#to honor bleeding bodies

[serpientesuenos]

🫀 feliz Aries szn 🫀

[allurascastle]

I'm DMing Abomination Vaults right now, and honestly... if only the rest of the Roseguard were as competent and badass as Otari.

Oh, and if only they actually cleared the rubble to try and retrieve his body. Then they would have discovered the Vaults underneath. (And maybe Otari would have survived, js.)

[lilacgaby]

title: save me.

pairing: childhoodfriend!katsuki x reader

katsuki has always saved you, his princess.

the first time you asked katsuki to save you was in kindergarten.

you'd fell and scraped your knees after some other little boy shoved you to the ground, upset that you had taken the swings from him earlier. you were in tears as you begged, "save me kacchan!" as his eyes widened and a feeling he couldn't describe overtook him, he scared off the other boy, happily taking the praise from you as you looked at him stargazed, in awe of his strength.

from that day on he swore to protect you, in all the games you'd play, he'd be the knight, you'd be the pretty princess in the tower, and his gang of friends would be monsters, trying to attack you.

he'd superglued your hands together at recess once too, just to keep you with him. he smiled as he said, "now we'll be together forever!" the reprimanding the two of you faced because he did so was worth it in his opinion, as the message stuck throughout the years.

it manifested in his protective nature over you never ceasing even as you two aged. in middle school the guy who'd been rude to you to the point of tears in biology came to you the next day, shakily begging you to forgive him. guys wouldn't look your way, terrified to even upset you. when you confronted katsuki about it? he'd deny it, say you must've done something yourself.

katsuki felt you were the only one who was his equal, the only one he wanted by his side on his journey to become number one.

that's why he was glad to be with you in u-a, why he 'let' you apply without the public humiliation he'd inflicted on izuku.

since you two were together constantly due to the dorms, you'd do everything together. you'd study together, train, sit next to eachother in class, eat lunch together. you'd even developed a habit of napping in his bed, waking up with horrible 'bedhair', not knowing it was because he'd play with it when you were fast asleep.

and as you two graduated, becoming pro-heroes, getting married. opening an agency together, plans for children on the way.

plans that were all thrown out as quickly as they were conceived.

the last time you asked katsuki to save you was when you were bleeding out in the destroyed streets of the city. debris and destruction surrounding you as you struggled to even mutter the phrase. "..s-save.. me." you could barely see him, let alone see the heartbreak and despair in his reaction.

everything hurt, your body could barely process why. maybe it was the fact you were being impaled on a blade of steel, brought forth by the villain who'd caused this madness in the first place.

"you're.. you're gonna be okay." he said, equally for yourself and him. trying to convince himself this was all a nightmare, one he'd hope he'd wake up from soon.

but as he looked over at you, processing the fatal wound in your stomach. he knew he couldn't be selfish and lie to you a second longer.

his words came out cracked as he confessed, 'i.. i don't-- i can't help you.'

how dare you? how dare you try comforting him in your last moments, reaching out to coddle his face with the hand that wasn't mangled, softly smiling and ignoring the blood cascading down your mouth as you dedicated your last words just to him. "i love you.. you've always- been my knight, katsuki."

he felt your hand drop, but he rushed to pick it up. he had never felt so hopeless in his life, he always swore to protect you.. and yet? he failed. he was a broken man as he was escorted away from your corpse, only your ring to serve as a permanent reminder of what he lost.

he was a broken man as he tried and miserably continued life without you, seeing you in everything, yet never feeling you again.

the only form of solace he would ever get was to find that villain, and to pummel him into the ground. and he did so, feeling so gratified in the moment, as if he'd served justice in your honor.

but all the blood he'd shed would be worthless,

for nothing could bring back his pretty princess in her tower.

alt ending!

[svtcrus]

unlawful duties || neuvillette x fem!reader

a/n : Im going against myself and ended up writing this big crazy ass smut of neuvillette. I WANT HIM SO BADDDD

disclaimer : dom!neuvillette , extremely sexual descriptions, implications of bondage nd choking , office s3x , slight aftercare

"im sorry but the chief of justice is busy right now madam!"

"really.. monsieur neuvillette? agh are you sure?" the beautiful blonde lady who is well known as the president of the spina di rosula was pestering poor sedene. arguing with the unfortunate melusine whose trying to prevent her from entering. navia completely doubtful at how the chief of justice was busy. when all he does is "stay cooped up in his office, if he's not in his playhouse" she quotes.

and while the madamoiselle is not wrong in some aspects, this very chief was busy with a different case.

"be quiet darling, seems like miss navia is right outside." here you were bent over the desk that is scattered with piles of paperwork, the feeling of a slender gloved hand trailing along your bare back. lips bitten harshly to the point of them bleeding, holding back any noise.

however your efforts are in vain upon the force of another hand gripping onto your neck pulling you up. the feeling of neuvillette's hot breath lingering near your ear, your forced to listen to the inappropriate words of the monsieur himself.

"you wouldn't want her to hear how dirty your moans are now would she?" he licks your neck before his lips find your sweet spot, suckling on your skin making you whimper through red stained lips.

this man who withholds so much power of the nation of justice has you wrapped around his own finger. has you bent over his very desk moaning his name loud beneath him, and it's making him go insane.

he breaks his composure at the very sight of you, feeling his breath hitch as his eyes linger between those crystal eyes and your soft lips.

those same lips which he kisses feverishly as he pounds himself into you, concealing your loud cries which beg him for more.

neuvillette's stamina is unpredictable just as he is mysterious. he could go on for hours of him shoving himself into you sweet cunt that's swallowing him ever so well. your walls which squeeze him so tight as he's pushing you further onto his desk, the court papers now long gone amidst the floor. he simply cannot get enough of you.

the chief's clothes are loosened, his white scarf is now used as restraints for your dainty hands. his own two? they are feeling every crevice of your body up from behind. his hand kneads against the plump of your ass, boldly pushing it to see your wetness engulfing him. your slick intermingling with his as he enters and exits your swollen hole. he could see all his love marks tracing from your neck and along your shoulder line, the sight makes him swell.

neuvillette lets out a breathy hiss as he feels your velvet walls tighten around him once more.

"s-so dirty for me darling. not caring if we..- ahhh, get caught.." low growls are leaving his mouth, the sound of skin touching skin echoing amongst the office. the attempts of being quiet long gone. you're moaning, whining, begging, his honor for more.

"please monsieur..."

"please what my love? I need you to use your words sweetheart." two of his long fingers are shoved in between the plump of your lips, you can taste yourself. all while he pounds one more time with his obscene force, before halting. awaiting for you to beg for his cock for his own pleasure.

"harder-mmf! please.. fuck me!" immediately he's back in his feverish rhythm, snapping into you like it's his last time fucking you.

"profanity is forbidden here sweetheart." he manages to say through clenched teeth, both of his hands now gripping onto your hips harshly.

hah, proper etiquette? the fact that you and the chief of justice are performing such debauchery in his place of work? the mannerful thought was long gone in neuvillettes head the moment you had pushed his buttons. now he's enjoying every second of ramming into you in his open office, where someone could very much catch you two committing an unlawful act at any time.

neuvillettes's ego rises at the sight of your naked back is covered in his slick, his godly handsome face is blushed from his efforts. long silver locks disheveled, his bangs damp from sweat. your cunt is dripping cum onto his hardwood floors, oh how will he explain such a mess to sedene?

"ah.. is sex also forbid-" you gasp at the sudden action of him pushing one leg up onto his table, solely so he can push even more deeper into you.

he's hitting all the right spots inside, nudging against the part you need him most and it's driving you crazy. his length proves it all, and god is he so big. you can feel him pulse within you as you both find release. your lover grunts while his wet fingers begin to fondle your clit. motioning them in the way he knows to make you quiver. all while he's leaning down to kiss you, as his seed makes you feel so full.

you could feel the bruises beginning to form on your lower back, his length now long gone. your legs still shaking upon orgasm.

"I hate you..." you manage to say between heavy breaths, your hands are finally freed from his scarf.

your nakedness is replaced with warmth, his coat being draped over you as situate yourself. your lover is already back in his dress pants, and a buttoned up shirt. you glare at him once reality has struck your head. yet he only smiles at you as he begins to clean you up from his mess.

"are you pressing charges on me now after you begged for my cock so well?" neuvillette whispers, those purple orbs are looking down at you. displaying how much lust he still has in him.

blushing at his sudden remark, he lets out a low chuckle.

"you love me sweetheart, lying is a crime you know?"

@svtcrus || 08.16.2023

©️ all rights reserved. do not copy / plagiarize my work.

[tsuutarr]

Pairing: Tokyo Debunker Ghouls x Reader

Word count: 12K

Content: angst, pining, loss

Summary:

Your potential death due to your curse was no secret, yet there was still a promise of time – time for you (and those who’re willing to help you) to find a cure, a solution to your plight. 

No one expected your death to come so suddenly.

(Or, a look into how the Darkwick Academy ghouls may react to your passing)

You’re no stranger to tragedy, but your death still comes as a surprise to you. Perhaps you should’ve expected it, what with your luck continuing its downward spiral to misfortune. Maybe you should’ve expected someone who despised you to take matters into their own hands, deciding to rid this world of your existence before you became a disastrous anomaly – before you even had a chance to fight your fate.

Regret upon regret builds a castle inside your bleeding body. Apologies, confessions – all of them slowly die in your throat.

You should’ve expected it all.

But you didn’t.

So now you lay, your blood a perfect canvas to frame your loss of life.

Your sage’s ring glows dimly on your finger.

.

.

.

“The Honor Student has passed away,” the Masterpiece Newscasters proclaim, their monotone voice ringing clearly throughout Darkwick Academy. “The culprit is yet to be found. All residents are forbidden to leave the premises until the criminal is found.”

As the Masterpiece Newscasters continue to prattle on about the false information of the Honor Student’s – your – passing, Yuri can feel a headache erupt from behind his eyelids. He’s already slept less than the recommended amount today, he doesn’t need this added stress! There’s no way you’re gone, it’s just not possible. You so bravely faced that immortal anomaly after all, so how could you be dead?

Yuri Isami is only heading to your place of residence to put these bizarre rumors to a rest.

Even when he sees your crumpled body on the floor, Yuri doesn’t believe it – you must have chosen to sleep oddly!

Even when he feels the coldness of your skin, he doesn’t believe it – you just need a blanket!

Even when he doesn’t hear your heartbeat, he doesn’t believe it – you must be acting!

No, no, he has to be realistic. You’re definitely sick. He has to help you. He has to save you! He can save you! He’s the greatest doctor, after all! He can think of so many ways to save you. He can, if you just enhance his stigma, so why don’t you do it? Yuri clutches your hand in his, hands trembling.

“Why won’t you enhance my stigma, worm?” he mumbles. “You can do at least this much, can’t you? You have the opportunity to help the great Yuri Isami! It’s an honor!”

“Yes, it’s an honor to help you,” you had said, laughing. Yuri could be quite particular about laughs, but he didn’t mind yours because there wasn’t anything patronizing about it. “You’re amazing, Yuri.”

“Hmph, well, it’s good that you know your place,” he had responded haughtily. He wishes he could’ve told you how grateful he was that you believed in him. That you were interested in him and his research. That you cared for him.

Yuri’s grip on your hand gets firmer, the coldness of your skin seeping into his. He looks at your eyes, thinking of the way your eyes would light up when he would showcase his scientific discoveries.

He looks at your lips, remembering how you’d smile so grandly at him whenever you two would talk. He remembers how you’d learn what song he was humming just to hum with him.

He looks at your hand, recalling the warmth and strength he felt when he first held it. The way your hand shook due to your own fear remains engraved in his brain – the way that you supported him despite looking like you’d fall. You’ve been able to stand so long, haven’t you? You can’t be gone now.

“Jiro!” he calls, voice cracking. This surgery needs to be a success. He can’t – he won’t – hand you over to another researcher. “Bring the Honor Student to Mortkranken! They need treatment immediately!”

At Yuri’s call, Jiro immediately reaches for you, cradling you in his arms as he lifts you up. He’s never really been one to be gentle, especially in regards to corpses. As long as the corpse is intact, is there any reason to be “gentle”? Jiro doesn’t really think so. But, even so, Jiro can’t bring himself to manhandle you, tossing you around like he would anyone else.

As soon as he saw you on the floor, he wanted to gather you in his arms and carry you back to bed. He wanted to open up his suitcase and conduct your weekly health checkup. He wanted to ensure that you weren’t dead.

Unfortunately, Jiro is cursed with objectivity and he knows – knows – that there’s no way you’re still alive. He also knows that there’s no way to bring you back. Maybe if they had found you faster. Maybe if you were a ghoul. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

He thinks about how you reacted whenever you saw blood and gore. He thinks about how much you fret over him and his injuries, even though he reassures you constantly. He thinks about the warmth of your palms.

He thinks about the ridiculous care you put into everyone.

“What’s this packet? I can’t eat solids,” Jiro had stated bluntly when you passed him a box. It was pink and cutesy, decorated with ribbons.

“It’s not a solid,” you said, grinning cheekily. “Look inside!”

Jiro looked at you blankly, but still did as you instructed. Yuri was strange, but you could be quite strange, too. “...Oh.”

“It’s chocolate milk! It should hopefully be easier to eat,” you beam at him. “Happy Valentine's Day, Jiro!”

Jiro cradles you closer to his chest, like you’re made of glass. You’re so cold, your skin feeling like his. He never thought that someone who was as warm-hearted as you could ever feel so desolate. “...I told you it’d be a problem for me if you died,” he murmured, softly, as he quietly trailed behind Yuri to head to Mortkraken.

When Rui hears the news of your passing, he’s pretty sure the world just stopped moving around him. He has to hear the news several more times to really come to terms with it. It’s unfair, he thinks, it’s so unfair.

You were fighting so hard. You were working so hard.

How could that come crashing down so suddenly?

It’s not fair. You of all people should’ve been able to live a long life. You of all people should’ve been able to be happy. 

He tried so hard to stay away from you, to prevent him from accidentally killing you with his curse. You tried so hard to bring him comfort, despite the looming danger of his power. He’s flirted with plenty of people, but you’re the only person he’s ever thought he’d actually love to spend forever with. He cursed himself for those thoughts, knowing that longing for something that can’t be will only hurt him more. But there isn’t an easy end to longing.

“Sometimes, I wish I could’ve met you as a regular guy,” Rui had confided in you, one day, as the two of you sat in his bar. He swirled his wine, his cheeks slightly ruddy from the alcohol. “I guess you wouldn’t have given me the time of day if we had, though.” His laugh left his lips, hollowly bouncing around his glass as he took another sip.

“You’re drunk, Rui,” you had said, though your tone didn’t hold any malice. “...But sometimes, I wish I could’ve met you before our curses, too.”

This is why he couldn’t get over you, no matter how much he tried. This is why he couldn’t distance himself from you, no matter how much he tried. You drew him in closer and closer like a trap, and he was more than okay with being ensnared, even if he was scared of being hurt.

“Chuu!”

Rui blinked, surprised, as a cute teddy bear smooches him on the cheek.

“Sorry, you seemed distracted,” you hummed, making Rui laugh.

“Ah, yeah– yeah! Sorry about that,” he responded, “I def wasn’t trying to be.”

“I know,” you replied. “But you got to pay attention now, okay? I want you to meet someone!” You waved the teddy bear’s paw. “This is Honor Student Teddy!” Through your puppeteering, Honor Student Teddy offered Rui a hand, which Rui took with an amused look.

“You’re so cute.”

“Beep! Incorrect! The one that’s cute is Honor Student Teddy!” you said, looking away bashfully. Cute. “...So, I was thinking. Since we can’t touch, maybe we could use Honor Student Teddy as my replacement?” You grabbed Honor Student Teddy’s other hand, the one not in Rui’s grasp. “See? Doesn’t it kind of seem like we’re holding hands?”

Honor Student Teddy remains in Rui’s room, pampered and loved as it should be. As you should’ve been. A dry laugh escapes Rui. 

“...Maybe this time, we can really hold hands.”

Blearily, Lyca opens his eyes, the sound of his phone buzzing waking him up. He sees that the message is from the blonde gigolo, which initially makes him annoyed. But Lyca has good instincts – his gut feeling is telling him to pay attention. So, instead of ignoring Rui, Lyca sleepily reads Rui’s texts.

His sleep soon evaporates from his being.

“It’s a lie!” he yells, jumping out of his bed and running to his bedroom’s door. There’s no way you’re gone. There’s no way he’ll never be able to smell your sweet scent ever again. There’s no way you won’t lay down with him and gently thread your fingers through his hair. There’s no way you won’t be able to draw together again. There’s just no way. There’s no way!

But even if Lyca wants to burst out of his bedroom, following your scent to find you, he can’t open the door. He can’t open the door to confirm if you’re really gone. He doesn’t want to go downstairs to see that you’re not waiting for him. He doesn’t want to go to the balcony where you’ll no longer be able to eat with him.

Lyca doesn’t want to lose you. Opening the door to the bedroom feels like he’ll lose you. Carefully, he goes back to his bed, where the blanket from Neros and the blanket from you lay side by side.

“Lyca!” you beammed, making Lyca tilt his head. You had a sweeter scent than usual today. Something that indicated that you were quite happy.

“What’re you so egg-cited about?”

“Heh.” You gave him a big grin. It was something he’d come to like seeing, especially since so many on campus gave him a grimace. “Ta-dah!” With a flourish, you presented Lyca with a soft blanket. “I got you a gift!”

Lyca frowned, looking at the blanket in confusion. “I already got one.”

“Yeah, I know,” you responded, not at all discouraged by the bite in Lyca’s tone. “It’s an extra one! I thought it’d be nice if you could have some more blankets. You can be twice as warm and cozy now!” There was a hint of hesitation as you say your next words, “I can take it back, though. Sorry, I guess I got ahead of myself.”

“...S’okay.” Lyca took the blanket from you, feeling cozier as soon as he touched the soft fabric. It smelt like you. He liked how you smelled – in some ways, it reminded him of home.

Lyca looks at the blanket on his bed, the one that you got him. He grabs it, softly, in his palms. He remembers your encouragement when he had told you that he’d work hard so that he could live with humans. You said he could do it and when you said it, he really did feel like he could. So, you can’t be gone yet. He needs you.

With a deep inhale, Lyca snuggles the blanket that smells like you because maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to chase you and tell you not to leave him if he memorizes your scent.

Rui’s message about your death comes as a surprise to Ed even though he knows that human lives are fleeting – they’re fragile and easily broken. In some ways, that is why Ed has always thought that human life is so beautiful. 

Still, he thinks your life would’ve been so much more beautiful if you had lived it to its full extent. If you could’ve continued to laugh like you had, if you could’ve continued to shine bright like you had – he thinks you’d have made the world a better place. 

He’s lived for many years, yet the loss of someone he considers dear somehow still stings. He thought he managed to rid himself of such stinging emotions, yet it appears that even age does not make you immune to loss. 

Or perhaps you're just one of those humans – one of those humans that make a lasting impact on those around them. But how could you not make an impact? After all, you were so hardworking, both for your sake and for others. 

Who wouldn’t find you precious?

