Can Aegon give Aemond a turn with Aemma??
(say that 3x fast lol)
aegon is like really into cucking but aemma isnt so she has to be really drunk
Or its her revenge for aegon killing her mom and aegon gets really mad
It's definitely Aegon's idea, but he literally tortures Aemond. Like, he's not getting anything until Aegon is satisfied.
He sort of hates Aemond for being the perfect son, so once Aegon finally has something to hold over his head, he does it without mercy in any form. That's not to say that Aegon is simply using Aemma to get back at his little brother, though. Aegon has been obsessed with her since they were children, and finally, being able to call himself her husband makes Aegon hot under the collar.
Aegon has a very vast sexual appetite, and his wife has come to know this well in her time being married to him. Aegon was rather tame their first night together, but over the years he'd become more bold in his sexual activities. He's king of the Seven Kingdoms, he doesn't answer to anyone, and that becomes painfully clear for just about anyone who comes into contact with Aegon. It's hard to control a dog when you place a crown on his head.
He's absolutely shameless, too!
Aegon had the throne sawed down (to make it less dangerous for the wifey), and he has Aemma ride his cock while he sits his throne every once in a while. Specifically, this is how their second child is conceived. It doesn't help that he's pretty loud in bed, so getting caught by others is a common occurrence for Aegon and Aemma. It often leaves her mortified, and she loathes going to meetings with her husband. The only time Aegon shows up for a meeting early is when he's in the mood to rail his wife against the council table.
Unfortunately for Aemma, she is no stranger for Aegon's odd affinity for introducing others into their bedroom. The amount of times Arryk and Tyland have been invited to fuck Aemma is absolutely horrid. She's always either disassociating or drunk as hell. The way I characterize Aemma is very similar to how Aemma Arryn was. She's very sweet, so she ends up just doing what Aegon says because she knows he'll take care of her.
Despite the number of times she'd been bent over by her husband's men, Aemma only ever had Aegon's children. After each tryst, Aegon would have a cup of moon tea prepared for his wife, making sure that her womb stayed bare.
That, for Aemond, is a problem.
Aegon cradles her cheeks in his hands, pressing a sloppy kiss to her bitten lips. Aemma drunkenly whines as she feels the fabric of her night gown be ripped in the front. Aemond sat awkwardly on the bed, almost wanting to leave. It was such an inappropriate thing, watching his brother grope and squeeze at his wife's breasts, however, it was something Aemond did often. It shouldn't have been any different this time, but he was too close.
Mere moments later, Aemond is sucking on her tits and playing with her cunt while Aegon sits in a chair close by, watching contently while sipping at a glass of wine.
Aemond couldn't believe his brother would allow him to do such a thing. If he were Aemma's husband, he would skin any other man who dared to touch her, but Aegon had always been an odd man.
Lips sucking her nipple, Aemond pushes his long fingers into her cunt, just as Aegon had instructed him to.
'She's sensitive, so be nice,' he had said, smirking as he watched the inexperienced movements of his younger brothers hand under the soft nightgown Aemma wore. Too drunk on honied wine, Aemma can only whimper into her pillow as the pleasure overtook her intoxicated body.
Her cunt was wet, dripping actually, and Aemond could feel the painful throb of his cock underneath his night clothes. The inside of her cunt was tight and warm, almost like a blanket. Aemond found it comforting, as odd as that sounded. His fingers were long and thick, and Aemond's fingertips danced around that special spot of hers.
As Aemond groans against her tits, Aegon has his hand wrapped around his exposed cock, feeling a bubble of laughter rise from his throat as he watched the scene in front of him. It was obvious how eager and desperate Aemond was getting by how he humped his clothed cock against Aemma's thigh. The motions of his hand underneath her nightgown became erratic, and Aegon could see the sheen of saliva on Aemma's breasts.
Watching his holier-than-thou little brother drool all over his wife's tits was humorous to Aegon.
Aemma's body spasms once more, another orgasm ripping through her body, and she tries to grab at Aemond's arm to get him to remove his hand from beneath her gown. The warning of sensitivity Aegon gave was no joke. He had learned this in half an hour of touching Aemma.
Seemingly drunk on his pleasure, Aemond removes his hand and goes to replace it with his mouth, but before he can do so a painful pang of his scalp shocked Aemond out of his pussydrunk stupor.
Aegon yanked his younger brother back by the hair, smirking at the annoyed expression on Aemond's face.
"You still have a long way to go before I decide you deserve to taste her, little brother~"
i really want to do more oc, to be honest
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Hear me out... Yan priest with a non believer reader....like just imagine....Yan priest"you don't believe in heaven huh...then I'll take you to heaven...then continued to π₯ her....
Cw: πNSFW MDNIπ Fem reader! Throatpie, coercion, corruption, dubcon, religious aspects, creampie, cum shower, slight humiliation, degradation, praise, overstimulation, Zebad turning you into a true believer
βββββ/βββββ/βββββ-/ββββ/βββ
Zebad sighs in contentment as he watches you collapse onto the altar, his wet slick and cum covered shaft slipping out of your overused cunt with a wet pop. He takes a moment to admire your body, feeling his own softening member hardening with avengeance as he sees the marks and bruises he so graciously bestowed upon your skin. Before he quickly flips you over, ripping off your top with a gentle smile.
"Mmm, my lost Dove~ did this prayer session help to enlighten you by chance?"
The Priest hums with a twisted expression on his face confronting the non believer gasping for breath within his holy sanctum. Right before the lords eyes of the marble statue which stood tall above them and judged with a solemn stare.
He reached out a hand to firmly grasp onto your hair, his rock hard cock hovering near your lips. While he smacks his meat against your face, before nudging the tip of his leaking fat tip against your lips smearing it with your collective love juices from prior rounds.
"Oh how precious you are my dear, your pretty head looks as if itβs all empty inside. Allow me to fill it with something meaningful"
The Priest coos lovingly before he shoves his penis into your mouth, forcing it down your throat. He can feel your gag reflex kicking in, but he doesn't care. This was meant to teach you a lesson on how not to turn your back on the gracious blessings. That the lord could bestow to you if youβd just let your heart open fully to the wonders of the teachings he givesβ¦
In all honesty Zebad was bullshitting about his preaching for a god he didnβt even have half a mind to remember the name of. He couldnβt care less about said god nor did he fathom entertaining the prestige beliefs of his pious church brethren. Why would he spend time trying to convert you into worshiping the lord when he could make you revere him as your sole savior.
"That's it, Love suck just like how weβve practiced. Being such a good girl for me"
He purrs continuing to thrust into your mouth, his balls rubbing against your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. Grinning with satisfaction as he feels your fingers wrap around his thick length, your mouth still wrapped around it like a newborn. The corrupt holy official could feel his cock twitching with impatience, eager for your attention. He starts to buck his shaft inside your salivating mouth, relishing in the moist heat of your tongue sliding back and forth on his foreskin.
Yes, heβd make you utterly reliant on him for the rest of your days. Spend his sweet time training you, molding you into his perfect believer whoβd only get on their knees and revere him as both your lover and guiding light to damnation. He alone would encompass the entirety of your mind, body, and soul.
"Youβre gonna learn to accept me as your lover and savior and become an obedient bitch for me yes?"
Zebad coaxes with an sugarcoated timbre whilst he continues to rock his pelvis against your face, his body wracked with pleasure as he feels himself getting close to cumming again. He can ascertain how much your esophagus was tightening around his dick, making his balls twitch from the sensation. Of how he knows that you're so eager to please him.
"Oh what a delectable sheep you are, my darling~ so docile and compliant for me."
The Priest pants as he finally drives his shaft to the hilt, smacking his balls up against your drooling face. He lingers there for a moment, enjoying the tightness of your throat around him as you gag. He can feel his cum building up inside of him, and he knows that he's getting close to the edge.*
"Fuck, Dove, go on and take it! Take your lord and saviors cum like the good believer I know you are."
He starts to flood your taste buds with the peculiar taste of his gummy sperm, making you gag even more. The amount is too much for you to handle, so he spills the rest of his cum all over your tits and face in white beady rivulets. He grins with satisfaction as he watches his cum dripping down your body.
"Mmm, you look so beautiful covered in my cum perhaps I should make you walk around in it all day. And make it test of your faith towards me wouldnβt you say?β
Zebad goads, his voice low and seductive. Paired along with a devilish smile that was present on his face full of infatuation and obsession for his poor little sheep that wandered helplessly into his clutches.
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-> part one
and that was how you two got here. clothing long since discarded and fucking like wild animals. your lover was beautiful under you. pink blush dusted across their face, eyes lidded, and their mouth open while spewing adorable moans. every time your dick hit their deepest sweet spot, it like you were marking your territory. they would never get tired of your cock stretching them open, never get tired of being one with you, if it were possible, they would want to be filled with you forever.
the couch you were on was rocking along with your thrusts, your sweat making stains on the fabric, and the atmosphere around you became humid every thrust in their hole. you were determined to make your lover feel good both emotionally and sexually, you grunt when your lovers hands grip onto your shoulders and dig their nails until marks were for sure to show up. but their hole tightening around you made you forget the pain and increase your pace.
"a-ah! oh you feel so good inside me darling, so good!" you hold onto your lover's waist tighter as you groan into their chest. one of your lover's hands suddenly grabbed onto your hand to keep you on their chest. "please, mark me, bite me, make sure people know that i'm yours!" without a second thought you follow your lover's demand and begin to cover their chest live bites and hickeys. your lover lets out a high pitched moan when you begin playing with their nipples and suck on the weak spot on their neck. "y-you're mine, right? you love you, right? ah, hahh, please tell me." the tears came back, except they were of pleasure, such good addicting pleasure.
"of course i love you- oh god- i'll always be yours. and y-you'll always be mine." you answered breathlessly, your pace now becoming sloppy as you were growing close to to cumming inside your lover. not that they mind at all. they wouldn't mind getting filled again, and again, until your balls were empty. after hearing your answer, your lover's legs tightened around you and grinded their hips down to match your thrusts. "fill me with your cum, fuck me harder, please, anything! just make me yours- OH!" you suddenly pulled out and flipped your lover over onto their hand and knees and roughly thrusted inside them and started moving at a faster pace than before.
In this position, your cock was deeper inside them and they could literally feel you in their stomach ruining their insides. you felt do fucking good, nobody else could have you, they would kill anyone who dared laid their hands on you. "i'm cumming, oh i'm cumming, please cum with me darling, light of my life, my one and only!" they were so close, they just needed a little bit more- "i love you so much, cum for me." that was the end for your lover, their vision was blurred with bright white as images of you filled their mind. it wasn't long until you snapped too, and you filled them to the brim.
you and your lover collapsed onto your now dirty sofa, your sweat covered bodies held each other as your orgasms washed over you. "thank you darling, thank you so much. you can't leave me. you won't ever leave me, right?" it didn't really matter what your answer was, your obsessed lover would still not let you leave them either way.
