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iron-strangers · 3 days

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Dream a Little Dream of Me

Description: It's all true, Jedi can read minds. You've been trained to keep people's thoughts about you for so long. It went well until the day you caught Din's fantasy involving you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Series: Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Tags: Established Relationships, Mand’alor Din Djarin, A Sprinkle of Family Fluff, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Lactation Kink

CW: Reader has AFAB characterization, uses she/her pronouns, is able-bodied, has depicted body changes related to pregnancy and breastfeeding, and hair that can be pulled during sex. No Use of Y/N. Consent Issues: Reader peaks into Din's fantasy. NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 2.7k

According to urban legends, jedi can read minds. That's true, well, to an extent.

Jedi can read unshielded minds. A Jedi’s mental shield helps to prevent their minds so they’re not easily read, but also to prevent them from accidentally reading a non-force sensitive’s mind. This knowledge helped you survive being chased around the galaxy during the Empire’s reign. Imps are weak-minded and you could easily get any information you needed by reading their mind.

As you grew older, some thoughts people had about you turned sexual. Some got you blushing, like the one from a spacer who fantasized about sweet-talking you into having a quickie in the back of the cantina, some others were just plain disturbing and had you slamming a mental shield as quick as you can before fleeing the parameter with your blaster clutched in your hand.

During the old Jedi-Mandalorian war era, Mando'ade have found a way to keep the jetiise out of their head. Beskar helmets are effective for as long as you can remember, but apparently, there's a loophole. Beskar can't block a jedi who's already soul-bonded to a Mandalorian. There might not be any data about this, but let's be real, there's barely any noted soul bonds between a jedi and Mandalorian throughout history.

This explains the weird sync you and Din have. People have mentioned how you complete each other, that you have almost the same opinions on things, how you two always make the same decisions, both politically and on the battlefield. Some might even suggest that you and him finish each other's sentences. It's a cliché, written in teenager’s holonovels. So you're used to laughing it off, deflecting that you probably just spent too much time together, that between leading and parenting, agreeing on the same thing is just what spouses do. The Armorer called you ‘two halves of one warrior’ at your wedding ceremony. It should’ve ring an alarm in your mind, but in your defense, you were too busy getting swooned off your feet.

It became apparent one day when you met him in a small bakery, just a few minutes away from the Keldabe Palace, when he wasn’t supposed to be done until much later in the day. You’ve been craving Keshian Spice Rolls all day and you figured it was a great day to take the kids out, enjoy the sun and a little sweet treats, then surprise your hard-working riduur with a box of pastries back in the palace. Imagine your surprise when you stepped into a bakery and saw him already queuing.

“Rid’ika!” He called, waving to you from the line. You skipped over the lines, smiling and nodding to everyone as you made your way to your riduur. Din took Grogu from you so you can lift Aranar, who’s busy charming everyone off with his toothy grin, up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, holding his offered hand. “You have to meet the Prince of Bespin in half an hour.”

“I know, but I heard they are baking Keshian Spice Rolls. So I went to buy you some.” Din shrugged, not once caring about the Prince having to wait for him to get back from spoiling his riduur. “And what about you? I thought you have a bes'kad class for the verd’ike this afternoon.”

“The class won’t start for another two hours and I really want a spice roll.”

You heard people behind you aww-ing and you buried your face into his shoulder, humming when you feel cool beskar against your blushing cheek. Din smiled behind his helmet, paying for three spice rolls to go, never once he let your hand go. You got back to the palace with twenty minutes to spare and herded the ad’ike to the Mand’alor’s office.

“Knock when you need him and don’t come in before I answer.” You rushed into the room when you spotted Kryze marching to stop you.

“You two better not be having se-”

“Young ears, Kryze! Manda, we’re just gonna eat Spice Rolls!” You held the pastry packages up for her to see, holding your laughter when you saw her scowling.

“Spice rolls better not be a code for something else, Djarin! You have a meeting in twenty minutes!”

Din closed the door on her face and you locked it with the force for good measure before dissolving into giggles. Din lifted his helmet up and immediately pressed a longing kiss to your lips. The kiss was uncoordinated since the two of you couldn’t stop grinning. The kiss, and the pastries were heavenly, Grogu and Aranar shared a piece, for your peace of mind. After all, it was you who had to wrangle two sugar-high toddlers in the training yard as you teach advanced sword techniques to a group of heavily armed teenagers who happened to be Mandalore's newly sworn warriors.

The impending knock finally came and you shared another sugary sweet kisses with your riduur before you put his helmet back on and sent him away to his duty. The door was barely closed when you were hit with realization.

Fuck, you thought. We’re soul-bonded.

Overall, there are worse people to be soul-bonded with. Having one with your own riduur is not a bad thing at all. Having one with your riduur without any source to soul-bond knowledge, however, is another piece of work. Putting a mental shield up against your own riduur feels wrong but you do it anyway, respecting his privacy to his own mind.

Until today.

Today, you feel a gentle nudge at your brick wall of a mental shield, laced with Din's warm force presence. You could've brushed him off and shielded yourself better, but you thought to yourself that a small peak wouldn't be bad.

You're wrong. Oh, you're so wrong because it's bad. Your hand directly flies towards your mouth and you try to stifle a moan as a yawn.

In his fantasy, Din had you bent over the meeting table and he's pounding into you. He has his hand on the small of your back, pressing you down to the table. You're completely naked against the table, pinned beneath the beskar of his armor. You can hear the filthy sound of his cock ramming into your sopping cunt. Din grabs a fistful of your hair, making you cry his name out loud, losing yourself to the stretch and the hard thrusts of Din's cock.

“Oh fuck-” you grit your teeth, clenching your fist on your thigh. You sit there, stunned, breathless, unable to stop watching.

“Can you feel how good this pussy stretches around me, rid’ika?” Din grunts, holding you so close to his hips while his fingers reach down, rubbing your swollen clit. “Such a good girl, do you wanna cum, mesh'la? Wanna soak my cock and make me give you another ik’aad?”

Maker, yes! You thought, trying your damn hardest not to whine while the version of you in his mind is whimpering and begging him to make you cum. Din leans to your ear, telling you to come. You’re shuddering in his arm, moaning his name in a punched out noise with a telltale sign of orgasm, and you snap yourself out of his imagination.

You put your strongest mental shield up and you lean to the plush seat, blinking and looking around the room as you settle yourself back to reality. Din is sitting on the head of the table, looking over his own datapad as he watches a member of his council talk about Mandalore’s quarterly budget report. If you didn’t know better, you’d think your riduur is actively listening to the report instead of daydreaming about fucking you over this very table.

You tread carefully when you're back home. You put Aranar and Grogu to sleep late, making sure they are a little bit more tired than usual so they sleep soundly later tonight. Once the kids are out like lights, you take the baby monitor with you and change into one of Din’s loose shirts.

You find him still seated on the dining table, tapping things into his datapad. You smirk to yourself, walking towards him and leaning over the dining table to take your own datapad that you could easily reach if you make an extra trip to the end of the table. Din can't stop staring, making no move to help you, instead he stands up from the chair and moves to cup the swell of your ass, just like how he imagined before.

“Careful, rid’ika, you don't know what kinda game you're playing here.”

You whine when his hand moves underneath the shirt, trailing up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He whispers praises to your ear, biting down your jaw and your neck.

“Fuck, look at you, mesh'la, you're expecting this, huh?” He lifts the shirt up, revealing nothing underneath other than your glistening cunt. “I haven't even done anything, rid'ika, and this pretty pussy's already all wet for me.”

You moan softly when his fingers find your clit, rubbing on it as you shudder in his arms. Din sinks two fingers into your wet heat and he groans when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs on your clit as he keeps pumping in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over his fingers and your inner thighs until you shake beneath him, then he pulls off of you.

“No, cyare please, I'm so close- Ah!” You cry as his fingers leave you, only to moan loudly when he kneels behind you and he slaps your soaked pussy.

“Needy girl,” he teases, slapping your clit again, ignoring your cries. He parts your folds with his tongue until his smart mouth finds your clit and he starts sucking on the sensitive nub. You grip the edge of the table tightly as you grind against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lower face. Din tuts, holding your hips in place, chuckling when he sees your hole clenches around nothing.

“You know what you get for being such a good girl, cyar’ika?” Din asks, his fingers are back on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerve in a tight circle as you buck violently against his fingers. “Good girl gets to come on my face.”

His lips are back on you, kissing, lapping, and sucking until you're a whimpering mess. You let out a high pitched whine and you come on his mouth, flooding him with your arousal as he keeps on sucking on your lips as you ride your orgasm.

Din grabs your chin towards him and he kisses you hard, his lips are glistening with the mixture of your cum and his spit and you can taste yourself on the tip of his tongue. Din pulls off of you and he turns you around, lifting you up to the edge of the table. He lays you down and he parts your legs with a steady hand on your inner thigh, keeping them apart so he can admire his hard work, your drenched cunt glistening with your sweet come. Din groans then he spits on your cunt, adding to the mess before smearing everything around with the thick head of his cock. He's painfully hard, his foreskin is pulled all the way back, revealing the flared tip, steadily leaking precum all over you. He lines himself up with your entrance and fucks all the way into you in one push. You watch as his thick cock stretches your hole, feeling yourself clinging to his girth, fluttering around him as you struggle to take his size. Both of you moan when he finally buries himself deep inside you, still holding tight to each other.

“Maker, been thinking about this sweet pussy all day.”

Oh, I know. You thought. “Yeah? Did you think about fucking me, ner riduur? Thought about how my pussy clenches around your cock? Did you think about filling me up with your cum until I'm swollen with your adi'ka?” You taunt him, circling your legs on his hips to keep him buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” Din swears, hissing while he steadily leaks precum all over your wet heat, leaning his head to yours and rutting deep against your sweet spot. “You're playing with fire, rid'ika. Can't just say things like that.”

“But I want you to,” you beg, moaning wantonly when he starts pumping in and out of you. “Want you to keep fucking me until I'm so full and swollen with your baby.”