“Okay, Ed! Let’s watch some sad movies!”

Ed had texted you a few minutes ago, bemoaning his exhaustion. He hadn’t expected you to barrel into his room, a bag of snacks in your hand.

“My, my. What brought this on? Not that I am opposed, of course.”

“Well, you said you were tired, right? And you also said you drink tears, right? Well, I brought over some movies I’ll definitely cry to!” you gave him a confident grin. “Don’t worry, Ed. You’ll feel better really soon!”

“How reassuring,” he mused, welcoming you into his messy room. Rui had cleaned it up a few days ago, but Ed found it quite difficult to maintain cleanliness. You didn’t comment on it as you made your way over to him, settling yourself by his side. It was quite cozy.

Laying in his bed isn’t quite as cozy if you’re not there, he realizes. He scrolls through the videos you’ve sent him, imagining how you reacted to these videos. It is reassuring in some ways to have remnants of you left behind, but the pain that he can now only reach you through the remnants of your memory leaves him feeling vacant.

“Being with you really does bring up old, old memories,” he muses. “Perhaps it’s because you remind me a little of her.”

He wonders if there’ll be anyone who reminds him of you.

Not everyone who dies becomes a ghost. Yet, deep inside, Zenji had hoped that you’d have turned into one like him. He had hoped that you’d be able to spend time together, finally being able to hold your hand in his. However, he knows that it’s a selfish desire, one that cannot come true. He scoured the entire campus for any sign of your soul, after all, and came up empty handed.

He wishes that you could’ve been alive instead, then.

He’d rather live by your side, unable to touch you, than not be able to see you at all.

He’d rather you live your life like you want to, happily.

He wishes he could’ve done something more for you – after all, you’ve done so much for him. He’s a ghost, someone that most don’t know the existence of. Yet you made sure to greet him and spend time with him whenever you had time. You’ve been a source of his inspiration, his muse, because of how much you make his heart swell with joy.

He is an artist, so creating is in his blood. However, how do you create when you lose a piece of your hope? How do you create when you lose your source of inspiration?

“My dear, what do you think about this piece?” Zenji had asked, flourishing his biwa with grandeur. 

“It’s great!” you said, earnestly. “I especially like how it felt like a full narrative – I got so tense when the biwa’s sound got deeper in the middle, just like the climax of a story!”

“Astute observation, my dear! That is indeed what I was aiming for.” Zenji couldn’t express the unexplainable joy that blossomed inside his heart when he heard your praise. You were a beacon of light that shined in the desolate lands. You were the purple wisteria that danced from the tree branches over the Hotarubi lake. Your beauty, your kindness – it was all so beautiful to him. He felt like the moon to your sun. “I really am the luckiest fella around.”

And now, he’s the unluckiest fella around, Zenji thinks. You’re no longer by his side. You’ll never be by his side, at least, not in this lifetime. The thought makes Zenji’s heart throb painfully. “Maybe we really did meet too late,” Zenji murmurs, watching wisteria petals float around the lake. “But it’s all right. I promise I’ll find you in the next life.”

 Haku can’t say he’s ever been too happy to be able to see ghosts. Sure, Zenji’s fun to be around and it’s not like his ability really harmed him in any way, but he can’t really think of many times he’s been glad to have his ability. When he hears of your death, denial is the first thing that settles in his brain. Then, the grief follows. But hope blossoms in a corner of his mind. He can see ghosts – maybe he’ll be able to see you? Hope glimmers in the corner of Haku’s heart as he tries to find you.

The glimmer soon dies out, however, because it’s all for naught. Not everyone becomes a ghost. It was foolish of him to think that you’d have become one.

But then what’s the point of his power – his stupid ability to see ghosts? What’s the point of it if he can’t even see the one he wants to see?

Haku feels like it’s all a big practical joke from the universe, and he wants to be in on it because he’s failing to see what’s so funny.

Living an ordinary life, dying an ordinary death – that’s something you deserved to experience, and now you’re gone. It’s an inexplicably painful feeling that stabs at his heart. How is he supposed to fill the hole you left behind?

“I don’t know if this is a good idea…” you murmured, looking shy.

“You look beautiful,” Haku said, easily, a teasing grin on his face at how flustered you looked. His words were far from teasing, though. They were filled with an earnest praise of how gorgeous you looked decorated in white. Just seeing you in wedding attire made him think that it’d be a shame if anyone else got to see how beautiful you looked, but also a shame if no one else got to see. A weird balance of wanting to show you off, yet wanting to keep you to himself lingered inside him.

“Sure, sure,” you grumbled without any bite. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Thanks for agreeing to help, by the way,” Haku said, offering you his hand to take. You took it gratefully, before you shook your head with a laugh.

“It’s nothing. I’m glad I can help your junior in some way, though.”

“Yeah, she really appreciates your help.”

“Good.” The satisfaction on your face made you glow with a sort of shine one could only find in gold. It was precious, it was soft, it was so darling that Haku wanted to make sure that you continued to glow and shine forever. Even if it meant that you weren’t by his side (even though he so desperately wanted you by his side).

“...I know I’m being selfish – but sometimes, I wish you’d forget about me…” he murmured, low enough that he hoped you wouldn’t hear it. You gave him a glance, only squeezing his hand in response. He wasn’t sure how to interpret your reaction, but a part of him wants it to indicate that you wouldn’t ever forget him, even if forgetting him would most likely make you happier.

It’s hard to balance the desire of being remembered and the desire of being forgotten.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

“But I guess that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Haku muses, looking at the skies above. Stars sprinkle the navy-colored sky like diamonds. He can only hope you’re out there, shining.

From the age of four, Subaru was molded to perfect the performing arts. A child star, a prodigy – those are the titles given to him. He never feels like he deserves that praise – he’s not sure if he’ll ever feel like he deserves that praise. After all, growing up, anxiety was his most reliable companion, following him everywhere he went. How can he not doubt himself?

Yet while he breathed the performing arts, he’s developed mannerisms most around him find peculiar and odd. It’s hard not to think of himself as a bother when he can’t seem to blend into society as well as he’d like.

Because of his oddities, he never thought he’d ever be able to have a normal school life. Somehow, however, he's able to come to Darkwick Academy, experiencing pleasant social interactions due to the kindness of the people around him – people like yourself. You’re someone who Subaru can find a semblance of comfort in, despite his anxiety.

He knows he’s probably annoying you, but you’re always there, always so patient. You don’t make fun of him for his discomfort, nor do you push him beyond his boundaries. Instead, you patiently wait for him, allowing him to walk alongside you at his pace.

So when Subaru hears the news that you’re no longer with the living – no longer with him, he can't stop his mind from spinning. You’ve always been someone that waited for him patiently, yet now you’ve gone off by yourself to somewhere he can’t reach.

Emptily, he looks at the sakura mochi on the shelf – he had bought it for you. You’d eat his meager offerings with gusto, even if not all of them suited your palette.

He’s not sure how he’ll stomach some of the food he’s eaten with you from this point onwards. You’re not here physically, only your memories lingering in the ingredients of his meals. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the food you’ve made for him if someone else makes it, either.

“I’m sorry,” he had said, running up to you, out of breath.“I didn’t mean to be late.”

“You’re not!” you responded cheerily, patting the spot next to you. “Come, sit!”

“Thank you.” Gingerly, Subaru took the spot next to you, placing his hands on his lap. You peered at him curiously.

“Where’s your lunch, Subaru?”

“Ah.” Subaru ducked his head in embarrassment. “I ended up not being able to get anything.” Despite making you wait, despite his best efforts, he just wasn’t able to secure anything. How shameful. “But it’s all right. I can drink water for lunch.”

“No, don’t do that,” you chastised, lightly. “I actually packed my own lunch today because I thought it’d be busy everywhere. I packed a lot, so why don’t we share?”

“Ah–” Subaru looked at the delectable way your lunch box was crafted. “No, I’d hate to intrude.”

“You aren’t intruding, Subaru.” You nudged one of your lunchboxes into his hand along with some chopsticks. “I’m offering! I’m actually pretty happy with how some of these came out. Won’t you try some?”

At the delicious smell of your lunchbox, Subaru’s stomach let out an embarrassing growl. His face flushed, mortified, but you made no comment on it, instead offering your lunch again. “Well, if you insist,” he murmured, finally taking a box from you. 

Once he took you up on your offer, you dug into your own lunch. Though, Subaru couldn’t help but notice how you’d glance at him nervously. It was kind of cute.

Not wanting to waste your kindness, Subaru took a bite of the lunch, before his eyes widened with glee. “This is delicious!”

“Whew– I mean, great! I’m so glad,” you beamed. “If you tell me some of your favorite food, I can try to make it for you! I can’t guarantee it’ll be as good as Sho’s, but I can try!”

“I couldn’t ask you to,” Subaru responded, bashfully. The thought that you cared for him was enough to satisfy him. “I would hate to be a bother.”

“You’re never a bother, Subaru.” Your voice was so kind, so soft and genuine that Subaru didn’t really know how to react.

“Really?” Disbelief laced his voice. He hated being a bother but always felt like he was. He knew that you were already spending your precious lunch with him when you could spend it with anyone else. There wasn’t any way you’d care about him to that extent, right? 

“Subaru?” you asked, concerned.

“I just can’t believe it – why…” Subaru paused, suddenly hit with a bout of embarrassment. “Ah– I don’t want to seem like I’m testing you, I just… I get really anxious sometimes… I’m sorry. I’m being weird, aren’t I?”

“You’re not.” Your voice rang clear inside the storm in Subaru’s head, letting sunshine stream through the clouds. “I’ve never thought you were a bother. I actually really enjoy my lunches with you.”

“Really?”

“Yup! So if I’m not too much of a bother, let’s eat more lunches together!”

Subaru had promised, promised that he would. He promised that you’d always eat your lunches together because that’s what he sincerely believed. He believed that you two would be able to bask underneath the sunrays, seated on your favorite bench, laughing.

He wants to believe that you’ll still be able to eat together. He wants to believe so desperately. Because who else could bring him the comfort you did? Who else will patiently wait for him to catch up, gently guiding him when he needs it?

But now you’re gone – you’re gone. You won’t be able to come back. It tears at Subaru because his anxiety and inferiority complex tell him that it’s his fault – that he could’ve done something, anything, to save you. 

Why couldn’t he save you?

Why couldn’t you have been saved?

The room that Subaru is in feels too big for him as it slowly fills with his grief.

According to Article 230 in the Japanese penal code, “a person who defames another by publicly alleging facts shall, regardless of whether such facts are true or false, be punished with penal servitude or imprisonment not to exceed three years or a fine of not more than 500,000 yen.” Doesn’t Darkwick know that? Why would Darkwick allege such odd things like your death, Ritsu wonders. Still, he’ll record what the Masterpiece Newscasters are saying – after all, it’ll be useful to leverage against Darkwick when he takes you to argue his cases.

There is little he finds more important than being able to argue his cases, which indicate his proficiency. He needs to be proficient in order to be able to become a fantastic lawyer like his father – this has always been his goal. Even after meeting you, it’s been his goal.

Some may have thought that you would’ve been a distraction for Ritsu, but he’s certain that your presence in his life has been for the better. You’re a fantastic business partner, being perfect to bounce his ideas off of. It’s admirable that you’ve taken on the mantle of ridding yourself of your curse, too. Ritsu finds that most people aren’t that hard working or really worth his time (unless they’re clients), but you’re different. You’re worth his time.

“Could I ask you to accompany me a little longer?” he had asked one day as you’re about to leave the diner. “I realize it’s outside of business hours, but… I would appreciate it if you could make a special exception.”

“Oh?” you looked surprised, though it was soon replaced with a smile. Your smile was something Ritsu appreciated seeing nowadays – something that felt like visible proof of Ritsu’s hard work. “Yeah, sure! I have time. What do you need?”

“I have to go over a few notes,” Ritsu responded, passing a notebook over to you. “I’ve already gone through these once, but I’d appreciate it if you could go through it, too. It’ll prove beneficial for you.”

“Yeah, sure, leave it to me!”

Your eagerness to help Ritsu cemented the fact that you were the right choice for his business partner. As the hour slowly trailed on, the both of you focused on your respective reading, Ritsu found that he didn’t quite mind spending time with you like this, outside of business hours. He found your presence calming, yet also helpful – he found it easier to focus when you were around.

It was nice. Even as the two of you began to wrap up, Ritsu wasn’t in as much of a hurry to disappear. 

“I’ll take your thoughts into consideration,” Ritsu said as you two left the diner. The night sky stretched out beautifully above you two. Ritsu had never noticed it before.

“Sounds good!”

Ritsu cleared his throat, offering you a hand to shake. You shook his hand without much preamble. He appreciated it. “It seems we make better business partners than I would have expected. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you.”

“Likewise.”

He still thought about the smile you’d given him that night, bright like the moon. It was a smile that made it obvious that he had someone by his side to support him – someone that he can support in return. 

So, there’s no way you’re gone. Not when you have him as a business partner. That’s a ludicrous thought.

Still, he can’t seem to shake the ill feeling from his body. Why aren’t you responding to your texts? You’re usually quite timely unless something has come up. Something…

No, there’s no way you’re gone. There’s just no way.

Ritsu’s grip on his briefcase tightens.

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Romeo wants to scream, so he does. “Everyone, leave!” His voice echoes in his room, his workers trying to scramble out of Romeo’s wrath. With a frustrated string of curses, Romeo collapses on his expensive chair, the one encrusted with diamond – the one that you’d complimented.

Romeo truly, utterly, feels sick. He feels annoyed. He feels disgusting. His perfect porcelain skin is marred with wrinkles, a frown deep set in his face. How dare you – how dare you have the audacity to leave him. He never gave you permission to do things like this, so how could you go away? He’s always known you were bad at following directions, but this is too much, even for you.

No.

What’s too much is that someone, someone, thought that they could come in and take you from him. How dare they! They didn’t even get permission from him! They didn’t… So why would they? They can’t take you away from him, not when you’re the only one that listens to him. Not when you’re the only one who seems to care about not making wrinkles appear on his face. Not when you’ve been doing your best.

It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.

“Why are you carrying that?! What if you drop it and it breaks?” Romeo exclaimed, watching you carry a very expensive vase.

“Ah – I heard you say that the guys who’re supposed to move this haven’t done their job, so I thought I could help!”

Help?! Romeo couldn’t help but look at the way your arms trembled with the weight of a price that far exceeded your budget, doubt coloring his face. “I’ll get one of our young guys to do it, so put it down already!”

You huffed, putting the vase down carefully, with a defeated sigh. “Sorry, I just wanted to help.”

“Help where you’re actually useful,” Romeo grumbled, crossing his arms. If those idiots that he’d asked to move the vase actually moved the vase, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament. “Those WTWUT make my life much harder.”

“Wall-to-wall useless trash, huh?” you mused. Romeo thought that amusement looked good on you – it gave you a cocky look that suited you. If only everyone else could be like you, then he wouldn’t be as stressed as he was. 

“I need a face pack,” he muttered.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

“Hm. Sure.” Romeo paused. “Get one for yourself while you’re at it.”

“Me?” you looked at him with curiosity and shock written across the apples of your cheeks.

“Who else?”

“I just… I dunno. Do you think it’s okay?”

“Of course. What could you possibly be afraid of?” Romeo asked. “You’re one of my people! Who’s going to say anything?”

You looked contemplative, before a light smile crossed your features. “That’s true. I guess no one can really say anything to you.”

Your words make him feel powerful. Your actions do, too. When he’s with you, he feels like the world is in his palms. But now he’s without you. Now, he’ll always be without you.

Anger thrums through his veins. 

You’re one of his people. How dare they take you away from him? Romeo won’t stand for it. He’ll snipe down the bastard that did this to him – that did this to you.

“You BTH!” Romeo yells, storming into Taiga’s room with the fury of a thousand bulls. “You’re still lazing around?”

Taiga doesn’t respond, twirling a gun in his hand. He’s not entirely in his right mind right now, but he can still pick up “revenge” and “snipe” among the various words Romeo spews.

“You better do your part,” Romeo hisses, finally deciding to leave Taiga alone. Maybe Romeo would’ve stayed longer to nag at Taiga if Romeo were in a better state of mind. Taiga can’t really bring himself to care at the moment, though, his own state of mind is a jumbled mess.

Flashes of memories, flashes of thoughts – they alternate inside his head, before phasing out of existence. He’s not sure when it started, but his mind has been deteriorating, memories floating in and out of his head. What most would consider “common sense” is also something Taiga has been losing grasp of.

Even in spite of that, somehow, you’ve made your way into his brain, like a little parasite that burrows into his thoughts. He didn’t think he could remember someone – not in his current state of mind, anyway. He didn’t think he could form an attachment to you either, not with how he just doesn’t want to care anymore. The world’s going to burn, everything unfurling into a messy pile of futures that could be and won't be. It’s all messed up, it’s all gonna be messed up. Yet, somehow, despite all that, Taiga can’t help but think of you as some source of light, a beacon of hope that he kept around to stop him from completely drowning in the dark murkiness of the future.

“That’s it, kitty-cat,” he had said, placing you in his lap as he prepared to play another round of blackjack. “I feel like my luck’ll change if you’re around.”

“I don’t know about that,” you responded, watching as the dealer handed out everyone’s cards. You fidgeted in his lap like a cute little cat, clearly trying to break your discomfort.

“Quit failing around,” Taiga said, looking at his cards. To Taiga’s amusement, you settled in his lap to the best of your abilities, leaning into his chest. He pulled you closer, as he continued to play blackjack. 

The longer he played, the more he felt some odd sense of peace with you snuggled in his lap. Your smell and warmth wrapped around him like a little security blanket. In some ways, it made him want to consume you wholly until you couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t him. It made him hungry.

But now, there’s a hollow feeling inside of him, something that bypasses physical hunger. He hungers for your soul that’s now no longer here. The pitch-black murkiness of the future spreads even further across his eyelids, being the only thing he can see. Fate has dealt him a bad hand that he had tried to win against.

He never could win, though, could he?

“Tell me something, would you?” Taiga laughs in his empty room, eyes staring at the ceiling. He searches and searches, but can’t find any sight of you. “What could I have done different to change this outcome?”

Ren has always thought that coming to Darkwick Academy was a mistake. His experience didn’t exactly start off nicely, what with him being sorted into Jabberwock and having to deal with the annoying Jabberwock captain. All those stupid anomalous animals made it so that he rarely had time to himself, even if he tried his best to lock himself in his room.

Still, there’s a silver lining to everything. Sure, Towa keeps trying to feed some odd looking porridge. Sure, Haru is still meddlesome and annoying. But they’re… not bad. And you’re here, so it’s kind of okay. 

He’s always thought that people doing annoying things for the sake of friends or whatever were delusional – frankly speaking, he could care less. Yet, when he looks at you, he thinks that maybe there are people out there who do things because they want to. Initially, you’d been somewhat of a doormat to him, but then he realized that your voluntary help came because you care about others – about him.

He can’t count the number of times you’ve come to help him out, whether it’s with the anomalous animals or a raid in his new game. You’ve just… always been there. He didn’t think it was possible, but your constant presence had carved out a you-shaped hole in his life, a place only you could fit.