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tio miguel o'hara au
art cr: @/Andalusia_lu-
TW: EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, STEP INCEST, OC MIGUEL, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, ALCOHOL, DARK THEMES, TRAUMA, GRIEF, BROKEN MIND, DUB CON, NON CON, POWER PLAY, HARASSMENT, GN READER, THREAT, PAIN KINK, DOLLFICATION, NSFW, BREEDKINK.
ΛβΊ βΉΰ¨ notes ΰ§βΉ βΊΛ no negativity please. If this isnβt your sort of content youβre more than welcome to block me and move on with your day.
I just wanted to make a definitive AU for my version of "Tio" Miguel O'Hara β§β *α( α΄ΝΛ¬α΄Ν)α.
[PART.1.]
β‘ βTio Miguel is your non-blood uncle who is thirty-five years old, his skin tanned by the hot midday sun accentuates his body and he has greater muscle mass than most men of his age; brown hair usually combed back and dark brown eyes that seem to penetrate your soul.
β‘ β He arrived like a hurricane in your life and that of your family, right after you moved to another quieter place in the Mexican city, practically a rural place where Miguel lived just a few meters away on a large farm, isolated from curious eyes.
β‘ β You had a grandmother who already lived there and she introduced the previously unknown man to you, saying that he was Miguel O'Hara, a close neighbor who always came to visit and was always nice to her, practically a son for the older lady. The tall Mexican man helped your family unload the moving truck, he was the first to approach like a silent plague and the target was always you, since the first time he saw you he had felt something more like his life had meaning again.
β‘ β Soon he began to frequent your house, being a friendly and solitary gentleman keeping everything from his past between his teeth despite the entire reception of his family with his persona. You, on the other hand, saw how he always seemed to look for you regardless of the situation you were in, even asking you to call him "Uncle" and that was when it all really started for both of you, the demand to be called that was subtle but already functional that even your parents told/demanded that you respect the man as someone in the family and in a short time he was already an influential and feared member of your family.
β‘ βHe is almost always seen dressed in ranch clothes or dress shirts and jeans - punctuated with cowboy or work boots, most of the time they are expensive fabrics that are not compatible with the minimum wage he receives for his work as a caregiver of farms or livestock. He is occasionally seen wearing a shabby brown suede cowboy hat.
β‘ βWhen you ask him about his profession he just smiles and uses the same excuse that he got extra money from some competitions he won at the local bullfight β and the mysterious gain is not only used for his own use but also to buy gifts for you, he is not afraid to manipulate or seduce you with monetary gains to capture your attention and keep it, if you want something he will give it to you without thinking twice just to keep you for him, whether for his money or by making you afraid. Miguel secretly ran the underworld of drugs and smuggling but he would never tell you that and he would rather die than for you to discover his source of money in reality.
β‘ βHe always uses affectionate and possessive nicknames with you, like 'Mi vida' 'Mi angelito' 'Mi carinΓ΅'; practically like a passionate lover would do or even he would grab you and hug you, touching you in different places and leaving a trail of heat wherever his fingers passed, even though he was your uncle he would treat you like a possessive companion would.
β‘ βHe drinks a lot, his favorite drink is expensive and pure whiskey. He also becomes almost predatory when he's drunk, often coming into your room on celebratory nights and whispering dark promises to you β you've seen him kneeling at the side of your bed as the warm alcoholic breath comes from his thick lips, phrases like: "You will always belong to me", "anyone who dares to come close to you I will kill them.", "I will never let you slip out of my hands, my precious angel." Or even the secret desires to use your body escaped his lips on those rare nights when the drink overcame his stoic and cold demeanor.
β‘ βMost of his cold behavior is the result of the fact that he never had children and also due to the death of his late wife, killed by a fateful fate that he refused to talk about. He tends to be extremely rude to everyone but he tries to be as gentle as possible with you, even though it can be scary at times. He is domineering, impatient and quick-tempered, looking for your company during family outings or parties. Miguel will manipulate you by saying that his behavior is normal, saying that you were his family and he was just trying to make your bond grow and he will also manipulate your family to sweep away any complaints you may make. from the carpet or say that you were being dramatic and if you try to return his advances he can be extremely rude and easily hold your body, whispering subtle threats like: "You don't want to see me angry, do you, angel?" While leaving your wrists marked red from the force he had put there.
β‘ βHe doesn't let you have boyfriends or girlfriends, if you dare to have a partner he will do everything to make your parents stop this relationship. Even if you are an adult he will do everything in his power to make your life hell if you dare to leave him for a random person. Most of your relationships ended mysteriously because your dear tio used his influence in the underworld to threaten your partner. It will also alienate you from friends or acquaintances, a useful way to maintain control over yourself.
β‘ βHe always invites you to his farm on the weekends, always with the promise of some expensive gift or comfort from all the weekly stress. If you accepted (through free and spontaneous pressure from him) he would spoil you and always spend exorbitant amounts of money on you. If you have problems with your family, he will convince you to leave your home and talk to your parents to let you stay with him in his house for an indefinite period of time. Your Tio I planned to make you his perfect future companion, submissive and untouched by the evils of the world, a husband/wife so he could have a real family again, even if he was your uncle.
β‘ βHe tries to make you sleep with him several times, be it with monetary gains, manipulation or breaking you to the point that you throw yourself into his arms because he thinks you won't get anyone to love you like he does. During sex he plays the role of a tough dominant, often treating you roughly and likes to use your body to vent his frustrations. Miguel will choke and bite you, marking your neck and shoulders with painful, red bites, - even hitting you if you try to struggle or struggle against him, whether it's slaps to the face or butt making you whimper and become more still and controlled in his control. He uses his greater physical experience and constitution to hold you back if you try to run. Your Uncle likes to fantasize about getting you pregnant and making you a perfect little doll for him, he fills all your holes with his semen. He can spit in your mouth, hit his dick on your face, giving you hickeys on your neck, strong bites, or cumming on your face and recording everything afterwards to threaten you if you don't want to accept his marriage proposal later.
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ββ.β§ π€ β§.ββββββββββββ
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πΏπ: β πΌπππππππππππ, πππππππ, π½ππ-πππ, π³πππππππ thoughts, π΅ππππ ππππππππππππ, πΏππππππππ’, π±reeding, πΌind break, πππππ πππ‘, πΎπππππππ, πΎππππππππ πππππ, ππΌππ! Β«ππΌπ³π½πΈπΒ» β
Note: This is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader.Β pet names such as Darlin, Love, and Good Girl, etc. are used.
If I forgot something plz tell me. Like and re-blog, it helps getting these stories to new people!
π«§π΄'π πππππππ', π―πππππ' β£οΈππ part 1
Y/n was startled awake and panicked. Holding the sheets over her naked body, she found herself in an unfamiliar room.Β
Silent tears streamed down your face as you began to shake. He tricked you and took advantage of your kindness.Β
You mourned your lost innocence for a short time when a knock on the door interrupted you.Β
β I apologize for waking you up, miss Y/n.β a handsome man wearing a suit and carrying a tablet said.Β
The scared woman clenched the sheets tightly, β My name is Ray. Mister Blackwell has asked for you to join him for breakfast.β the man expressed.Β
βn-No! I want to go homeβ¦let me go!β Y/n cried, face red from crying. β I'm afraid I can not let you do that.β he shakes his head, βThe maids will come and help you dress,β Ray commented before turning and leaving the room.
You cried until your lungs burned and hurt. Until your body could no longer produce tears, the maids shortly came. They helped you bathe and dress in a beautiful gown. They tried to cheer you up, but it was to no avail.Β
Soon, Y/n sat next to James at a large binning table. He kissed your cheek and caressed your skin. His touch was sweet and caring if it didnβt disgust you. Food was served, but you didnβt want to eat. You donβt trust that itβs not drugged again.
β Say ah~ my dear,β he says, pressing a fork to your mouth. When you donβt respond, he squeezes your inner thigh. When your lips parted in a yelp, he fed you. He continued to feed you. If you didnβt open your lips fast enough, he would swirl your sensitive pearl.Β
The food was finished, and tears dripped down your soft skin. β Come on, smile for me, sweetheart,β he asked, cupping your face and whipping your tears. β I just want to go home.β You tearfully repeated.Β
β We canβt have that, dear. This is your new home.β James informed her as he stole a kiss from her. β I want to go to my store,β Y/n pleaded.Β
β¦β§β§ β β§β§β¦
β I already told your employees to take a weeks-long paid break.β James, shut your request down. He wasnβt going to tell you that, but Ray hacked your email and made such arrangements.Β Β
Your face dropped all hope of escaping, where shattered.Β
It had been a few days, and James made sure that all doors were locked, and Ray informed you that you could go anywhere. But strongly warned that you couldnβt be outside without supervision.Β
James never left your side for your entire time locked in the large mansion. Sleeping, bathing, or even walking, he was there touching any sliver of skin he could. If he couldnβt find you for a moment or have his hands on you, he would lose his shit.Β
James knocked on the door to his room, smiling when he found your sleeping figure under the covers.Β
He kissed your lips, his tongue intruding your mouth. Lifting the covers from your naked body, his fingers began to caress your sensitive bundle of nerves. He thanked himself for prohibiting you from wearing clothes to bed.Β
Your back arched as you woke up with a moan. He knew you were still sensitive from last night. His fingers began to pump into your flower, while his thumb still caressed your clit. Y/n hit his toned chest, but that only fueled his passion even more.Β
Your lips parted as he gave you a dreamy sign. β I have to go into the office, honey,β James spoke, latching his mouth to your chest. Your hand pulled on his hair, making the man moan.Β
James curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, over and over. The tight coil in your stomach made you whine, walls clamping on his fingers.Β
With one more firm thrust, the coil in your tummy snapped. Honey gushed over his hand, withdrawing his hand, and licked it clean.
β I have a meeting today, so unfortunately I won't be with you for a few hours. Be a good girl and behave.β He kissed your sweaty forehead, taking his leave and leaving you tired.Β
β¦β§β§ β β§β§β¦
Y/n walked towards the side door, hoping, begging that she would get lucky. And it seemed that her prayers were answered. The maids forgot to close the door.
Her hand trembled and twisted the doorknob, slowly opening it. The wind blew, signaling she was one step closer to freedom. The door was left ajar as the woman ran to the street, with no phone and no way to contact her family and friends.
She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, ending up in the station. One she couldnβt enter because she had no money. An old lady exiting the station called out to her, asking if she was okay.Β
Y/n said she was, but her eyes betrayed her. The kind old lady offered her help, to which she took it. β Iβ¦I just need help to run away,β she admitted, desperate to leave. She didnβt know when they would have already noticed her absence.
The kind lady smiled and accompanied her to buy a ticket. When she handed the ticket to Y/n, the girl cried, thanking her.Β
Y/n gave the lady all the jewelry she had, as a thanks and wanting to part with them in fear of recognition.