Din growls, pounding deep into you with punishing pace. He's watching you, watching your cunt swallowing his cock, watching your face grow slack with pleasure. You slip your hands under the shirt, covering your breast and squeezing them, making your milk leak until there's a wet patch over the shirt.

“Filthy girl,” Din grunts, pawing on the piece of clothing. “Lift it up baby, let me see.”

You lift the shirt up, revealing your breasts for him, shiny from both milk and sweat. Beads of your milk trickling from your nipples, leaking steadily as he fucks into you. He slips one engorged nipple to his mouth, sucking until he can taste you on his tongue while his fingers play with the abandoned one, rubbing and squeezing, spraying him with milk.

“Everything about you is just so sweet, rid'ika, my perfect girl.” He praises. He licks your nipple clean before switching to the other side, pressing open mouthed kisses before bringing the sensitive buds to his mouth and sucking on it, drinking you until he's full while his hand loves on the other one. His cock never stops pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer with each snaps of his hips.

He folds your legs into a mating press, tucking your knees against your chest and his cock is so deep inside you. So deep he reaches your cervix, kissing your womb with his tip. You clench hard around his length, your wall seizes violently around him, milking him irresistibly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars, begging him to please, never stop. You're wailing as your whole body shakes, tipping your head back and moaning Din's name so loud he has to cover your mouth with his palm, worried the filthy noises of the snap of his balls slapping your ass, your loud moans, and the squelching sound of your wet pussy might wake the sleeping kids up.

With a shaky shudder, you come down from your high, whining as Din keeps fucking you, chasing his own orgasm. After a few brutal thrust, your riduur groans loudly, shouting punched out moans as he peaks. His cock twitches in your soaked, messy cunt, filling you with his hot cum, flooding your insides and claiming you his. He kisses your lips, muffling both your moans, only parting to plant another kiss to your temple while he pumps you full of his cum, murmuring sweet, loving praises and filthy promises to you.

“That's a good girl, rid'ika. Take it, baby, gonna get you all round and pregnant. That's what you want, right? Want to give me another? Want to be bred all over again?”

Din keeps rutting with you until you both shake from overstimulation and he gently pulls out of you. He admires your blissed, fucked out face, trailing soft kisses down your jaw and your neck, sucking his marks all over your body. You tip his jaw up and catch his lips in another kiss, laced with a content smile, before breaking away to whisper sweet I love yous to each other.

Din gathers you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and lowering you gently into your shared bed. He leaves for the fresher, fetching a damp rag to clean you up before slipping into his side of bed beside you. He pulls you close, kissing your lips lovingly and rearranges the covers, tucking you into his arms.

“You're my dream girl, you know that right?”

“I tried,” you smile contently, caressing the scruff of his jaw softly.

“You don't have to,” Din mutters, humming when you snuggle closer to him, pressing your heartbeat over his. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

You exchange more kisses, lazily making out in bed until sleep takes over, safely nestled in each other's arms.

About a few weeks later, you start to feel the tiniest flutter in the force.

#expending clan mudhorn #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin imagine #pedro boys #pedro pascal fic #star wars #star wars fanfiction

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chubbyreaderwriter · 4 months

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Would anyone read it if I started writing for the expendables? There isn’t nearly enough fanfics for them for my liking 😩

#chubby reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader #x plus size reader #the expendables

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years

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LEE CHRISTMAS (the expendables 2010 series)

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��A Different Direction” (Lee Christmas x Fem!Reader)

| It’s the bar scene from part two, but Lee doesn’t get back with Lacy in this version.

| Reader is always black unless I say differently

| SFW, some very tame pda, alcohol consumption

| this is a rewrite/reimagining of the bar scene

| 1k+ worlds

Sitting next to Ross feels good. Lee even finds himself smiling into his beer as he takes a swig. He’s feeling particularly thankful for having made it through another mission. For surviving another wild blood pumping trip and then being able to come home to you.

His eyes are automatically drawn to you in the packed bar. No amount of anyone else even pinging on his radar as you talked to the bartender, getting the two of you’s second round of drinks because he’d gotten the first.

He gets stuck staring at you. It’s like you’re out of a movie. How you’re moving around, laughing at whatever joke the bartender makes, looks borderline fucking ethereal in his mind. The song playing changes and Lee doesn’t even notice until you do. A smile splits across your face and you mouth about loving the song, and while putting in your order the lines of your body easily catch onto and sway to the beat.

Lee’s not a dancer but at that moment he wants to be moving with you. Hands on your hips behind you as you tease his obvious lack of skill, kissing the curve of your neck when you throw your head back in excitement. He notes some of the song lyrics in his head to look up later.

He must be damn near enthralled because Ross nudges him with a chuckle and he still doesn’t dare look away.

“I gotta say, my friend, I am glad you decided to heal from that other girl.”

Lee shrugs.

“She wasn’t bad, she just…wasn’t for me in the end.”

Ross’s brows go up in a way that says ‘you think’ but he ultimately agrees.

“Her cheating on you ain’t enough to make her a bad person?”

Lee shakes his head and spits out his usual reasoning. Sometimes people just made bad split second dicisions that end up fucking everything up. Shit happened. He would know.

“Nah, she’s just morally dubious.”

From the corner of his eye he can just see the bewildered look Ross throws his way.

“Which is?”

“The split side of being morally grey,” he purses his lips with a slight grimace. “The effects are murky.”

“Oh yeah,” Ross intones and Lee knows he’s making fun of him. “Real fancy way of confirming she just has a world class cheating gene ruling her decisions.”

“Someone clearly stabbed you in the heart, bud, people do make mistakes sometimes. I knew your heart was nonexistent but this is a new level, the absence of light isn’t even dark enough for what’s going on in you.” Lee takes a moment to let his shit eating smirk be noticed by the other. “You want me to kiss it better?”

His team lead lets out a gruff huff of laughter and shakes his head.

“I’ll pass.” He nods at you, “Just please tell me you’re actually going through with this one.”

Lee takes a swig of his beer and only takes his eyes off of you for a second to look at Ross like he’s crazy.

“Course I am,” he points at you with the tip of his bottle and you just so happen to look over at him and smile at the same time. It lights him up from the inside and he smiles back even as he talks. “I’d be crazy not to marry her.”

Ross grunts in acknowledgement and pats Lee’s knee as you start heading over.

“I’m just glad you’re not still entertaining being in a relationship with a woman whose first instinct was to cheat on you. Y/n is good people though, she makes you less unbearable.”

Lee rolls his eyes before he’s completely caught up in you again.

You smile at them as you get within spitting distance and Lee can’t help but track the way that unlike with Lacy, when he was stuck on desperately trying to make it work with her, the guys don’t either ignore you when you’re not directly engaging with them or give you stilted responses.

Barney doesn’t do any of those things with you. When you ask him things he answers about as happily as he ever does anything he doesn’t despise and when you greet him he responds while actually looking at you.

Lee had honestly never realized before how much the guys disliked Lacy until he finally gave up on them and found you almost a year later. In fact even though the three of you are a little separated from the other’s table the team still takes the time to greet you, even Gunner, as you walk past them.

He reaches for you, in the pretty dress he’d had the pleasure of watching you pick out for tonight, and when you readily grasp back at him he pulls you into his lap. You settle there like you were made for it and he can’t help the smile that splits across his face as he watches.

“Hey you,” you murmur. He brings your hands up where they’re still connected to kiss at your knuckles.

“Hey,” he murmurs back against the ample darkness of the skin there.

You smile and duck your head at the intensity he regards you with. Stunning. You squeeze his hand, shy smile still in place, and then turn to Ross.

“Hi to you too Barney.”

At your words Ross actually glances up and fully acknowledges that you’ve talked to him. He even gives you one of his rare angst riddled half smiles. It’s genuine, the man’s just allergic to anything the elicits too happy of a response Lee’s sure of it.

“Hey Y/n, how you been?”

“Fine,” you shrug, sparkling eyes briefly flitting to Lee’s. “Better now that Lee’s back though. You think next time you could fit me into the schedule? A month’s a long time to not have his little accent bouncing off my walls.”

And Ross chuckles in response. Wow, Lee really was a love sick fool with Lacy if he hadn’t realized just how much his closest friend couldn’t stand her.

“I’ll make sure to check my calendar for you next time,” he nods at him. “Though why anyone would rush to hear his badgering British shtick is lost on me.”

You pat at his hand as you lean into Ross’s space, “Maybe I’m a little crazy,” you mock confess.

“Hey!” Lee exclaims as Ross chuckles. The older man presses his hands to his knees as he throws him a teasing smirk before standing. Lee tamps down the urge to flip him off and pout at the way you’re laughing with him. Ross nods amiably at you both before lumbering off to join the group.

Once he’s gone, and all eyes from the table are not on y’all anymore, Lee turns to you and finally lets himself pout.

“What are you giggling at, eh? Just last night you were begging me to talk to you.”

You laugh some more, a snort sneaking in in the middle, and pivot towards him. A kiss is delicately placed at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t sulk,” you say against his lips. “It’s unattractive.”

You pull away with a tiny smile pulling at plump glossy lips and Lee stares at you open mouthed before shaking his head. He pulls you to him more securely, letting go of your hand to wrap both his arms around your waist. You nuzzle your head onto his shoulder and kiss at the dip of his neck. He laughs down at you and then kisses those smiling lips. It’s brief but it makes his heart pound as you give him your full attention. The two of you were captured by the other.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” his eyes dance as he speaks to you. “I’d miss you calling me handsome.”

Your laughter fills his ears, and call him a romantic all you want he already knows, but that sound fills his lungs with fresh air and renews him with hope that not everything in the world’s utter shit.

NOTES: Was watching Expendables and I like Jason Statham, you know the drill.