So how’s he supposed to fill that emptiness now? It’s all your fault, Ren thinks. If only he hadn’t met you… but then, if he hadn’t met you, he doesn’t think he could’ve survived.

“Well done me for surviving another day…” Ren had grumbled, dusting his jumpsuit off. He hated getting dirty, but it wasn’t like he could avoid it in Jabberwock, especially if Haru was going to hound him continuously. 

“Good job, Ren!”

He looked up, seeing how you still looked cute despite the mud and disheveled hair. He found it kind of unfair. “Oh, same to you,” he said. “I don’t know how you can do this stuff voluntarily.”

“The animals are cute and you guys need the help,” you replied, waving at him to bend down. “Ren, there’s some mud on your face. Do you mind if I wipe it off?”

“Huh? You’re the type who does this kind of stuff, huh?”

“Ah, sorry–”

“No, you can,” Ren said. It wasn’t like he gave you permission to help him because he wanted to feel your touch, though. It was because he couldn’t stand the mud on him. Yup. That was definitely the reason. Still, even then, he couldn’t help the way his heart thudded against his chest as you gently wiped the grime off of his face. “It’s from that stupid bull anomaly kicking dirt in my face, isn’t it?”

“I think that’s when it happened, yeah,” you responded with a laugh. “But I’m here if you need me, so I can help you.”

Ren didn’t know what to say to your honest desire to help him, it was oddly sweet of you. You had been his only real source of comfort, what with everyone else wanting so much from him. You were the only one who watched his B-horror movies with him – the only one who’d game with him.

“There, all done! Let’s go back to the dorms. I’m sure you’ll feel better after a shower.”

“...Thanks,” he muttered, walking with you back to the Jabberwock dorms. The skies were painted shades of pink and purple, the sun ready to head to bed.

“Even though it’s hard work, it’s nice to be able to see the sunset, huh?” you hummed. Ren liked the sound of your voice – not too loud like Haru’s and not too incomprehensible like Towa’s.

“Yeah.” He breathed in deeply, feeling the fresh air purify his lungs. “Every day here is a fresh hell, though.”

“Aw, Ren,” you laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard work, huh?”

“...Yeah. But, you’re suffering through it with me, so I guess I’ll stick it out for a little longer…”

But how’s he supposed to stick it out now? You’re not here anymore. You’re not going to be there to help him. You’re not going to be there when he wants to watch his B-horror movies or play games. You’re not going to be there when he buys you a drink as he walks you home.

You’re not going to be here. And he didn’t even get to say goodbye…

Ren’s always been bad at goodbyes – he couldn’t even wish Calamari farewell. But he’d have rather been able to say something to you since he’s not going to be able to say anything to you ever again now. Never, ever again.

Ren doesn’t know how he’s going to survive.

Ever since Towa found out about your death, the skies in Jabberwock have been marred with thick clouds and thunder. His precious, precious Dandelion – how can you be gone? You can’t be gone yet. You haven’t told him all the love stories you had in your arsenal. You haven’t tried all the flowers Towa wants to offer you. You haven’t shown him all the reactions you’ve stored away for him to slowly bring to the surface.

You can’t be gone just yet, he won’t allow it.

Murkiness swims inside Towa’s heart as he grapples with the anger and sadness that fight and merge into an incomprehensible seed of emotion that is planted deeply within Towa’s heart. Should he just strike everyone down? You’re not here, so as long as he avoids Haru, it doesn’t matter who he hurts. It’s not like he particularly cares about anyone else on campus anyway. 

But he can’t allow his emotions to explode out of him just yet, not when the tree on the hill is dying. You care about that tree as well, after all. 

But then where is he supposed to spill his anger? His grief? Where does it all go?

Is this what love is? This agony?

Towa hasn’t ever really been certain about what “love” is. 

“Well, love can be a lot of things,” you had said, laying by his side on the hill with the tree. You were enraptured with the stars, but Towa couldn’t help but look at you. You were so much like a dandelion, your resilience and strength shining through despite your troubles. And you were cute like a Dandelion. Your voice was nice, too, like the wind that carried dandelion seeds across the world. “Like… there’s romantic love, platonic love, familial love, and all of that, you know? Even within romantic love, it can be a lot of different things.”

“Like what?” Towa asked, making you hum in thought.

“Uh… like soulmates, I guess? Some people meet their soulmates, some don’t. But even if you don’t meet your soulmate, you can still find someone you romantically love. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate but not realize they’re your soulmate too. It’d be hard to tell, right?”

“When you meet your soulmate, it feels like getting struck by lightning. Did you know that? Have you felt it, Dandelion?” Towa’s words made you turn your head towards him, finally paying attention to him instead of the stars. Towa liked the way you looked at him.

“I don’t think I have,” you responded, truthfully. “But I’m not in a rush. I’m sure I’ll find the person I love, even if they’re not my soulmate. Hell, maybe anyone can be your soulmate. Maybe soulmates are made when you love and grow with each other. Who knows?” A yawn escaped your mouth as you finished your thought.

“Heh heh.” Towa’s eyes crinkled at the sight. “Are you tired, Dandelion? You’re so weak. It’s cute.”

“Hey!” you laughed. “I’m getting stronger, y’know.” Flexing your arm, you show off a small bit of the muscle you’ve been building up. Towa couldn’t help but be amused at your little display of strength, miniscule in front of his own power. It was hard not to find it cute that you tried to carry so many burdens on your shoulders despite your own weaknesses. Towa could only surmise that your resilience came from the love within you. He hoped that he could be a part of that love inside of you.

“Do you like me, Dandelion?” Towa inquired, smile bright. “Because I love you!”

Towa doesn’t fully know what love is – it’s an idea he’s always been in love with, but has no experience and understanding of. You’re the closest he’s ever gotten to potentially finding the answer he’s been looking for. But now you’re gone. He doesn’t know how he’ll understand love now.

He hugs the great tree on the hill, tears trickling down his face.

 When the little mermaid turned into seafoam, did she feel this way too?

Haru is always busy. He wakes up busy and sleeps busy. Nothing ever seems to stop for him, time constantly slipping through his fingers like sand no matter how fast he runs.

So why did time have to stop for you?

Even as Haru makes his rounds, Towa’s lightning in the backdrop as he works, he can’t seem to keep his mind busy enough to not think of you. Thoughts and memories of you run around his head again and again and again. They run so fast that he can’t seem to catch up.

So Haru does what he can do to maintain routine. At the very least, maintaining routine should help him adjust, shouldn’t it? But as he carries out his daily chores, all he can think about is how you’d help him around Jabberwock. How you would give him sweets to amp up his energy. How you loved Peekaboo like it was your own.

“Boo…” Peekaboo says, aware of the tenseness and wariness on Haru’s shoulders – aware of the fact you’re no longer there. Peekaboo’s tears make your death weigh even heavier on Haru’s heart as he cuddles the small beast in his arms.

“You sure are fond of the Honor Student, aren’t you, Peekaboo?” Haru had asked, looking at how Peekaboo cuddled up against your chest as you fed it. “You did nothing but bite me for the first three days after we met.”

You laughed brightly, releasing a sound that Haru was quite fond of. “The only reason Peekaboo’s not biting me is because it’s used to you, you know.”

“You reckon?” Haru responded, reaching out to pet Peekaboo who welcomed the touch.

“See? Look at that. Peekaboo loves you so much.” You gave Peekaboo a kiss on its cute fluffy forward, making the small anomalous animal make happy little squeaks. “You like your dad quite a bit, don’t you?”

The sight of you and Peekaboo together made Haru’s heart warm. He was constantly managing things by himself that he never really expected to find a stable support system. Towa, while competent, could be quite moody. Ren, too, while able bodied, refused to do a lot of the work. So, of course, work always fell on Haru’s weary shoulders. He never expected to find someone that could provide him the support he needed – like the other parent of Jabberwock. “Then you’re a bit like Peekaboo’s mother, eh?”

“I wouldn’t mind – not when my child is as cute as Peekaboo!” you replied brightly, patting Peekaboo’s back to allow it to burp. After releasing a burp too large for such a small animal, Peekaboo cuddled into you, satisfied. You hummed out a little tune as you rocked the little anomalous animal to sleep. Seeing you made a smile stretch across Haru’s face.

“Really learned the ropes here, haven’t you?” he said, gently ruffling Peekaboo’s fur. “Once we have a little cash to spare, I’ll buy you your own Jabberwock uniform!”

You’d no longer need it, though, Haru thinks, thumb brushing against the fabric of the Jabberwock uniform he had gotten for you. While you aren’t officially a part of the Jabberwock House, it’s hard not to feel like you belonged. 

But you’re no longer here – you no longer belong to the living, so how could you belong to Jabberwock? Haru wishes that you were still here, though. It hasn’t even been a day, but he already misses you. Even if you couldn’t help him out every day, just getting a text message boosted his spirits. Just thinking about the fact that you’d help him with Jabberwock duties and his personal issues helped him get through his cumbersome day.

You were someone he could depend on and he wanted to be someone you could depend on. But, in the end, he couldn’t protect you.

His responsibilities sit heavily on his shoulders.

Sho has always kept himself busy. Whether it’s cooking, playing sports, training, or something else, Sho has always liked to do something. Maybe that’s why he’s in the kitchen, cooking your favorite meal, while he tries to process what the Masterpiece Newscasters had prattled on about earlier.

You’re dead?

There’s no way. You can’t be.

He thinks back to the first case you worked on together, the one with Takeru. He had failed to protect you then and vowed he wouldn’t put you in the way of danger like that again. So how? Why?

Who killed you?

Sho slams a fist on the kitchen counter, lips pressed in a thin line. Frustration bubbles inside him as curses leave his lips in rapid succession.

You can’t be dead. You can’t. Not when you’ve been working so hard. Not when you’ve been doing everything in your power to survive. Not when you’ve inspired and helped him to the point that he still feels like he has to repay you. Not when he hasn’t done or told you everything he wants to.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fists on the kitchen counter once more.

You jolted when he yelled a curse, slamming a fist on the wall.

“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Sho said, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck. You were fun to tease and get reactions out of, but that didn’t mean he wanted to scare you.

“What’s the matter, Sho?” you asked, putting down your knife. “Tell me. I might be able to help you.”

“It’s nothing,” Sho started to say, before the look on your face made him stop. He snorted at how displeased you looked. “It’s just that some back order stuff got delayed. I won’t have enough forks for tomorrow.”

“Oh, is that it?” you asked, looking relieved. “I have a bunch of plastic forks back at the cathedral, actually. Do you want me to get them?”

“Huh? Why do you have a bunch of plastic forks laying around?”

“Uh… let’s just say that I had some ordering issues.” You waved a hand to dismiss the question. “Anyway! I can go get them.”

“Nah, let’s go together.” He shuffled around, before pulling out a helmet and tossing it to you. “Here, this helmet’s for you.”

“Oh, this one looks awesome!” you beamed, turning the helmet around in your hands. It was in your favorite color with your favorite patterns. Sho huffed out a laugh at your response. You were so cute sometimes.

“Glad you like it. C’mon.” He pushed the door to the food truck open with his foot. “Let’s go.”

“Okay!”

“After this,” he began, closing and locking the door once you were both out of the food truck, “I got some time today, so I’ll take you somewhere. Anywhere you wanna go.”

He still remembers the way your arms felt around his waist as you clung to him while he drove. He still remembers the way your eyes sparkled watching your favorite scenery. He still remembers how his heart pounded in his chest, the feeling of liberation lifting his spirits, as he drove through the streets with you clinging to him.

Your determination has always felt like freedom to Sho – it’s what inspired him to put more effort into his life at Darkwick. It’s what inspired him to take things more seriously. 

But maybe he should’ve taken things more seriously when he had the chance. Now that you’re gone, so is his chance to prove himself to you. You've gone somewhere too far, somewhere no one else can reach. 

This isn’t the freedom he had envisioned for you.

Whenever Sho gets too emotional, Leo is quick to make fun of him. It's stupid to get too riled up, Leo thinks. The world is boring and easy to manipulate, after all. Why should he get upset? 

Leo has always been able to get what he wants – he even became vice-captain, for fuck's sake. He basically solved Takeru’s case by himself while also trying to get rid of you because your stupid stigma enhancement might overshadow him. Sure, he couldn't get rid of you then but it's not like he can't try again, especially when you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

But this isn’t how he wanted to get rid of you. Who said you could just die? It’s so stupid. It’s so dumb that it makes Leo feel angry. You stupidly kept going despite his scathing remarks, despite people walking all over you and disrespecting you, so why are you dead? You’re not allowed to be dead.

You still need to help him use Haxs. You still need to be there so he can get a sense of validation when he watches your reactions. You still need to be here because out of everyone on campus, your presence is somewhat tolerable. Who’s he gonna comfortably boss around now?

“Ha ha. You were photobombing one of my pics so I uploaded it and said I had a new girlfriend,” Leo snickered as you brushed his hair. He didn’t think you’d be so good at it, but he found that his hair was smoother when you brushed it. “10K interacts in less than an hour. Suckers.”

“Is that okay?” you asked, making Leo roll his eyes.

“It’s fine, Honor Roll. In fact, shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“That’s not what I meant.” you huffed, tugging his hair lightly as you untangled a knot. It felt nice. “I mean, are you okay? Don’t influencers get harassed if they post about their significant others?”

Leo hated this whole goody-two-shoes act you had going on. Why were you so concerned about him? It wasn’t like he was particularly nice to you and it wasn’t like you necessarily treated him better than you would anyone else. Were you just stupidly nice in general? “Being an influencer means you get hate mail anyway,” he responded, closing out of his social media app. It wasn’t really all that interesting anymore.

“Hm… I see.” You became silent, which made Leo feel oddly annoyed. “People can really suck sometimes.”

Leo snorted. He had been anything but kind to you, really, so he thought you’d have already come to that conclusion a while ago. “It’s whatever. They’re all basic.”

He knew that this was the point where you could say something about him coming to you to talk (which he would never do, barf), but you don’t. Instead, you continue to thread your fingers through his hair gently.

He hated to admit it, but it was relaxing.

“Okay, I think I’m done,” you hummed, removing your hands from him. He noted that it was slightly colder when you left, but chalked it up to the poor heat regulation in Vagastrom. “Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day, Leo! I got you something.”

Leo turned to you curiously as he combed his fingers through his hair, which definitely felt softer. He gingerly took your offering, before his eyes widened. “This is that ultra-spicy chocolate they only sell this time of year… I’m actually genuinely stoked right now.”

“I’m glad!” you beamed. It was a smile that Leo thought was slightly less ugly than usual. In general, you had been looking slightly less ugly lately, actually. That thought made him feel nauseous.

“Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll?”

You blinked at him, suddenly looking wary. He used to think that expression was so stupid, but now he thought it was kind of cute in a dumb kind of way. “What type of bet…?”

“A bet over which will come first – me falling for you, or you getting hooked on me.”

There’s no conclusive way to find out the end to this bet now, not with you gone. But he thinks you probably got hooked on him first – after all, it’s not like he’s thinks about your stupid laugh or dumb words of encouragement when he feels down or anything. Besides, as far as the internet’s concerned, you’re already dating him.

He briefly thinks about uploading a post about your death. Those suckers online would eat it up, sending him pity and sympathy. But the thought is so unappealing that he drops it. It’s not like your death is gonna matter to other people.

After all, life sucks and then you die, right? It’s just a part of living and he’s not pathetic enough to suddenly miss you. But there’s a disgustingly hollow feeling in his chest as his thoughts ring too loudly. You’re just an NPC – aren’t NPCs supposed to live quietly in the background while the main characters get their character development or whatever? 

Why couldn’t you just quietly live your life like that?

You’re so stupid.

Alan has always felt like a monster. His hands – his stigma – have crushed so many things until they’ve become nothing but dust. He’s never been proud of this strength, not when he causes so many to cower. 

He had expected you to cower, too, especially after he ripped Takeru’s ghost apart in front of you, so lost in the bloodlust. But you hadn’t. You stood by his side with as much care and compassion you could muster. When he wanted to keep looking into the case of Takeru’s ghost even after it was considered “finished” by Darkwick, you offered to help him even though you didn’t need to.

Alan’s never really been a conversationalist, so he didn’t expect you to spend time with him unless it was necessary. Still, he can’t say he dislikes having you around. Even when he’s tinkering with his car, it’s nice to have you sitting nearby, talking about your day.

You’re someone he appreciates – someone who does their best no matter how dire the situation is, someone who strives to do better. How could he not grow fond of how hard you work on a daily basis?

“I pat people on the head a lot? Didn’t notice,” Alan had said, after placing his hand on your hair. He really hadn’t realized – it was a force of habit, especially when you had done such a good job. “I’m doing it again?” he murmured, removing his hand, “...Sorry.”

“It’s nothing you have to be sorry for,” you responded, honestly. “It was just an observation.”

Despite knowing that his hands were akin to weapons, Alan couldn’t help but be drawn to touching you. Unlike him, you were soft and sweet. Still, he felt guilty. He hadn’t ever wanted you to feel uncomfortable, after all. 

“I actually kind of like it when you pat my head,” you said. “You’re really gentle with it, so it makes it feel like I did a good job!”

Alan would never describe his touch as gentle, but he felt like he could believe it if it came from you.“You’re doing a good job.”

“Thanks!” you responded, giving him a big smile that he couldn’t say he had seen from other people. Most other people here had cunning smiles or looked fearful of him. He liked how genuine yours looked. “I can keep trying my best because of you and the others, you know? Thanks a lot.”

Alan couldn’t really recall if he had done anything to receive this type of praise from you, but your words made him feel relaxed. He felt like you helped him feel more human. “I’m lucky I’ve got you,” he said, trying to express his gratitude. “As long as you’re with me, I feel like I won’t lose sight of who I am.”

But now you’re no longer here. It makes Alan scared of himself in a way that he’s never felt before. He had treated you gently, like you were made of glass, because he was scared he’d break you. Yet you weren’t ever scared of him breaking you. Being with you softened up his edges and made him feel more human than monster.

You’re no longer here, though.

Perhaps it has always been his fate to become a monster.

Kaito hasn’t stopped crying since he’s heard the Masterpiece Newscasters relay the news of your death. It hurts so bad. 

Kaito doesn’t think he’s ever been so badly hurt in his life. 

Kaito’s never been one to like pain, which is why he avoids training and going on missions. He wants to be normal and being a ghoul is abnormal. The non-ghouls around him cement that on a daily basis. Yet you’re one of the only non-ghouls who has always treated him kindly no matter what.

Even when he’s a pathetic idiot or a stupid coward, you’ve always been so patient and kind to him. Kaito has liked a lot of girls on a surface level, but his feelings towards you have evolved beyond that. He thinks you’re pretty and lovely and all of that, of course, but more than that, he thinks you’re an amazing person. Amazingly strong, amazingly hard working – you’re someone he values so deeply. Even when he knows he’s being foolish, you’re there by his side because you care about him, aren’t you? So how could he not grow to care about you? You’re the few people that he feels he can truly be close to.