The train had arrived, and she left. Free, she was free.Β
She planned to return home, take all her valuables, and disappear. She would be sad to close her store, but it was needed.Β
β¦β§β§ β β§β§β¦
James sat in the meeting, bored, his assistant as always trying to get his attention with skimpy clothes. She would never be like Y/n. She was dirt under his goddess's feet.Β
Ray came into the meeting room, whispering something into the CEO's ear. James looked like a deer caught in headlights, β You sure?β he asked, looking at Ray. The man only nodded.Β
β I apologize, but something important has come up.β he expressed, standing up and abruptly ending the meeting.Β Β
β Ray, get the helicopter. Iβm bringing my little darlinβ wife home.β James expressed, loosening his tie.Β
The train ride was an hour and a half, so she could get some well-needed rest. But her mind raced, what ifs consumed your every thought.
Β β Ladies and gentlemen, we inform you that the train will have a small delay. We shall be on standby for some time.βΒ the conductor announced, as the sound of a helicopter could be heard.Β
Dread filled your stomach, making it sink.Β
β Miss, please come with us.β a man in a suit said, β You have the wrong person,β Y/n said, hoping it would work.Β
β My sweetheart, donβt make me punish you. Not in front of everyone here.β James said in a low voice.Β His threat made you shake, trembling, hand taking his extended one.Β
There was no hope of escaping the lion's den once you had stepped inside.
β¦β§β§ β β§β§β¦
James held Y/nβs hand tightly, making sure she wouldnβt escape as he took her to his room. He thrusts her towards the bed, β If you love me, youβll never do that again. Understand?β he warns, removing his tie.Β
Y/n backed away until her back hit the headboard. The muscular man graded her leg and pulled her under him.Β
She began to beg him to let her go, that she would stay and not run away. He shoves his tie in your pretty plump lips.Β
Only allowing for moans and whines to filter through.Β
He has you caged in between his meaty arms, his gaze held a lustful and hungry glint to them.Β
Tears fell as if rain from your eyes, β Donβt cry, Iβll make you feel good. I promise.β he kisses your tears.
Your tears felt like acid to his skin. He much rather you cry from pleasure. With his free hand, he removed his belt, tying your hands with them as if they were handcuffs.Β
He rose and looked at your posed figure, his legs trapped by your hips, so you couldnβt escape from his embrace.Β
He was going to make you feel better, make you see the high heavens. He began to worship your being kissing every scar, stretch mark, and so on. Any imperfection to you was perfection, a divine perfection to him.
Created by a higher being to be held, kissed, bitten, and claimed.Β
He hiked your leg over his shoulder as he caressed your skin. Leaving kisses and hickeys over the skin.Β
His hungry eyes looked at your teary ones, as he bit your leg.
His gaze lowered to your panties as he stared at them in hate like the small piece of clothing was holding your honey captive.Β
The small piece of clothing became shredded into pieces when he ripped them. His rightful treasure was now on full display to him and only him.
Β His large hand that once held your hip moved to your sex. With his index and middle finger, he spread your fold, groaning at the glittering sight of your slick.
His painfully hard member twitched upon seeing your dripping, aroused flower.
He groans, β All this honey just for me?β he cups your cunt, feeling how it clenched around nothing.
Without warning, two larger fingers impale you, thrusting at an unforgiving pace. A long whine spills from your lips as you arch at the feeling.
He's hitting every sweet spot and curve inside you. His bulge grows even more at the sound of your watery juices.Β
His thumb connects with your sensitive, neglected pearl, making you squirm and try to close your leg.
He slaps your pussy at the defiance, making electric pleasures shot throughout your body and brain.Β
Y/n can feel the coil in her stomach tighten. Her hips met his thrust in chase of her own high.Β
James speeds up his movements, watching as your eyes cross when he hits that spot.
Your walls begin to constrict his fingers, telling him that you're close. He bites the meat of your leg, his finger hitting deep inside you.Β
Y/n came undone, eyes rolled to the back of her skull, drooling, back arch, and a pornographic moan of pleasure.
Cum covered his veiny fingers and his toned stomach.Β
The sight almost made him cum in his pants. But, that milk was saved for his darlin's womb.
James pulled his pants down, allowing his hardened member to slap your sex. Thick and veiny.Β
With your cum he gave himself a few pumps. The big man leans forward, his tip kissing your inviting honeyed entrance.Β
β See, you're so wet and sweet for me. You wanted this didnβt you?β he asks, his face flushed.Β
His cock began to enter your wet, gummy walls, inch by inch.Β
His hips stutter a little, and his body trembles with pleasure. The feeling of your lips sucking him in.Β
With one hard thrust, he bottoms out in you. You moan, feeling so full, he begins to hump his manhood against your entrance.Β
His almost in a trance, the sound of slick and moans adding to his resolve.
Each furious thrust thrusted her forward in the bed. His tip kissing her womb over and over, youβre moaning and pleas falling on deaf ears.
The makeshift gag swallowed all any sound that was not your monas, the sweet sounds of pleasure he wanted to hear from you.Β
Y/nβs leg was still hooked over his shoulder. With his hands, he held her hips in a boa-constricting grip.Β
Your overstimulated wall pulsed and twitched, β Oh, you like that, huh?β he says, still drilling into her like a jackhammer. His hand pressed on the bulge in your small tummy.Β
This made your walls tighten and pulse. His words and actions manipulated your dizzy pleasure-filled mind.
β My pretty darlinβ going to look so beautiful, all swelled up with my child.β he groaned at the thought. Each thrust made your vision sparkle as if stars.Β
The all-too-familiar feeling of the tight coil forming in your belly told you that you were close. James's thrust became uncoordinated as he chased that mind-numbing high he was looking for.
βYouβll make a cute mommy.β he moans. He removes your gag, as you beg and cry for him not to, but he crashes his lips against yours.Β
He was going to snap you in half with the way he was bending your leg and fucking you at the same time.
The kiss was stymie, adding to the many pleasures you were feeling. Your mind was becoming blank, and you could only think of his dick inside you.
With a final harsh thrust, the coil in your gut snapped like a water gun. squirting over the man's abdomen and your inner thigh.Β
James began to convulse, spilling his large fertile load at the feeling of your womb milking him dry.Β
You felt so stuffed full and overstimulated.Β
Maybe it wouldnβt be so bad to become a mommy, a slave to his man's cock. Jamesβs load pulsed inside you, making his cum spill from your spent hole.
You will be the perfect cock-sleeve darlinβ for him, your eyes closed as sleep takes over you. a content smile on your face.Β
β¦β§β§ β β§β§β¦
A new π³ to hide in π©βπ¦―
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@tremendousdinosaurpizza @violetvase
β¦β§β§ β β§β§β¦
Β©ππππππππ’ ππ π±ππππ’! π½π πππππππππππ, ππππ’πππ, ππ πππ ππππππ πππ πππππππ ππ πππππ πππππππ. πΈπ π’ππ ππππ ππππππ ππππ ππππππ. π΄ππππ’, ππππ πππ πππππ. - π±ππππ’π©»!
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HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO
βΉ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)
βΉ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.
all sexual content present in part two.
βΉ wc ; 17.3k / 36.1k
link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.
LINK TO PART TWO
βΉ a/n ; well. its here. i wont ramble too much but i hope you enjoy and if you dont...well don't tell me. thank you to ame for your endless patience. likes and reblogs mean the world. the title is inspired by the poem linked.
βΉ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.
βOf course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love.β - andrew kane, how to be a dog.
βΉ PART ONE : A CHILD BORN IN WINTER MUST NOT LONG FOR SPRING.
Thereβs a dog living outside of Gojoβs apartment. Itβs a collarless, lonely thing. Clever, too.Β
Though, Gojo doesnβt know much about its life before it started hanging around the area, he gets glances on occasion. Itβs not emaciated and it doesnβt look hungry, but itβs roughened up with matted fur and a healed tear in one ear.Β
More importantly, it doesnβt bother anybody in the neighborhood. Despite its outward appearance and hostility when approached, its aggression wonβt go farther than a warning bark or growl. Most of the adults living in the building know better than to try, but some of the kids living upstairs desperately attempt to befriend it. Of course they fail, and Gojo thinks that that poor thing is growing apathetic to the touches of sticky hands.Β
The whole building is pretty fond of it, surprisingly. Gojo lives in a upend complex in a metropolitan part of Tokyo and the people here can be snobbish. So it comes as a shock that this dog wasnβt shooed away months ago.Β
Everyones sort of agreed to take care of it. Thereβs a food and water bowl outside of the security office - and just last week a sign was implemented of Doβs and Donβts for what food scraps can be left. Thereβs a donation box to get some proper shots and paperwork - since it looks like the building's doorman has agreed to take it in if everyone chips in for the expenses.
(Gojo suspects this has something to do with those very kids, devastated by the thought of it being gone.)
Warm welcomes from the residents aside, Gojo hasnβt seen it act friendly before. He wonders about that.Β It seems hesitant to trust anyone and heβs sure there's a good reason. Itβs just that it's clever. To be a stray in this area of Tokyo and be so calm is an impressive feat, so he thinks it probably has some grasp of his own situation. If it acted cuter, it could get a warm house and family too. Though the whole aloof and distant thing does the job just fine, Gojo canβt help but wonder what such a clever creature is doing, turning away from living lavishly.Β
Much like everyone else, Gojoβs contributions have come in the form of food scraps and some donation money to work towards the 5,000 yen goal. On the occasion their paths cross, Gojo sits near it. Sometimes, they share a moment of silence and Gojo talks just to see if itβll ignore him. It seems like itβs listening. It always makes a grunt of dismissal when Gojo turns to leave and heβs started to count that as a little victory.Β
Gojo isnβt intrigued by anything as much as that dog. At least not lately. Itβs damn near impossible to seriously pique his interest and yet that clever fellow is one of the few things he stops to ponder at.Β
Today, Gojo is intrigued by the dog that lives on the street of his apartment and the strange woman whoβs petting it like some sort of domesticated baby.
Heβs very, very intrigued by that.Β
The rain comes down in heavy sheets. Itβs a Wednesday, and he has no classes to teach so heβs home and preparing to run errands. Heβs going about his day as usual, basically. When Gojo isnβt swamped with a mission or the reformation of Jujutsu Society - he likes to play the part of the average man.Β
The plan for today was to take his unused car out of the lot so he could get some dry-cleaning done, go buy a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones are scratched, and go do some shopping. He needs to buy groceries again ( an uncommon occurrence) so that one's on the list too.Β
Heβs dressed down. A black windbreaker is hanging over his shoulders, tight gray shirt and some comfortable jeans. Heβs got on his errand shoes, a nice pair of sneakers and his keys are hanging from a loop in his belt. His hair is styled down and heβs got on his glasses instead of his typical mask.