#lee christmas #the expendables #black!reader #black y/n #lee christmas x black!reader #lee christmas x reader #the expendables imagine #jason statham #black reader

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somothegraffitiartist · 25 days

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Does anyone do gunner jensen fanfics anymore 🥲 i need more...please

#gunnar jensen x reader #gunnar jensen expendables #dolph lundgren characters #dolph lundgren #the expendables

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iwaasfairy · 2 months

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┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just… Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.”

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue.

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?”

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

#geto x reader #toji x reader #shiu kong x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto smut #toji smut #shiu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.a/b/o #tw.noncon #tw.size kink #tw.double penetration #🍯honey.pot

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after-witch · 3 months

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Check Out Time is Eleven [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Check Out Time is 11 [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're invited to a hotel for a warm meal and a place to sleep by a mysterious stranger. Soulmate AU.

Word count: 7100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, a really useless and non-philosophical reference to My Dinner with Andre

The red thread on his finger loses slack for the very first time in his life, and for the smallest of moments, Chrollo Lucilfer forgets himself. His steps falter, expensive, stolen shoes nearly scuffing on the sidewalk, and a startled breath quivers through his chest. His mouth gapes, ever so slightly.

In surprise.

In trepidation.

In realization.

The red thread was, had always been, attached to you. His soulmate. Whoever you were. The gentle tugging of the thread meant that after years of fruitless searching, you were finally somewhere nearby, close enough to reach. Probably, given the tautness of the thread, even within walking distance.

How lucky for him.

How unfortunate for you.

You were finally discovered. You were finally within his grasp, fingers itching, warm satisfaction blooming through his skin. How often had he ruminated over the fact that you had yet to belong to him? How often had he wondered what you would look like, how you would feel under his touch? And what you might do to him when he had you in person? Would he find himself changed, however slightly, as the others in the Troupe had been? Or would he mold you with his own presence, looming over you like a shadow?

The mere thought of you is enough to get his heart racing, bring a bead of sweat to his neck. It was so unlike him, and wasn’t that a thrill?

And then, just like that, the moment is over. He recollects himself and his mouth closes and his mind whirs back into focused gear.

He needed to find you, first thing. The rest of the logistics could come later.

His eyes track the movements of the thread, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heels to follow the direction of the movement. It was possible--no, highly probable--that you were close enough to reach on foot. Within the city, certainly, and he didn’t mind the exercise.

As he continues to walk, the cold gleam of the business district turning into rows of glitzy restaurants and downtown attractions, he’s glad that you weren’t too close. It gives him more time to think about what he wants to do with you.

The Troupe members that had already found their soulmates--and Chrollo feels a surge of pride in his chest, counting himself among them now, fulfilled in that goal--had taken on different approaches.

Some merely kidnapped their soulmates and kept them in secure locations. Simple, effective in terms of security, but that would ensure it would take him a long time to win you over. And he knows that he will do just that, eventually, no matter how he decides to keep you. Others took their time, attempting to strike up something of an ordinary relationship before revealing their knowledge of the red thread, and persuading their soul mates to come with them for safety (and romance)’s sake. Surely the more appealing of the two options, but it did come with the downside of expended time and energy.

What he would do with you depended on so many factors. Did you live in some stationary location, or were you prone to travel? What did you do for a living? Were you already in a relationship, some inferior partnership with someone who could never appreciate you the way that he could, as your only soulmate?

All of these questions circle heavily in his mind as he walks, following the thread that was becoming tighter and tighter between the pair of you. The ritzy downtown buildings were now gone, replaced by rows of old buildings that had seen better days. In place of fine dining were small cafes and diners that practically exuded grease, laundromats with blinking signs, and the occasional busted out window. The scores of people walking, gabbing, waving around fancy handbags were replaced by only the occasional person walking with clear destinations in mind, eyes in front.

As the thread becomes even tighter, it leads him down an alley that most people would have surely avoided. But he doesn’t worry about the glances of the people leaning up against heavy exit doors, or the people crouching on the ground with needles against their arms. He thinks about you. Will he find you here, perhaps, curled up in the arms of a drug dealer pumping you full of toxic chemicals that flushed you with endorphins and heat? Or you might be on the other side of the needle, pocketing cash and going on your merry way?

But, no. Perhaps not. Instead of leading him further into the den of seedy dealings, the thread brings him away, feet crunching on broken bottles, towards some type of fenced-in parking lot. Or it had been a parking lot, once

From a short distance through the metal fence, he can see burning barrels, tents, carts. The smells of cooking grills waft over, greasy foods, easy to cook outdoors. It wasn’t a new sight, in this city or otherwise. Chrollo had seen worse. Had lived worse.

And then, there--at the end of the red thread that weaved in between one of the fence’s metal honeycombs: you.

He sees you for the first time and knows, with a burning intensity that threatens to knock him over, that he needs you. He needs you now. He needs you always. You have something that he lacks and perhaps possessing you will give it to him.

Is this what the others felt, when they first saw their soulmates? Or is it something unique to you and him? Some unfathomable bond that has shaken him to his core? Not for long, of course, never for long. He regains his senses within moments and catalogs the feeling away for later analysis.

It’s you that he focuses on, now. And the fact he will have you, as soon as he decides on the where, when, and how. He wouldn’t be the leader of the Phantom Troupe if he wasn’t skilled at taking what he wanted.

Today what he wants is not a gallery of paintings or a rare gruesome artifact, but a person.

You.

What to make of you?

You’re standing in front of one of the burning barrels, rubbing your hands together. They look red and chapped, even from his vintage point. Behind you is a shopping cart filled with odds and ends. On the side nearest the fire, you had clearly laid out clothes over the edge of the cart--wet ones, from rain or maybe you’d had the opportunity to wash them. Your current ensemble is a simple hodgepodge. Clearly, you wore whatever was cleanest, whatever was warmest, whatever you could find.

He remembers such a living.

You appear to be on the outskirts, avoiding the groups scattered around the encampment. No one approaches you and you don’t approach them. A loner… by choice, or not? You wouldn’t be alone for long, if it wasn’t by choice, and in time you might be grateful for it. If it was by choice, well, there were ways to tame feral cats.

It doesn’t take much analysis to decide what to do with you, to decide how best to approach things. He’s glad that he wore something casual today. Just some simple slacks and a nice sweater. If he was overdressed, it might be more difficult. Not that he couldn’t manage it, but he enjoys advantages when he can get them.

With no hesitation, he walks through one of the ragged gaps in the metal fence and begins to approach you.

Your head jerks towards him the moment that his steps become even remotely close. He doesn’t mind. It’s only natural, especially for someone who has been living the way you surely have. There’s a tugging somewhere inside him--memory of himself and connection with you.

He smiles, not broadly, but in a way meant to disarm.

“Hello,” he says, stopping a few feet away from you.

You stiffen.

“I’m Chrollo,” he continues. His voice is undisturbed and calm. As if he was meeting you on a sunny afternoon in the park while you were both buying ice cream from the same cart. That might have been a more charming meeting, he muses, but this one can work to his advantage just as easily. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

You snatch your hands back from the barrel and step, refusing to turn your back to him, behind your cart.

“None of your business,” you say.

And oh, he thinks, it would be heaven if he could somehow bottle the first time he hears your voice and listen to it on demand. But he supposes, he has the rest of his life--and yours--to hear you speak.

“That’s all right.” He gestures towards you, the cart, your life. “I see you are in need.” You frown at him, but he continues. “How would you like to go somewhere warm?”

Your lip pulls back in a sneer and you move yourself on the other side of the cart.

“I don’t do that. Fuck off.”

Ah. You thought he wanted you to--well. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of others in less fortunate situations. There had been enough of that in Meteor City.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, voice going soft. “I should have clarified. I’m a… missionary of sorts. I look for people in need and offer what help I can give. I’d like to buy you a hotel room for the week.” He notices your wary expression. “Or even the day, if that would be more comfortable for you. Somewhere you can get some safe sleep, a shower, something to eat. I wouldn’t even be there.”

He recognizes the look on your face all too well. Wariness. Suspicion. The face of someone who knows that people are tricky and greedy and cruel. That people will take things that they haven’t earned. Oh, yes-- he knows all of that so well, from both sides.

And he also knows how to get your guard to drop enough for him to accomplish his goal. Sure, mistrust is essential in an environment like this. But mistrust can always be overpowered when there’s something essential within reach. Like comfort. Or food. A warm place to stay, even if it’s just for a few hours. A private bathroom, a toilet, a tub.

“I don’t know,” you say, finally, having given him the appropriate stare down.

He nods his head.

“I understand. I would feel wary myself, in your position. It’s perfectly reasonable.” It is more than reasonable, he thinks, but you don’t need to know that. You just need to believe that coming with him will be worth your while, worth ignoring what he’s sure is a growing pit in your stomach.

“What I would like to do is accompany you to a hotel where I often book rooms for those in need. It’s a private room, of course. And I will pay for your meals.” He sees the gears turning in your mind at the promise of a bed. The promise of food. “I have my own room in the hotel, but it’s on a different floor, and I won’t have to see you at all,” he adds, and this is how he will make you step over that cautionary line. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everything is pre-paid on my card, of course, and you’re free to order whatever you’d like. What do you say?”

He lets his words hang in the air, wafting like smoke from the nearby barrels.

You wet your lips. You glance around at the people around you. A few of them have taken notice of Chrollo, perhaps as a mark, perhaps more; but he pays them no mind. He could kill them in a fraction of a second and whisk you out of here just as easily, if he needs to… But he hopes it will not come to that.

“All right,” you say suddenly, softly. “If… you’re just going to give me a room and feed me, then all right.”

Chrollo smiles. It is, he thinks, perhaps close to a genuine one.

“Wonderful. Follow me, if you please.”

The hotel is expensive, but thankfully not terribly ostentatious. Chrollo would hate to put you off by throwing you into some gilded lion’s den. But the hotel is more reserved, classy. Comfort and luxury without any of the ridiculous trappings that often come with them.