“Whoa, when did it get so late?!” Kaito gasped, looking at the window outside. You two had been baking since noon, but ended up goofing off at some point, delaying the baking process. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you…”

“I’m still good!” you responded, before taking a big bite out of your cookie. While chewing your sweet treat, you offered Kaito a piece, too.

“Really?” Kaito asked, taking the cookie you offered him.

“Yeah, I like spending time with you.”

Your words made Kaito’s heart swell with so much gratitude and affection that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. He always considered himself lackluster in practically everything, but he felt like he could do better and try to be better because you were there. He couldn’t help the cheesy grin that came onto his face.

“Oh, look, Kaito! The stars look so pretty!”

Kaito looked over at the large window in the kitchen, watching as the stars twinkled in the night sky.

“It kind of looks like granulated sugar if you squint, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I can see it!” Kaito responded, before tentatively asking, “...Do you like stars?”

“I do,” you replied, taking another bite of your cookie. “Why d’you ask?”

“Oh, um,” Kaito hesitated, feeling a little bashful all of a sudden. You weren’t the type to just reject him harshly, but sometimes Kaito felt nervous in more intimate moments. When you genuinely seemed to return his affections (romantic or not) it made him feel valued as a human being, but it also made him nervous. “I was just wondering ‘cause there’s this place where you can see them really well, so I thought you’d want to go some time…”

“I would love to!” you beamed at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Kaito didn’t think the sun needed to shine if you were around. “You always do find the best places.”

Your words of validation made Kaito feel teary. You’d always been by his side, no matter what. You didn’t have to be his princess or anything like that. In fact, you’d saved him a lot of times before. Still… “I know I’m weak, and a coward,” he began, “But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor.”

In the end, Kaito never could become your knight in shining armor. Not when you’re gone like this. He couldn’t protect you and it tears him up inside. If he had trained and went on missions, would things be different? If so, why couldn’t the other ghouls help you instead? You deserve to be alive – you deserve it so much more than anyone else.

Kaito continues to wail inside his room, frustrated that he’s upset at other people not saving you – it’s him that couldn’t save you. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault and he’ll never be able to make it up to you.

He’ll never become your knight in shining armor.

For the first time since coming to Darkwick, Luca feels numb. He’s not sure how to cope with the fact that your death has come so suddenly. He had promised you that he’d help you absolve your curse, just like you promised him you’d help him subjugate a demon. Yet… you’re gone. You’re not here. You cannot keep your promise to him and he cannot keep his promise to you. It makes him feel hollow.

Luca has always felt that honesty was the best policy, which contributed to his straightlaced nature. He’s been called inconsiderate because of this and he’s lost people who could’ve been his friend. Him being a ghoul hadn’t helped, either, since he was the only ghoul back in Emrys Academy. When he came to Darkwick Academy, all he expected was to learn ways to subjugate a demon. Sure, it would’ve been nice to make friends, but Luca wasn’t going to get his hopes up. Not when he was so set on his goal to find his brother, at least.

Most aren’t understanding of Luca’s honesty and desire to bring back his brother, thinking his one track mind is a hassle. But you’ve never treated him like he was a nuisance. You’ve always greeted him brightly and worked with him. Whether you guys looked for information on curses and demons or practiced meditation for a clearer mind, you’ve been there.

But you’re not going to be there anymore, are you? Not when he’s meditating, not when he’s looking things up in the library, not when he needs the encouragement – you’re not going to be there.

He at least has hope that he’ll be able to bring his brother back. With you, he knows he can never bring you back. You’re gone, forever. You’ll never be there to experience anything with him anymore.

“We have experienced many joys and sorrows together since becoming friends. I’m very glad we met. I look forward to walking the road ahead with you,” Luca had said one day, while you two were meditating. While meditating, Luca couldn’t seem to clear his mind from thinking about you and all you’d done for him, so he thought it was only right for him to express it.

“Me too,” you responded, earnestly. Luca liked talking with you because you were candid with him, but patient. Even when he interrupted your meditation. “You’ve been a great ally to me, so thanks a lot, Luca.” You stretched your arms over your head, before staring at the setting sun. Sometimes, Luca wasn’t sure what went through your head.

“You’ve been a great ally to me as well.” Luca could scarcely remember people who tried as hard as you. He was duty-bound to a fault that he had trouble abandoning his mission, so he had trouble understanding people who wanted to run away. You were one of the few that came back despite wanting to run away. How could he not be impressed with you?

“That makes me glad to hear!” you replied, beaming brightly. Luca liked your smile. It radiated a warmth that reminded him of home. “Let’s keep doing our best!”

“Yes, let’s.” Luca watched as you kept your gaze on the setting sun. The soft colors of the sky were quite a sight to behold, but Luca wasn’t sure why it was distracting you.

“You know, Luca?” you called, as if you could read his mind. “They say that as long as you’re on Earth, you’ll see the same sun as the people you love. Isn’t that nice?”

Luca could be slow to pick up on things sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. He could tell that those words were meant to console you after you’d been stripped from your family so suddenly (he’d come to understand the reasons for your desire to leave that day when you were working on your first case after many conversations with you). Yet, your words carried an undertone that implied that you told him about the sun to console him as well. Him, who was far from his family. Him, whose brother had gone missing. Him.

Those words were meant for him, but he cannot see the value in them now. Not when you’re no longer on this Earth. Not when you’re no longer alive. The sun still shines so brightly over Darkwick as if undeterred by your death. It pains Luca because time feels like it’s stopped for him, yet the world seems to move on. 

Luca closes his eyes, heart throbbing.

“I’m sorry… Yet again I have failed to protect the people most important to me…”

The first thing Tohma does when he hears of your death is smoke to calm his nerves. He’s counting down the minutes until Jin calls him, but Tohma can’t seem to shake the sudden burst of numbness that shoots through his veins.

He hates to admit it, but your death has shaken him up more than he’d like. Of course, he’ll have to hide it. He’ll have to get a hold of himself – especially since everyone else will be in a tizzy. But even though he knows this, he’s having a hard time controlling his own emotions.

You’re the only one who is stupidly earnest in everything you do, allowing him bits of amusement in his life. You’re the only one that’s helped him feel like he could forget everything he’s got to do and be. You’re the only one who tries to lift the burden on his shoulders. You’re the only one and it makes Tohma’s lungs feel empty.

What vermin had killed someone as lovely as you?

“Welcome to high society,” Tohma had said, taking your hand in his for a dance. “That outfit suits you well. With that poise, you’ll have no trouble fitting in here.” And he was right, you looked beautiful, like the belle of the ball.

“Aha, sure,” you murmured, wincing as you stepped on his foot. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m still so bad at this…”

“Inexperience is not a crime,” Tohma responded, twirling you in his arms. “The important thing is choosing to not remain ignorant when you don’t know something.” While most would assume Tohma was talking about your dancing capabilities, you knew that he meant something beyond that, too. You were smart like that, after all, and so hardworking. You chose to not remain ignorant.

“You’re right.” You nodded. “I’m gonna do my best.”

“I look forward to your efforts,” he hummed. “And in times of difficulty, I hope you’ll turn to those around you for help. I will be there to keep you safe.”

Tohma takes another drag of his cigarette, watching as the smoke fills the room. He told you he’d protect you. He told you, didn’t he? And yet he couldn’t.

Perhaps a lowly servant like him could never have protected you in the first place.

At the news of your death, Jin’s first move is to slash though the expensive furniture in his room, unsure of where else to let his emotions explode. His hand tightens around his sword as he stabs his sword in the ground, visualizing whoever had the audacity to touch what is his.

How dare they hurt you? How dare they take you away from him?

You, who’s been so stupidly obedient to him without any expectation of riches or glory. You, who’s been stupidly kind to him despite his terse nature. You, who’s been by his side without complaint as long as he ordered it. 

“...I was too active yesterday. Massage me, servant,” Jin muttered, rolling onto his stomach to give access to his back. Without a word of complaint, you do as you’re told, though Jin couldn’t say you could be a masseuse anytime soon. “...What the hell was that? Put some muscle into it.”

“What? I’ve been told I give really good massages, though.”

Jin frowned. “From?”

“My dad.”

Jin snorted out a laugh. “Try harder.”

“Fine, fine,” you muttered, stretching your arms in front of you. “I’m gonna put my back into it!” Jin wondered if you’d actually be able to give him a proper massage, but the effort in itself was amusing (cute, even). Still, regardless of your massages, it was nice to have your hands on his back. He liked being close to you. “How was that?”

“It was fine.”

“What!” you exclaimed, incredulous, before grumbling, “You give a guy a massage and all he does is say it’s bad. Not even a word of thanks.”

With how you were yapping, you must’ve gotten quite comfortable with him. Jin couldn’t say he disliked it. “Never learn, do you?” he asked, rolling onto his back so that he can pull you on to the bed next to him. “I don’t take you being here for granted. I know it won’t last forever.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Wha– you’re so–” you huffed, before shaking your head, seemingly pleased. “Fine, you win, your majesty. I suppose it's time for this servant to leave.” You made a move to get up, but Jin stopped you.

“I’ve got plans early tomorrow. Your house is too far. Stay here tonight.”

He still can’t forget the way you looked that night – bashful, sweet. He wanted to lock you in with him so that he could have you for as long as possible. Maybe he should’ve. He never took your existence for granted, valuing every second he’s spent with you, but when he said that he knew that your relationship wouldn’t last forever, he never thought it’d be because someone killed you. The thought makes hot rage course through his veins again.

He’s going to kill whatever bastard took you from him.

.

.

.

Faintly, your sage’s ring glows on your finger. 

It asks you a question it’s asked you many times before: “What do you desire?”

You answer the question exactly as you’ve answered it before: “I want to go back.”

The sage ring glows brighter in response.

You wake up on a train.

Your phone beeps.

[princessbellecerise]

cw: smut, mistaken identity, dragonseed!reader

oh nothing just thinking about jace finally deciding that honor be damned, there’s a war going on and he does not want to die a virgin. he has a plan to fix it but he’s so nervous that he drinks a few glasses of wine to calm his nerves. then, he sneaks into baela’s room and shuts the door, smiling when he sees what he thinks are her silver curls peaking out from underneath her sheets. as quietly as he can, jace gets undressed and climbs on the bed. it creaks a little under his weight, but baela doesn’t stir, surprising him since she’s usually a light sleeper. he thinks nothing of it though, because he’s so nervous and so excited and he’s a littleee bit tipsy from the wine so he doesn’t notice that baela’s skin is softer than what it should be. furthermore, her body isn’t as hard as a warriors body should be and she even smells different to jace. it’s an intoxicating scent that makes all the nerves in his body feel like he’s on fire. it spurs him on even more, the prince pushing the covers back to reveal baela’s barely clothed body. to his surprise, the princess is wearing a cute little slip decorated in flowers. its silky and underneath it, jace realizes that she’s wearing nothing. her pretty little cunt is on full display when he pushes the slip up to her breasts, mouth watering as her full body is exposed. in no time, the prince attaches his mouth to any skin he can find, growing harder by the minute as he tastes baela’s sweet flesh. as his lips trail over her neck, her breasts, and eventually the sweet spots on her belly, he can hear her whimpering and whining above him.

“jacaerys? what are you doing?”

her voice is a little different from what she usually sounds like, but the prince chalks it up to baela just coming out of sleep and to the wine.

“shh, sweetling. just relax. i’m going to take good care of you,” he whispers to her, before attaching his lips to her cunt.

almost immediately, baela begins to squirm underneath him, heavy pants and little cries leaving her lips. her hands come down to tangle in his hair as jace gets to work, finding her pearl and coaxing to her peak.

he’s doing so good, he thinks, and she tastes so sweet. jace wants to spend hours in between her legs if possible but he’s so hard that it hurts. the prince finds himself needing to be inside of her before he bursts.

hurriedly, he climbs on top of her and presses his swollen head to her folds. baela leans up, her sweet plump lips capturing him in a kiss just before he pushes in, groaning into her mouth as he sinks.

she feels wonderful jace thinks, so tight and warm that he wonders why in the hell he hasn’t done this before. there’s no feeling that has ever made him tremble the way he does now, buried deep in baela’s cunt. pleasure bleeds into his very soul, and he feels so euphoric that he needs to do something, anything to keep from losing his mind. he holds her, kisses her, sucks harshly on her breasts. does everything that lets him feel her, letting her sweet taste consume him to the point of oblivion.

and she lets him. gods be good, she holds onto him for dear life as his cock pounds into her, letting out the sweetest of sounds that he cherishes. he’s so full of love at the moment that jace can’t help that it tumbles from his lips. he whispers in her ear about how perfect she is for him, and how sweet and warm her cunny is. he tells baela that he couldn’t wait to marry her from the moment he saw her and that she’ll make the best wife to him. as he fucks into her, lewd sounds echoing through her room, jace feels her legs wrap around his back. he feels her pull him close and keep him there, hugging his body until there’s no space left between them.

it’s then that he asks, desperate as he fills an avalanche growing in his stomach, “will you take me? will you take my seed, my love?” when she nods, her own legs trembling and her cries blending with his, it’s then that jace pours everything that he has into her. everything that he is. sweet nothing after sweet nothing just seems to come out, as there’s no short amount of praises he gives as he snaps.

he’s on cloud nine, and it’s so overwhelming that jace cums harder than he ever has in his life. hot spurts of his seed flow from his cock and into baela, his balls firmly pressed against her ass to keep it there.

by the gods, he groans, “i wish to see you swollen with my children,” at least serval times. and he knows, jace knows that her sweet soft body will be the perfect place to grow his heirs.

in the morning, he’ll ask his mother for permission to marry her like he should’ve from the beginning. heaven knows that he’s too addicted to her now, too in love and cunt drunk to part. he’s can’t risk dying in this war without calling her his wife. can’t risk not being able to make love to her freely until their end. it’ll kill him inside, he thinks.

he holds onto her even as his cock softens. she winces a little as he pulls out, but he kisses her wet cheeks and is pleased to see that nothing spills from her cunt. it’s as if the mother herself has blessed her womb, blessed their union and allowed for not a single drop to spill. soon, her belly will swell with children that are perfect mix of their beautiful mother and their father. another reason for jace to fight, he thinks. another reason that they must win.

“for you. for our child. i will fight with everything i have in me, i promise,” he tells her.

baela simply weeps into his arms, overwhelmed by their union as well and sniffles out her own promises.

“i will be a good wife. i swear it to you,” she tells him, and it’s these sweet words that lull him off to sleep. he can’t stay there forever, they both know it, but jacaerys manages to sleep with her and hold her a little while longer before he’s forced to get up and leave her.

the next morning, he can’t stop smiling despite being forced to train all of the new dragonseed’s early. baela isn’t up yet but the thought of seeing her afterwards is what motivates him, though jace is a little confused as to why the only female dragonseed is now following him around. she’s giggling and acting all lovesick towards him, but even though she is beautiful and a sweet girl, his heart belongs to another after last night. but baela is nowhere to be seen. and in fact, rhaenyra tells jace later on that she’s not even in the castle, having flown to driftmark to retrieve lord corlys. in the meantime though, she decided to give you her room until jace’s betrothed comes back. after all, out of all of the dragonseeds, you are the only noble that answered the call. and it would be rude to let you sleep amongst the others, would it not?

[holybibly]

Unholy thoughts of the day: The gorgeous and experienced Omega Hwa seduces the innocent and tender newcomer Omega next door.

You're shy, sweet, pretty and completely innocent - totally his type. And oh my, what luck, you just introduced yourself as an Omega. A late bloomer, but already so ripe, juicy, perfect for fucking. He wants to sink his teeth into you and Seonghwa is sure that instead of bleeding you'll bleed honey. He can taste the sticky sugar of your slime on his tongue and he wants to taste more.

Your thighs are so curvy and lush that they'll fit perfectly around his head as you ride his face. Oh, how embarrassed you'll be the first time you sit on your well-deserved throne, but Hwa will teach you. Teach you to do and behave as he pleases.

It's such a cliché that all Omegas should fuck Alphas, that they all need this overrated knot. Seonghwa knows many other ways to make cute Omegas cum over and over again.

Your parents trust him, of course, he is such a model Omega, so gentle, so well-behaved, so kind. And of course he has that notorious maternal instinct, and honestly, Hwa doesn't mind being a pretty mommy, but only for sweet, sugary Omegas that he can fuck for hours on end.

You are too cute, your panties are white and soft, with all those frills and bows. You have so many of them that you don't even notice when a few pairs are missing - the ones stained with your mucus.

So innocent, he wants to ruin you, rebuild you as he pleases. You look like a doll and Hwa can't wait to play with you.

You spend so much time in his house and your smell is everywhere except his bed, but that's for now. He's already started preparing a nest for you - pillows, blankets, sweets, handcuffs. You can't go anywhere, Seonghwa is already addicted.

Your parents trust him, trust him so much that they let you stay with Seonghwa for a while while they go on a business trip. It's a pity no one told them that the most dangerous animals hide behind sugar wrappers.

Seonghwa wants you, he knows how to seduce you, how to make you crawl to him on your knees. How to teach you how to honor him properly.He is not ashamed to walk in front of you almost naked, he likes it when you look at his body, he wants you to lick it with your little tongue. He wants to feel your hands on his cock, he wants to spit in your mouth after you have come on his tongue and see how you swallow.

He wants you to become a real whore, a slutty little angel just for his entertainment, his bitch. Even if you don't realise it yet, you already belong to him. After all, whatever Seonghwa wants, he gets.

Maybe somewhere in the world your amazing Alpha is waiting for you, of course you should have one or more, after all Alpha harems are quite common, but Hwa will never let you go and he is a damn sight better than any fucking Alpha.

[concretecultist]

Kingdom Come

summary: you ask Noah, your Dom best friend, for a big favor.

pairing: sub!fem!reader x dom!noah

word count: 7.4k

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

warnings: 18+!! BDSM, restraints, slapping/impact play, light degradation, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, p in v, oral (f receiving), subspace

A/N: this was purely self indulgent. please reblog and comment if you enjoyed 🥰

~Berry🫐

Life was kicking your ass. Harder than normal and the weight of the world was getting harder the bear.

Your job sucked, your body ached all the time and the one guy who you thought was going to be it for you, ended up ghosting you. All of it was a slap in the face and it was even worse when your landlord calls you to let you know the water would be off for a couple weeks due to maintenance issues. You guess you could tolerate it since he’s reducing rent during the time that the water will be off.

So, once you find out this information, you’re calling your best friend to see if you can crash there for a while. He had no problem with it. He no longer had roommates and often found himself missing having someone around.

So when you arrived and got yourself situated after a steamy shower to wash the day off, you find yourself sitting beside Noah with a question burning a hole in your tongue.

“I know this idea is out there but,” you choke on the words and realize how ridiculous this sounds.

“What?,” he keeps clicking away at his controller as he played his game, not taking his eyes off the screen. When you don’t answer, he takes a peak over at you and can see you biting your lip so hard it looks like it’ll bleed.

“Stop doing that,” he paused his game and used his thumb to gently pull your lip down from between the grip of your teeth, “What’s going on. It’s just me, Y/N,”

You look to him, twiddling your thumbs and decide it’s all or nothing, if he says no you guys can just forget you ever said anything.