He has a gameplan, a fully fleshed out expectation of how today will go, and itβs derailed by a woman heβs never seen before. Heβs drawn to you so naturally itβs baffling.Β
Youβre crouched just in front of the security office. Dressed in a loose skirt and long sleeves, looking down by the local neighborhood stray. For the first few seconds, he just lingers on in utter awe. Youβre carrying a comically cute umbrella, clear with flowers and a pink edge. He kind of thinks you look like a peony.Β
He approaches slowly, quietly.Β
When he finally gets close enough to really see, he can hardly believe his eyes. That old, menacing mutt is happily getting his chin scratched by you.Β
βOh, uhm. Hello?βΒ
The sound of your voice startles him out of his trance. Snapping back to reality, he glances down to where you are and realizes heβs towering over you. In an effort to be polite, he steps back and gives you his most disarming smile.Β
βHi. Sorry for the intrusion, I was just,β He glances at the dog who almost looks offended at the interruption βI noticed you wereβ¦ petting this dog. Guess I was a little surprised.βΒ
βSurprised?βΒ
And your surprise surprises him even more. He blinks slowly.Β
βYeah. Heβs not aggressive or anything but uh,β Gojo chuckles, concluding you must be a little new βWell, heβs not exactly friendly. I donβt think Iβve ever seen anyone succeed in wellβ¦petting him.βΒ
Youβre taken aback by this information. Yeah, definitely new.Β
βReally?β You glance at Gojo before looking back down at it βI just gave him some treats and waited a bit. Heβs such a sweetie. Sure you mean this dog?βΒ
Gojo gets a good laugh out of that. Partially at your cluelessness and partially at your disbelief. He nods, smiling a little.Β
βIβm very sure, actually. He must really like you,β He says, hands in his pockets. He bends down to join you, but heβs still a little bigger than you at that height βI guess I can see why. Youβre pretty friendly.βΒ
You peek over at him. You seem a little shy at the compliment. Gojo feels his interest pique a second time today alone. New record.Β
βOh, uh. Thank you. I teach kindergarteners so I sort of have to be.βΒ
He hums. Reaching his hand towards the dog, who sniffs and cuddles his palm (something itβs never done before) in order to win your favor more. It really is a clever little thing, just like heβd always suspected.
βIβm a teacher too. A highschool teacher, though. No need for me to be friendly, I guess.βΒ
You laugh at his joke, smile reaching your eyes as you hug your knees to look at him.
βYou seem plenty friendly to me.βΒ
He pretends to think about it.Β
βMaybe you have a gift for making people come out of their shell,β He says with sincerity, relishing in the fact heβs finally getting to pet the dog in any capacity βI think this little guy could probably attest to that.β
βAnd you have a knack for flattery.β You quip.Β
The natural chemistry is noticeable enough for it to catch Gojo off-guard. He grins.Β
βHey. Iβm not all bad. And what's flattery if Iβm being honest right?βΒ
βSounds like something a flirt would say,β You tease, airy. He laughs a little.Β
βYou seem like youβre having fun giving me a hard-time.β He pouts. You giggle.Β
βA little,βΒ
βJeez. How rude of youβ¦β He waits, prompting your name. You smile.Β
You give him your name. You say it soft and easy. He makes sure to return to the favor.Β
βAnd yours?βΒ
βGojo Satoru.βΒ
__
You live up to your first impression in the time that Gojo gets to know you as his neighbor.Β
Friendly. The word heβs looking for is friendly.Β
Thereβs other words though. Sometimes meek, typically cheery, oftentimes quiet. Youβre quite unassuming, and possibly too gentle when compared to everyone else in the general area. You fit in fine, no worries there. And Gojo knows that for certain because he canβt stop himself from watching over you like a hawk.Β
He doesnβt really understand it himself. Gojo gets along with everyone. Heβs always been a people person who likes to talk and likes to get to know strangers. Thereβs nothing that special about your connection in that way. You live next to him, directly across the hall.Β You often knock on his door to give him something that youβve made too much of or ask to borrow some sugarΒ
And itβs not done with any romantic intent. Gojo is good at reading people. Heβs never seen someone so blatantly Β romantically uninterested in him. Youβre not even conscious of him as a man, cemented to himΒ by the one time you came to the door dressed in paper-thin PJβs. He hasnβt recovered from the shock. One of the many times in his life where he was grateful no one could see where he was looking.Β
Heβs had a few months since your first meeting to get an idea of your personality and what things about you he should keep in mind. You noticed that heβs often not in his house, so youβre relatively aware of your surroundings. Youβre often up late because your lights are always on well into the evening.Β
(He finds out later youβre usually making lesson plans or little gift bags or planning birthdays. You really love your job, something he can commend while simultaneouslyΒ feeling quite jealous about.)Β
You favor the lovely spring colors like pink and purple because you have so much of it always on you. You dress brightly in general. And you smile, often, and stumble over yourself trying to be nice to the other tenants. The kids in the building adore you. The sheer amount of propositions youβve received to be someone's full-time nanny could probably keep you employed for another two decades.Β
And you always put your best into everything, no matter what.Β
This is probably the aspect Gojo is most fascinated by. Itβs not exactly a novel trait. Heβs encountered something like it before. One of his most prized students is Maki Zenin. Her whole thing is kicking ass through sheer spite.Β
But unlike his students or anyone else he knows - you donβt seem to be motivated by spite or anger or frustration. Even when you are angry or upset - you always force yourself into being more understanding. Into being nice, kind, and still giving it your best if youβve been shorted somehow. Heβs tempted to call you a try-hard. It draws on the line of people pleasing sometimes but it doesnβt matter either way. This is a quality in you Gojo likes all the same.Β
He's always been drawn to people who are earnest. His company favors such things. He cherishes Yuuji for such a reason, and can say something similar for Nanami. Itβs a refreshing perspective. Heβs not a bitter person, but heβs not an earnest one either. So Gojo likes that youβre so properly, gently sincere.Β
For the last few months heβs made a real effort to talk to you. So heβs not just the guy next door, but at least an acquaintance and at best a distant friend. On the mornings you both have classes to teach, he walks you to your car and if he wakes up before you - heβll bring you a cup of coffee or a pastry he knows you enjoy.Β Β
Youβll often do Gojo little favors and heβll return them - joking to each other about being a good neighbor. An inside joke with each other that Gojo is growing increasingly fond of, all together with leftover cups of coffee and glances that linger too long. Some mornings, he takes out your trash when youβre feeling too tired and youβll do him the favor of getting the stuff out of his clothes that he doesnβt want to dry-clean.Β
Itβs these little exchanges that make up the bulk of your interactions.Β
Heβs even been to your apartment (another reason heβs sure youβre not attracted to him). He went last week to help you cut out little autumn leaves to put on your classroom walls, and you rewarded him with some lemonade.Β
Heβs still thinking about it days later, how you sit on your legs and the way your cardigan hangs off your shoulder. When youβre focused, you leave your mouth open a bit and poke your tongue through your lips. Heβs endeared by it.Β
Β By you in general.
Itβs all boring and mundane, but thatβs what makes it. Itβs a luxury he rarely affords. Craves, really, which is why heβs starting to go straight home more often than not.
Itβs nice that youβre always there. That youβre usually home and when youβre not - Gojo doesnβt have to guess too hard about where you are. Itβs so constant. He basks in the feeling of constancy like an expensive silk.Β
Itβs little luxuries like that, he thinks, that make you so special to Gojo without much effort on your behalf. Being up at the top means he is always fascinated by the place closest to the ground.Β
Whatβs heaven to a man born there?
__Β
In your fourth official month of residence, the neighborhood dog finally gets adopted.Β
Heβs not there for the big reveal. He hears it from you while heβs on a mission, through a text message and a photo. He acquired your number early on, but youβve only started doing these text exchanges recently. Reason being Gojoβs had an unusual amount of cases that need his attention and youβve been very aware of his absence.Β Β
(The first time you texted Gojo after 3 days on the other side of the country, he was scarily happy. After all, most times when he leaves - people are expecting his return.Β Thereβs an assurance that he will return alive, that he has to. Itβs not often people worry.
It was another thing he learns about himself through you. Being fussed about is refreshing.)Β
Currently, heβs all the way down in Nagasaki. Heβs been investigating what the local government has described as an βinfestation in the water,β leading to poison and all sorts of hallucination. Itβs been causing all of the local hospitals to fill up and the news is advising people to distill their water if possible when at home. Make sure to buy bottled, and double check on your children.Β
In other words, thereβs an unidentified curse wreaking havoc in small towns and rural areas at an unusually fast rate and Gojo has been sent to figure out its origin. Whatβs really weird is the location. Heβs in Nagasaki prefecture, specifically in Hasami - a town in the Higashisonogo district. He really didnβt have much time to do research on the area, save for a few quick google searches and probing questions to his student, the well traveled Yuta Okkutsu who is a hair more familiar with the region than he is.Β
But there wasnβt much for him to find. Hasami is known for the porcelain it produces. The population is a little under 15,000 and the weather is nicer in spring than it is in summer where it gets too humid. Itβs considered a small town, though that number is relative in consideration, and currently the local officials are sending off reports about the water supply.Β
Even when doing deep research using official means, there was nothing that unusual about the place. No major criminal incidents or occult presence or some other thing that would make this occur naturally. Gojo is no stranger to small town violence or bullying and they can often produce the most volatile curses.
But heβs currently on his 3rd day here, where heβs taken up talking with the locals and he canβt find any specific attitude that would foster a special grade.Β
It had led him to a conclusion,Β but one he was deliberately avoiding. That someone planted the curse here in Nagasaki, or maybe somewhere else. Which really complicates the whole affair, because then this is an investigation and not just a situation of fate. It also means that this curse was likely harvested somewhere and that Gojo canβt be sure itβll be easy to get rid of.Β
Most importantly, all that fanfare means heβll be home late.Β
Given how much heβs longing to see you, itβs the thing heβs been dreading most.Β
Itβs weird. Heβs never dying to see anyone, with the exception of an old friend long gone. But Gojo has been desperate to see you for the few weeks heβs been away from home.Β
(He canβt tell if itβs normal to long this much for a person he truthfully doesnβt know that well.)Β
But, while heβs away from home, the thoughts of you play on loop in his head. Like white noise, static yet constant -Β there, all the same.Β As he walks the rainy streets of Hasami, hands in his pockets - he canβt help but wonder when the next time he gets to see you will be
Itβs like some sort of miracle (arenβt you always one?) when Gojo hears his phone ring, buzzing against his abdomen.Β
Heβs drawn back into reality when he feels it. In front of a store that sells handmade plates and glasses, he lets it go for a while. Feels it buzz against his pocket while he settles his thoughts. He examines his surroundings,Β notices the cars, and the mother with her daughter across the street and the gray sky - all before he picks it up. Your name flashes him on screen, and something itches deep in his chest.
The clouds open up. And itβs still raining, but thereβs a ray of sunlight cutting through them. For a minute Gojo feels worldly, grinning with damp skin before he slides his thumb across the phone.Β
Youβve never called him before.Β
βHello?β He greets, wondering if it was an accident. Then you come through the other side of the line.
βHi ~,β You say, clearly doing something in the midst of talking βHowβve you been?βΒ
βIβve been alright. Very shocked you called me, yanno?β
You laugh quietly.Β
βSorry about that. I just wanted to check in. And I wanted to say thank you.βΒ
βI meanβ¦ Iβll accept but I feel like I should know what for.β He jokes. Your tone goes sincere, marshmallow soft and twice as sweet.Β
βYou paid the rest of the fees for the dog out of pocket, didnβt you?βΒ
He smiles to himself.
βAh. Busted. That was supposed to be a secret between me and Mr. Security-Man,βΒ
βHe didnβt tell me. I justβ¦guessed. Seems like something youβd do.βΒ
His first instinct is to disagree.