Chrollo does bring you with him to the front desk, if only to reduce the chances that the security will kick you out for looking out of place. And you do look out of place, but perhaps that’s for the better. It will make you appreciate what he’s going to do for you more, won’t it?

You’re quiet all the while, but that’s to be expected. You only hold tight to your backpack, where everything you hold dear has been crammed, and let him do the talking. A reservation is easily made under the guise that only you are to know the room number--you certainly don’t need to know that he’ll swing back and reserve the connected room next door--and the key is given without fanfare from the polite desk clerk who gives you curious glances but nothing more.

Chrollo walks you to the elevator, ever the gentleman, and hands you the key. You stare at it. The uncertain expression on your face is unbelievably precious, he thinks. He hopes he can see more of it before it inevitably morphs into shock and anger and fear.

“Would you like some new clothing?” Chrollo asks, after he pushes the button on the elevator for you. “I can have some sent up from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll tell the front desk, so they can give the concierge the room number. Ah, and I’ll need to know your size, if you’re willing to give it.”

“You want to buy me clothes?”

You almost splutter out the words, and he has to restrain himself from kissing you right then and there. You are terribly cute, and there’s a slight disturbing tinge to how much he finds everything about you enticing so quickly. The way you furrow your eyebrows at his question. The slight look of embarrassment, the twitch of your lips.

He needs you so much, and he’s only known you for a few moments.

You tell him your size, then glance at him before staring at the glossy metallic doors. “Um, I need something warm. No useless stuff.” Your head gestures back towards the hotel lobby, where a few women are walking on the arm of male companions, dressed in sleeveless dresses and likely heading for the restaurant.

“Of course.” Chrollo does not tell you that he can envision you wearing all sorts of useless things in the future his mind is creating, brick by brick. You would look heavenly in something strapless, something slinky. Something that hangs off your shoulders. He would drape a fine wrap over them, were you behaving enough to go out with him--no one else but him will be privy to such delicacies.

For now, though, he resolves to send you the clothes he knows you want. Things will be a little more seamless if your guard isn’t entirely raised.

The elevator doors open.

Chrollo steps aside, and gestures for you to enter.

“This is where I take my leave. I will let the restaurant host know your name, and you can order whatever you’d like. It’s on my card. Please, don’t feel the need to hold back.”

You take a step inside the elevator and ah, there it is. Just the slightest hesitation. The slightest jerk of your head as you look back at him. Do you feel bad, leaving him in a lurch when he’s giving you charity? Do you feel beholden to him in some way?

“I guess it’s okay if we share a meal. You’re paying for it, anyway. It’d be awkward otherwise.” You stare down at the elevator carpet as you say the words, and Chrollo realizes that he’s perhaps misjudged the gesture. Your sense of shame, maybe, outweighs your desire to be rid of him and his potential alternative motives for assisting you.

That might come in handy.

He nods, as you turn around and make brief eye contact with him.

“Well, then. How about we meet here in 5 hours for dinner? I can send something dressy to your room, if you’d like.”

You shrug your shoulders as the doors close, which is as good as assent in his view. The string on his finger rises with the elevator, but now there is no fear that he’ll lose you. The string, something which had been maddening in its slackness for so long, is now something of a treasure itself. A little leash, keeping you to him, wherever you go.

Which, for now, is your hotel room--meaning he needs to get moving. He won’t pick anything too flashy out from the boutique; something modest, something simple. There are delicate steps to take to avoid making you feel ashamed without offending your sense of dignity all in one go.

Thankfully--for you and himself--he’s attuned to such needs.

5 hours. That would give you enough time to take a shower or bath, to change into the fresh clothing he’ll send up, to take a nap. Perhaps you’ll stare out the hotel window at the view or curl up in the bed, rolling on the fresh sheets.

Five hours would give you time to freshen up and relax, yes. And it would give him enough time to get hold of Shalnark and procure anything he needs to make your removal from the hotel as smooth as possible.

The shower is running again. He doesn’t blame you. He remembers days where a hot shower was a luxury beyond imagining.

He keeps his side pressed against the door connecting your rooms--not that you know he is on the other side with a key to yours, of course--and holds back a contended sigh as he watches the red string on his finger twirl and shift with your every movement.

What are you thinking about? He wonders. Are you thinking about how long it’s been since you had a hot shower? Are you thinking about slipping the shampoo bottles into your backpack?

Perhaps more inviting… are you thinking about him?

He knows what’s on his mind, and has been for the last few hours now. You.

What were you like, deep down, underneath your layers and justifiably guarded stance? Maybe you liked to read, maybe you once had a dream of being a dancer before life went to hell, maybe you were shy, maybe you liked to get drunk and sing your favorite songs at full volume.

What would you be like, once you were fully his?

What do you look like, underneath all of your clothing? What has nature and nurture shown fit to bestow upon you, your skin, all those secret places you keep hidden?

The thread bobbles again. Are you stepping out of the shower soon, or still scrubbing yourself? You’re so vulnerable, naked and unawares, just a few feet away from him. The water running is a delicious sound to his ears, because he knows that you’re underneath it.

He imagines what you might look like naked. He imagines what sounds you might make, underneath him, gasping and--

Oh, but he’s getting ahead of himself. He smiles and shakes his head at the rush. He should slow down, yes. Slow down and savor it all.

He clenches both of his hands. In one is the duplicate key, in the other is a syringe. Both go into opposite pockets, awaiting their respective time to shine.

The dress that arrives at your door with a prim knock from a porter is not quite what you expected--which is a relief. You expected the stranger to send up something ridiculous. Something slinky and glittering, maybe with only a half shoulder.

But instead it’s a simple dress with a flared skirt, all made from dark blue fabric. The sleeves are elbow length, the neckline isn’t too low, and there’s a matching black belt to go with it. He’s even sent up a pair of nylons, which are something you haven’t worn since you were a little kid, desperately trying to mimic your mother’s fancy outfits.

He also--and maybe this is overkill--sent up a few pairs of shoes in different sizes, along with a transcribed note instructing you to call the front desk if none of them fit, or simply wear your own shoes if you are uncomfortable with it.

This stranger--Chrollo--is awfully accommodating. And kind. And considerate.

Which is exactly why, when the dress is on and your nylon-clad feet are resting in the shoes easiest to run in, you tuck your switchblade into one of the dress pockets for safekeeping.

Maybe he is just kind. Or he’s one of those people that makes themselves feel better by occasionally being charitable; he’s harboring some sort of guilt that can be alleviated, however temporarily, by buying a person a sandwich or two.

But maybe he’s not. You’ve known people who have been hurt or killed or sometimes worse by so-called charitable people. People that lure you in with showers and hotels, meals and clothing. People that slit your throat before or after they have their way with you.

Life was dark and life was shit, and you weren’t born yesterday. If this stranger had any nefarious intentions, you certainly weren’t going to walk into them like a bleating lamb.

And yet, and yet… some part of you wanted to believe he had good intentions. You’re not sure why, exactly. You weren’t the type to look on the bright side or always see the good in people--or at least, you hadn’t been that way since childhood. Yet something about this Chrollo made you hope that he was a good person. That you’d have a nice conversation and he wouldn’t do anything more than give you a nice afternoon and a place to sleep comfortably for a bit.

It was an almost primal feeling, which made it all the more stranger. Your gut feelings usually told you something like: this place is dangerous, this guy’s probably got a gun, that alley’s too notorious to use as a shortcut.

Your gut didn’t give you silly notions, like wanting to trust someone, hoping they would talk to you during dinner, wondering if they’d be pleasant to be around for longer.

At least, not before today.

“And the lady will have the cailles aux raisins.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Quail,” Chrollo says, allowing the waiter to take the leather-bound menu from his hands. As if your issue was with the choice of food--okay, you didn’t know what it meant, but still--and not that he ordered for you. “Stuffed with shallots, grapes, liver, and ah, I believe, some cognac, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct, sir,” the waiter says, not giving you a second glance--you didn’t even get a menu, which irked you, but considering you had nothing to pay with and perhaps the hotel staff knew it, it was a practical snub.

Your lips twist into a frown, although you suppose you can’t complain. The dish does sound good. Not that you’ve ever had quail. But it can’t be that different from chicken. Or duck. You had duck, once, as a kid. Your mother brought you to a hotel just like this for a Mother’s Day brunch and you sat at a table with an embroidered cloth and wore a pair of your mother’s white gloves, so that you would look extra fancy.

“I apologize,” Chrollo tells you. “I should have asked your preference first.” The strangest part is how sincere he sounds, like he really didn’t want to offend you. Like he actually might be interested in what you want to eat. Part of you can appreciate that, and part of you wants to finger the handle of your knife inside your pocket.

“It’s fine.” You shrug it all off. Because you can, and you choose to--but also because you’re famished and the smells wafting from the other tables is enough to make your stomach growl. “People usually don’t order things like this for me, anyway. If they do give me anything.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a particularly interesting painting on a wall. “No?”

You smile thinly. “Nope. I’m lucky if I get someone’s leftover fries from a fast food shop.”

“What a shame.” He places both hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. His gaze bores into yours. You look away, briefly, but find yourself wanting to look back. How odd. “I’m sure,” he begins, talking slowly, measuring out his words, “that must be demoralizing--to be treated as lesser-than.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out your nose, or the quick words that follow. “Yeah? And what would you know about that?” Your eyes rake over his outfit, your mind whirls over how much money he’s spent on you alone, as if it was nothing. A drop in the bucket. Some rich man playing with his money. Or daddy’s money, depending on the circumstance.

Of course, you expect him to get offended. You expect him to call you ungrateful and cancel the order and ship you out of here like yesterday’s trash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gotten angry that you didn’t play into their savior fantasies. Your muscles even prep to stand, your face goes stony, ready to block the anger that he’ll throw your way.

Only... none of that happens.

His face looks--it’s hard to describe, really. It’s almost like it glitches for a moment, and you see something you weren’t meant to see. You’re not even sure if he realizes it. And then his expression gets so remote and so quiet. He looks away from you for perhaps the first time, looking instead, at his hands.