“I need to turn my brain off,” you blurt out.

“Okay?,” he shrugs as if there was nothing to it, “I can have Folio bring some weed by,”

“No, I-,” you throw your face in your hands, cheeks burning as you think about it, “You are in the…. the BDSM scene and I want you to help me turn my brain off,”

His mouth drops in an ‘o’ shape as it clicks what exactly you mean. His hesitation has you feeling so silly. You should have just showered, went home and rubbed one out.

“Sugar, I’m not exactly sure you know what you’re asking for,”

You were his little sugar cube. Too sweet to know exactly what his life entailed behind the scenes. You never really seemed interested in it before. But little did he know, you were just nervous to show it.

He could be mean at the request of his subs during sessions and you were requesting it now but you were his best friend and he didn’t want to cross that line unless you were 110% sure.

“N-no, no I do,”

He’s briefly talked about his sessions enough for it to cause a burning of desire in your gut. You’ve never been in the scene but with the way things are going lately, you just need to be taken care of, to be manhandled and you’d rather do that with someone you trust.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you mumble, humiliated now that you’d expect your hot, dom, best friend to do that for and to you, “I just made a fool of myself,”

The silence that he was giving after your initial ask was gnawing at your emotions, you just wanted to disappear right now.

“Sugar, it would be an honor but if we do this, there’s no going back because I’m going to want you forever,” his words spilled like the smoothest whiskey on the market. Sure, now this sounds like a typical cliche of friends to lovers but what’s wrong with that? Sometimes things like this are meant to become something more. Maybe that’s why long term relationship never worked for either of you… because you two were it for each other?

“Please,” your voice cracks with need. You had showered while he stayed on the couch playing a video game and yet your body is still tense.

“Follow me,” he stands tall before you, extending a hand in which you take easily. You could already feel some tension relieving from simply holding his hand.

He kept his pace slow, easy for you to keep up with as one of his steps equaled three of yours.

He had a spare bedroom that no one was allowed in, not even you and you guys had been friends for almost a decade now. So when he reached above the door to grab the key, you snatched your hand from his and took a giant step back.

“I can’t go in there,”

“Right, without my consent,” he peaked over his shoulder, “But you have that now and then some,”

You looked at him with wary eyes and he dropped his shoulders with a knowing sigh.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” his hands made their way onto your shoulders to deliver a comforting squeeze, “This is the way,”

One of his hands is gently cradling your cheek now and it’s so soothing that you can’t help but lean into it and he notices the way your eyes flutter.

He already knows you’re going to be so good for him tonight.

Noah leans his forehead down to yours and your lips are only a few centimeters a part.

“You trust me… don’t you, Sugar?,”

Immediately weak in the knees, noticing he’s already entering into his persona. You nod feverishly against him.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,”

A gentle peck on your lips has you leaning in for more when he pulls away.

“Take your hands off the wheel and let me drive,” is all he says before turning his back to you to unlock the door.

Time seemed to slow down when he pushed it open, a part of you wanted to close your eyes, still feeling nervous about seeing a space he deemed so private that he kept it locked up. Your hand is in his once more with him pulling you through the threshold as he flicks the light on.

Red fluorescent lights filling your vision.

It smells so good in here and you wonder how, considering what possibly goes down based simply off of what’s in here.

The bed frame looks like one luxurious bird cage, bolted to the floor and a sheer canopy draping over it. There’s bars hanging from the ceiling with cuffs hanging from them.

Open cupboards of different items like floggers, paddles then another filled with masks and gags, one full of toys. There’s a full fridge in here with a clear door and you can see different replenishing beverages and snacks.

This is his sex dungeon

“Something like that,” he spoke aloud.

Realizing your thoughts weren’t kept in your head you avert your gaze to the ground.

“I don’t use it much other than personal uses, any time I have a scene with someone I meet them at theirs. I’ve just been keeping this a secret until I found the one worthy to be in here,”

Your eyes widen as you raise your head to meet his.

“M-me?!,” poking yourself in the chest, “I… you mean me?!,”

His shoulders tremble in soft laughter, shaking his head at your disbelief.

“This entire time, I’ve just been wanting to bring you here but you never expressed any interest in the scene,” he played with your fingers in his grasp, something he always found comfort in doing.

“I didn’t know if you’d take me seriously. I’m not exactly… what comes to mind when someone says they want a submissive,”

“You’re exactly what comes to mind,” he brings you to a plush crimson couch, covered in velvet material. When your ass meets the cushions, he’s reaching to a table beside you to light a candle, bringing it over with him as he lowers himself into his knees before you.

“I’m going to go over a few house rules while I get you relaxed okay?,”

You offer a simple nod and he smirks,

“Rule number one- I always need a verbal answer. I don’t want to leave anything to the imagination and possibly misread body language, got it?,”

Swallowing thickly you nod once more, “I understand,”

“Good girl,” his hands make their way onto your calves, kneading the tight muscles, causing an involuntary moan in which you try to subdue.

“Number two, don’t be shy,” he says plainly, “I know this is new but you know me and I’m here to keep you safe so don’t shy away from me. Be as vocal and as emotional as you need to be,”

“I understand,” you answer once more. Your eyes watch his hands, curious when he picks up the candle, the flame flickering in his eyes.

“Three. Trust that I will never hurt you outside of what you ask for,” he tips the candle and a quiet gasp leaves your lips, quickly turning into a moan when the wax drips onto your tired legs, Noah instantly setting the candle down and massaging it into your skin.

“Pheromone massage candles,” he answered your unasked question.

“Four. I usually go by King during these scenes but since this is new for you I don’t want you to feel detached from me so call me Noah until you feel comfortable, okay?,”

“Y-yes,” your eyes cross slightly while his thumbs work into the sore soles of your feet. This was helping so much and just from this simple interaction, your core is buzzing already.

“Five. If you need to stop or directions are not okay or unclear- speak up. I’m going to need you to pick a safeword for me,”

You squirm on the couch, becoming putty in his hands as they move from your feet to your calves and now your thighs.

“Kingdom,” you answer with ease, if he goes by King might as well make it coordinate right?

“Good one,” he plants a kiss by your knee, “Rule six, no negative self talk or thoughts. I may degrade you but I will always follow it up with praise. You are loved and cared about, you understand me?,”

“I understand,” you nod.

“Seven. Have fun and let go. We are here together so remember I will always catch you,”

With his last rule he spreads your thighs, squeezing them to get a reaction out of you.

“Do you have any rules for me?,” eyes dark yet caring in the red glow.

“Don’t hold back,” an embarrassing whimper escapes, “I know I’m a rookie but I can take it and I know you’ll take care of me just…,”

Your hands grab his, holding them tight so he knows how bad you need this.

“Just don’t hold back. I need it, I know I’m safe so I just need you to hurt me, I need you to help me turn my brain off and surrender myself to you,”

Your words from earlier echoed in Noah’s head and he thought they were a crock of shit.

I’m not exactly what comes to mind when someone says they want a submissive

Bullshit. You were perfect.

He wipes his hands on a towel that he kept on the table with the candle, setting it and the candle back in their original spot when he was finished.

His hands are now sheltering your face because he can see your mind is still running a million miles a minute.

“What do you need from me right now?,”

You were embarrassed to say it.

“What were rules 2 and 7, Sugar?,” his voice pulled you from your own thoughts.

“To not be shy and to let go,”

He nodded in understanding, “So why are you breaking my rules and overthinking?,”

God, he was so good at this. The twinge of disappointment in his tone had your heart aching, you wanted to be good.

“Can.. c-can you smack me?,” your voice was barely a whisper and you knew he wouldn’t let that slide.

“Speak up, baby. Closed mouths don’t get fed,” his thumbs were rubbing such comforting circles on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but oblige.

“I need you to smack me,” it wasn’t a plea, it was a declaration.

Noah just reads your face. Studying your expression to see if there’s any doubt, any hesitation. He stands you up and then he leans in to kiss you with a sort of need that you’ve never been kissed with before. You two are breathing heavily in between and you can barely keep up. Your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, just wanting him to consume you.

He pulls away but before you can protest, you feel the searing heat of his open palm meeting your cheek. A gasp of surprise comes from you and yet again you’re left with no time to react when he does it again.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “More,”

He answers your demand with a little more power behind this one, the pain feeling so good you almost fall to your knees but luckily, he held you upright.

“Turn it off,” he says through clenched teeth, smacking you once more. If you were naked you know for a fact you’d be dripping down your legs, “Turn it off, Sugar. I see you trying,”

Hand on your neck, he’s pushing you backward and each step is another slap until he pins you to the wall, you can feel your eyes burn as the tears of desire being to rise.

You need this so bad.

“I said. Turn,” a harder slap, “It. Off!!,” with one more smack, you’re practically howling at how exceptional it felt, eyes closed as you welcome the sting that lingered on your flesh, feeling the heat running down to your neck and up to your temples.

Your head feels like you’re in limbo and when you open your eyes, he can see the change in yours and you can see the change in his.

You’re both in your designated positions. He has his hands on the wheel now. Your brain was off and the part of you that needed to be taken care of has entered the chat, the stressed version was locked away in a dark cell of your mind and would stay there until it was time to let her out.

“There she goes,” his hand soothed your cheek and you were liquid in his hands

“Thank you,” doe eyes shining up at him, he feels so proud of himself.

“Oh baby, it’s my pleasure,” he cooed, “Can you be good and undress for me?,”

“Can you help?,” your body was feeling fuzzy, like you had a few shots and were floating now. You felt like if you tried to undress yourself you’d topple over.

“Of course,” he felt gratified to be asked.

One article of clothing at a time until you were bare in front of him, pinned against the crimson paint on the wall.

“How are we doing? You okay?,” a kiss planted to your neck, his large hands running up and down your body had you sighing in content.

“On cloud nine,” you answer dreamily. You were in a daze, this room felt like your own amusement park now.

A room you once weren’t allowed in because this is his sanctuary. How many others were close to being brought here? How many others did he put in a hypnotic state?

“Put her away,” his gruff voice echoed in your ears, “She doesn’t get to come back. Lock it away,”

He could tell through your body language that you were starting to overthink again.

“Do we need to stop?,”

“No,” rearing back to look him in his eyes so he can see how bad you truly need and want this, “No. It’s turned off,”

“That’s what I need to hear,”

He brings you back over to the couch you were on a few minutes ago but this time he’s sitting on the cushion and he’s positioning you over his lap.

“Think you can handle a few spanks?,”

“Uh huh!,” excitement coursing through your veins, body jolting when you feel his lips press against the supple flesh that he was soon about to tenderize.

But first, he had to feel you. He has to feel your wetness coat his fingers. So his fingers trace figures on the back of your thighs and you’re jutting your ass up to get him to touch you, he delivers a light smack as a warning.

“Patience,” is all he speaks. Slowly but surely, his middle finger swipes your clit and lightly presses into your entrance.

He pulls a long drawn out moan from you when he fully pushes his finger inside. A quiet growl emits from his chest and your toes are curling.

“Noah pleeeeaaase,” you grip his calves, eyes rolling at his slow movement of removing his finger and reinserting it.

“What do you need, Sugar?,” you could hear the smile in his tone. The way he was speaking to you and touching you just made the anxiety melt away.

“Wanna feel your fingers. Always wanted to feel your fingers,” you couldn’t help but be unapologetically honest. For years you’ve watched his hands and how he talks with them, how he uses them to hold multiple things at once, how he sucks on them when he gets ice cream or ranch on them.

But until now you’ve always buried your desires deep.

“Oh yeah?,” without a warning, he’s stretching you open and you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, spreading your legs as open as possible so you’re not falling off his lap.

“You feel so good, Sugar,” he affirms, “So wet for me, so fucking warm,”

His fingers were reaching so deep it was intoxicating, never having experienced anyone with fingers as long as his has you going cross eyed.

“Thank you, Noah!!!,” your walls pulsing around his middle and ring fingers while his free hand soothed your ass cheeks before taking a big strike against them, the sound of his palm meeting your flesh bouncing off the walls.

“You’re so welcome, baby,” he picks up the pace of his fingers and he can feel the way you’re trying to get friction on your clit.

“Nuh uh,” he spanks you once more, “Be good, take what I give you,”

“Please,” singing a beautiful tune, you just want to let go for him, you want to crumble in his lap, you want him to feel what he does to you.

“Please what?,” another strike on your ass and another curl of his fingers inside you.

“W-wanna cum for you,”

“Is that right?,” there’s that teasing tone again, it makes you feel small but it only tightens the coil in your core. He moves his fingers with expertise inside of you and you think you’re about to orgasm strictly off of penetration which is rare for you. You almost always need clitoral stimulation.

“Please. Please. Wanna be good for you, wanna let go for you,”

You two have only just begun and you’re already a mess. You can hear the squelching, you can hear your heart thumping in your ears, you’re trembling.

You’re a fucking mess in his grasp.

“I think we should make your first one easy enough to earn,” he observed, positioning his knee right under your pelvis, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his fingers stroked the deepest depths of you.

“C‘mon, Sugar. Give it to me. Let it out,”

Your nails are digging into his calf and you’re drooling, rocking back into him but he didn’t mind this time, he’s enjoys seeing how desperate you are to cum, not just for yourself but for him.

You want to offer all you can to him. All of your emotions, all of your whimpers and cries, your mind, body and spirit.

“I’m gonna… can I cum, Noah? Please”

He gives a hum of approval and he can feel it, he watched your body swell with a deep breath and watched it deflate as you let out the most beautiful, guttural moan he’s ever heard.

His fingers halt their movements inside of you and he makes sure to rub your back to bring you back down.

“You’re okay,” a soft murmur leaves his lips while he slowly removes his fingers from your soaked hole, sitting you up and repositioning you in his lap so you’re straddling him.

“Be good and open for me,”

You follow his directions and bask in the glory of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, making you taste yourself. You collect your flavor but before you can close your mouth and swallow it down, he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

Your eyes instantly roll in the back of your head, relishing the taste of his mouth sharing the taste of you.

“Need you,” you pull away, hands cupping his face as if he’s made of glass, “Always needed you,”

His gaze softens for a moment, letting you know that ‘regular’ Noah hears you, that it’s not just his persona hearing those words.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he purred, “You have me, Sugar. Just as I have you,”

With ease, he lifts you up and walks with you to the cupboards.

“Pick a toy, a gag and a restraint and come to the bed when you’ve made your decision,” a kiss is given to your temple and he walks away, leaving you to make your choices without any pressure. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and makes his way to the bed.

He has so many trinkets to choose from. He just stock piled all of this stuff until he found the one? He really is a stickler for this kind of thing.

After some careful self-deliberation, you grabbed your chosen items and made your way over to him. Noah sat patiently within the doorway of the cage-like bed.

“I chose these,” you offer them to him and he gave an intrigued ‘hmph’

A rose, a silicone bar gag and wrist-to-thigh cuffs.

“Good choices, baby” standing up and kissing your forehead, he moves out of the way so you can see the bed. Silk red sheets, chains hanging from the bars, and the sheer canopy keeping secrets in with just a glimpse of what was to come.

“Climb up,” he pats your ass and you do just that, at a leisure pace so he can get a good view of you from behind. When you sit flat, you see him entering and closing the door behind him.

This feels much more intimate than just any ole bedroom. The lighting, the enclosed space, all of it made you feel closer to Noah.

“Before we start, take a drink for me,”

“But I’m okay,”

“Did I ask that?,” he tilts his head, eyes squinting as if to tell you ‘watch it.’

“I’m sorry,”

He cracks open the bottle and holds it to your lips, giving you a knowing look as if to say ‘I told you so’ when you drink down half the bottle.

When you’re finish he sets it to the side and hovers over you until you’re laying back on your elbows, eyes not leaving his.

“How are we doing? You still okay?,”

“I’m perfect, Noah,” a tender smirk made its way into your face, “I know I’m safe,” you assure.

“Are you okay? I know this kind of thing takes time, just don’t want you to feel pressured,” you inquire.

“There you go overthinking,” he kisses your neck, “For you, it’s easy to turn on. You never took notice to how I always took control? No matter what we did?,”

He’s got a point. Any time you two went out grocery shopping because you were anxious and didn’t want to go alone, he hooked his arm with yours, took your list and did all the shopping. Any time you two went out to the movies, he’s picking your snacks and drinks and doing all the talking. A hand on the small of your back each time you two were out, always helping you zip up your dresses or fastening your necklaces.

It was subtle, but it was always there.

“I was made for you. I was made to take care of you,” he continues his trail of kisses, planting them wherever he pleases, “And you let me. Which means you were always mine,”

A relaxed sigh is released at his words. He’s right and you know it.

“So, knowing this. I’m more than okay and am filled with joy of knowing that I get to break you and put you back together again, over and over,”

Bucking your hips up wasn’t a good idea, considering he pinned them down and got your restraints ready.

“I need this. Noah, please I need you” a shameful cry bounces off the bars of the enclosure you found yourself in.

“I know,” he growled, fastening your hands into the cuffs and attaching the other bands to each thigh. With your hands tied to your thighs now, you wouldn’t be able to touch him.

“You need me to wreck you. To hurt you so that the stressors of your everyday light aren’t plaguing your brain for once,”

He squeezes your cheeks so your lips are parted and lifts your head up to move your hair out of the way so he can tighten the gag.

You looked so beautiful like this.

“I’m here to give you just that,” he grabs the rose, “I don’t care how many orgasms it takes. I’m going to reduce you to nothing and fill you back up with worth again. I will end you and resuscitate you over and over again until you’ve had enough. Is that understood?,”

“Yeth,” you slur around the gag.

“Good,” on his knees, between your legs, he turns the rose on and the low hum fills the space, he leans forward to spit on your nipples before placing the opening of the toy over your harden buds, your back swiftly arching off the bed with a moan around the silicone.

He’s at this for a while, just teasing your nipples, biting at your jawline, groaning in your ear until you’re leaking onto the silk sheets.

You’re begging around the gag but he just teasingly looks at you as if he can’t understand you. But he knows. He knows where you need him.

“It’s a lot, are you sure you can handle it on your clit?,” he smirks so devilishly it’s almost scary. But the twinge of fear makes you ache.

“Mmhmm mmhm!,” already drooling around the bar, you nod feverishly, just wanting to feel something, no, needing to feel something.

You get what you desire when he sits back up on his heels to spread your legs even wider to get a perfect view of your swollen clit, glistening as your arousal is painted all over your core.

When he finally attaches the toy to your clit, your toes are curling, your eyes are rolling and your back is arching.

Maybe you weren’t ready for this, maybe you should have gotten a wand or something.

“Relax,” he says simply, using his own legs to pin yours down.

“Breathe, Sugar. Just breathe. Look at me,” he sees the way your eyes are swimming with tears and it brings him satisfaction, especially when your chest is trembling from him keeping the buzzing toy on your sensitive bundle.

“It’s a lot, I know but I wouldn’t give you more than you could handle,”

He slowly inhaled with you, guiding you to calm you down but it was just too much, so much that you’re already cumming and groaning behind the gag which causes Noah to darkly chuckle.

But he keeps it there. He keeps the rose there and you’re convulsing under him when he sinks his fingers into your messy core.

