemblances with your boyfriends, were sprawled before the fire.

You had just started preparing dinner when you heard familiar howls from the forest. Seconds later, the seven members of the pack entered the cabin. Distracted by the smell of food, they didn't seem to notice the new presence of the two fur balls. Sam immediately headed for Emily to hug her and kiss her cheek. You smiled at the happy couple as you felt a pair of warm hands grab your hips. You smiled and melted into the muscular arms wrapped around your figure.

"Hey, you." "Hey," you answered, a smile in your voice. "What have you been up to?" he sweetly asked.

You tensed at his question, your eyes immediately finding Emily's. Through all your excitement, you didn't have a plan on how to tell seven werewolves you were planning on keeping two kittens.

"Well, actually, it's pretty funny," you started as you turned to face your boyfriend's suspicious expression. You tried delaying your explanation when you heard Seth's excited scream.

"Oh my god! Where do those kittens come from?! They're so adorable!!" he cooed before dropping on his tummy to try and pet them.

"Kittens?!" exclaimed Sam with a questioning look at Emily.

The pack gathered in the living room, observing the two cats, unbothered as ever, lying in front of the fire.

"We found them across the grocery store. We couldn't leave them there to fend for themselves!" explained Emily as she walked to little Sam Junior. The antisocial cat lifted a heavy eyelid at the disruption of his nap, only to meow and lift his head in search of pets when he noticed who it was. She grabbed the kitten in her hands, bringing him close to her chest with an adoring smile. The little beast softly purred in her arms. It was impossible to deny the special bond they already shared.

You looked at Sam with a glimmer of hope. The look he gave Emily as he saw how happy she was told you everything you needed to know.

"What's his name?" he asked with a defeated sigh as he neared the pair. The little kitten carefully sniffed his hand before allowing him to scratch his head.

"Actually," Emily looked at you with a conniving smile. "With his black fur and protective instinct, he made me think of you, I thought we could call him Sam Junior."

Your little crowd chuckled at the name and the resemblance between the two.

"Junior, eh? Sounds about right." He smiled softly. Whenever Emily was concerned, Sam was as docile as the cat in her arms.

Suddenly, a soft nudge on your shins surprised you. You looked down to realize it was the gray kitten. You felt your heart melt at the display of affection and lifted him carefully from the floor.

"Oh, don't even think about it," uttered Paul as he noticed how you looked at each other.

You pouted your lower lip, bringing the little kitten next to your cheek. "Please, please, please, please," you pleaded. "His name's Paulie," you added with a cheeky smile.

Your boyfriend looked at you with incredulous eyes.

"I see it, Paul. He looks like you," added Sam with a teasing grin and a lift of his shoulders, as if to say 'You know they've already won bud'

He stayed silent, observing your pouty face and the sleepy kitten in your arms. Before finally saying, "Werewolves with kittens?"

You gave him a little nod. "Yeah, I guess that can work," he conceded with a grin.

#ilya writes #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolfpack request #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #twilight wolfpack x reader #sam uley #emily young #jacob black #quil ateara #embry call #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #twilight wolfpack fluff #twilight

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lazyjellyfish300 · 5 days ago

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𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒔 ( ၴႅၴ

𔒌 synopsis: pregnancy has taken a toll on your hair. you've never really discussed your feelings about it with your husband, kento, until you take this time to let it heal and wear it more naturally.

𔒌 words: 1.3k

𔒌 cw: x FEM!PREGNANT WIFE READER, READER HAS CURLY HAIR, scarred post! Shibuya Kento. this is self indulgent & based on personal experiences as a woc, fluff, light angst.

𔒌 sparkle dividers by @/anitalenia and lavender by @/saradika-graphics

The rhythm of rainy mornings has changed its tune just slightly.

The showers have ceased early, letting patches of sunlight drizzle in its absence through the wavering clouds as morning settled in.

The stove remains bare where you would usually stand in its place, but some things remain the same, like the tender soul you belong to who walks in through the back door of the farmhouse.

Kento sheds his rain laden boots and vest, ridding himself of everything but the scent and the drops in his hair that would still cling to him when he found you right where he left you.

Rumbling purrs from an elusive critter at his feet belong to none other than Smoke, the barn cat, who makes an unexpected appearance, weaving his way through Kento's legs, taking an affectionate ear scratch to go as he quickly scurries outside.