“I know a lot about that, actually.”

It’s not offense in his expression but… sympathy? No, that’s not it either. You know “sympathy face” like the back of your hand, for all the good it does you.

It’s empathy. Trace, but there. A shared experience between you. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt all day. Why you went with him in the first place, hunger pangs aside.

“So you’ve been…” You begin, but is there a need to finish. He’s been homeless, or something like it. Downtrodden. On the bottom.

He nods.

“Sorry.” The word comes out blurted but soft. Well, I’m an asshole, you think.

He smiles at you, a soft, thin thing--almost like a gloss that covers up his previous expression. “No, don’t be. You had no way of knowing, dear.”

Dear.

The word hangs between you silently, as if it’s being dangled on some sort of invisible string. He opens his mouth slightly--maybe to apologize--but shuts it when you don’t say anything. Instead, he simply blinks, and watches you.

Perhaps a minute ago you might have bristled at the nickname, might have sought to cut it right down, in fact. But for now, you brush it aside. He’s being nice--he knows what you’re going through. And sure, there’s some sort of guilt relief in his actions, but it’s not coming from the place of a rich man making himself feel better. It’s coming, you think, from a place of not just knowing where you’ve been but having been there himself.

Before either of you can speak, the waiter returns with your appetizer and despite the guilt in your gut, your hunger practically sings at the sight of the plate of bread and butter. It’s fancy bread, already cut, gleaming with what smells like garlic butter spread over the top.

The flavored butter is shaped like a rose and it’s only after you childishly dip your bread right into it and take a loud, chewy bite of the delicious goodness that you realize you’ve committed a faux-pas. There’s a tiny butter knife on the plate, obviously meant to delicately smear the butter onto your bread. And here you are, gnawing on the piece like some sort of medieval peasant during a bad harvest.

A pang of shame tingles over you. It’s a silly kind of shame--inconsequential, really. Who cares how you eat bread at some hotel you’ll never step foot in again in your life? But it lingers terribly. Until Chrollo picks up a piece of brand and dips it right into the butter, too, taking a chewy bite with far less graciousness than you imagined with his sophisticated appearance.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

You smile. You almost-snort. And the shame dissipates like ice crystals on a sunny day, as you and Chrollo both finish off the appetizer. He lets you eat more without saying a word, which you appreciate.

There’s a lot to appreciate about him, really. He’s been kind. He hasn’t been terribly condescending, dinner order notwithstanding. And he seems to know how to approach you with actual empathy and not just the sticky, coddling sympathy that most people do.

And you won’t lie--he is nice to look at. He even smells nice, but with the amount of money he had to spend on the clothing he sent up to your room, he can likely afford to buy expensive cologne.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing. Instead, he half-closes his eyes and appears to be deep in thought. Over… you? Or dinner?

He hums a bit under his breath, and you realize: it’s the music. It’s a delicate song being played by a small group of musicians set up on a stage in the corner. It’s familiar… your brain strives to catch up with your ears.

“You like this song?” You ask, because the silence has stretched too long, and the bread is now gone.

Chrollo opens his eyes and regards you with a sober smile. “Yes.” He pauses, then. “It’s--”

“Elgar's Chanson de matin,” you blurt, before he can. “I know it.”

His eyes widen, just a tad. Enough to show that he’s curious. A funny bit of pride thrums through you. It can be retribution for the quail earlier, you decide.

“You’re familiar with his work?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, even though you don’t get the sense that he asked to be cruel. He seems actually interested. Like he wants to know you. It’s nice, and confusing, and a little startling.

You nod, wishing there was more bread to break up the conversation. “What, you think someone like me can’t be interested in classical music?

“Of course not.” He answers swiftly, resolutely.

He reaches his hand towards yours and grasps it before you can think to pull away. It seems silly to yank your hand out of his, so you don’t. Even if the way he looks down at your interlocked fingers makes goosebumps dance up your arm.

His expression is so strange. He looks… lonely. And desperate. And relieved. But why?

Both of your gazes meet for one electric moment and for that moment, you feel like he sees you. And you see him. Not as clearly. But you see something inside him that is not quite on the surface. Something which does make you pull away, but not with distaste. You withdraw your hand from his slowly, like he’s a wild animal that you don’t want to startle.

The waiter, impeccable timing as ever, arrives with the main courses just as your hand makes its way into your lap.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Ripples of water dash whatever it was between you, and he’s speaking charmingly to the waiter, who appears swiftly again with a glass of champagne for each of you. You weren’t intending to drink, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It could calm your nerves.

Neither of you talk much for the rest of dinner. It’s not tense, exactly, but you can tell there’s something in the air. Questions unspoken, maybe, or just an awkwardness between two strangers who seem to both understand and misunderstand each other in equal measure.

The hotel’s restaurant begins to thin out after your main courses are taken away. A dessert menu is brought, and Chrollo orders a simple slice of cake for both of you.

Real vanilla bean frosting is on your lips when you ask your question. Quiet, but with most of the other guests gone, he has no trouble hearing it.

“So you were… homeless, before?”

You’re not sure why you need to know this. To confirm that he’s not some rich boy playing with his father’s money? To see how much he can really understand you? Maybe the champagne went to your head. You don’t normally drink, it wouldn’t be impossible.

His fork stalls as the question comes out. He glances up at you and there’s nothing offended or hurt in his eyes. He seems to weigh his answer before he gives it. It doesn’t really surprise you; he could be just as mistrustful of you as you are of him, couldn’t he?

“Something like that.” He rests his fork on his plate. “I suppose you are trying to decide just how much I can sympathize with your… situation.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re grateful the water brought another glass of champagne that you can sip from to loosen the tightness in your chest.

If he notices your flushed countenance, he doesn’t remark on it. You like him better for it. He continues speaking, looking at you with a measured expression. Like before, his words come slowly and carefully, given to you with something akin to grace.

“Our situations were not exactly similar. I don’t find it terribly useful to compare them. Better in some ways, worse in others. Like anything.”

“Better?” You dab at your mouth with a napkin.

“Ah.” He seems to weigh his next words with even more scrutiny before he decides on them. “I had something you didn’t, which surely benefited me.”

“Which was?”

There’s something wistful in his voice now. It makes you lean forward over the table. With most of the other guests gone, it feels strange to talk so openly about clearly delicate matters. Chrollo mimics your lean, and while he doesn’t take your hands across the table into his, you get the feeling he’d like to, if you let him.

“Companionship,” he says simply. The word settles in the air like a brick that seems to land right on your chest. You blink and feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes. You really did have too much champagne, and this is all getting to be a lot. You start to lean backward when he speaks again.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“No,” you lie. The shock of the question does make you lean back fully. Then, to be spiteful. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer. He only looks down at his hands and the empty spot where yours used to be, and then back at you.

Nothing more is said on the matter. He pays for the meal and leaves a nice fat tip for the waiter--who has, you think, been lurking nearby either to witness your drama or to make sure no one swipes his tip from the table--before escorting you back to the elevators.

Shame slams back into you while you’re standing in front of the elevator doors.

“I’m sorry.” Sure, he asked it first, but fuck--you hate being rude. If you were rude. It was hard to tell how Chrollo felt about anything. The champagne making your head fuzzy doesn’t help. Not at all.

He tilts his head a little. “What for?”

Your eyebrows furrow together. “You know, for asking… for being…” You wave your hands around a little. It’s too hard to put into words. You’re tired, you feel out of sorts, and you’re tipsy bordering on drunk. You can give yourself some forgiveness in a lack of coherency in this matter, at least.

Chrollo regards you for a moment before he shakes his head, scoffing a little as he smiles.

“For being yourself? Or at least showing some small part of it to me? I don’t mind.” He holds out his arm and you, unsteady champagne fuzz in your head, take it. “I’ll escort you to your room, if that’s all right. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go there alone.”

You should tell him that you’ll be fine. You should. But the champagne in your brain and the way you feel drawn to him--however slightly--makes “should” fly out the window. So you nod and let him lead you into the elevator, where the ride up makes you dizzy enough that Chrollo has to steady you carefully, and you mumble out another apology.

He only chuckles a little and helps you walk out of the elevator without stumbling over the threshold. Your room is just down the hall and he keeps a steady grip on you the whole way, even though you’ve told yourself that you won’t stumble anymore. It feels weird, to have someone so close to you; to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin.

It feels weird, yes, but giddy too. He is handsome. And he did buy you dinner. And clothes. And he’s not as shitty as you thought he might be at first. The way he ate the bread in solidarity with you earlier--you can’t forget that, can you? It was… cute, even. If someone like Chrollo could be called cute.

Is it the champagne, the newness of this stranger-but-not-entirely, the rich disarmament that comes with a full stomach and freshly washed face? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s got you thinking too much about Chrollo as he gently takes the key from your hand and opens your hotel room door.

A gentleman, he only sees you just inside before taking his leave, promising to meet you for breakfast in the morning--if you’d like.

You would like, you tell him, and the door shuts and locks swiftly afterwards. Chrollo’s cologne lingers in the air, or maybe it rubbed off on you from all the steadying he had to do.

The hotel room is just as you left it. Clean and pristine, smelling vaguely of lemon. Your duffel bags and personal belongings are shoved in the corner. Maybe you’ll try to read one of your books tonight, before you sleep? It would be the first time you read on an actual bed in ages. Maybe you could even call for room service? A little midnight snack? It’s not like Chrollo would mind, or at least, he probably wouldn’t. It’d be something small anyway, nothing wild.

Unless you wanted a bubbly nightcap.

Full of ideas, you take your giddy champagne self back to the bathroom to change into pajamas that he sent up earlier, humming Elgar’s Chanson, thinking about bread and quail and… Chrollo. The knife in your dress pocket gets left on the bathroom counter. It was silly to bring it, now that you think about it.