βItβs not like I did it out of the goodness of my heart, okay? It was looking a little sad sleeping during the cold seasons. It was very pitiful. So bad, so sad.βΒ
βWhyβd you do it?β You ask, probing but not too deeply βLikeβ¦ really. It was really nice of you, but it was a couple thousand and that canβt be cheap.β
He relents, head leaning back on the wall behind him.Β
βThe kids, remember?β He murmurs, eyes staring up at the gray clouds βYou said theyβd be sad if the dog didnβt get adopted soon.βΒ
βThe way youβre talking about it makes it seem like youβre doing this for me.βΒ
βAnd if I was? Would that bother you, hm?βΒ
You wait a minute, hesitating with your words.Β
βWellβ¦no. I guess not, I justβthank you. I guess Iβm just a littleβ¦ embarrassed about it or whatever.βΒ
βShy, huh? Cute.β
βJeez,β You huff. Gojo can practically hear your grinning from the other side; it makes his heart flutter. He wants to go home, to wherever you are βAnd you always say youβre no flirt.βΒ
βIβm not a flirt. Iβm just telling it how it is.βΒ
βYeah? Well, thanks anyway then. It made them really happy. You shouldβve been there to see it. Maybe you can tell them when you get back?βΒ
βDonβt wanna.β He states outright.Β
βYou didnβt even think about it!β You exclaim.
βMm, because I donβt have to. I definitely donβt want them to know.βΒ
βWhy not, though? Youβd be their hero, yβknow?Β
Maybe itβs something in the air. The damp weather out closer to the ocean, or the distance between you. Thereβs a tiny echo in your words, mechanical through the speakers. The word hero leaves a melancholy in his mouth, floating in the back of his throat like liquor refusing to go down. He chuckles.Β
βOoo, are you into that kinda thing? Like, super charming knights in shining armor? Or superheroes, maybe?βΒ
You giggle on the other side of the line. If you notice him avoiding answering you, you have the courtesy not to say anything.
βIsnβt everyone? I donβt know. I think if a really good-looking guy saved my life, itβd probably make my heart race a little, yeah. Iβd catch feelings over that for sure.βΒ
He takes a deep breath. Everything smells like rain.Β
βIs that so?β He says, chest blooming with warmth βIβll keep that in mind.βΒ
__
Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed.Β
He was out there for a long time, at least longer than usual when heβs traveling for a mission. Heβs not used to hitting so many dead ends. The problem kept growing, but every trail heβd uncovered went cold in about a day. Just before he gave up hope, he was called in by Yagi. Since the issue has spread into other parts of the city, itβs no longer his solo jurisdiction.Β
More hands on meant more time for Gojo to be teaching. It also meant that he would finally see you after so long. You waited for him outside the day he returned to Tokyo - wearing a cream colored sweater and the prettiest smile Gojo had ever laid eyes on.Β
Gojo returns from his mission empty-handed but itβs not entirely pointless. Upon returning - he had a somewhat shallow epiphany about the way you make him feel. About the way heβs affected by you, which is arguably more valuable than some lead.
Being away from you for so long is something that makes him so irritable. Heβs had some time between then and now to come into terms with it.Β
Falling back into his routine, it was obvious. Suddenly there was a gap heβd never noticed before that blew wide enough for him to fall through. He actively avoids not seeing you if he can, and ever since your permissive conversation a few weeks ago - itβs harder to notice the way his desires fester.Β
Thereβs not much he wants out of his life. So when anything noteworthy pops up, Gojo is always eager to get a hold of it before itβs too late.Β
He usually soothes that by reminding himself of your position as a civilian, a kindergarten teacher at that. The responsible thing to do is make sure youβre safe. To play the hero from the sidelines and ensure you donβt encounter anything from his line of work. Thatβs his whole life's work. To create a life like that, and it helps to stay on that path when he believes youβre sheltered from that reality.Β
Thatβs why, when you tell Gojo you can see curses, he feels the entire floor collapse from underneath his feet.Β
He receives such devastating news over a cup of coffee at that.
Itβs closing in to Fall slowly and Gojo has decided to take you out to eat as an apology for his disappearance. He intended to give you another half-truth about his job so you wouldnβt lose any sleep over him.Β
When it happens, itβs less that you tell him, and more that you keep glancing. Just over his shoulder, with this terrified expression that Gojo couldnβt not notice, even if he tried.Β
Youβve got your hands around a warm drink, in a white, ceramic mug but your gaze keeps diverting to the place behind him. When he looks over to that same place, a curse is there. Small. More insignificant than a bug, but there.Β
Itβs risky to mention it. Because if Gojo is wrong, itβs not something he can brush off. Heβd have to come up with something to excuse himself, and he isnβt sure how to lie out of that (even with his natural disposition of being a trickster.) But when you keep looking, his instinct kicks in. Thereβs no way you arenβt seeing it.Β
He doesnβt ask you directly. Thatβd be too incriminating, so he lowers his tone. Watches you briefly as you tremble in fear.Β
(A small, smallΒ part of him is only asking because he doesnβt like how distracted you are from him. Killing the curse seems like itβd relieve that annoyance too.)
βCan you see itβ¦?βΒ
The question makes you jump out of your skin. You reel back, eyes widened before the realization really sets in.Β
β....It?βΒ
Gojo looks around the cafe for a minute, to make sure no one is listening before he turns around and points to the cursed spirit behind him.Β
βIt,β He says, thumb pointed at the deformed curse moaning in one of the booths.Β
When it dawns on you that Gojo sees what you see, you cup a hand over your mouth in shock. He canβt describe the way getting that confirmation feels. It raises so many questions about who you are. More than he had before, at least.Β
No longer are you the innocent, clueless civilian and that changes every interaction heβs had with you since the start. Though itβs not uncommon for people who can see curses to fall through the cracks, he can feel his own curiosity dig into his skin like seeds taking root. He doesnβt think he should be excited, but he is.Β
Heβs excited watching your fearful tremble. Heβs never seen you like that.
βYes,β You say, voice a little shaky this time βI can seeβ¦ it.βΒ
He takes the spoon out of his latte and cleans it with his mouth. Studying your expression momentarily, he takes a deep breath before standing to his feet. The terror is so subtle, the kind he can only catch because heβs so familiar.. He knows those emotions better than he knows most.Β
Curses arenβt phobias. Not illusions or ghosts, but tangible madness. Impactful to those who can see it, but nothing to those who canβt. Fear like that, which canβt be shared with anyone, has a specific look when it shows up in someone. Gojo hasnβt felt that fear since he was very, very little. He watches curses with the same bland expression he might watch a horror movie, but he can understand your reaction at least.Β He knows it like the back of his hand. All the people heβs saved, who could see them too, always wore the same one.Β
Still, heβs caught off guard. He feels bad that youβre scared. But the proximity between you and him which was once oceans wide has decreased significantly in no time at all. That feels good. Even better than he wouldβve imagined.Β
βAre you scared?β He questions intently, maintaining a sense of neutrality.
You swallow a lump in your throat, eyes glued to the table in front of you.
βYes,βΒ
Your voice is a hoarse whisper. The corners of his lips twitch upward.Β
When heβs sure no one is looking, he stands up and walks over to the table behind him. Pretending to look for something so he doesnβt look out of place. It doesnβt take more than a second to destroy it. Itβs tiny, something heβd never think of fighting since itβs so harmless. The curse equivalent to a fly.Β
He gives it a violent death and sees you look on with horror in your expression. He finds himself pleased with that, wiping his hands on his pants before returning. Maybe you recognize his strength when he sits back down. Still, instead of pulling away again, you fold your hands in your lap.Β
βT-Thank you,β
He grins at you.Β
βOf course,β He saysΒ βCan I ask you something?βΒ
You nod your head and sip your tea.Β
βDo you know who I am?βΒ
You look confused.
β...Are you a celebrity?βΒ
He laughs hard at that. Hearing that makes him not want to tell you.Β
βIβm Gojo Satoru,β He reintroduces. You nod slowly βIβm a sorcerer.βΒ
Another lie of omission. The strongest, he should say. He takes a sip of his latte, frowning at the bitterness. Through his mask, he watches as you fiddle with your hands. He stacks the empty creamer cups together before opening two more sugar packets and stirring them.Β
βA sorcererβ¦β You look perplexed. Confusion settles into the lines of your face. Sheltered, Gojo concludes. Only parents, who shelter you wouldnβt tell you what a sorcerer was despite your ability to see them βWhat does thatβ¦ mean exactly?βΒ
βIt means I kill curses for a livingβ He replies simply.Β
βI thought you were a high school teacher.βΒ
He smiles.Β
βSmart cookie. I am, but the school I teach at specializes in cursed technique and sorcery.β
βOh.βΒ
You look befuddled.Β
Gojo thinks he might be an opportunist.Β
βDo you really not know anything about them? Itβs rare for people to be able to see them and not know anything about them.β
You shake your head, eyes peering into your drink. He watches how the image reflects in your eyes.
βUhm. Not really. My parents told me to do my best to stay away from it. We lived in the countryside but I had to move out into the city for work so I keptβ¦ running into them. I canβt likeβ¦ kill them. And I don't always see them.βΒ
βYou canβt use cursed techniques?βΒ
βI guess thatβs what that is. I donβt think I can, no.βΒ
Vulnerable.Β
βHmm. What circumstances,β He says, purposeful in weaving concern in his words.Β
βIs it that badβ¦?βΒ
Not really. His job and the job of his peers is to make sure civilians make as little contact with curses as possible. There are more people like you, and because curses feed off of negative emotions - many dangers can be shafted by just not reacting. Even so, itβs customary for people to have some semblance of protection. A weapon if nothing else, for anyone who can see them.
βDo you carry anything with you?βΒ
βLike a weapon? I have mace for when I take the train late at night.βΒ
βNot that kind of weapon,β He says gracefully. He can tell youβre out of your element, and some small and twisted part of him would like to keep you in the fateful dark.
βWhat other kind would there be?βΒ
βThereβs a lot you donβt know,β He half answers. Your frown deepens. He puts his palm over the top of his coffee cup but doesnβt feel any warmth βAw, donβt be like that. Iβm just teasing. Youβre always so calm and collected, I was surprised to see how scared you got, you know?βΒ
βEverybody gets scared sometimes.βΒ
βMm,β
His non-committal response leaves you nervous again. Fidgeting with the edge of your cup or the loose threads in the sleeves of your clothes. What a bundle of nerves you are. Gojo puts all the comfort he can in his voice, dredging up some sense of sincerity.
βWell, since it scares you and Iβm such a nice guy, Iβll protect you if you get into any trouble.β He says, snapping his fingers and pointing at you.
That makes you relax. Makes your shoulders droop, a smile gracing your pretty face. Gojo can feel the floor underneath him sinking as you tease him. His eyes trace the curve of your neck. Heβs glad you canβt see him or where they look.Β
βOh, what? Are you gonna come running every time I need help?βΒ
He smiles.Β
βIβll be your personal Superman.β He promises, making a silly expression trying to make you laugh. It feels good when he succeeds, the weight of his words softened by it. If you feel how heavy the comment is, it doesnβt show up on your face.Β
You snort, taking a sip of your drink and thereβs something so kind in your expression that Gojo aches over.Β
βThat right?β You hum, smiling over the edge of your ceramic mug βYouβre my hero.β
__Β
Since then, Gojoβs kept quite busy.