Kento smiles and crosses to the stove, retrieving a mug. Warm apple cider pours where freshly brewed mocha would settle before, in light of a tiny life with little hands he created with the woman just up the stairs.

----

Your belly of 25 weeks skims over the sink in the bathroom, freshly showered and eyes settled on your reflection as you work the curl cream into your hair. One of Kento's band tees hangs off your shoulders, loose waistband from your pajama shorts shrouds you in material that stretches and comforts you during this rather uncomfortable time.

His fingers find you first, settling in the space of squishy skin on your waist, splaying and appreciating the way it bends to accommodate the palms of his hands. His scars against your stretchmarks, weaving up your belly like twines of emerald ivy on the exterior of your farmhouse, giving life to the canvas of skin like the lightning that accompanies the thunder in the rolling sky overhead.

"Good morning." His voice when he speaks is unintentionally reverent, veneration ever present simply because it was directed at you.

"Morning, sweetheart." You turn and capture the kiss he has for you, warm lips after coffee and he smells like the rain. Time still moves somewhere beyond these walls, but between you, the moments meld into tender fragments of eternity.

"Did Fig put up a fight about her breakfast again?" You ask, referring to your pet pig that grazes with her fellow barnyard residents on the small farm you and Kento adopted together.

"Went down with no resistance today, as a matter of fact." He smiles with pride.

"Hahaha, thank God." You chuckle as you turn back to your haircare products.

"This pregnancy is killing my hair, sweetheart." You mumble as you let your hair fall inches shorter than it was just months before you got pregnant.

"I had my hair lady clean it up and now I'm starting this curls routine. I never had anyone growing up to show me how to do this." You say quietly, a melancholic tinge in your voice as the words left you like a confession you actually recognize as grief that you never spoke aloud.

"I'm caring for my hair. Like, actually pouring into it in a way that's tailored to its natural state and not based on standards that are suited for people who don't look like me."

Kento listens intently, noting the pause between your sentences in thoughtful inflection, sensing you have more to say, not letting his hands depart their mission of comfort on your waist, heartstrings pulling with support and admiration for sharing a glimpse of your soul.

"And what else, love? I'm listening, please continue."

"...I'm letting my hair breathe and just be for once. But what if it doesn't go back to the way it was?"

"It will, darling." He reassures you, taking a step closer. "It will. You're growing life inside you, love. It will take time, but your body will eventually heal."

"And if it doesn't?"

"It's a possibility. But a very slim one. And if so, then nothing changes." He states with resolution.

"Not your beauty. Not your soul. And never my love for you." He lowers to a loving whisper, unplugging the straightener.

"And if this is how you look untouched by the shallow influences of superficial ideals that completely ignore and compromise the integrity of your natural beauty, then leave it." He states, taking a curl by your ear between the scarred buds of his fingers that turned to butter whenever he touched you.

"Leave it just like this. Free, and soft."

He gently releases the curl and his thumb catches your cheek.

"I love you... Thank you so much. For listening. For seeing me." You whisper.

"I love you, darling. No need to thank for what is expected of me as your husband." He murmurs.

You both sit momentarily in the calm of tenderness and the aftermath of the truths you spoke to one another.

"So um... after the cream, I'm going to dry it with the diffuser and clip it halfway up, kind of like this..." You demonstrate, slightly bashfully, lifting the top sections of hair into the half-updo with your hands. "I think it'd look pretty, Ken. What do you think?"

And that damned blink of your eyes unravels him whenever you reach for him like he's the answer and you're the question when it was really the opposite.

Dulcet windows of your eyes both inquisitive and hopeful like he was akin to something as grand as stars being asked of a blessing like you were not his gift from them.

"You're effortlessly devastating, my dear. You always have been." He turns you to look at yourself, your glowing reflection next to his scarred one.

"I think you should proceed with exactly what you've planned..." His lips find your temple and kiss, his hand gently grasping where you're holding up your hair, keeping the style in place with one hand as he reaches in the drawer next to you.

"But, if you're truly asking, and you'll indulge me..." He picks out one of his favorite clips he hadn't seen you wear in some time, a gorgeous one crafted out of twisted gold metal, with pressed petals of wildflowers and lavender adorning the sides.

"I think this one suits you best."

"Ken...this one is stunning!" You beam at him, as he lets your hair fall for a moment while you appreciate the quiet gesture, tracing over the delicate craftsmanship in his hands.

"You know, I completely forgot I had this one..." You hum and kiss him again, with one more request.

"Would you help me, sweetheart?