Still humming, you flop on the bed and grab the menu for room service. It wouldn’t hurt to order some extra dessert. And another glass of champagne. Maybe two…

You’re so out of sorts that at no point for the rest of the night, before your weary head hits the soft pillow, do you stop to wonder how Chrollo knew your room number.

There are few things Chrollo truly regrets in his life. One of them, he knows, will be that he couldn’t plant himself in this town for a few months in order to properly court you; to introduce you, gradually, to the concept of nen. To the knowledge that you were his soul mate.

But it can’t be helped. He has to leave tomorrow night, come hell or high water. And he certainly won’t let you drown here a moment longer. It’s for your sake. You’ll come to realize that eventually, just as you will--in time--come to forgive him for what he must do.

You’ll no doubt regret letting down your barriers in the morning. But if you hadn’t been so keen to trust in someone, to trust in him, then he wouldn’t have gotten to see something of the real you underneath all of that built-up survival instinct. And didn’t you see something of him, too? He thinks you did. Just a moment, a spark, but it was there.

You sweet thing. He could hear you humming through the door earlier; heard you order room service (champagne and desserts) and he regretted not having Shalnark swoop in during dinner to set up some security cameras.

The key to your room feels heavy in his hand. On this side, he is simply himself, staring ahead as the red thread of his soulmate leads away from him. But once he turns it into the lock and quietly opens the door, there will be nothing between you but sleep.

He opens the door and relishes in the way the thread sags even further downward. If only you could have seen how beautiful the thread looked during dinner, all tangled up as he clasped your hand in his. That’s how the thread was meant to look. Not tight and taut and unforgiving.

You’re fast asleep when he silently enters the room and unlocks the deadbolt so that Shalnark can help him remove you from the premises. Curled up underneath the covers, you look like you’re in bliss. It’s likely the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Months? Years?

How awful for you, to wake up tomorrow and realize that you’re no longer in the hotel bed. And that he’s the one to blame for it. How awful for him, too, to lose his grasp on the tentatively pleasant and revealing evening you had together. But he doesn’t think you’ll be empathetic on that matter. Not for a while, anyway.

He sits down on the bed next to you and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to curl up against you. It’s not worth the risk of you waking, although the tranquilizer in his pocket could be jabbed into your thigh early, if need be.

Besides… you’ll have a lifetime of nights together after this.

There’s no need to rush what is finally his to keep forever.

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo lucilfer #afterwitch writes

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seresinhangmanjake · 23 days

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Hi 👋☺️

I hit 4k followers a couple days ago so I just wanted to say thank you for all of the love and support over the last couple of years! You guys help me stay motivated to keep writing and it means so much to me 🥰🥹

- ❤️ Lauren

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #thorn expendables

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dropitpunk · 10 months

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dating and giving ken his first kiss headcanons

ken x gn!reader

cw: spoiler free, himbo ken, jealous ken, sweet and short.

he's not very sure what to do or how to approach this subject.

things have been getting serious between you two, more pda around other barbies and kens and weekly beach dates have been filling up your calendar.

ken thinks your face is just too pretty and that you're too sweet. he's always saying more to himself than to you, "i really love to be your boyfriend, i wish i could be around you all the time."

but he really, really wishes he could just... touch his lips with yours.

ken doesn't really understand why he feels that urge so strongly every time he's around you, even if other kens or even allan explain to him that couples just do that.

he's very jealous of other kens, and he certainly doesn't like others talking about you or your relationship.

his goal is to be the perfect boyfriend for you. he expends extra time trying to get the perfect tan and the perfect amount of gel on his hair. ken's day is only good when you compliment him.

ken is constantly trying to find excuses to be around you. you need help trying to find the perfect outfit for the day? he's there in a second. you don't need help for anything at all? well, he's also there.

talking about outfits, he's always going to match with you and he makes sure of it. he thinks about how pretty you are gonna look every night before he goes to sleep.

gets very mad if any of the kens is wearing the same color as you. he is your boyfriend and only him should look like he belongs in a couple with you.

ken is very supportive of you when you play any sport in the beach, he's cheering your name and holding signs with cheesy lines and big hearts.

ken even tries to teach you how to surf, even if he isn't really the best at it. you two just stay in the sand and hold hands, smiling and laughing with all the other barbies and kens.

"this rock just reminds me of your eyes. just so round and big. it's for you," he says with emotion in his voice, extending the palm that was holding it to you.

"thanks, ken." you smiled, grateful and content.

he smiled proudly and nodded, "you're welcome."

he also loves especially when you drive him around in barbieland cause he gets to hold your hand and just look at your beautiful focused eyes all the time.

"can i come to your house today? i'm thinking we could have a sleepover." ken asks as he crosses his fingers and hope for your answer.

you immediately agree and he cheers, sending a thumbs up to the other kens that were watching excitedly.

you're wearing matching pajamas and brushing his hair when he suddenly turns to you, eyes shining with clear uncertainty.

"can i ask you something important?" ken surprises you with the seriousness in his voice.

"of course, ken." you drop the brush and squeeze his biceps in encouragement.

he gulps, subconsciously leaning into you, "what would you do if i kissed you?"

your eyes widened and you thought about it only for a second.

"i would kiss you back," you said and smiled, face closer to his.

"oh, okay then." he closed his eyes and pursed his lips, waiting for you with a tilt of his head.

you mindlessly leaned in and softly touched your lips with his, feeling ken smile against your mouth. the contact was innocent, and ken kept caressing the inside of your wrist.

ken's days from that moment were only good if you kissed him in the morning.

a/n: this is so silly but i'm just a ryan gosling silly girl

#ken x reader #ken x you #barbie #ken #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling imagine #barbie ken #fluff

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bubblebbg · 6 months

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❝𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

Mizu x Reader

- Reader in this fic is of some sort of mixed or foreign descent, but this can also be interpreted as having any trait that would make them a pariah of sorts. Warning, not proofread lol. All spur of the moment.

When you found the blue eyed stranger laying bloody on a lonely street, you took her in. You keep her warm, fed, and with mends on her wounds. Mizu knows well that there are sacrifices to be made on her path. She doesn't know just how much they can sting.

Mizu can't quite pinpoint the most irritating part of the pain. The ache of broken bones, the sting of stabs and slices, the consistent ringing in her head; everything hurts, and she supposes that like every other injury, it's all par for the course. Small price to pay for revenge. She knew she'd have to rest at some point, but she didn't expect to be incapacitated, edging on consciousness for days. Every now and then there's a sensation like coolness on her forehead, or water at her lips.

It's on day three that she becomes lucid enough to realize someone's taking care of her. Her distrustful brain is immediately sounding alarms, but her body can do little to react in such a broken state. Mizu can do nothing but lie silent and weak on this futon, sipping medicines and soups when it's brought to her mouth and being patched, cut for cut, wound for wound.

The first thing she notices about you, her caretaker, is your eyes - eyes brimming with concern and care, eyes that catch every weakness of her flesh and seek to heal. She hears your whispers of "poor thing" and "I'll get you healed up in no time". And being Mizu, her first thought is...

"Why?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she doesn't rush to take it back. Why are you, a stranger, so willing to take care of her? Why are you expending your resources on a broken thing, a mistake that any other sane person would let rot in the street where they found it?

You only smile at her, and in such a way that makes her heart race. Gentle, patient, tentative. She doesn't like it one bit, the way it pulls at doors she's kept locked for years. Her eyes focus, taking in what you look like as you stand and ready yourself to leave the room.

"I don't need your pity!" She manages to choke out. It has you stopping in your tracks.

"It's," she coughs, sputtering on words, "It's because you're just like me, isn't it? You're different. A monster."

The look on your face is one of mild amusement, an eyebrow raised and the corners of your lips upturned. She's not sure if it's that or the confidence in your next words that makes her cheeks heat up.

"I am not a monster. Neither are you."

And you're gone, leaving her to deal with the weight you've left in her chest.

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

The days turn into weeks, the weeks into months. With so many parts impaired, it'd only make sense that healing would take this long. Most of all, it's your endless patience that surprises Mizu. When she reopens a wound by carelessly trying to train despite your cautions, you're there patching it up. When she expresses her frustration with not being able to take up the sword yet, you're there reassuring her that it'll all be fine in time. You're kind when she's haughty and sarcastic (which makes her feel guilty, and thus even more indignant), and this extends to others as well. She often sees you helping children or neighbors, anyone in need. You're loved in this town.

It makes her a bit irritated, seeing your kindness bestowed on others. At first she thinks it's because she sees weakness in your actions. Then she thinks it's jealousy - why are you, someone who would otherwise be an outcast like herself, so beloved by your town? How come it didn't turn out this way for her? But when she sees you cooking enough for the both of you and the family next door, stirring slowly as the food steams, she thinks to herself, god, they're even patient when they're cooking. And then it hits her.

She is jealous, but not in the way she thought. In the way that yearns for your priority, that seeks to be the only recipient of your sweet manners and loving nature.

It doesn't help that you've grown close, too close for her liking. There have been nights spent in each other's company, saying nothing but gazing at stars. There have been conversations in which you've both laughed, some in which you cried. Mizu's mind can't help but remind her that this isn't safe; the last time she opened her heart up, it returned battered.

But this - you - feel safe. You dedicated nearly three months to healing her body, all the while you had been patching up wounds the eye can't see.

"I'm leaving," she says meekly on a warm evening, the two of you sat in a field of grass overlooking your village. You look to her and she only stares forward. You suppose it's better than her leaving without telling you, but the pain is no lesser because of the thought.

You take a deep breath and exhale before answering, "I had a feeling."

There's a long silence between the two of you. It's your turn to watch the sun setting over the trees as Mizu looks at your expression, the hints of sadness in her eyes.

"Do you... do you really have to? You are welcome here, you know. You'll always have a home here with me."

The words have Mizu choking up and suppressing the sudden and unnerving urge to cry. What you've done to her in three months still astounds her.

"I do. You know I do. I was always going to have to leave."