“That was pathetic,” he looked into your eyes, “And you didn’t even ask,”

He got so much amusement out of your whimpers, how the hell were you supposed to ask with a gag in your mouth?! But maybe that’s the point? It’s a set up for him to milk you as a form of torture.

It was sadistic but, you were the masochist after all.

“You’re so creamy,” he said in a daze, absolutely obsessed with the way you’re painting his fingers, your walls pulsing around his appendages as if they’re trying to draw them in and keep them there.

“Noaaaaaaahh!!,” your cries muffled, your face so wet from the tears and the spit but Noah finds it beautiful, if he could, he’d paint how you looked right now and frame it, get it tattooed even.

“You can do it. You asked for this, remember?” His eyes rolled at the feeling of his fingers deep inside, drenched in your offering, his tattoos glistening, catching his eye in the ruby lighting. He just wanted to be bottomed out in you already.

You’re calling for him from around the gag, breasts shaking as you’re overcome with yet another blinding climax. Your nails dig into your thighs, just wanting to dig them into Noah’s instead and pull him toward you. You wanted him, you craved him.

“Sshhhh. You’re okay, Sugar. You’re doing so well for me,” he picked himself up off your legs and grabbed a rag to wipe the spit that dribbled down your chin, “I’m gonna turn you over, need you to give me one more before you have me. One more and we can take the cuffs and gag off okay?,”

Sitting you up, his hand supporting the back of your head as he checks over you, making sure you’re okay.

“Do you need anything? A break, water?,” he breaks character for a moment

With a verbal “Nuh uh” behind the bar, you let him position you like a Barbie, letting him move your legs, manually arching your back and propping a pillow under your head so you were comfy and could breathe.

You feel him leave open mouthed kisses on your ass, biting the pillowy skin just to hear you hum in delight.

“Can’t wait to give you what you want,” Noah positions himself under you so he can stare right up at your leaking heat, no matter the angle, it was a mesmerizing sight to see, “But first, I just need to taste you.”

He exasperated in desperation before using his hands to grab your ass, bringing you down and lifting his head to feast.

Your fists are clenching in your restraint and your moans are flowing from your chest like a river. His tongue worked your overstimulated clit, suckling and licking. He ate as if you were the finest delicacy, trying to savor but also consuming you with greed.

Your body just responded to him without a fight, you were his puppet and he pulled the strings but you happily danced for him, giving him what he wanted. Yet again you feel his fingers push into you, you’d never get enough of his fingers, he knew how to use them and he knew how to use you. You were a howling mess against the pillow when you feel your next orgasm approaching. How did he expect you to stay up like this? Your legs felt like jelly and you were falling a part.

“You can do it, baby. I feel it. You’re almost there,” he murmured against your pussy, “One more and you can have what you want but you gotta show me you want it,”

Oh God did you want it, and bad! Your head felt fuzzy, your body was playing tug of war, fighting between it being too much versus you wanting it.

You gave in. Pussy pulsing, chest burning from hyperventilating and muscles aching. Despite it all, you’re cumming for him again, giving into your deep craving to just be his doll.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” he cheers, drinking you in. He pulls himself away to position you on your back, quickly working to remove your restraints and gag.

“Sit up for me, Sugar,”

Your head lulling to the side, both of you giggling about it. He has you drink some more water and cleans your face with the towel again.

“I’m ready,” it was a simple whisper, “Show me what I’ve been missing. Please, King,”

The title takes Noah by surprise. He thought it would take a few sessions to get you fully under his spell but, you truly were for him. You were ready to bow to him, to fulfill every quest he bestowed upon you.

It kind of pulled at his heart strings. Whenever he was out in the scene he only cared about showing the subs a good time, a time for him and them to release and never see each other again. But this, this was euphoria.

“Lie down for me,” he hums, taking off his lounge wear and boxers so he’s bare just like you are.

He was a beautiful man to begin with but to see him like this in all his glory? It had you feeling like royalty. Others got to see him, yes, but you… only you get to see him.

He makes sure you’re comfortable before he inches forward, the tip nudging your clit and he grabbed your hands when you flinched away at the contact, lacing his fingers between yours.

“Don’t run away from me,” his lips were so plump, glistening with his spit and you just know they still taste like you.

“Call it before I ruin you,” he gave you one more chance.

“Do it” it wasn’t a teasing phrase. You wanted it. You have yearned long enough and now your wish is his command. His pins your clasped hand to the bed and takes your free hand, guiding it to his cock.

“Take it,” he ordered.

He was a perfect mix of girth and length, a mouth water red tip that shines with precum, two prominent veins, yeah- he was going to destroy you.

You couldn’t help but stroke him, watching the way his mouth hung open and his eyes closed gently, this is the face of a King all right. Scooting closer to him, not wanting to leave any space, you slapped his tip against your own clit, the breath of both of you hitching in tandem. The noises that emitted from between the two of you, while you rubbing him against your entrance, were sinful.

“Show me what you’ve been wanting. Show me how bad you need me,” he growls, hiking both of your legs around his waist.

You guide him into you slowly, the eyes of both of you going wide, rejoicing in the way he fit in you like a missing puzzle piece, filling you up to make you whole.

“Fuck!,” choking on your own spit, the heels of your feet pulled him in so he could bottom out. You needed to catch your breath because you know once he gets started, you’ll lose it again. He drew in a shaky breath, bewitched by how good you feel.

“Give it to me,” you squeeze his hand, “Make me yours. I want to be yours. Ple- Oooooh fuck!!,”

His hips drew back and snapped into you, cutting you off as the pleasure drowns you. He kept the stacattoed pace, just taking in your expressions.

But then he saw the way you looked at him, it was a look of complete surrender, a look that says “I love you, I trust you”

It was a look to tell him to let go.

So, he used his free hand to take your thigh and press it back so your knee was almost touching your chest. This wasn’t Noah, the King was here and he was going to show you exactly why he was given that title.

You’re pinned beneath him from all angles and it’s overwhelming. His chain dangling in your face with each thrust, his voice smooth like suede as he talks you through it.

“Just like that, pretty girl. Take what I give you,”

Your moans slipped out like a hot knife to butter, he was fucking you through the mattress, bodies tangled and noises echoing through the room, he was making you melt.

“S-so fucking good!!,” the tears were spilling from your eyes and he just kissed them away without missing a beat.

“I know, Sugar,” he bows his head into your neck to leave a trail of bites, sinking his teeth into your dewy skin, your cries of surprise being music to his ears. You welcomed the pain of his biting, he had beautiful teeth and you always wondered what it would feel like for him to bite you. You don’t care if any marks are left. You’re his, he can leave marks for you to brandish all he wants.

“I’m so proud of you,” he grunted into your ear, “Coming to me all vulnerable, wanting me to take care of you and now you’re taking it like the good little slut you always wanted to be,”

“Please!,” your free hand tangles in his hair, your other makes crescent shaped dents in the back of his hand that held yours, “Please, fuck! Don’t stop!,”

Noah lifts his head to see the spaced out look in your eyes, half lidded and dick drunk. He never thought he’d see you like this.

“Please what? Use your words,” he pulls back from you to watch the look of despair on your face when he slows down.

Your words are caught in your throat, finding it hard to make a coherent sentence.

“Please, what, Sugar? Don’t make me ask again” He lets your leg go to grab the bar of the caged bed above your head, preparing to pick up his pace when you admit what you need.

“W-wanna cum around your cock,” it was a strong wail, one of pure carnal desire.

“You need it that bad?,” he teases.

“King, please. I need it so bad!!,”

The wind is knocked out of you as he sets his pace, rolling his hips, the tip of his cock rubbing against every sensitive spot within you, causing you both to be vocal. A harmony unmatched. His whimpers fueling you to make it to the finish line. He wasn’t ashamed of the noises he made, especially because he saw how they impacted you.

He let go of your hand and smacked you just like he did earlier, eyes rolling once again as the heat only adds to the pleasure.

“More, please, please, please!!,”

“Such a dirty fucking slut. Getting off to her King slapping her around like a rag doll,” he smacked you again, earning another loud cry from you, he could feel just how much you love it, he can feel it when you clench around him each time his hand meets your cheek.

“Yes, yes,” your eyes never left his, not shying away.

“You like it when it hurts?,” another slap delivered, “You like it when it hurts knowing I’ll make it all better?,”

“Fuck!,” the tears just keep spilling but he knows they’re tears of release, of pleasure, they’re tears for him. Another offering to the King.

“I’m gonna make it all better, Sugar. Just keep being good and taking it, okay?,”

“Y-yes,”

He grabs your cheeks, squishing them together again so his tongue can slide in your mouth effortlessly. Teeth clashing, spit being swapped, the energy between you two was potent, a potion that you’d keep coming back for, drinking it down without being asked.

“I wanna cum for you,” biting his bottom lip, you pull back with a fucked out smirk on your face, “I wanna make a mess. I wanna show you that I’m worthy,”

“I already know that you are, baby,” his thumb tracing small circles onto your clit, his other releasing the bar and coming to wrap around your neck, “I know you’re my pretty little slut who will do anything to stay in my good graces,”

When his hand began to squeeze at your neck you were done for. Your moans came out in tremors, you were clutching onto him in anywhere you can. You groan at the loss of contact on your clit until his thumb is replaced with the same toy he wrecked you with earlier.

“You’re gonna take this toy from me. You’re going to be a good girl for your King and make yourself cum on my cock. You hear me?,” his voice was dangerously low now, letting you know there was no negotiation.

With a shaking hand you snake your hand between the two of you, grabbing the bulbous toy from him and holding it against yourself despite your body telling you to pull away.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he assures, a soft kiss placed on your lips, “Just focus on me. I’m right here,”

He was so close now. One hand on your throat and the other holding the back of your head, pressing your foreheads together.

“My King,” you gasp, chest heaving as you feel yourself ready to fall off the edge.

“I’m gonna catch you. I’m always going to catch you, baby,”

Your eyes stared deeply into his and you just sobbed, needing this more than anything and you just cried. Getting fucked within an inch of your life so good you’re crying was not something you expected to happen considering your past endeavors with men who only cared about getting their own rocks off.

“I know. I know,” he’s still driving his hips deep into you and you’re circling the toy lightly on your swollen, cum soaked bud, you were almost there.

“Give it to me, Sugar. Give me what you owe me,”

And that was all she wrote.

With one deep gasp to fill your lungs he delivers a strong thrust, your fingers trembling around the toy so hard you accidentally turned it up to the next level and you were done for.

You practically screamed as Noah siphoned your orgasm out of you. You were shuddering beneath him as he kept thrusting, still talking you through it.

“You’re okay. You did so good for me, I’m right here. Fuck!”

With one last searing kiss, Noah is stilling his movements, emptying himself inside of you, both of you practically giving each other mouth to mouth CPR as you try to catch your breath. His head has fallen in the crook of your neck and your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“You can come back down now. Come back to me,” he mutters.

You slowly regain all your senses back. Taking in your surroundings and what just happened. As everything hits you, your cries echo in the room.

“Hey,” Noah is quick to sit both of you up and set you in his lap, “What’s going on in that head of yours?,”

Swallowing your cries and wiping your eyes you search for him, eyes connecting, the same beautiful brown eyes you could point out in any crowd.

“Thank you,” is all you say, “I needed that. More than you know,”

He smiles in relief, worried that the scene had somehow upset you.

“We got to get you cleaned up. We’ve got some aftercare to do and some things to talk about,”

Once both of you were all bathed, Noah took the time to moisturize your skin, apply soothing lotion to your ass and even being gentle in doing your skincare routine for you.

Once he has you curled up in his bed, he went to go clean the other room and brought back some snacks and water with electrolyte packets.

He takes it upon himself to feed you all while affirming how good you were. That you’re loved and cared for, not wanting to leave any room for doubt to sneak in.

“You okay to talk?,” he questions.

You sit up against the headboard, worried about what this talk can pertain to.

“I see the cogs turning, relax,” he soothes, “If you want this like I want this we need to talk,”

“I want this,” you answer definitively. He can’t help but laugh at your excitement.

“I know it’s a little too late to say that I don’t want to rush into things but, I’d like to rewind a bit and start at square one,”

“And that is?,”

“A date,” he answers simply. Sure you’ve gone on friend dates all the time but this is different, this is serious, “I want to build it from the ground up. I know we’ve been friends for ages and have built trust but this is different and I want to build a stronger foundation because I want this to work,”

You take in his words, listening as he goes over his requests and needs for the relationship. You gave him your own list of demands and found yourselves giddy at the fact that yes, you two are a living cliche.

But who cares?

It was you and Noah against the world now.

Til Kingdom Come.

This idea was burning in my head for ages and I had to write it!!

Please be sure to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, thank you for your support!! 🥹

~Berry 🫐

tags: @lma1986 @thisbicc @theroyaldixon @whatitsdecending

[amywritesthings]

war of clarity. / levi ackerman x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day nine: soulmate au / day six: love at first sight)

pairing: captain levi ackerman x f!scout reader word count: 1.6k summary: They say finding your soulmate is like getting a migraine. When you've lived with chronic pain your whole life, the legends seem like a joke.

tags: soulmate au, love at first sight, mild language, reader has a chronic pain/illness condition, migraines/headaches credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

They say when you meet your soulmate, the pain is worse than a migraine.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting, blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white; then suddenly, clarity.

Funny enough, you’ve suffered through your entire life with ear-splitting headaches.

(Call it a cruel twist of fate.)

If this were the case — if being in pain from your earliest known memories in childhood all the way into enlisting in the cadets meant that you were playing the long game to experience the myth of finding The One — then you’d be quick to joke that everyone you’ve ever met could be your soulmate.

The girls in your bunk that offer to press a cold, wet rag to your forehead when the worst of your chronic illness hits — unlikely.

The boys failing at their ODM aptitude tests, where you zip by with flying colors — absolutely not.

You push—

Through training.

Through graduation.

Through choosing the Scouts, because for some reason it feels like the most noble option.

(The one that will make a difference, pushing past what’s beyond the Walls.)

So when you finally make it to the ranks, the emerald cloak draped across your taut shoulders like a badge of honor, you expect that continued dull ache in the base of your skull to follow you until your final days.

A comfort, really, to remind you that you’re still alive.

(If it’s quiet, then you’re probably dead.)

.

.

— —

.

.

  They call him Humanity’s Strongest.

That much you’ve heard through the grapevine; a man of unbelievable strength and resolve, an unstoppable myth in the very flesh. If there is anyone to strive towards, to look towards, it’s him. 

He’s resilient. Bold.

Lethal.

And you don’t care that he’s visiting your small squadron on the Special Operations in the early morning hours of this mundane Sunday, not when you’ve woken up with the most vile headache you’ve had in quite some time.

It takes all of the effort in the world to drag yourself out of your cot, breaking out in a cold sweat as you beg the pain to ease up a little.

The importance of this moment isn’t lost on you.

Special Ops is where you’ve hoped you’d end up.

After fighting tooth and nail to place within the top ten of your graduating class, you refuse to let your body win this fight.

Most of your squad has already scrambled outside, tripping over their knee-high boots and fastening worn leather in order to get a glimpse of Captain Levi.

You just barely make it out of the barracks in time for your visitor’s arrival, shrugging your tan cropped jacket over your shoulders with immense effort.

The sun.

(Why the fuck did it have to be sunny again?)

Nostrils flaring, you slowly make your way to the line-up of your comrades as they stand shoulders back, chins tall, to greet the incoming troop of horses.

“Attention!”

Your squad leader’s voice rings out, and you manage to step your way in line with the rest of your colleagues.

With considerable effort, you lift your chin and keep your eyes closed against the rays of the morning light.

Horses whinny as they come to a halt in the dehydrated earth beneath your boot.

Two or three octaves of grunts can be heard as the representatives from the Special Ops squad make their descent from their saddles.

A few minutes.

Just a few more minutes and you can return to the barracks where it’s cool, it’s darker, it’s—

“At ease,” a deeper, baritone voice rings out against your mental pep talk.

Bored, as if already disinterested in being here.

It forces your eyes to open, despite yourself.

White.

The sun seems blinding, like you’ve somehow lost your vision in the process of squeezing your eyes so tight — until the world returns.

When your eyes catch black fringe cascading over a gray, narrowed gaze, you let out an exhale you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind, oftentimes its own hurricane, eases to the eye of the storm.

And there is…

Nothing.

No pain in the base of your skull.

No sensitivity to the sun that beats down on the halved squad that has come to visit to discuss an upcoming mission that your squadron can assist with.

No jolting pain from a bird chirping, or the huffs of exertion exiting like clouds out of the horses’ mouths, or the murmured excitement from your colleagues that feel intimidating to be even near the man who turns on the heel of his boot to stare the six of you down.

It’s him.

It’s really him, that’s Captain Levi.

His bluish-gray eyes blink down the line of bodies willing to lay down their lives for the cause, acknowledging each person —

Until they find you.

You see it: the way his fist bunches against the leather reigns in his hand, how the muscles of his neck tense when his jaw clenches, the whites of his eyes growing as he stares.

Right. At. You.

Suddenly your stomach bottoms out, but not out of nausea — terror.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting—

No.

—blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white—

It can’t be real.

—then suddenly—

The noise ceases.

All you can do is stare back.

.

.

— —

  Clarity.

— —

.

.

  The silence knocks you off your axis for the rest of the day.

Everyone is so much quieter than you anticipated.

What used to be deafening now sounds at a normal octave. 

Your colleagues aren’t boisterous, or inconsiderate, or even loud. 

They’re just a baseline of noise, a soundtrack to the soup you stare at in the mess hall without an appetite.

You even enjoy the dimly lit warmth of the lanterns surrounding the building where you sit alone.

The other five of your squad are bombarding a woman and a man — you think they’re called Petra and Oluo — about their adventures outside of the Walls.

You only realize someone is moving into your space when the wooden chair screeches against the floor of the hall, waking you from a trance.

When your chin lifts, you know who it is already.

You may know nothing about him, but your heart thrums like it does.

Like you’ve known him your whole life.

His jaw is set, expression in an eternal scowl as he drops down unceremoniously in front of you. You idle your hold on your spoon, no longer interested in swirling the utensil like you plan to take a bite.

It’s too much.

It’s so—

“You should eat.”

That honey-smooth voice breaks your thoughts. 

When he had first arrived in the courtyard on horseback, it was gruff. Devoid of emotion.

Now? It’s just under his breath, tickling your ears. Soft.

Concerned.

“Not really hungry,” you confess to the stranger — this Captain Levi — unable to look away.

You see his jaw tense before he inhales, slow and measured through his nose.

“If soup isn’t your ideal, then I can give you my share. Your leader went overboard with spoiling us.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah, shit’s annoying.”

You aren’t sure why you huff through your nose in amusement, but you do. The blunt curse takes you by surprise.

“Why’s it annoying to be offered the good food?” you ask without thinking.

“Because there’s no reason to give my squad special treatment,” he reasons shortly. “We’re all running into the same shitstorm no matter the rank.”

Oh.

So he’s admirable on top of his resilience.

Your heart feels like it’s growing on overdrive with each syllable, but you hold back anything beyond a bland smile in return.

Setting the spoon down, you let your palm rest against the wooden table’s surface.