"Of course I can." He murmurs, exchanging yet another kiss to your lips for some of the cream from your hand as he gets to work. He takes notes from when he observed you moments earlier, working it from ends to root, using praying hands, tentatively scrunching, never too harshly. Sacred and never objectful.

And when he's finished and after he watches you dry, he helps you gather just the top section, letting loose curls dangle in a frame around your face, carefully securing it with the clip and watching you with a warm gaze as you admire yourself.

And as he takes you by the hand with one on your belly, you relish in the comfort that this life with him belongs to you when you had spent the better part of yours in rooms at tables in chairs that were not meant for you.

You realize that you can allow yourself to belong to a somewhere, to an eternal lifetime of Kento. With your curls and every part of yourself that you did not need to hide or change anymore in the safety of a steadfast love that chose you repeatedly with the inevitable crest and fall of the sun.

You realize that the best has yet to come with the budding future in your belly and the blissful, ever-rainy horizon with Kento by your side.

And that you can make your home there, too.

#from my trees . ˚ 𖧷 ·𓇥 ° . ♡#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x fem!reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #nanami angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x fem!reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #cw pregnancy #dividers by saradika #dividers by anitalenia

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thekinslayed · 10 months ago

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Nobody Tell Daemon!

summary | When the family heirloom is nowhere to be found, you found yourself in the middle of the chaos in the Hightower-Targaryen siblings' apartment.

pairing | modern!aemond x gf!reader x platonic!targtower siblings (aegon, helaena, daeron)

tags | crack fic, mentions of sex, aegon is a sweaty liar, new girl-inspired, slightly succession-inspired, the targs hate each other but live in the same building

wordcount | 4.9k

note | my first attempt at a crack fic 😭 this was inspired by new girl s4ep6 'background check', which is my fav ep in my fav show! thought i’d write something fun this time bc i'm going to miss my chaotic little greenies <3

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! (divider)

The warm tingle of the morning sun on your bare back made you purr like a cat, limbs stretching over the length on the queen-sized bed. Beside you, the light sprinkle of Aemond’s silver chest hair twinkled under the sunlight, ripples of defined muscle accentuated by the shadows cast. Underneath, his pale flesh had taken a pink hue after some of the strenuous activities you had partaken in when you awakened. On most days, your boyfriend would’ve sprung out of bed the moment the clock struck six thirty, but not today. After all, it was his day off.

And on his day off, Aemond took his time… in between your thighs.

Laying on your stomach, you settled your chin on your crossed arms to look at your lover. The giggle that bubbled from your lips as you stared into his peaceful face couldn’t be helped, prompting him to crack open his good eye to look at you in question, brow raised.

“That was some good stuff, wouldn’t you say?” you said, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. He merely huffed a chuckle, slim cheeks dimpling.

“Fuckin’ amazing, babe,” Aemond replied with a satisfied smile, turning on his side to grab your waist. You squealed in delight as he maneuvered you onto your back. Attacked by kisses, and tickled by the growing stubble on his chin, it had been a while since mornings were this peaceful.

“Why can’t we ever have mornings like this?” you asked rhetorically, ending with a dreamy sigh as his wandering lips found their home in yours. He grunted in agreement, hips canting towards yours to make known the growing zeal in between his legs, ever eager to make the most of your morning.

The answer came in the sight that greeted you the moment you left his room.

Tangled in a crumpled heap of silver hair on the floor, Aemond’s brothers, Aegon and Daeron, were wrestling for the remote.

“Oh, come on, Aeg! I need to catch up on my show!”

“Fuck off, Cocomelon, MILF Manor’s on!”

With a heavy sigh felt in the Seven Heavens, Aemond turned to you with a deadpan face. “This is why.”

The other side of the apartment was in no better shape. A stuffy cloud of greyish smoke enveloped the open kitchen. In the middle of it, Helaena was making breakfast. Flipping a more than well-done pancake, and scrambling a bowl of eggshell-dotted eggs, their sister was unbothered by the ruckus, merely humming to herself. You exchanged a look with Aemond, who nodded at you with a wordless instruction to take over.

“Morning, sweetie,” you greeted your dear friend, accepting the side hug she happily gave you. Peeking down at the ceramic pan, Aemond hid his grimace at the shape of the blobs of batter she was cooking up.

“Lookin’ good in here, Hel. Why don’t we lend you a hand?” he offered innocently, to which Helaena beamed up with glee.