The last time he saw you at all was at the diner a few weeks prior and little has been different since then. You send more nervous messages than before, but aside from that things are the same.
Heβs done a good job, he thinks. Partly of ensuring you, partly of instilling healthy fear. Your eyes always widen like youβre caught off guard by his comments - sometimes washed away with a laugh but other times genuine. Gojo likes to keep you on your toes. AΒ bit of harmless fun and endlessly amusing.Β
Gojo would be there to protect you just like he promised before, so even scaring you isnβt something he thinks of as bad. Itβs not untrue that you should be a little more vigilant, but just telling you to do so is no easy feat.Β
He would like to be spending time with you today just the same as he has before, but heβs home alone instead. Thereβs been a brief reprieve between cases so heβs on his own to unwind. Thereβs nothing he wants to do, so he decides on a movie.Β
Gojo is the only one of his friends who still has cable TV. According to Shoko itβs a luxury purchase but for him itβs one less choice he has to make when coming home to relax.
Itβs an American film on now, some psycho-killer classic that heβs already seen a handful of times with Japanese subtitles.Β
None of the lights are turned on, so the TV illuminates the room in flashes of color. He grabs a soda from his steel-gray fridge and cracks it open, listening to the soft fizz that comes to a slow halt. Pulling it to his mouth, he travels slowly back to his couch. The leather squeaks under the weight of his body. The weight of his back creates a divet that he can be comfortable in. He rests his head, glancing back again at the screen.Β
A scream rips through the house, agitating his every nerve. He picks up his remote and turns it down just a tad before watching the movie with a sort of disinterest. Horror movies arenβt his favorite, admittedly. He pretends he scares easily, but the opposite is true. Gojo has seen too much for it to be entertaining, no less scary.Β
He likes movies based on their creative merit. Heβll watch one on its creative merit.Β
But to be scared? For frights? Not really. Very little gets his heart pumping hard like that. Sometimes the storytelling is good. Other times thereβs something cathartic about the formulaic death. The final girl, the call from inside the house. The dependable and clean ending of tropes. Even if itβs messy or sinister, itβs fantastical. Fictitious and detached.Β
Gojo enjoys that. For anyone else, itβs probably a twisted way to think about it but to Gojo it only feels natural. He doesnβt examine that detachment very deeply. Heβs just aware of it, lingering in the back of his head.Β
He takes a long sip of his drink. The sickly sweet taste slowly coats his mouth. Fizzy and smooth, it goes down easily. He sits up in his seat, making himself comfortable as he tries to pay attention to the movie. The main girl is hiding in the bathroom, and the killers' steps are echoing through the house. The broken, somber string instruments in the background, fill the white noise with apprehension and terror.Β
Gojo doesnβt feel a chill down his spine. His eyes are still fixed on the screen though, with slight anticipation of what's next even though he already knows. Itβs nearing the end and heβs seen this movie before. Sheβs not going to make it, and Gojo knows that.Β
He watches intently in spite of that. The door bursts open and thereβs a knife in her chest - and screams. Itβs horrific and ugly, blood-spattered and graphic.Β
He doesnβt flinch until the whole way through.
Itβs brief, but the thought passes his mind. Lately, the only thing that Gojo seems to react to is you.
But he doesnβt think about it too deeply. Thereβs no need to.Β
The TV goes to commercial and Gojo realizes heβs finished his soda. He stands back up, onto his feet to toss the can and grab another. This time, he grabs some snacks too. Piles them onto a plate, dried meats, and something mildly sweet for after before he returns to his living room. Sitting back down on his couch, he scrolls through his phone for anything interesting but comes up short of any results.Β
He sits up a little straighter as the next movie plays.Β
__
Spending time around curses is a necessary part of the learning experience.
Things you canβt learn in all the lessons and tutoring in the entire world. Even though Jujutsu Tech exists, and even given Gojoβs lineage - when he started working officially, he didnβt know everything. You canβt. No matter to what extent you study, thereβs some things that you can only gauge through experience. Going through something over and over, like muscle memory.
Gojo spent a lot of his life wanting it to make sense. Wanting curses and the way they showed up to make sense. This is a lesson in truth, divine truth you can only take up in experience. Curses are human emotions, which means that they are finicky and everywhere. And the dangers of them will always look like the aftermath of destruction.Β
Sometimes, thereβs nothing you can do to prepare for why things happen. Itβs why Gojo is always grasping for light where he can find it.Β
Gojo Satoru stands in an empty parking lot all the way in Osaka. He examines the sight in front of him and canβt find anything heβs learned to prepare for what's next.Β
Fog has rolled in thick clouds over every inch, limiting his vision. The air tastes of smoke, and the earth underneath him is damp. The wet concrete squeaks under the weight of his shoes as he takes in the surroundings. The parking lot of an animal hospital, in particular - where all the staff were reported to have fallen unconscious. After being rolled out by the proper authorities and after all the animals were moved into a different location - Gojo was left to examine the remnants of the incident.Β
The reports are similar all across the country. Not the location. but the symptoms. People falling sick and ill. The initial reports of a water-borne illness didnβt progress far past the first city. Itβs evolved since then. People get sick, pass out and hallucinate and animals lose all control.Β
The aftermath isnβt very messy so luckily it doesnβt attract too much attention. Thereβs no bodies, or blood - nothingΒ heinous thereafter. The effects appear later in the people affected, taken over by an unnamed madness that appears to turn their internal experience to ruins. Gojo wouldβve preferred the first situation. Violence like that becomes easy to digest with enough exposure.Β
These kinds of symptoms are always hard to stomach. Civilians get answers that placate them. The truth is that there's something bigger out there at play and they were just so unlucky to bear witness to the terror. With altered memories and the badge of trauma, what they donβt know canβt hurt them.Β
Gojo knows though, and sometimes he envies their ignorance.
He makes his way into the building. A set of glass doors greets him when he turns the sidewalk, with a blinking sign. Osaka Animal Hospital is written at the top in neon, accompanied by the words 24hr service. Gojo only glances at it briefly before sighing, hands on the bar to push himself through the heavy glass doors. He has to lean some of his weight to get through, and thereβs just another set beyond those where he has to do the same.Β
Then, heβs inside.Β
The presence of the curse and of cursed energy ignites familiar caution within him. Itβs here, in some capacity - or it was recently. The perpetrator is here too. Why that is, Gojo canβt quite understand. It seems a little backwards to linger here after everyones been evacuated and thereβs no doubt someone would come to investigate.Β
All Gojo can think is that maybe they werenβt expecting him. But by now, they must know heβs there too. Gojoβs presence is intentionally oppressive - by nature it must be. Now itβs a waiting game, a quiet one at that.Β
Hospitals are always echoey and this one is no different. The squeak of his boots bounces off the walls as he takes steps towards the receptionist desk just to see if heβll find anything.Β
He leans over it, to stare at the left over records - untouched by the authorities. Everything looks like it was left in a hurry. Strew pens and a corded phone just barely back in place - with computers on a blue idle screen. All the daily documents are still out sitting on the desk with no organization to indicate theyβve been filtered through. No paper clips or post-its telling the next person working about what to do.Β
Instead of walking behind the counter, he climbs over it with relative ease. Once heβs behind it, he takes better note of his surroundings. He doesnβt find anything completely relevant. Thereβs painting of animals, and some certifications for bills of health as well - but nothing that warrants his attention. He redirects through the papers in front of him, coming across a stack unexamined. Those answer sheets they give you to fill out so they can assess the situation before meeting you.Β
Theyβre split into two piles it looks like, though that could just be some coincidence. Still, he flips through them. Directing his attention to the little comment box with the prompt what are you being seen for?Β
Itβs nothing serious. Normal things an animal owner would be upset or worried about like bowel movements and eating something that shouldnβt have been consumed. A minor injury or a worrisome behavior - but nothing that sticks out. For pages and pages, Gojo flips through the little packets trying to find anything.Β
Itβs not what he sees, but what he doesnβt. A blank packet of papers, with no name for the owner or the pet. Only a description in the prompt box, neat handwriting in a single line.Β
βShowing signs of anxiety.βΒ
Gojo smiles to himself. Interesting.Β
He jumps back over onto the other side once heβs seen it. Itβs strange. Why would they go to the lengths of premeditating it like that? Whether itβs the curse itself or some third party, itβs an unreasonable thing to do.Β
βNot like people like this are usually reasonable, but,βΒ
He saves the rest of the thought, sighing. The room has two hallways to go down. Both directions have some lingering cursed energy,Β but the hallway leading to the overnight area is much stronger. Itβs separated by a big metal door, so Gojo braces himself to go through it.
He walks towards it slowly and through the doors even slower. Itβs a long, empty hall. The ceilings are low, white fluorescent lights over his head like a falsified halo. They flicker on and off, with the ones at the very end of the hall having fizzled out completely. Gojo can hear, feel, and see everything. He can hear his own breathing and the artificial cracklingΒ of electricity. Feel the lingering presence of sickness, the sediments of a curse preparing itself to emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon.Β
He peeks into the different rooms of the hallway. One half of the hall is kennels, once again empty and left in the same messy state as the front desk. The other half of the rooms look like surgery rooms, with a storage closet tucked into one corner. The hall comes to an abrupt stop at the end, a painted gray wall with nothing to offer at the end.
But when Gojo is half-way through, he hears it. A heart-beat. A human one, slow and steady like itβs not worried at all. Not moving or running, just there. Thump, thump, thump.Β
Gojo perks his head up as he walks, leaning over to get a look at every room. Empty, empty, empty.Β
Then, in the very last one is a shadowy figure. The sound of the heartbeat is louder and the feeling of cursed energy is so strong itβs nauseating. Gojo pauses when he peers in, waits for there to be any response to his presence. Thereβs no way whoevers lurking doesnβt know heβs there, but thereβs nothing that makes him react. He frowns.Β
His hand reaches for the handle of the door with a sigh, the mechanism inside clicking to let Gojo know itβs open. He takes a deep breath before opening it, stepping inside and shutting it behind him.Β
Even with the room as dark as it, the person inside is clear to his vision. A young girl. Probably no older than 17 withβ¦Β
He furrows his brow. With a dog, from what it looks like. No ordinary dog, obviously. A curse in the form of a dog, with teeth too sharp for its mouth and fur that looks like a smear of charcoal and nothing like hair at all. Itβs on a long leash, the chain wrapped around the young woman's palms.Β
The dog seems to tense up at the sight of Gojo. The eyes are empty and white - almost transparent. Itβs a snarling thing, muzzle over the mouth and clearly on edge. Gojo looks at its owner, the perpetrator in this instance. Who looks calm, black mask tucked over face and long dark hair with bangs cut sharp.