Silence.

He’s still studying you like you’re a war plan, a strategy he has to conquer.

“I don’t understand,” he finally states out of the blue, baritone voice softer this time.

“What… don’t you understand, sir?”

“Don’t.”

The command causes your stomach to flip. Captain Levi’s shoulders deflate as he shakes his head.

“Don’t… use that, for me. Not when we—”

He cuts himself off, dropping his attention to your chin.

No.

Your lips.

“Not when we, what?” you ask after a pregnant pause, though you’re afraid to ask.

Visibly swallowing, the Captain shakes his head. “Thought maybe it was a myth.”

So he did feel it.

(An overwhelming flare that consumed the sun.)

“I thought it was, too,” you confess after some time, keeping the conversation quiet between the two of you. “I just — it never happened, for me. And I’m prone to migraines—”

“Migraines?” he repeats, eyes narrowing to temporary slits.

“Yeah,” you breathe humorlessly. “By legend, it meant that everyone was my soulmate.”

There.

Laid bare on the table between you, the word makes the confessional.

Two strangers with an invisible string, warring with the reality of clarity before them. You may not know this man, and he may not know you, but suddenly the only thing in your world that brings you peace is the sight of his face and the sound of his voice.

“But it was never them,” you add after a beat. “All my life, it was never them. The only person who ever broke through that haze was you.”

Yet Levi doesn’t flinch. 

All he does is nod, as if resigned to the idea, before reaching over for your hand. 

Wordlessly he picks it up from the table, uncurls your fingers, and places the spoon back in its center. For a minute he pauses, his thumb running along your knuckles as if to commit them to memory.

“Eat,” he urges like it’ll break him. “Eat, and tell me about yourself.”

.

authors note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in an hour as an exercise for Levi Month '24, so I hope you enjoyed my take on the soulmate au.

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

[risuola]

ENTRY #4 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // Your fingertips brought me back from the death.

contents: arranged marriage!au, slight hurt-comfort — wc. 921

series masterlist

„It hurts, Satoru.”

Pain. Agonizing, paralyzing pain was something Gojo had to teach himself to live with. He wouldn’t tell anyone, he’s the strongest, the honored one, he’s… a human. No matter how trained he was, how much control over his own body he had, how efficiently he managed his cursed energy, he never learned how to deal with the side effects of the cursed blessing he inherited.

It felt like he’s dying. Every time his six eyes were put to work for more than enough, a part of him was begging for an end to the suffering he had to endure. He felt like his head was splitting open from the inside out, like his brain was bleeding, his eyes were burning. He could feel the pounding of his heartbeat, fast and uneven, in his temples, ears and neck; he was sweating and frowning. He was miserable. Vulnerable. He couldn’t focus on anything and every move he made only made the anguish worse. It was a misery. Excruciation. But then–

“What do you think you’re doing?”

–then your soft, warm palms planted themselves on top of his closed lids oh so gently and Satoru realized that he held your wrist in an iron grip – a defense mechanism he couldn’t control whenever anyone got too close to his eyes. With his infinity turned off, he felt helpless against your touch, but submitted himself to your mercy and it tingled. An odd sensation that seemed to envelop his head in a protective hood of something he couldn’t understand slowly soothed the torment inside his skull. The pounding mellowed and the muscles between his brows and in his shoulders began to relax underneath the calming influence of your doing.

Satoru let out a shaky breath, one that he just noticed he was holding in, and his fingers that once wrapped around the fragile bones of your forearm now shifted to the top of your knuckles, greedy to hold your hands there longer. His senses were calming, coming to the sharpness he’s used to have and slowly he started registering more than just the balm of your hands. Slowly he became aware of you. The subtle, sweet scent of your perfume mixed with equally pleasant, slightly flowery note of washing detergent you bought recently – the one he had to carry for you the other day because you had enough bags in your hands and texted him for help. He felt the softness of your stomach against the top of his hair as you stood behind the couch on top of which he was sitting, with his head tilted back.

“You’re hurting. I’m helping you,” and the melody of your voice, quieted and gentle that now he was finally able to hear clearly once the echo of his own heartbeat stopped deafening his eardrums.

Satoru couldn’t tell what you were doing. He felt the very distinct signature of your cursed energy flowing through your palms but it wasn’t something he could recognize. He also couldn’t tell what gave away his suffering – was it the way he entered the house that day? After a week-long job outside the city, he dropped his coat and kicked off the shoes and then, without acknowledging you he nearly collapsed onto the couch. It wasn’t the first time he ignored you and surely it wasn’t the first time he was in pain in your presence. Maybe the grunt he let out when dropping his weight onto the cushions made it too obvious that he was in agony?

“How do you know I’m hurting?” He asked, too curious, too unsure to let the question go.

“You’re always hurting after those longer jobs,” you replied and he hummed, perplexed to realize that you’ve been seeing his misery before. “It’s the six eyes, right? Your head hurts when you overuse it.” Your words made him speechless; the tone you used – full of care and concern, it got him frozen for a moment or two. “You saved me many times, so I learned this to save you.”

“You learned this for me?”

“I did,” you let out a soft chuckle, the kind that flows on top of a breath without much sound to it. You moved your hands a little, resting your thumbs on top of his skin and moving them in little circles, rubbing the tension away from his forehead and temples. It felt intimate in a way and Satoru wasn’t used to stripping his infinity off to connect with other humans in such private level. “I wasn’t sure if it’s even going to work. I couldn’t test it before because it only applies to you.”

“A technique that works only on me?” He repeated the words that didn’t make sense in his mind. Why would you go so far for him? He wasn’t a man you chose to spend your life with, he wasn’t even good to you. “How?”

“Well, it’s a little mix of my cursed technique and yours and subconsciously you allowed my energy to enter your head and release the tension that built up after you overused your eyes. It’s not really reversed cursed technique, I don’t know how to explain this… but all that matter is that it works,” you concluded with a soft sigh of relief.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your wife, Satoru. Because you carry enough weight on your shoulders to pay the price of saving the world. Because you don’t have to be the strongest all the time and you don’t have to do this alone.”

taglist: @kinny-away, @anan-baban, @lotomber, @netflix-imagines, @kawliflo, @nishloves, @ghostfacefricker6969, @thejujvtsupost, @yozora7154, @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @ae-mius

[angelpregdreams]

a blessing

content: rapid fpreg, cult-y vibes, labor, birth, birth of an entity's offspring, uhhh not-super-happy ending???

wc: 2500+

When she was a little girl, Dove would be brought to sit in the middle of the town once a month. Her nanny, the person charged with her care and preservation, would painstakingly ensure she was sitting still and kept her eyes averted from the townsfolk. Dove’s veil was always drawn over her face, obscuring her from being viewed fully by anyone. 

That was her life. From birth to her first bleed, Dove would have to sit and be stared at once a month. Her nanny never gave her the reason for the action, nor did she explain why it suddenly stopped when blood came from her body. 

Dove sighed and fiddled with her fingernails now. Realizing that it was far more common for those in her home to avoid answering her questions, than it was for them to give her any answer - let alone one she could believe. It was a point of contention she had been headstrong about, especially lately. Everyone had gotten quieter around her and it had begun to weigh on her mind, making it the only thing to fill her days. 

Her nanny, Wynn, was the only one permitted to talk to her once the sun had set, and being kept locked away in her room most of the day, it all left very little access to any conversation. Dove tried not to dwell on her loneliness, but as the years continued to pass by and less and less people were allowed to even be near her…it was getting harder to ignore.

As she continued to worry at her nails, Wynn came around the hallway - giving the girl a hard look as she did so. “Stop picking, Dove. You know better.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dove replied instinctively, pulling her hands apart so she could tuck them up under her thighs. “Forgive me.” 

Wynn nodded once, the hard look fading as she stared at the young woman. The nanny came up to the chair Dove sat at, holding her hand out. “You’re forgiven, sweet girl. Forgive me for being so strict. It has been…a long week.” She said, squeezing Dove’s fingers as the woman put her hand in her’s, “it will all come to pass.”

“I know,” Dove said, although she wasn’t quite sure she did know anything, “am I due for dinner soon?”

“Not tonight, sweetling. Tonight…” Wynn trailed off, tugging Dove up from her seat, “tonight, you will be a part of a feast.” 

Excitement made Dove’s eyes grow wide, eagerly rising to meet her nanny. A feast meant more people, and less rules. Being a part of a feast was always a highlight for her, as it broke up the monotony of the exceedingly dull every day. 

“Now come on,” Wynn continued, “let’s get you dressed.”

Nearly an hour later, Dove finally joined those in the massive dining hall, taking her seat at the foot of the table, which was customary. She was dressed in pure white, her veil, nearly opaque, and drawn over her face. There was no ability to see her face, but her dress was revealing. A deep V showed off her cleavage, her body displayed through the nearly sheer, white dress she was placed in. Wynn had her clothing picked out for her already, meaning Dove simply had to deal with it.

Those around her chatted happily with one another, all of them dressed in dark blue. Dove tilted her head in slight confusion, knowing the dark color was only used to indicate nights of honor. Now that she considered it, she was unsure of what this feast was intending to celebrate. 

Dove looked for her nanny, but couldn't find her familiar face. Heart beating rapidly in her chest, she began to worry. Has the night finally come? She wasn't warned at all, no one…no one told her. Tears pooled in her eyes but she sat back in her chair, knowing no one would be able to see them. 

For hours, food was passed around, people spoke in jovial tones, and some even came up to her directly. Dove did enjoy the attention, fawning under those that would actually look at her, however she began to notice the heavy absence of Wynn the longer the night went on. 

When her nanny finally reappeared, the dining hall went silent. 

Dove swallowed thickly as Wynn strode towards her, the woman's heels clicking with each step. She flinched when her nanny reached out a hand for her to take, but didn't recoil away. Wynn's hands were soft as always, and silently, Dove appreciated that constant. She led her out of the dining hall, the feast’s guest trailing behind them just enough to let Wynn speak to her quietly. 

“You will be introduced to Our Lord tonight, sweetling.” Wynn whispered, guiding Dove out into the courtyard. “You know what is expected of you, yes?” 

Nodding, Dove responded with words a few seconds later, “yes, nanny. Remove my clothing, except my veil, then I climb onto the altar. After that I lay on my back, close my eyes, and open-” She stumbled over the last few words, feeling her stomach twist awkwardly, “a-and, open my legs.” 

“Good girl,” Wynn praised, patting her hand. She stopped at the edge of the grass, looking at the hedges that made up the Altar Garden before glancing at Dove. “You were raised to do this, my sweet girl. You're a woman now at 25…and being a woman is very hard. But you know your body is built for this…for what it will go through.” 

Her nanny released her hand, looking away and back to the hedges, silently urging her to go forward on her own.

Dove hesitated, feeling the eyes of the rest of the guests on her back as she deliberated stalling as long as she could. One of her feet moved forward on its own and suddenly, Dove was walking past the hedges and into the garden properly. Silently, she came around the corner, stepping into the private garden. Her eyes never left the altar in front of her, but her body trembled slightly in fear.

Remembering her duty, Dove nodded once to herself, resolved to her fate - whatever that may be.

With shaking hands, she plucked her shift over her shoulders and let it slip to the ground. Her body bare, but her veil still in place, Dove released a breath to will away her nerves. It didn’t work, she realized, as she was climbing up to the flat surface of the altar to the Stag Lord. Her muscles were still tense, even as she laid out on her back. There was a moment where her body felt like it was falling as she spread her legs apart, causing her to gasp in shock and try to catch herself. 

Dove blinked quickly, suddenly aware of her body, still laying flat on her back and not falling from the sky. Only now she wasn’t alone - the guests from the feast were at the foot of the altar, knelt in reverence from the view between her spread thighs. She knew she couldn’t move, she was always told not to move on the altar until she was given permission to do so, but the urge to snap her legs shut was strong and one she had to fight. 

Attempting to regulate her breathing at her sudden panic, Dove dug her nails into her palms, trying to keep herself grounded. 

It didn’t help when her belly began to feel warm, a soft coiling of comfortable warmth pulled at her core. Unable to contain her gasp of surprise at the rolling of her stomach, Dove snapped her mouth shut after it happened. Someone had heard it in the crowd and several murmurs broke out amongst the guests. Her cheeks red from embarrassment after her outburst, but happy to have her face be hidden, Dove closed her eyes again and began to pray.

The tugging and coiling in her belly was distracting and she fought the urge to wiggle her hips, unsure about the feeling she was having. Her womanhood tingled and she gasped, tossing her head back onto the stone under her. 

The crowd only seemed to become more exuberant as her noises got louder, Dove not really understanding but doing as she was told, remaining on the altar.

Just as quickly as the warmth came and made her belly flip in excitement and…anticipation, it disappeared. Leaving her in a panting mess, Dove blinked away shocked tears, urging herself not to cry. Either in excitement or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she prayed not to break down into tears.

The crowd seemed to come back to silence as the minutes passed, and through the small bit she could see through her veil, they returned to kneeling positions. It looked like they were in prayer, some of them weeping through their words. 

Dove’s brows came together in slight confusion, first at the prayers and then by the sudden pressure building in her belly. She grunted and wiggled her fingers slightly in discomfort, the pressure nestling deep in her core and adding weight to her middle. Dove blinked, watching in slight wonder as her middle began to swell outwards, more and more pressure building between her hips.

Making a noise of displeasure, Dove spread her thighs wider apart in an instinct she couldn’t describe. “Wha-what is…?” She was able to get out before another coil wrapped around her belly making her whine in desperation. The weight continued to grow, but instead of answering her worried pleas, the guests continued their prayer. Even as Dove begged for them to explain what made her belly swell outwards so much it put strain on her hips and lower back. She felt a constant stream of tears on her face, moving and shifting uncomfortably under the new weight, but she never got off the altar. In all of her discomfort, Dove never disobeyed. 

“She’s blessed.” One of the guests whispered, the only words she could catch before the swelling continued. This time her belly looked full term and a few weeks, the pressure in her womb was new and unfamiliar. Something felt like it sat directly between her hips and the weight of it forced her legs as wide apart as they would go, her cheeks burning in shame at her display. The crowd didn’t seem to mind however, their eyes downcast even as they murmured amongst themselves. 

Dove wasn’t sure when the pain started, but the weight in her belly shifted and she felt a sudden gush of fluid from her womanhood. She whined in embarrassment, screwing her eyes shut as if to will herself away from this place, away from the eyes on her that felt too heavy to be human. Dove grunted, feeling her newly swollen middle clench in pain. Her focus on the crowd around her began to wane and she turned inward, feeling every shift in her belly from whatever made it swell outward. 

The pain made her insides clench, and she felt something settle deep between her hips. It made her cry out in surprise, the spread of her body around what was coming out making her body flinch. Her womanhood felt like it began to pulse, an ache creeping between her hips. 

“A blessing!” Someone cried out, the only words she caught before another pain made her groan, and jerk her hips downward. 

She grumbled deep in her chest at the words they uttered in awe. The pain that had attacked her so suddenly felt very much not a blessing. Something felt like it was trying to tear her apart, that whatever was in her womb was going to tear her apart. Dove let out a sharp cry, feeling her stomach tense and the stretching feeling, the one with her hips feeling like they were being stretched apart, increased. In a nearly dazed state, Dove went with her body’s instincts, and pushed. 

It hurt.

Everything in Dove’s body hurt and screamed at her to stop this, but she didn’t know how, except to get rid of what was inside of her. Pushing seemed like the most logical thing to do, the only thing she could think to do in her current state. The crowd of onlookers disappeared from her mind then, focusing only on herself, this horrible pain, and whatever was inside of her desperate to come out. 

Pushing again and again with her pain, Dove screamed and arched her back with the last push, feeling her womanhood spread apart. Her folds parted and when a small sliver of the head was visible, the crowd began to murmur in excitement. It broke her concentration, making her flinch and drop her head back onto the altar with a groan. There was no comfort, even as her body struggled to relax between pains. Dove whined and felt her body tense with another crippling pain, forced to push with it against her will. 

Mentally she was fighting this, but her body was going with what was dealt to her. Frankly, it made her furious. Her devoted service was repaid with this? She thought. The Stag Lord was unkind in his justice.

Dove screamed and pushed, her pussy burning as it was pulled tight around the blessing that was coming from her body. Something was tugging on her womanhood as she pushed down, like her folds struggled to part fully around it. 

“Nughhh!” Dove cried, drawing it out to a harsh scream as she pushed again and felt her womanhood give. The blessing hung out of her, making her drop her knees farther apart as she felt the thing between her legs, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

What was hanging out of her moved and Dove whimpered in surprise. The stretch of her womanhood was lessened now but still it felt too heavy in her core, the weight of it too much for her body to handle. 

Another pain made her moan, eyes screwing shut. The urge to push returned after a few moments of her trying to catch her breath, the pain accompanying it. Pushing gave her little relief, the thing in her fighting every single one it seemed. The noises she made got louder and she couldn’t control how her muscles twitched upon the altar. Dove was far from her perfect self, instead, she was exposed, vulnerable, and disheveled. A mix of angry tears joined her pained ones and she cried out, pushing.

She continued to push even as the pain passed, and her body finally released its hold on the blessing inside of her. It slipped from between her legs, upon the altar, in a gush of fluid. When it cried sharply, like a baby would, Dove felt herself freeze. 

Finally, everything settled into place in her mind and she continued to cry, realizing what had just happened. The Stag Lord had used her purity, taken it, and brought forth his offspring with it, and it made her sob. 

The crowd erupted in cheers and cries of happiness. The blessing between her trembling legs also cried out, until it was shushed by someone just out of Dove’s vision. Wynn approached her and brought a thin sheet to cover Dove, whispering sweetly in her ear. 

“You did beautifully,” Wynn cooed, “you’ll do even better next time.”

[chanranghaeys]

🥛 just like a tattoo

Waking up was always something you looked forward to, especially if the first sight in the morning is Vernon and his hidden little secrets, and maybe his cute chocolate milk carton.

pairing: idol!tattooed!vernon x gn!reader, reader is identified to be female word count: 1.3k tags: slice of life, fluff first thing in the morning, vernon has multiple tattoos (in my head) listed in detail warnings: slight sexual overtones, pg-13 at most 😇

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The light burns through your eyes, waking you from a dreamless slumber. Looking around, you find the source of the almost blinding glare: the patch of sun bleeding through the curtains of the already-lightened room. You glance at the clock hanging from the wall across you. It was 8 am on a Sunday—a perfect reason to sleep in.

You slowly move around the bed and find that you are already wearing a slightly loose shirt and panties. Memories of last night flood your mind and you close your eyes again almost as if in bliss. It’s been a good two weeks since you two spent the night together, and while you both maybe kinda slightly expected it, both of you were still surprised at how deep the need was for one another, as evidenced by the slight ache in your thighs and back while you moved. Nothing you couldn’t manage, but definitely more reason to just stay in bed.

When you turn again, you see his slim figure leaning against the door frame and you wonder how long he’d been watching you toss and turn. He had no shirt on because you realized that you had his shirt on your back, and his boxers were slung dangerously low as if haphazardly thrown on. And while you’ve marveled at this sight too many times than you can count, you still can’t help but look at his body in awe.