“Would you mind flipping that when it’s ready, Aem? I need to go feed the babies for a sec!”

The moment Helaena turned to scurry off to tend to the numerous critters littered about in jars in her room, Aemond immediately tossed the blackened hotcake into the trash. It was somewhat impressive how his sister somehow managed to make it cling to a nonstick pan, but he dared not say anything. Meanwhile, you cracked some windows open to let some fresh air in, before rolling up the sleeves of Aemond’s old college hoodie to help out by cutting up some fruit.

Soon enough, all of you managed to find your respective places on the island and finally start eating. It was nice, save for the boys’ banter that managed to have its own seat at the table.

“They’re hooking up with guys my age and their dads?!” Daeron exclaimed, a mixture of awe and slight confusion on his young face at his eldest brother’s choice of morning entertainment.

“Yeah, bro, and you know what that’s called? Good. Fuckin’. TV. Not that lame superhero shit you’re always into,” Aegon retorted with a full mouth of food, specks of egg flying out of his mouth with every word. Even the ginormous mug engraved with the words ‘I <3 U WITH ALL MY B(.)(.)BS’ couldn’t hide the scowl of disgust on your boyfriend’s face as he sipped his coffee, the gaze on his good eye sharp on the two knobheads before him.

You tuned out Aemond’s scolding as you were deep into your own conversation with Helaena, who had a chirping cricket balanced on her shoulder. You made sure to keep your steaming cup of matcha away in case the critter had any plans of jumping off. You loved Hel, but gods, did those things make your skin crawl.

The sudden ding! from Aemond’s pocket cut through the chatter of the table. With his attention shifted to his phone, you stole some of his bacon, watching on in curiosity as his brows furrowed in confusion. “Daemon’s having the whole building inspected?” he announced, making everyone turn to him in attention.

“Did he fuck someone in the building who gave him crabs?” Aegon quipped in a matter all too nonchalant that everyone had turned to him with an incredulous look.

“No. Mum said Dad’s dagger he left for Daemon in the will isn’t in the penthouse anymore. Asshole’s bringing in KLPD’s ‘best’ or whatever the fuck, some guy called Jason Lannister’s going to be up here doing the search. The Lion,” Aemond read off the text on his phone, before shutting it off with a scoff of disbelief. He muttered a few curses for his uncle under his breath before a flicker of realization struck his face, turning to Aegon. “Did someone in this building give you crabs?”

“N-no? Just heard it from uh, uh… the doorman!”

“Aeg, you know you’re a terrible liar, right?” you mused, eyeing the way his pale cheeks had almost immediately turned red at the sudden inquisition. Aegon was a sweaty, anxious liar who spent his teenage years nearly wetting his pants before he could pull out his fake ID at a liquor store. Any more prodding and his gray t-shirt would have been marked with sweat stains.

“Ha, you guys think they call him The Lion because he’s ferocious, and feeds on crime and bad guys as grub? Man, that’s cool,” Daeron remarked, shaking his head with an innocent satisfaction for making such an observation. You turned to Helaena to giggle in amusement, but she was staring off to the side, biting her lip while deep in thought.

“The Lannisters are lions, Daeron. It’s their family sigil. You would know this if you didn’t spend all your time in middle school messing with your iPad with your snotty hands, you oaf,” Aemond retorted, making the youngest pout at the realization. You turned back to finishing your meal, paying Helaena no mind. It wasn’t uncommon to have her like this, often lost in her head that all of you knew to leave her alone until she was back to herself.

Rising from his stool, Aegon made his way around the island to grab butter for his toast. “Slept with a Lannister once. Let me tell ya, boys, they are feisty!” the eldest bragged, punctuating with a feline growl that made Aemond roll his eye for the tenth time before noon. Butter dish in hand, Aegon padded over to the utensil drawer for a knife. “Why does the prick think we have it anyway? It’s not like we need anything from the rotten old ha— Oh, shit.”

And there it was, between cheap IKEA spoons, packets of wooden chopsticks from takeout, and water-stained cutlery, sat the Targaryen family heirloom— the Valyrian steel catspaw dagger. It stood out from the wooden drawer like a sore thumb. Shiny, heavily embellished with a real stone of ruby that could pay off your student loans, and inscribed by what you were told were Valyrian glyphs; it was outright gaudy in your opinion.