Gojo doesnβt know what to say here. He wasnβt expecting to make contact this easily with a curse and its master. Itβs been months now, the authorities chasing after this special grade from city to city. Sheβs obviously strong, and so is that curse thatβs strained against its collar like itβs ready to rip him in half if he moves. Not stronger than him, because no such thing ever happens - but strong enough for him to be cautious.Β
He doesnβt step forward. He stops by the door and tilts his head. Heβs sure she canβt see his eyes, but they make eye contact all the same. None of it makes any sense, but making sense of it isnβt Gojoβs job.Β
Instead of introducing himself, he opens the conversation with a question.Β
βWhyβre you still here?βΒ
βI knew I was going to get caught soon.βΒ
An answer he couldnβt predict even if he tried. Gojo huffs.Β
βThere was some time between the authorities coming and this investigation. You could have left before then, no?βΒ
βDoesnβt matter. Something wouldβve stopped me.βΒ
βWhat a weird kid. What led you to that?βΒ
Thereβs a minute where the dog (?) starts barking,Β but the noise is nothing like a bark. Itβs cosmic and strained, and sounds more like a distorted radio than an animal noise. Itβs in the shape of an animal but it isnβt one, like it couldnβt complete itself to be one. Gojo winces at the sound, intensified in the closed walls of the room. Itβs piercing, and a little annoying.Β
When she soothes it, it calms down quickly. Itβs obedient.Β
βUh. A vision. Closer to a premonition. Fate.β
βFate said you were going to get caught today. Right.βΒ
βArenβt you a shaman? Shouldnβt be that hard to believe.βΒ
βPoint taken. How did you know I was a shaman and not some murderer?βΒ
She gives Gojo a pointed look.Β
βLook at you. Plus, I can feel that youβre a shaman.βΒ
βAnother premonition?β He asks, this time sincerely. She shakes her head.Β
βNo. Your aura.βΒ
Gojo stares ahead.Β
β...Right, yeah. It doesnβt look like youβre planning on attacking me.βΒ
βI donβt think Iβd win. Iβve never met anyone stronger than me.βΒ
βIβm the strongest there is, so I guess not. How did you wanna go about this, then? Famous last words?βΒ
βYou go first. Iβd rather talk to you than the other officials.βΒ
βHm. Donβt know if I have any questions, kiddo. My job is catching you, not interrogation. I guess I am a little interested in why.βΒ
This makes her deflate a little. Itβs hardly noticeable, but Gojo sees it anyway. The dog seems to react, snarling at her discomfort. Heβs starting to understand the connection between them.
She thinks for a minute longer before sighing.Β
βWell. I guess I should start about why, right? Itβs an old story. I came from a small village. I used to walk miles to school everyday and Iβd get bullied a lot since my granny was a shaman. It was just us growing up. A nice old house with not a lot of modern anything,β
Gojo crosses his arms, leaning back on the wall and nodding his head. He figures sheβll tell him top to bottom, so he doesnβt give any input.Β
βMy granny died a few years ago. I didnβt have any family so I moved on my own. Even back then, the only other thing I cared about were animals. I started working at a shelter and then I met Senbei.βΒ
The more she talks, the worse he feels. Gojo already knows how this story will end, but he doesnβt interrupt her as she pauses between her sentences. Being 17 and bearing the burdens of loss is something he regards as a nightmare.Β
βSenbei was my best friend. Most loyal dog ever. And you know, I started my job with high hopes and kept him by my side. I wasnβt always angry. Working in that shelter and watching animals come in trembling every time I fed βem made me angry. How cruel and sick people could be.βΒ
Her explanations are jumbled and clumsy. She sounds angry but itβs not that simple, curling in on herself the more she talks. Noticeably, she doesnβt try to justify it. She says it easily, with acceptance that it happened.Β He thinks that acceptance is harder to bear than delusion. Gojo canβt help but commend her silently.Β
βIβm sorry you went through that.βΒ Gojo replies.Β
Heβs being sincere.Β
βShould you be sympathizing with me?βΒ
βDoesnβt matter. I just do.β
Her expression softens. She looks sad, and itβs not like Gojo doesnβt understand.Β She keeps going though, hands shaking in her lap. Gojo thinks she mightβve been waiting to tell someone.Β
βI donβt know when I stopped seeing the good in peopleβ¦.I always thought aboutβabout my granny and how no oneβno one came to see her. She was always taking care of everyone and no-oneββ
βI know, kid,β Gojo says with a sigh βI get it.βΒ
βThen you know,β She pauses, taking a deep breath. Thereβs frustrated tears pouring down her cheek this time. What a strange, sad thing she is:Β βThat you canβt go back. Even if you forget. It justβit changes you.βΒ
Yeah. Gojo knows something about that, too.Β
βI was already pretty desperate when Senbei was alive. Just trying to hold on. When he was killed, I lost it. I just fuckingβ I lost it. Iβm sure you understand. You get it right?β
Gojo looks at her confused. She shakes her head, looking down in her lap at the curse in her hands.
βI can tell you're like me.Β That's why your aura is so tainted andβ¦ fucked up andΒ malicious. It should be crystalline blue kinda like spring waterβbut itβs muddy. Rigid.βΒ
βWhat are you talking about?β
βThe fact youβre hanging on by a thread. You can feel it too, right?βΒ
Gojo remains quiet at her observation. He doesnβt know how to react.Β
βWhen you want something so bad, it justβ does something to you. Either because it wonβt happen or because it needs to take your life to exist. Happened to granny, to me. Itβll happen to you, too.β
βI doubt that,β Gojo says, your face flashing in his mind. He shakes his thoughts away.Β
βYouβre thinking about it too literally. You want something, so you chase it and lose yourself in the process. Youβre dead. No longer you, all tangled and in ruins. Itβs not too late, but if you keep goingβthat thread is gonna snap.βΒ
βA premonition?β He says, partially sarcastic. She shakes her head.Β
βNo, a prediction. You donβt have to consider it if you donβt want to. I just thought Iβd tell you since you gave me some last minutes with this Senbei.βΒ
Gojo shakes his head.Β
βI donβt have any reason to be forceful if you comply. Take your time. I donβt have anything better to do.βΒ
Gojo glances at her as she pets it, having resigned herself to silently gazing upon it. He canβt stop himself from thinking about everything sheβs said, so he averts his gaze to the ceiling and pretends otherwise.
The silent stretches, a pregnant pause before she speaks one more time. She has a look on her face Gojo canβt read.
βYou know, itβs funny. Everyone thinks dogs are loyal to their masters, but thatβs because we made them that way. We canβt stand being alone or unloved so we made something that can do both without ever seeing any less of us.βΒ
βYouβve had a lot of time to think about it.βΒ Gojo says, unsure of how to reply. She isnβt expecting anything, but remaining silent fills him with a sense of dread.Β
βGuess so. You should take some time to think about it too,β
She says to him, petting the curse that whines like itβs been hit in her small hands. Gojo takes a deep breath.Β
ββ¦Yeah. Iβll do that.βΒ
__
The case ends anti-climatically.Β
Gojo finds it funny. The officials came and the young girl was promptly arrested. He never even got a chance to ask her name. He learned through some probing that she only made two asks before being taken.Β
The first, to keep her curse dog with her, and to send her thanks to the sorcerer who had apprehended her in the first place.
On the news, much later in the week - a news report surfaces. βDanger in the Deep,β giving reasonable and logical explanations for the events that occurred in cities across Japan not even a few weeks ago. New studies show, experts say, hereβs a word from your localβa barrage of fancy language to pad the publishing, add depth and realism. The public is none the wiser.Β
Gojo has to admire the commitment to keeping the peace. The case ends, and the girl gets arrested and put on trial. He doesnβt know if heβll be seeing her again any time soon, though heβs sure he has the power to intervene.Β
Heβs hesitating to do so. Why stick his neck out for her in a situation like this one? Over other situations, more dire ones at that. Sheβd make a good ally.
Their last conversation hasnβt left the back of Gojoβs mind. Heβs conscious of it, albeit it hasnβt slowed him down. Heβs not looking for another assessment of who or what ghosts are haunting him. Heβd prefer to put it all behind him now
So life, in some capacity, has returned to its baseline. Itβs normal. He has cases but they donβt take him more than three days. Heβs able to do his usual chores without anything impeding them. Heβs been teaching, no longer forced to make his students fend for themselves.Β
Heβs been seeing you again regularly, too.Β
Heβs getting ready now to do just that. Scheduled to get another coffee together (something of a tradition now) and pick up some conversations. Youβve been busy, though Gojo doesnβt know the details of what.
He wants to know. Heβs even tried asking but as soon as he gets close to the subject, you slink into yourself like youβre trying to disappear. Besides, he doesnβt want to intimidate you into telling him.Β
(Though, it would be so easy to do. Youβve got a record for being a scaredy cat, and as much as it endears him - he is entirely too hung up on the potential for exploitation to admire it kindly. Itβd be easy to turn the notches up, pressure you. With how easy going you are, youβd let him do it. Gojo bets youβd cave. He thinks the face youβd make would be entertaining too.Β
Above all, the offer is tempting.)Β
In spite of your refusal to discuss the specifics, Gojo does want to cheer you up in whatever capacity he can. So, heβs taking you out for a while and hoping a comfortable environment and the presence of other people will soothe your nerves a little.Β
Heβs getting dressed for it now, rifling through his closet for decent casual attire.Β
Heβs got his hair styled down, a pair of new sunglasses on the table and his clothes folded on his bed before he tries them on. Most of his closet is uniforms, plain black and boring. For now, heβs settled on a black crew neck and blue jeans - ripped at the knees.Β
He looks over his appearance in the mirror, posing in it. Arms flexed and stretched over his head before putting them out in front of his body.Β
He takes his time to take part in the ritual. He slips his boxers up over his legs, waist band tight around his torso and clinging to the curves of his thighs. He pulls his jeans up, low at his hips with a belt buckled through the front. Then comes his sweater over his abdomen.Β
He wants to look nice. Though, he could be deluding himself - lately you seem a little more aware of his appearance. It makes him happy that his good looks havenβt failed him in the instance they matter most.Β
As he puts on his accessories (in this case a watch and a ring) his phone buzzes atop his dresser. He stops to pick it up, a message from you on the screen. He peers over so his face can be read, then smiles.Β
(sent 11:15am) Ready ~Β
He laughs to himself.Β
(sent 11:16am) Almost ready. Need to look my best for such a tremendous occasion.Β
(sent 11:16am) For coffee?Β
(sent 11;17) For coffee with my favorite kindergarten teacher ofc β‘
You send back a simple reply telling him to hurry and come out. Gojo chooses to interpret your embarrassment as a sign. It puts some pep in his step, and he hurries to finish dressing up.Β
He steps out of his house, locking his door from the outside before shuffling down a single flight of stairs and out into the front entrance of his complex. He notices you waiting at the front gate from where heβs standing.Β
The neighborhood dog (officially named Pokupan) is asleep by the security office. Youβre the same as always. Today's outfit is a dress with long sleeves and colored tights. It suits you. A splash of warmth in an otherwise dreary world, Gojo stands in place as he watches you for an unidentified amount of time. Minutes feel like seconds as you pace back and forth. Your phone must be in your purse because he canβt find it anywhere on you.Β
Heβs delighted when you finally turn your head to look at him. You cup your hand and give him a kind wave which he laughs at and returns enthusiastically. His stride is long, walking towards the gate.Β
You have to tilt your neck up to look at him (making his chest squeeze unhelpfully) but you smile when you do so.Β
βHey,βΒ
βHello there Miss. Waiting for a special someone?β He jokes. You flush.Β
βTheyβre an important friend,βΒ
He tries not to let his smile falter. Friend.Β
βThen, is it a bother if I ask to take you out?βΒ
This time you falter. Gojo notices it out of the corner of his eye, the briefest brush of nerves that makes it seem like youβre warming up to him after all. Itβs gone as quickly as it came but itβs there and Gojo etches it into the back of his eyelids for memory. He smiles at you as you look away, flush
βNot at all,βΒ
He grins, again, even brighter. Then he sticks his arm out for you to loop in. You hesitate again. This time Gojo canβt be sure why.