People could say he had a sleeper bod, and you agreed, but it wasn’t something he cared for. If he was healthy and able to move about, he was content with that. But with all the activity his job demanded, his body followed suit. He wasn’t all muscle or all skin, but he was built sturdily and toned in the places that got the most use—that is to say, his arms, thighs, and core. His naturally light skin tone almost looked sallow in the places that didn’t get much sun, but it only enhanced what he permitted only your, and very few other, eyes to see.

Strokes of black both thick and thin were scattered across his torso in a most curated manner. They weren’t a lot, but you knew that his tattoos were his most well-kept secret from the K-pop industry, and you knew it was the deepest privilege to be able to even have a glimpse of one, much less all that can be hidden behind a shirt. You’ve memorized all of them at this point.

On his right chest near his lower rib was a simple line of text in all caps inspired by a line from “The Matrix”: SEE IT FOR YOURSELF. Another text tattoo lined the left side of his torso, this time a vertical stack of letters spelling out MELODY—once a temporary tattoo for a concert, now permanent to forever honor his mother.

There was one tattoo that he knew people were aware of and didn’t mind much, and that was the small star tattoo at the back of his right ear’s helix, but little did people know that it was only one of a series, with the rest of the small stardust sparkles smattering his back near his right shoulder blade. Specifically, there were five of them, one representing each member of his tight-knit family, including Jazzy and Leo Chwe.

Amidst the minimalist tattoos was one that stood out as more realistic than others—a medium-sized sunflower head on his left hip, its petals you could see right now peeking from the top band of his boxers. People knew of his sister Sofia’s own sunflower tattoo down her left thigh, but fewer people knew that when she was 17 and he was 23, they both talked about how they’d get matching sibling tattoos and their discussion landed on sunflowers. While Vernon wished he could place it in a more prominent spot, he knew better than to do such a thing.

“Did you sleep well, baby?” His deep morning voice broke your reverie as you finally settled on his eyes, his gaze forever the most piercing one you never could break. You gave him a lazy, mischief-laden smile.

“The best sleep I’ve had in weeks. I guess I have someone to thank for making sure I was knocked out last night.”

He let out a light-hearted scoff and drank from his chocolate milk carton. “You know that I was just following your lead, right? I asked you what you wanted, I just gave it to you.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes, recalling how you were practically begging him with tears in your eyes—the utter hold he had on you was intoxicating. It was those clear brown eyes, you swore so. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too.” At that, he gave you the softest smile and his gaze eventually followed suit.

“I love you more.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I hate you.”

He laughed again and shifted his weight off the door frame and moved toward you. You sat up to meet him in an embrace, your head resting on his warm chest as he kissed your head.

“Can we stay in, Nonie? Please? Pleaseeeeeee?” You look up at his raised eyebrow and pursed lips, swearing you will never get tired of his expressions that said exactly what he was thinking. Right now it obviously said, “Are you kidding me right now?”

“What if…” You trailed off mid-sentence as you lowered your hands to the waistband of his boxers, brushing your thumb over the sunflower’s petals suggestively. At that, he drew in a sharp breath and stepped away. He knew what you were capable of, so he had to stop it right there.

“Easy, young lady. You know we won’t get anywhere with that attitude of yours. We’ll be late if you keep that up.” The scene was comical, his serious expression and pointed finger at you in warning just did not suit the fact that his other hand held an unfinished milk carton.

You grab the carton from his hand and take a generous sip, grateful for the cool and sweet liquid down your parched throat. “Fine. But could you at least make me coffee? Or something that will wake me up more than this chocolate milk of yours?”

“It’s in the kitchen. I also made French toast!” His smile as he said this was so bright, it was the gummy smile you so loved from him. But it was what he said that made you stop mid-sip of milk.

“You what?”

“I made French toast. And bacon and eggs because it was the easiest after the French toast, which was not as easy as it looked when I did it with you.”

“And you made coffee?”

He shrugged. “I knew you were gonna wake up late,” finishing with a smirk. “Now come on. And give me back my milk carton before you finish it all.” He took back his drink and did not leave your side until you finally stood your lazy ass up. “There’s my good girl,” he says, followed by him slapping said ass teasingly, then walking out of the room with a final grin.

When he faced his back to you, you saw the most recent tattoo he got: a minimalist rendition of a rock with googly eyes on the small corner of its lower left. You remember watching “Everything, Everywhere, All at Once” in the cinema with him, the last full show of the day, and he would not shut up about it. You got it though, you truly did, and you’d both talk for hours on end about the film. So it was decided: it was the first matching tattoo you got together.

Could love really be this easy? You thought to yourself, as you smiled and got ready for payback.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

a/n: frickin’ vernon and his damn hip tattoo living rent-free in my headcanons. i blame my friends for planting this idea in my head and as a result, this came to be. i shall now leave you all with this mental image so i do not suffer alone HEHE

[darlingsfandom]

I have an idea, it's a bit strange. Tommy buys a girl for breeding kink? Innocent!readerxDark!Tommy?

No such thing as strange around here !

TW: breeding, p in v unwrapped , pet names, smacking, rough sex! Vaginal bleeding!

“This is the best ya could do?” Thomas rubbed his eyes as he looked at the line of women standing in front of him. “There’s a million whore houses around here and ya only came home with these ?” He huffed dragging his cigarette through his teeth.

You stood outside the door listening as he complained about the rest of the women standing before him. They were either too boring to look at, too tall, too thin , hips not wide enough! Tommy knew what he wanted and none of them could do it for him.

“If ya don’t like them then ya shoulda went yerself Tommy !” Arthur snapped back at his brother. You chewed on your lip pacing the hall before the door to his office flew open and the girls came running out and out the front door. The lump is your throat grew as foot steps approached. “You! Get in here!” Arthur yelled making you run towards him as quickly as you could.

“Last one Thomas.” He grunted as he shut the door and left you alone with Tommy. Tommy leaned back in his chair while puffing the smoke out of his lips. He stood up, made his way over to you and circled you like a shark about to attack its prey.

“Mr. Shelby …” He raised his finger to your lips to which your brain made you wrap your lips around his finger. His eyebrow shot up in amusement as you looked at him innocently. He lips curved into a sinister smirk before pulling his finger out and wiping your drool onto your exposed cleavage. Thomas stood behind you and examined every inch of your body.

“Answer honestly , are you a virgin or not?” His voice sounded cold yet lustful.

“Only once Mr.Shelby.” You looked down at your feet before he lifted your head back up with his hand under your chin. His fingers gently squeezed your throat while he pressed his chest into your back.

“You’re the one.” Tommy whispered into ear before coming back to face you. His fingers trailed along your jaw line slowly before stopping at your breasts.

“The one for what sir? No one ever told me why I was coming here…”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrow at you as you nodded slowly.

“Young, innocent , wide hips, big breasts… you’re going to be my little breeding bunny.” Thomas kissed your cheek before gripping your cheeks in his hands and kissing your lips hard. He pulled away with a loud pop before looking into your eyes.

“I’m sorry sir, you’re making me your what??” You couldn’t believe it. He didn’t actually say what you had thought you heard. Thomas let out a small chuckle while putting his cigarette unto the ash tray.

“Little… breeding… bunny!” He popped each word with the flick of his tongue making you whine softly. “Don’t be scared, you should feel honored that I picked you.” His hands rested on your shoulders before they slowly ran down your arms. Thomas smiled at you, he actually smiled at you! His hands moved to your stomach and he rubbed it gently. “You’re going to look much more beautiful when my child is growing in there.”

“Sir, I don’t mean to be a downer , but what if it doesn’t take on the first try?”

Thomas let out a chuckle. “Oh don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m going to keep trying with you until there is a baby in there.” He grabbed your hand and took you out of his office, down the hall and into his bedroom. You gasped at how nice it was which made him laugh.

“I take it you don’t come from money?” He asked.

“No sir, mother fixed dresses and father worked land.”

“And you gave your body to strangers…”

“No no! Just teased… I wasn’t of age until recently.”

Thomas sat on the edge of his bed with his hands on his lap before he looked up at you.

“Well let’s see ya!” He snapped his fingers making you jump a little. Your hands reached around and undid the lacing to your dress. The fabric slid down your skin slowly making you nervous as your nipples appeared to him. Tommy licked his lips as the fabric pooled at your ankles.

“No bra?”

“Can’t afford one sir.” You hung your head before the sound of his snapping made you look back up.

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t need one around me anyway…” He stood up and circled you once more. “It would be in the way.” Tommy stood in front of you with a wicked grin before his fingers were pulling on your nipples slowly causing a small moan to escape your lips. He raised an eyebrow at how you reacted. His fingers twisted your nipples slowly, watching as you cried out. Tommy was a simple man once he seen what he wanted , he got it and it this moment you are his desire.

Both of you stood in silence for a brief moment before he ordered you on the bed . You laid against the soft sheets as Tommy stripped down to nothing to match your exposed body. He was built like how you had imagined. Truth be told, you’ve always fancied the whole family but mostly Tommy since you had seen him around town. You were working the streets when this opportunity came about but the name was never spoken of who this man was that needed a live in companion. You had just went because you heard it would be good money, so when you ended up at the Shelby’s place you were in over your head and now you’re naked in bed with Thomas Shelby, the most wanted man in many ways.

“Bunny, I asked you a question !” His voice and strike to the cheek brought you back to reality.

“I’m sorry sir, just got caught up in the moment.” He stroked your cheek gently where he had just slapped you.

“I asked you if you like my cock.” Your eyes followed down his happy trail and around his cock. He had the biggest cock you had ever seen, granted you haven’t seen a lot but his was the nicest for sure.

“Yes sir! Very big, going to stretch me out and put a baby in me with that!”

“Good little bunny! You’ve learned your place with me quick! I knew you’d be the one.” Thomas climbed on the bed and over you until he was laying chest to chest with you. His hands grabbed yours and laced your fingers together as he got up. “If it hurts too much, just squeeze my hands.” His brought your hand to his lips and gave it a kiss before letting go so he could line the head of his cock against your folds. You were wet but not wet enough for his size.

“OH MY GOD!” You cried out while squeezing his hand while he pushed the head in slowly.

“Shhh bunny! It’s okay, I’ve got you. Relax.” Thomas stopped once the head was all the way in to let you adjust to his size. “I’ll be gentle on ya, too cute to break something as precious as ya. But only at the start, soon you’ll get use to my cock in ya and you’ll be begging me to fuck ya hard.” All you could do is nod in response. The stretch really stung as you laid below him.

“Sir, please be gentle on me.” Your words came out choked as he stroked your cheek until you were ready. Tommy was gentle when he first started taking it slowly because he did honestly enjoy how tight you were around him but soon it changed.

His cock was stretching you in a way you never knew. It was a lot to take his cock. Your eyes were watering as you sobbed. Your hands tried to push him off, nails digging into his skin as he rammed his cock into you.

“Sir stop! Please! It hurts!”

“Shut up!” His hand flew over your mouth as he slammed his hips against yours. “Good little bunnies take it ! Be a good little bunny!” He enjoyed seeing your wetness mixed with your blood on his cock. It made him harder and hotter than he’s ever felt. You sobbed into his hand while he angled your hips upwards causing him to go in deeper. His thrusts were hard, fast and painful! But as he continued you felt yourself starting to enjoy it which felt wrong and right? You were confused but he had fucked you stupid! No thoughts as you laid there taking his massive cock.

“See I knew ya could be good.” His thrusts were getting sloppy as he held onto your hips while drilling into you. “Going to be even more of a good bunny and let me cum deep in ya, put a baby in ya.” His words were coming out as a stumble as he looked into your eyes.

“Fuck! That’s it pretty girl! Yeah!” His mouth hung open as his legs started to shake as his cum shot deep into your walls. Tommy looked down at you panting and groaning as he filled you up. He held your legs high in the air to make sure his cum went into you as far as it could. Both of you laid there panting before he slowly pulled out of you, grabbed his rag from the night stand and cleaned both of you up. Tommy tossed the rag aside before he climbed back into bed with you and wrapped his arm around you.

“You’re mine, ya understand that? Means no looking at other men, no flirting with them, no showing yourself off! Yer my girl now! And I’ll kill anyone who dares looks at ya!” Tommy grabbed his cigarette from the bedside table and lit it up before rubbing your side.

“Mine.” You whispered holding onto his arm.

“Yes darling, I’m yours and you’re mine . All mine! My little breeding beauty ! You will give me a child.” He blew his smoke before looking down at you with a look full of love and seriousness .

[jyoongim]

This isn't exactly a request but a thought that had been so heavy on my brain. Hellborn royalty reader x Alastor who's stronger than he is. I just can't stop thinking about it. Maybe even Goetia reader whew they are stronger and protect him from something and I just go FERAL at the thought.

Some background context:

The Ars Goetia are a royal dynasty of noble hellborn demons who serve as prophets, messengers, and observers of the mortal plane for the King of Hell. They are responsible for maintaining stability within the seven rings. They are highly knowledgeable in the heavens, society, and prophecies of all domains.

—————————————————————————————

The hotel was a wreck.

The Angels had made it their personal mission to eliminate those who resided in the hotel.

The Princess of Hell had acquired your assistance if things got shaky for them.

And OH things were shaking.

Alastor had took it upon himself to fight Adam, when you suggested you could of great help he turned you down. Stating that he would be able to handle the Angel himself.

But things were not looking good for the Radio Demon.

You admired the confidence he had, but the demon was in a sticky situation and you would be damned if anyone hurt YOUR demon.

You were fuming and it was showing.

You calmly walked through the fighting, every attack thrown your way didn’t even touch you as you quickly dispatched your attackers. 

You appeared in front of the injured deer in a cloud of smoke. 

“Hehe who the fuck are you?” Adam asked, but you ignored him as you checked on Alastor.

He was bleeding and weak, you placed your hands on his face, scowling softly “Oh Alastor my sweet. You did good my love but Ill take over from here” he tried to object, but with a wave of your hand, you dissolved him in mist to keep him safe.

You turned to Adam, who was smirking “Tch! You think you can take me? Ha! If your best couldn’t scratch me what thinks you can?”

You smiled, your body morphed into mist “who said he was our best?”

He attacked, swinging his axe and trying to bring it down on you. Your eyes glowed white and with a flick of the wrist he was frozen to the spot. You curled your fingers and watched as the Angel contorted in pain. You hissed “I am the judge and executioner and you, you arrogant pig have no authority here. Divine violence is my right for power belongs to those who take it.” At your words, the sky formed dark clouds and the realm shook.

Adam let out a scream as your magic crackled along his skin, searing pain riddling his body as you burned his wings and corrupted his every soul.

“YOU CANT DO THIS! I AM ADAM! THE FIRST MAN! YOU BITCH! NO NO NO NO!” Your mist enveloped his body and he slowly morphed to black as you took his life. You watched as his soul screeched and struggle. 

You pulled him towards him and smirked, sneering at him with sharp teeth

“Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord” 

And with a soft blow from your lips, he dispersed. His soul crying as you sent him to Limbo.

Hell shook as your magic rocked the cosmos.

The remaining Angels let out a cry as they were struck with pain, felt in their soul.

You were sucking their power and in an attempt to save themselves they retreated back to Heaven.

You morphed back to normal and your misty shadows revealed Alastor to you.

You picked up the red demon and nudged him with your nose, he grumbled ”Y-You didn’t have to intervene. I had it under control”

You hummed, a soft smile on your face a his stubbornness “completely but I wasn’t going to stand around when you clearly needed my help.”

Your face dropped to a pout “don’t tell me that me being stronger hurts your pride? You should be honored. A woman willing to protect her love is a powerful thing to behold”

Alastor sighed, relaxing against you, feeling the exhaustion of the battle overtake him.

You cooed at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Don’t worry I don’t think anything less of you. I think you’re the strongest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting”

The Radio Demon might have been a prideful soul, but it was you who was the strongest.

And really…he was ok with that fact.

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: Mentions of dying, Impostor SAGAU

Summary: After being declared an imposter, you decide to duel to defend your honor rather than stand trial.

Note: Fontaine is amazing. I’m loving every bit of it rn especially Neuvillette, Navia, and Chlorinde.

If you haven’t finished the Fontaine Archon quest, please exit stage left.

Part Two Part Three

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You never even made it to the Court Of Fontaine before you were confronted by Focalors, the Hydro Archon, of being an imposter of the Creator of Teyvat. In her own eccentric way, she throws accusations at you. ‘To take the face of the Creator is not only a crime in Fontaine but in all of Teyvat!’

You deny her claims but she only laughs, ‘you’re acting ignorant, as if you do not know who the Creator is. Do you have any evidence to prove your innocence?’

You look down, there was no evidence you had that would prove to her and everyone else that this was the face you were born with, or that you never heard of this Creator before.

“The trial of the Century” is what the Steambird called it.

The Opera House was as full as ever, many people wanting to see the verdict the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale would give or wanting to see the one who dared to imitate Their Grace.

Maybe it was out of spite or your own foolishness, but you never allowed the trial to fully begin. Turning to Neuvillette, you declare that you want to duel rather than stand trial.

Despite the protests of Focalors, who wanted to prosecute you, the wish is granted.

The weight of the sword felt unbearable in your clammy hands as you stared at your opponent. Champion Duelist Clorinde stares back nonchalantly, her face not giving any clues on how she felt in this moment. However you heard rumors that she personally requested to duel you.

You readjusted your grip on the hilt as you fix your stance.

Was this truly the correct course of action? To fight and prove your innocence when you know that there’s no way you can win?

No it didn’t matter, you can’t back out now.

The crowd watches eagerly waiting for the duel to begin, how could the people of Fontaine do this? You were a real person and they acted as if you were a character on stage and the play was about to reach it’s final act. The excited looks on their face made your blood boil. If you somehow manage to make it out of this, you would make them pay.

You take one final glance at Furina before the duel commences.

Clorinde wastes no time to strike, using her electro vision, she effortlessly knocks your sword out of your hand and drags her blade down your torso.

Whether her fatal blow was an act of mercy or a warning for anyone else who dared to take the Creators face, the duel was over as soon as it started.

But…

No this couldn’t be right…

Clorinde looks down at her weapon, the golden ichor that dripped onto the floor caused her eyes to widen as she looks at your limp body by her feet.

She immediately drops her weapon as she kneel not caring as the blood began to stain her clothing. Her hands press against your chest to slow the bleeding as she calls out to the crowd.

“We need a doctor!”

A medical team rushes down to your side making haste to attend to your wounds, your vision begins to blur as the mortified looks of Fontaine citizens watch in despair hoping that your life could be saved.

Furina, who sat at the top like always, quickly backs away before anyone could question her. How could she face her people when she was the one who laid these accusations at your feet? How could she face you?

She prays, hoping that an act of mercy could be given to her and her people, how could she call herself an Archon now?

The original publication by the Steambird was quickly scrapped and replaced with “The Creator of Teyvat Falsely Accused of being an Imposter.”

And it didn’t take long for the devastating news to reach the other nations too.

Sorry I had to write a little something for SAGAU Fontaine but now I will return to the requests everyone sent 🏃🏽‍♀️

© avocad1s 2023