When Viserys Targaryen, a multi-media conglomerate and filthy-rich billionaire, passed from his long battle with cancer, he had stated in his will that each of his children was to inherit a portion of his riches. Their eldest half-sister, Rhaenyra, had been given almost half of their father’s wealth in money and property, as well as being the immediate successor to the family company, Dragonstone Corporation. For the rest of the siblings, the other half was split among the four of them, which was, frankly, chump change compared to what their sister got. The only consolation was that they were granted to keep any furniture in their dad’s penthouse. Not the flat itself though, that was for Daemon, as well as the family heirloom that no one else coveted but their uncle.

Now, did the Targaryens have enough money to settle themselves into a manor large enough that each of them could have rooms larger than their current living spaces? Abso-fucking-lutely. But Viserys had been sick for a long time, tethering at a hair’s breadth from death for years. At that time, he had expressed his dying wish of having his family close to him, despite their many, many differences and ill feelings. These hotheaded silver heads could hardly stand to be under the same roof with each other; as if Aemond’s missing eye wasn’t proof enough, but their father was more persistent to have his way. Hence, they had all been given keys to their own flats in one of Dragonstone Co.’s premier luxury buildings, the Red Keep.

Rhaenyra and Harwin were on the second floor, with Jace and Luke in a bachelor’s pad two doors down. Alicent was on the fourth, taking a smaller place of her own after her husband’s passing with her trusted bodyguard and oddly close companion, Criston Cole, staying in the unit adjacent to hers. Aemond and the siblings were situated in a spacious 4-bedroom on the thirteenth floor, the farthest away from anyone.

Technically, they were all still under the same roof, but it helped when the only time one could encounter their estranged kin was when they had the misfortune of being down at the mailboxes together, which was rarely ever. They always had the freedom to move out, but the Red Keep was a highly sought-after property, centrally located in the heart of King’s Landing. It afforded them luxuries not found in other places, a more than perfect location if only it weren’t for the fact that it ran the risk of bumping into their estranged, unmistakably hungover uncle walking his dog Caraxes at the private dog park.

Their grief on their loss was brief, rather relieved with being free of the ghost of a father’s hold on their lives, but Viserys’ blatant favoritism had the siblings muttering ill wishes in his afterlife. You were there with Aemond on the day the children were called up to take their pick of the furniture in the penthouse, wide-eyed at the millions worth of designer, custom furnishings adorning the space. They were all given their respective colored stickers that they tabbed on their picks, yet none of them seemed to be enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. No talk of some family heirloom was discussed as far as you were aware, rather busied with tugging on Aemond’s sleeve to urge him to place his claim on the toile de Jouy fine china that would go exceptionally well with the countryside cottage you were saving up for when you got married.

“Aegon, how many times do I have to say you can’t sell Dad’s stuff on eBay? Not the important ones at least!”

“Hey, it’s not me! You’re the one who’s got a crush on Daemon, you sure you didn’t take it to piss him off?”

The sound of the instant finger-pointing and bickering within the boys was deafening. No one seemed to have any recollection of taking the dagger back to their place, nor did they express any want for it. It seemed that Viserys left one last act of messing with his kids’ lives, a ghostly imbecilic stunt, especially when Daemon was threatening to sue for inheritance theft.

Beside you, an anxious Helaena was biting her lip as you both watched the three sons butt heads in finding the culprit. The urge to spit out the truth was palpable, emanating from her slouched, mohair-sweater-adorned body as your eyes widened in realization. One worried look from her and you understood. After all, she was your best friend, you knew her like the back of your hand.

“Okay! It was me!”

The arguments ceased at her exclaim, three and a half pairs of eyes turning to stare at her instantaneously. No one opened their mouth to voice their frustration, not when it came to Helaena. Alicent’s only girl rubbed a hand over her face in angst, fidgeting on the island’s bar stool as they all awaited her explanation. “I found it in Dad’s study when I was looking for the taxidermy beetles he used to have. It was on the shelf… and nobody put a sticker on it so I didn’t know!”

“That’s because Daemon’s made it pretty clear it was his since the dawn of time, big sis,” Daeron replied, scratching the back of his neck as they all pondered on what to do.

“Why’d you even want this old thing, Hel? It’s ugly as shit,” Aegon commented, flipping the dagger on the counter with a frown on his face.

Another frustrated groan left her lips, face planting on her arms while you tried to soothe her, shooting a warning look at the three boys still standing around the table. “I thought it was kinda nice to have! Like, you know… for charcuterie and stuff!”