Mizu is caught by another urge, the urge to take those words back when she sees streams on your cheeks. You sniffle and hiccup, and it's so much less pleasant than your usual smiling disposition. It hurts in the way no blade ever could.

The sun is disappearing, and she wills herself to stand. If she doesn't, she might never go. She turns to leave and you stand as well. She stops in her tracks when you tug on her sleeve. She faces you and you slowly, carefully bring a hand to the side of her cheek. When she doesn't flinch away, you lean in close. Your lips meet in a kiss that conveys words that neither of you have the power to say.

You pull back after a moment, your forehead pressed to hers and your eyes closed. Your voice is quiet, almost inaudible when you say your goodbye.

"Break my heart once by leaving. Do not break it again by dying."

She turns and leaves while your eyes are still closed. You open them to an empty field, your palm still wet with her tears.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #taigen #akemi #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai angst #mizu x reader #mizu x you #taigen x reader #akemi x reader

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mostlycompetentwriter · 1 month

Text

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds.

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding.

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip.

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head.

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours.

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands.

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed.

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness.

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock.

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind.

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh.

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline.

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets.

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated.

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest.

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair.

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him.

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom.

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained.

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind.

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids.

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count.

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there.

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep.

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so.

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes.

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun.

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings.

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed.

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels.

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers.

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him.

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human.

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers.

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner.

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest.

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state.

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster.

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you.

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad.

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch.

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you.

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings.

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker. “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night.

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening.

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!”

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm.

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release.

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer.

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum.

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin.

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth. “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan oneshot #bang chan oneshot #chan imagines

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darklordofthesimp · 10 months

Text

Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia.

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie.

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible.

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him.

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you.

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job.

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds.

It meant that he was also a victim.

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you.

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you.

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other.

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.”

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles.

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to.

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage.

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly.

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks.

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm.

But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to.

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid.

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?”

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates.

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.”

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end.

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.”

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you.

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it.

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever.

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you.

“Okay.”

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile.

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not.

You knew that you’d want to see it again.

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.”

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.”

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his.

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?”

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat.

“Ready?” You stammered.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much.

You tried not to remember.

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now.

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy.

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms.

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns.

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress.

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?”

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.”

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?”

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity.

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had.

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head.

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim.

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him.

Satisfaction flooded your being.

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could.

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you.

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.”

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage.

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath.

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur.

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside.

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.”

You watched him carefully.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered.

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery.

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play.

Maybe, both?

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?”

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours.

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful.

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it.

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to.

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.”

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?”

You hated how perfectly still he was.

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air.

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs.

Your heart dropped.

Overthinking?

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent.

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?”

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.”

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away.

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care.

How could he just dismiss you like that?

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out?

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.”

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you.

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him.

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy.

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.”

“Listen to me-”

“Let it go, Birdy.”

“But if you just-”

“Enough!”

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin.

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet.

Fear trickled down your spine.

Your heart dropped.

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

König wasn’t going to help you.

König was in on it.

#konig x reader #König x reader #König #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty #Modern Warfare 2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #COD MW2 #cod mw2 x reader

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bloodandoranges · 7 months

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“…I would have killed you.”

Astarion x Reader (tav is gender neutral / little bit of angst / Astarion kills some creeps / comfort sorta?)

CW: VERY VAGUE mentions of (but avoided) unwanted advances (not by Astarion or Tav; but directed towards Tav.)

if anyone likes this concept I may do another chapter?

If Astarion had a tail? They were sure it’d be lashing about right now like a furious cat. He urged them into the room, immediately softening when they were alone, cool hands moving to cup their face. He winced at the blood.

“What the hells were you thinking, rushing off alone like that!?” He barked, the fear in his eyes betraying the fury in his voice…he looked as if he may cry. “I was just going to check out a quick lead, I figured I could do that alone…” Tav sighed, shaking their head as they peered up at him. “I planned to just be in and out.”

They’d settled in at the Elfsong Tavern for the night, desperate to have a bed for once. Their little party was happy to have a moment to relax and drink, but Tav had noticed a sewer grate when they’d come upon the tavern, and intended to expend a moment of their time to atleast check it out.

Of course, Baldurs Gate at night was a dangerous place. Outside of a tavern? Even worse. A few drunk humans had tried to flirt, and got a more than a little angry when denied. Cue Astarion; rushing in from the shadows and tearing out the throats of the unlucky ones without a second thought.

He’d dragged Tav away from the gruesome scene, softly hissing fury at them for being so foolish.

And that’s where they were now, nestled in the safety of their room, both of them covered in blood. Tav gave a shudder, running a hand through their hair. Astarion watched them with piercing eyes, fury evident in the way his eyebrows were furrowed.

“…I’ll run us a bath.” He spoke, saying nothing more as he stood and slinked away. The second he was out of their sight? He let himself crumbled a little, hand settled over his mouth as he worked to process what had happened. Those men could’ve hurt Tav. They could’ve-… He used to be the one who would prowl in the night, taking innocent victims love and then their lives. It made him feel sick to his very core.

He’d thought nothing of it at the time; why would he? He’d not had a choice. He’d never had a choice. And yet, he’d grown complicit. It was hard not to. He couldn’t help it, and besides, why should he care for anyone else, when no one had tried to save him? Of course, Tav had come along and flipped his world upside down, showed him he could grow…but growing hurt.

Tav sat stock still on their bed, staring up at the ceiling. They hated being scolded like a child, and yet they knew Astarion was just /scared/. Just like he was when Araj offered them that potion. Just like he was every time they’d been downed in battle; always the first at their side. Always the first to bark and berate them, then tenderly tend their wounds. He had no idea how to even begin to process those feelings…and so he lashed out.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily make it okay…just understandable. Something they’d work through together. They’d been working through.

They were so lost in thought they almost didn’t hear Astarion call out, stumbling to their feet and over to the tub settled behind an old partition. He was already settled inside, gazing out the window next to the tub.

He looked utterly stunning in the moonlight, it almost shone on his wet, porcelain skin. Water dripped from his face - now clean of all the blood. He finally tilted his head to gaze at them, and though his expression was stoic? There was a pain in his eyes. Slowly, Tav peeled away their clothes, eager to rid themself of the blood and dirt from the past few days.

Astarion’s gaze didn’t leave them, always fond and adoring. His arms wound tight around their waist as they slipped into the tub, pulling their soft body against his. Settling his face against their shoulder, he inhaled their scent. Blood, flesh, warmth. Alive.

“I am sorry, you know,” he whispered against their skin, lips trailing over it. “For…ugh, /overreacting/. I was just— I was worried, okay? I saw how those men were eyeing you off, like you were a piece of meat, a prize to be won, and it— …it made me think… of myself. How I used to be.” Though it was frantic? His voice was hardly above a whisper, so meek compared to his usual manner.

“That— you had no choice,” Tav said quickly, whipping around with lighting speed so they could gaze at him. Astarion stared at them, piercing red eyes full of sadness, eyebrows furrowed. “I know. I just—…” he shook his head, resting his forehead against Tavs, gazing into their eyes.

It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of the sloshing water as the pair adjusted.

“I would have killed you.” He breathed, a tense silence filling the room at his words.

He’d spoken them before, at Cazadors palace, just before the fateful reunion that rendered the vampire’s plans obsolete, that freed the spawn that Astarion had unknowingly created.

A shaky breath was the first noise to escape the silence, as Tav wound themself around Astarion, as best as they could. He pressed his face into their shoulder, breathing them in, focusing on the sound of their soft heartbeat. Fingers tangled into white curls, holding him close as the two of them quietly ached.

“You don’t ever have to be that again.” Tav whispered, soon pulling away from the embrace to cup his face in their hands, and he gazed at them like a sad puppy as he melted into their loving embrace.

“I know,” Astarion responded, hands gently clasping their wrists, kissing over their palms… he hoped that one day? He could believe that.

#baldurs gate tav #bg3 #fic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #Astarion angst #astarion x tav #fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion

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pelova4president · 2 months

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Shadows are to protect I

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect II, III, IV

summary~ You just moved to Arsenal and everything was unknown to you but now you had Alessia. Your situationship with Alessia was everything but perfect but at least she was there, sometimes.

this is pure angst

Alessia is your whole heart. You could tell her that a thousand times and she still wouldn’t leave her boyfriend.

He doesn’t even get her, not like you do. He doesn’t appreciate her like you do. It should be you holding her hand on the streets. It should be you kissing her in the bars of London.

You didn’t really know when you started to feel that way. You’d just moved to England, a very scary move from your comfortable and warm Spain. Spain and Barcelona was all you’ve even known. Expending your world was just as terrifying as you’d ever believed.

The welcome was cold, very cold. It was the completely opposite of what you were used to, it was quite literally what you were petrified of. You left the warm sun kissing the dark little freckles on your face and exchanged the English rain dropping down on your hair. You weren’t even sure what to call it, not in English and not in Spanish either.

But even now you weren’t sure if you’d go back and stay in Barcelona. The sun might shine there most hours of the working days but you’d always be in the shadows. In the shadows of La Reina, Alexia Putellas, your sister.

The two coloured club had offered you a contract extension where you’d get paid twice the amount you did last year. You’d driven to the club like you did most days but this time you had one thing in mind, or so you thought. Signing for another three years and being the average defender in the team for whenever one of the original starters couldn’t participate.

A red and blue pen rested between your thumb and point fingers as you listened to your manager talk about the future. But most of it fell to deaf ears. “Alexia and you would be the head of the Champions League campaign. Imagine this, the Putellas hermanas on top of Europe.” he said full excitement. It wasn’t the whole campaign that set you off but how he began his sentence, ‘Alexia and you’.

You were sitting here, ready to sign your contract, for your future. They wanted you to sign and still their first thought was Alexia.

Without saying a word you stormed off. You were not doing this again for three more years.

You had spiked interest from multiple clubs, not only Europe but America too. But when Arsenal let your agency know that they wanted you, you knew that that was it. From now on you’ll be a gunner, through and through.