“Well, why can’t you guys just talk to Daemon about it? It was an honest mistake! He won’t send his own family to jail… right?” you suggested, flashing a lighthearted smile that went unreciprocated by the four silverheads around you. Frankly, your words failed to convince yourself too, because if there was one thing you learned in the years you’ve spent with the Targaryens, it was that nothing ever got fixed with a simple conversation. They were all quick to anger, jumping at the first chance to butt heads when it presented itself. This was going to be tricky.

A resounding buzz from the unit’s intercom cut through the worried tension within the group, your stress multiplying when the snobby voice of Jason Lannister reverberated from the tiny box.

“Good morning, this is Jason Lannister, a detective with the KLPD. I am here on request by Mr. Daemon Targaryen for an item he claims to have been stolen from your father’s penthouse. Your unit will be the first to be searched, I appreciate your cooperation.”

Seven Hells, of course, they were first. The Hightower side of the family definitely wasn’t Daemon’s favorite bunch, and there was no doubt that there was a huge possibility he could sniff them out in no time. Chaos ensued almost immediately, a mirrored panic prompting everyone in the house to look for ways to dispose of the damned knife.

“Throw it in the trash!” Daeron suggested, opening the lid to the bin. Aegon, already perspiring down his forehead, shook his head vehemently.

“No, wait! Don’t let me see where you’ll hide it! The moment he comes in here, I’ll just yell trash!” he rambled, promptly covering his eyes with a hand and turning his back away. Gods, the pit stains on his shirt were already growing darker with sweat. Gross.

“Why don’t we just throw it out the window?” you pointed out, jabbing a thumb to the open window behind you. Helaena and Daeron both nod in agreement, voicing their thoughts on the idea.

“And stab someone in the brain on its way down? Not necessarily making it better for us,” Aemond grumbled, clearly the most stressed among the group. His good eye waved across the space frantically, thinking of ways of an alibi. There was no doubt the search would be thorough, and he wouldn’t put it past Daemon to order for their whole place to be turned upside down in the process. There was no way they could hide in their apartment, unless…

The idea hit him like a brand-new light bulb, his features brightening as he contemplated. “What if,” he started, rubbing his chin in thought at such a bold plan. “What if we hide it at mum’s place?”

“Are you insane?! You’re seriously going to pin this on our own mother?” Daeron questioned, his eyes wide with bewilderment at his brother’s plan. It was a shitty plan, but they were running out of options.

“She’s at the lake house until Sunday, and they can’t search without a warrant if they don’t have her consent. We’ll just use the keys she gave us, keep it there, and when the whole thing blows over, we’ll secretly put it back in the penthouse,” Aemond explained, waving his hands around wildly. It was clear he didn’t agree with this plan either, but it was better than throwing the knife out and landing it on someone’s skull on accident. “If they find it there, we’ll ask Nyra for help. We’ll just have to trust whatever gross girl crush feelings she has left for Mum. She can deal with Daemon, can’t she?”

You all looked at each other, contemplating. Daemon hasn’t had a judge issue a warrant yet, so her unit won’t be searched while she’s still out of town with Criston and her brother, Gwayne. It was tricky… but it was plausible. Another buzz from the lobby urged you to decide faster, but as no one seemed to think of a better option it was determined.

With a silent agreement from everyone, Aemond nodded, before taking the catspaw dagger and placing it in an old shoebox. He fished the keys his mother gave him, before disappearing out the front door. In the meantime, Daeron buzzed the detective into the building, while you and Helaena fixed up the damp, clammy mess that was Aegon.

“I can’t handle this,” he whined, chest heaving. You were coaching him on what to say in case The Lion asked him anything, but his tongue was all in a twist from how anxious he was. Turning him around by the shoulders, a prominent sweat stain the size of Dorne covered the entire backside of his sleep shirt. Why the hell was his eye twitching so much?

“Oh my gods, you’re a mess! Here,” his sister urged, handing him the oversized, clunky sweater she had knit him for his birthday earlier this year. It was a bright yellow, with a forest green cartoon dragon embroidered on its chest, and fell just around mid-thigh. Helaena turned to you, exchanging a twin look of concern at the sight of him. Skin flushed, greasy, silver locks stuck to his forehead, clad in a bright sweater in the middle of summer. He kind of looked like the Michelin man in boxers.

“Relax, you’re going to be fine! We’re all going to be fine, right?” you reassured the room with a light tone of confidence, though the squeak in your voice all told them otherwise.

The longer Aemond took to return, things were starting to feel less fine.

Sat on the couch tightly together, you all were stiff as cardboard as The Lion explained the customary steps of a search. Your eyes shifted to the door every minute, anxiously waiting for your boyfriend to return. None of you were suited to face a man like Jason Lannister, whose eyes studied all of you like a predator waiting to prowl. “This isn’t a formal search, since, of course, your uncle has been issued a warrant by a judge yet. But since all tenants of the home are here, consent can be authori—”

“Brogues!” Aegon suddenly shouted, prompting all eyes to turn to him. Jason tilted his head in confusion, and all three of you resisted the urge to bury your heads into your hands. “Uh, y-you’re wearing brogues,” he said, clearing his throat. A shaky finger pointed at the decorated, brown leather shoes adorning The Lion’s feet, followed by an attempt at a nonchalant smile that looked more like a grimace. You subtly pinched his thigh, silently urging him to get it together.

“Hm? Oh, yes! Thank you for noticing them, Mr. Targaryen,” Lannister replied, a tinge of bafflement still decorating his tone. “Anyway, as I was saying…” He continued to explicate the procedure, pulling out a small notepad and a pen from his pocket before beginning his search.

Before he could start, the front door opened to reveal Aemond, who was unaware of the presence of an officer of the law standing in the middle of the living room. His hand ran through the messed up strands of his hair, while his mouth also ran a mile a minute blindly. “Okay, I know that took so long but the twins were on the elevator and I had to take the sta–” Springing up from your seat, you cut your boyfriend’s words off by slamming your lips onto his to shut him up. You might have exaggerated the kiss to keep it believable, but it took Aemond a second to piece two and two together when you pulled away.

“Detective Lannister, this is my boyfriend, Aemond, who just came from, uh, the gym.” The Lion’s brows furrowed at your words, blue orbs flickering to the Adidas slides the silver-haired man was clearly not wearing to lift weights at the gym. Aemond cleared his throat, composing himself, before straightening his back to stand taller.

“Yes, I like to run… barefoot. Better for your feet!” he lied, throwing you a look that made you smile at him sheepishly for such a terrible excuse. Things were going south at a breakneck speed, and would only continue to go downhill when The Lion announced he would begin his search.

The detective soon pulled on a pair of latex gloves, taking nearly an hour to examine each nook and cranny of your home. Drawers were pulled open, rooms examined and closets bared, the dagger was nowhere to be found. Relief started to waft through the four-bedroom apartment, but your success was shortlived when the blonde Lannister soon announced that after his search he would all question you individually, starting with Aegon.

Shit.

The sound of the bedroom door closing almost had the eldest collapsing, body seriously overheating in a mix of dread and fear as Lannister stood before him.

“Now, Aegon. I know you have seen this dagger in your dad’s home before he passed. I want you to tell me everything you know that could help with finding it,” he said. Aegon racked his brain to think of a lie, any lie, but his tongue refused to utter any word that held no ounce of the truth of the heirloom’s actual whereabouts. He recalled the stuff you had taught him to say.

I haven’t seen it since I was a kid, detective.

I’m pretty sure Daemon already has the dagger.

I don’t know.

“I wear latex gloves on my feet once a week to moisturize them.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, but his brain refused to stop wiring out actual truths about himself in an attempt to sway the detective’s attention away from the topic at hand. “I had my first kiss at a movie theater when I was 15. We were watching Forrest Gump, and I was snoggin’ all three hours of that film. It was awesome,” he continued, letting out a small chuckle at the memory. The Lion’s brows must be stuck in its furrowed state now, with the absolute nonsense that greeted him the moment he stepped foot into their door.

“What are you talking about?’ the detective asked in absolute bewilderment.

“I’ve had a lot of sex. A lot. I’ve probably gotten a lot of girls pregnant, for all I know. Oh! You wanna see my son Jaehaerys? He just turned five!” Aegon had reached into his pocket to grab his phone, but Lannister had thrown up his hands in exasperation with a sigh.

“Okay! I think I’m all done here. I will have to take a look at your mother’s place after this.”

“Y-you can’t do that, she isn’t home!” Aegon stammered, panicking at the prospect that their strategy was going to fail and their mother would be locked behind bars for their mistake.

“Oh no, I was informed just this morning that she was on her way back.”

With his words, Aegon just about fainted the moment The Lion swung the door open to leave his room.