You got picked up from the Airport. With a sign reading ‘Putellas’. It felt good. They didn’t have to clarify which Putellas sister they were picking up, there was only one in London now, you. The bigger man, he might’ve even be twice the height of you introduced himself. And with the little English you had in store you thanked him and told him your name.

The man you now knew as Keith was a simple man. He opened the door for you and didn’t say much. You liked it that way, the silence was fine by you. You liked that the intimidating car you were sat in had tinted windows. Not so you couldn’t be seen but because it gave you some sort of comfort. When you were younger and Alexia was a rising star she had you sit in the backseat, where nobody could see you and where you’d be safe she’d say.

The little droplets of rain were doing races and you had lost for about the twentieth time when the car came to a stop. Keith grumbled something about being there and got out. You didn’t really know what to do and what they expected of you so you opened the car door. Picking your bags up you placed your right foot outside and your left followed.

It all went too fast, Jonas showed almost all the rooms in the building and the wet pitches that were not in any state to be used. You had to film a few shots for your signing announcement, get through a few medical test and finally got to go home.

Keith drove you to your temporary apartment just a few minutes away from the training ground. You had a streak of almost one hundred days of English on Duolingo so you thanked the tall man in the few words you had learned to say and got out of the black Range Rover.

You were home. You were home, you kept repeating those words but you didn’t believe it. You were home.

This is it now. North London is your new home.

The appartement was empty except for the blank furniture, it had no personality and it was hard to think there ever would be. Four white walls, a grey couch, a black kitchen and an all white bed in the middle of your bedroom. They didn’t even tell you that the kitchen would be just as empty as the apartment.

The sound of a notification alarmed you out of your emotionless state. You forgot to put your phone on do not disturb. ‘Where are you?’ it read. Alexia knew you didn’t sign for Barca the day before but she didn’t know you’d be gone by the morning. Tapping on the do not disturb mode you traveled to your all white bed.

And that is how it went, do not disturb mode on. You we there, at the training ground and the games but not really there. You weren’t in the right mindset to talk to anyone yet and that’s why it was so goddamn frustrating when McCabe or Mead tried to get you to talk.

You sat alone at lunch, didn’t go out with your teammates and barely stayed in contact with your sister. That was until Alessia Russo came into your life.

You didn’t mean to let her in. You decided early on that you were at Arsenal for your career and career only. But she changed that, so quick. And before you knew it you were falling for her.

She came into Arsenal and everyone was a fan of her. It seemed like she was friends with everyone instantly and it made you curious.

Alessia had been a gunner for almost a week when you realised she lived across from your apartment. She came knocking on your door one evening, offering you some of het pasta since she had made too much. You knew that she’d been searching for an opportunity to get you to talk to her but you didn’t expect her to come knocking at your door like that.

You let her in and she started to talk to you. You couldn’t exactly call it a conversation since she did all the talking and you muttered out some broken English once in a while. But even though you hated to admit it, she was nice company. It made you feel less lonely, she made you feel less empty.

You’d told Alexia about your move to Arsenal before it officially came out and she wasn’t pleased, at all. She was mad, mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You told her what had happened and what was racing through your mind when you made the decision but she just couldn’t fathom out the thought of you feeling that way. And that made you feel even less understood, it felt like your life was slipping away from you and you only made it worse with every next move you made.

But Alessia made you feel like you were okay for a moment. After the first day of eating together she offered you food almost everyday and after a month it became a tradition, you would diner together every single day and she even learned you English. You didn’t really progress in your Duolingo streak and didn’t talk much either so the help was very much needed.

It wasn’t until the first half of the season had been played that you realised you had other feelings for her. You saw her as more than just a friend. It was all going very fast and the feelings intensified by the day, that may be because she was the only one you really could talk to. It hurt you to even think about living without her and that might’ve the first warning you should’ve seen but you didn’t.

It was Alessia who kissed you first. You both had been drinking and the two empty bottles of red wine next to your grey couch were the evidence of that. Alessia was a touchy person, just like everyone in Spain so you didn’t mind. She was giggly and teasing you relentlessly.

“I bet you think about me hmm?” she hummed and started to climb on top of you. Taken aback by the movement you didn’t really react to anything she had just said. “I want to kiss you.” she whispered into your ear that was tinted red by now. You didn’t answer. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay.” she leaned in, placing her pink lips on your red ones. It was sweet but turned desperate very quickly.

The blonde slept sweetly beside you that evening. The thoughts raced through your mind and none of them were making any sense. It was hard to think straight with Alessia next to you, that was what made things so complicated. But now that she was laying in your bed you couldn’t not have her there, you needed her.

Alessia started to stay over more and more, it became your new normal. Half of her closet was laying in yours and she even brought her favourite mug with her. You bought all her favourite foods so she would feel comfortable and she appreciated it, just not enough to stay with you.

You came home on a Thursday evening one day but Alessia was nowhere to be found. Normally she would be laying on your couch, watching some sappy Netflix show you refused to watch with her. A bowl of nuts in her hands she didn’t really like but it was a healthy snack so it would do. But the only thing you found on your couch was her blue hoodie. Well it was yours originally but she basically claimed it as hers now.

Putting your cold groceries away you walked towards Alessia’s front door. She had given you her spare key after leaving hers in her home, locking herself out for the second time. She had bought a keychain with it, a little Barca jersey with your name and number on it. You smiled down at the colourful jersey and opened the door.

Walking in you heard some laughter coming from the living room that you could describe in detail. It was a light living room with two big windows that were open at all times, she liked it that way. She bought a brown couch after you broke her beige one. You had gifted her a few plants to make the room a real living space but knew she didn’t really care for them so you’d come in and give them water.

The photo’s in her hallway were those of her mom, dad and brothers, who she adored so much. And even though she didn’t like to have pictures of herself in her home she had one of her and her best friend Ella after winning the Euros.

When you stepped into the living area you were a bit taken aback by the man sitting next to your Alessia. His left hand was draped over her shoulder, like it was the most normal thing. His right was resting on her thigh. Who was he?

You stood still, watching the pair until Alessia noticed you. Her eyes had gone wide. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” she asked carefully. You didn’t answer. “Luke, this is my teammate, and well, this is my boyfriend Luke.” she introduced you and stalked towards your frozen form.

Boyfriend? You thought..

Alessia gave her boyfriend some weak excuse and walked you back to your apartment. You were in your own home again, a safe place. When Alessia started to talk again you cut her off. “I- you have a boyfriend? I thought we had.. something?” you looked almost lost to her. “Well, you thought wrong. Whatever you thought we had, we didn’t.” she said without any emotion behind her eyes, like she hadn’t spent the whole of last week in your house, in your bed, wearing your hoodie.

She left your house like nothing had happened.

Were you really that stupid, did you really think she’d like you. You had created this whole other reality, one where she’d actually like you and wanted to be with you.

You kept to yourself even more now. Alessia had gotten you out of your shell to some extent but now you had crawled back in again. Every moment you weren’t training or playing football you were at home but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It wasn’t as empty as it was when it arrived but it felt like it. The life had gone away and that’s not something you can fix with a few overpriced paintings and some weird cactus.

You couldn’t eat dinner without Alessia, you couldn’t watch horrible movies without Alessia and you just couldn’t sleep in a bed without Alessia.

It was the one time you decided to go out and drink that she came over to talk to you again. She acted like nothing had ever happend, like it was back to normal again, like she had slept in your bed the day before. But you liked it, craved it even. You had longed for Alessia to come back again and save you from yourself.

So she ended up in your bed and stayed long enough for you to fall asleep. But not long enough for you to wake up to her scent or her sleepy blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

It went on like that, she came home with you for the night and you forgot about all the things she had done to you and you woke up to an empty bed. You did feel bad for the Luke guy, well you did in the beginning but somewhere along the way you started to lose that sympathy.

You were mad. Angry. He could drive her to training and hold her hand out in public. He could kiss her on the streets and wake up to her snuggled next to him. He could have all those domestic little moments and gestures you longed for. It wasn’t fair.

Alessia had prepared dinner for the both of you and you were watching a movie when you felt the need to talk to her about this whole situation. “Lessi, i really like you. I want you and i to be together because i love you.” there, you said it. Alessia didn’t look at you, she stared blankly at the movie infront of her. You reached for the distraction playing on the television and paused it but she still wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I love you.” you repeated again, hoping for a response. She sighed, “Look, i don’t know what you think we are but we aren’t that. I don’t know how many times i have to tell you this but i have a boyfriend and you’re just there for a quick fuck. That’s all. You’re not special just because your sister has won a few trophies. I can’t do anything about the fact that you’re fucking lonely but leave me out of it.” she hissed.

You just said you loved her, for the first time. You handed her your fucking heart and she stomped on it like it was nothing. Alesia knew your relationship with your sister was complicated and being in her shadows was something that hurt you the most in this world, but yet she brought it up. You’d told her everything you never dared to say out loud and she used it to damage you even more. She is your whole world but to her you’re a ‘quick fuck’.

You were hers but she’d never be yours

“Please go away.” you asked her, tears threatening to escape your tired glossy eyes.

You were left alone in your apartment and the loneliness was more torturous than ever. The fucking lasagna Alessia had made you had turned cold and you looked at the wooden table infront of you. There was a picture of you and Alexia framed, Alessia had printed it out to make you feel more like home but it only made you miss it more, especially now.

Looking at your phone you opened your chat with your sister. You hadn’t texted her in about a month, the last text being about your mothers birthday that you couldn’t attend.

You needed her, you needed you sister to protect you. You needed her to protect you from the sun and to place you in her shadows again. For once it was all you desired.

A/N let me know what you think of the fic!! Also, i don’t know if i should write a second part and if or how i should end up Alessia and R together. I could make R fall in love with someone else too??

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #engwnt #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #arsenalwomen #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenalwfc x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #barca women #angst #shadows are to protect

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