You couldn’t have imagined things taking a turn for the worse, but it most certainly did tenfold. Alicent had barely set her Louis Vuitton weekender bag down before The Lion was already prowling through her home, with a displeased Daemon Targaryen arriving to keep a close watch. If Viserys’ brother was suspicious of his nephews and niece stealing his heirloom, he was especially convinced that their mother would have it. You all stood in her kitchen holding your breaths; an anxious, huddled mess silently praying to whatever being in the sky that nothing would be found. Even Nyra had made her way to her estranged friend’s unit, voicing her belief that Alicent would not have taken the catspaw dagger.

Your prayers went unanswered when The Lion emerged from Alicent’s walk-in closet, carrying an old Ferragamo shoebox that contained the hefty, Valyrian steel weapon. Daemon’s chuckle was as wicked as a witch’s, clearly triumphant with finding something to penalize his brother’s widow.

“This is absurd! I did not take that thing from the penthouse, or anything at all!” was Alicent’s defense, but Daemon was having none of it.

“Oh save it, Alicent. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on my brother’s possessions after he’s left you so little, could you, red?” he sneered, pointing an accusing hand into the woman’s face. Criston Cole pushed Alicent behind his back in defense, puffing his chest menacingly to dare Daemon to try anything. Yells and insults echo throughout the apartment, with threats of jail time thrown about to make things worse.

“This is bad, this is bad,” Daeron muttered, biting his fingernails down to stubs as he watched on. You turned to Aemond, whose good eye was widened to the size of a dinner plate as he watched his plan turn to shit.

“Do something,” you urged him, pulling on his wrist. He was stuck in place, mouth gaping like a fish.

“I…” he stuttered.

“I can’t take it anymore, I’ll just come clean,” Helaena spoke up, stepping away to admit her fault. Before she could voice her guilt, the sound of a steel handcuffs being unhinged was a shrill noise, and with it, a sweaty Aegon broke out into a sob.

“No, Mummy!”

In a blink, he crossed the room to cling to his mother, shielding him away before the detective could put her in cuffs. Alicent’s face broke out into a look of surprise, then to disgust at the damp hold her son had her in.

“Mister Targaryen, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside,” Jason ordered. Aegon looked at his siblings, a shocked Aemond, an anxious Daeron, then to a guilty Helaena. With a sigh, the eldest stood straight, swallowing down his pride and mustering his courage.

“It was me,” he lied, taking everyone in the room in shock at his admittance. “I took it because… I wanted something of Dad’s to remember him by. I mean, Nyra, you got everything else, I thought it didn’t matter if I took something smaller like this. I was just keeping it safe in Mum’s closet.”

You exchanged a look of surprise with the siblings, somehow feeling impressed at his display. The execution was flawless, and it even had their half-sister wearing a look of guilt at his words. Aegon dropped to the floor, stomach down onto the carpet with his hands behind his back, despite the look of perplexion around the room.

“Alright, officer. Take me downtown to the pound. I only hope my end will be kind.”

“I can’t believe Aeg’s sweaty ass got us out of trouble, even guilt-tripped Nyra to hell,” Daeron snickered, before taking a swig of his beer. The sun was only beginning to set, the remnants of the midsummer breeze carrying a tinge of humidity in the night air. You all lounged about the rooftop, passing around ice-cold beers while Aemond was manning the barbeque.

After the whole ordeal, Rhaenyra managed to talk their uncle out of wanting to sue Aegon. With hushed whispers and an oddly intimate caress on Daemon’s cheek, their brother was free to go. His little speech made her feel bad for him, and frankly, everyone else was more than over dealing with his anxious, sweaty mess. The Lion soon left their mother’s apartment, Daemon had his dagger back, and Alicent showed her thanks over a bottle of wine with Rhaenyra along with some other activities their kids didn’t want to start imagining.

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of myself for doing the impossible today. I think I make a pretty convincing liar,” Aegon said, wearing a proud look on his face. The second son scoffed at his words, approaching the table with a plate of grilled meats. He took his seat at the edge of the lounge bed you were lying on, stealing a swig of your beer.

“Congratulations. You have as much willpower as the two-year-old daughter you’ve forgotten about,” your boyfriend snorted, before being tackled off his ass and onto the ground by the eldest. You watched on in amusement, shaking your head at their antics.

You’ve learned many things in your time with the Targaryens, but one thing was always for sure, there was never a dull moment with any of them.

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