βIβm just being a gentleman, you know?β He pouts. His frown takes effect as you loop your arms together. He keeps it friendly. Too much pushing and youβll skitter away right before his eyes. Still, even this much progress feels good. It feels whole and light and good.Β
Itβs a pleasant sort of day.Β
Not that itβs warm, or even sunny. Itβs cold, on the edge of Autumn that dances into Winter. Freezing but bright out, the kind of sky where everything is clear. During the day the sky has no clouds and no stars when it comes to night time.Β
Nonetheless itβs nice. The cold is the kind that makes you want to cozy into someone for warmth, so Gojo doesnβt mind walking in. The walk itself isnβt very long either. The cafe is near your complex, just about 15 minutes worth of walking. Thereβs no snow or ice to trip on, and because itβs freezing - you shiver every time you stray too far from the heat of his body so the walking is done exceptionally close together
There are kids and parents walking together on the street alongside you, dogs and their owners, street vendors with hot tea. Itβs that kind of day where the cold doesnβt keep anyone indoors, in fact everyone seems to relish in the fact they can run and run and run without overheating. It feels like everything is in sync with each other, comfortable and harmonious in spite of everything else.
After 15 minutes, youβve arrived at the store front. Not long enough for Gojo, but thatβs okay. Thereβs next time he has to look forward too.Β
(He tells himself this every time. Itβs never enough for him. He can never get enough of listening to you talk. He could probably mimic your cadence without having to try. Itβs a sound he doesnβt get sick ofβa miracle, another one, because Gojo hates so many soundsβyet thereβs one he always looks out for.Β
There has to be a next time. If he forgets to tell himself as much, he gets so restless he can hardly stand.
The cafe is nice. Itβs one of those places that you see on Instagram often with plenty of sweets for Gojoβs taste and plenty of fancy teas for yours. The outside has beige-colored brick and a brown sign decorated with cutesy drawings. You spend a good amount of time crouched beside it, taking a picture or two to later post on your story.Β
βYou have to tag me, okay? Itβs your payment for wasting our precious time together,β He jokes.Β
You stand to your feet and brush off your pants, the material of your coat rustling as you do.Β
βYes, yes β I promise. Iβll have to ask who drew them when we get in there.βΒ
Gojo smiles at your enthusiasm before opening the door for you.Β Another one of those glass ones with a logo printed on the top half and the metal tinted brown. A little bell chimes above your head as you head in first, and Gojo heads in after you. He has to duck not to his his head on the top of it.
Itβs not too crowded at this hour. A handful of people sit among the many tables and booths. Your head is turned to the menu and Gojo trails behind you like a shadow. One to compliment all your light.Β
It smells delightful inside. Like warm cookies and vanilla and tea. Gojo feels his sweet tooth kick in the minute you two stand in line. The barista is a doe-eyed blonde college student. Thereβs another employee with long dark hair and thin, narrow eyes. It reminds Gojo a lot of that girl he met a few weeks ago but he tries to put that thought out of his mind.
He sticks his hands in his pockets and eyes the menu. The special item is a yuzu cream cake, the picture of it hanging on the wall like employee of the month. Thereβs a glass display of all the other items and the menu matches the rest of the decor.
βThis was a good choice,β Gojo says, entranced by all the desserts around him. You laugh, turning your head slightly to look at him.Β
βAre you complimenting yourself right now?βΒ
βAm I wrong?βΒ
βYour sweet tooth is so bad,β You say through giggles βYour poor dentist,βΒ
He gasps in offense.
βI will have you know I keep my pearly whites pristine. Not a single cavity for the record.β He says back, placing emphasis on the last words. You snort a laugh.Β
βIβve never had one either,β You repeat back, perhaps mindlessly before saying βThereβs a lot we donβt know about each other yet.βΒ
Yet. Yet. Gojoβs subconscious will hold onto that word for too long. It makes his heart beat too loud. Heβs relieved that youβre nothing like him. If you were in this very moment, you would hear the thunder raging inside of his ribs.Β
Instead of saying anything, he scoffs playfully.Β
βI bet you were such a goody two-shoes that you never ate sweets before bed-time.βΒ
Your eyes widen in surprise followed by embarrassment, where you tuck your chin into your sweater.Β
βUgh,β You say, so weakly Gojo canβt stop himself from laughing βWhatβs wrong with being a goody two shoes, huh?βΒ
Gojo feels almost feline in his self-satistication. βI didnβt say anything was wrong with it, just that you were one.βΒ
Your frown deepens.Β
βI donβt care for your tone, mister.βΒ
βAre you gonna scold me like one of your students?βΒ
βIf it gets you to be nice,β You say firmly, in that Teacher voice that Gojo has caught glimpses of over the last few months. He does a fake salute.Β
βYes, maβam!,β He proclaims,Β soft enough so only you hear it. You break out into another set of his giggles, melting his cold heart. Itβs not the smile so much as it is yours.Β The line moves up just a little bit. Gojo steps in front of you before you have a chance, his figure shadowing you.Β
βWhat do you want?βΒ
βI think Iβm gonna get one of those fruit teas and some cake.β You say absentmindedly. He smiles at you playfully.Β
βHeard,βΒ
Gojo turns to order for you both, laughing through your obvious protests about his paying for you. Heβs able to block you from getting in the way as the cashier looks on the both of you bemusedly. When the order is placed, Gojo taps his phone against the reader before moving aside where you stomp your feet and follow him.Β
βI told you I would get it this time,β You whine. He hums.Β
βMm, thereβs always next time?βΒ
βYou say that every time!βΒ
βSo you never know? Maybe itβs next time for sure.βΒ
You seem to realize that this is a fruitless conversation and that heβs not going to relent. With a flush on your face, you cross your arms and pout.Β
βIβll get you back one of these times, I swearβ¦.Anyway, thank you.β You add the last part quietly. He hums.Β
βItβs only fair, you know. After all, who else would come here to eat sweets with me?βΒ
You look taken aback but Gojo doesnβt retract his statement. Heβs sure thereβs someone he could ask. But thereβs no one who would agree to it as easily as you have. The environment wouldnβt be so welcoming, either. Someone who would do something like this with Gojo is long lost. It almost feels foreign to him now.Β
In order to ease the tension, you look up at him warmly.Β
βThen, Iβm glad you asked me.βΒ
There it is again. That warm, sort of fluttery feeling he gets in his chest being around you. He wonders if heβs allowed to be so happy.Β
The food arrives at the counter, the young woman calling out for Gojo. You and Gojo split the task of carrying the plates, picking a nice booth in the corner with the top covered, You slide in across from him, situating your bag.Β
You and Gojo go back and forth, setting up everything so it looks nice under the lights. Gojo takes on taking the photos this time, clicking from a few different angles and stopping to show you after each photo.Β
βIβll send you the picture later, okay?βΒ
βDonβt forget.βΒ
βI wonβt, I wonβt. Letβs eat, okay?βΒ
You nod enthusiastically.
__Β
You and Gojo eat and chat comfortably for a while.Β
Heβs not sure how much time passes. He wasnβt checking because why would he? Heβd like to be with you a bit longer, so he refrains from thinking about it and hopes you do the same. Just a bit more, he tells himself. Until you really, really have to go.Β
Thereβs nothing major to catch up on. You tell Gojo about your job, mostly and how you saw some friends from out of town the week before. Winter is coming and you want to do something nice for the holidays. Youβre getting along well with your fellow teachers which is good. He was worried about that, but he canβt keep eyes on you at school.Β
(Not for not having tried. Heβs thought about it, but his presence would be too noticeable and he doesnβt trust anyone else to the task)Β
So itβs relieving. Your only complaint has been that some of the students have the sort of parents you canβt handle. Pushy and involved in a way you canβt ignore but canβt tolerate either. Gojo jokes to take care of them, gesturing to his arm like heβs ready to knock someone's lights out.Β
That makes you laugh, and following it you have this melancholy look that sends alarms blaring in Gojoβs head. You donβt broach the subject at all afterwards. You talk about everything else you can. The sale on radishes at the market, thinking about getting a car just to have it, maybe visiting your parents sometime soon.Β
Gojo listens. He doesnβt have much to add. His work is strictly classified to people who arenβt in the field and itβs nothing fun to begin with. He does tell you what he can - usually about some antics his students have gotten into during training. He can at least talk about that.Β
He tells you about the movies heβs watched, how he went drinking with his co-workers last week, and how he thinks Pokupan is starting to act friendlier to him.Β
Itβs fun because itβs you. Gojo likes feeling like heβs involved with you intimately. He likes hearing you talk. The sound of your voice is such a pleasant contrast to his own. You talk with a kind of joy Gojo could never hope to carry, all gestures and smiles and interjections - trying to make sure your point comes across. How you donβt think the kid sitting in the front is a bad kid, just needs guidance. How the material of your sweater isnβt really cashmere but more of a blend.Β
Time passesΒ comfortably that way. The drinks and food have been reduced to crumbs and cold drops of tea, glasses emptied and phones abandoned.Β
But neither of you have made any move to leave, and Gojo is still listening to you talk with a pleased smile on his face. It was a pleasant sort of day, remember?Β
βSo it was fine in the end, but the classroom was such a mess seriouslyββΒ
So, it throws Gojo off when you stop speaking so abruptly. How easily the atmosphere melts, and what an unpleasant film it leaves behind.Β
It feels like an axe hammering on a stop, a sharp and near violent thud that cuts off the end of your sentence. The air becomes tense in the blink of an eye. Gojo can feel it, the sensation of cursed energy. Itβs stagnated, little like pebbles at the bottom of a creek. But itβs there, and Gojo can feel it creep over your shoulders like a sixth sense. Like someone skipped a stone over that same water. He senses it in the air like dust in the light.
He sits up straight, focusing his attention on you.Β
βHey,β He calls out, softening his voice as much as he can. Trying hard to identify what's wrong exactly βYou okay?βΒ
Your hands shake as you lay them flat on the table. Youβre almost completely spaced out by now. It all happens in the blink of an eye.Β
Gojo stares at you, calling to you a second time.Β
βHey. Hey, look at me?βΒ
When you finally hear him, you jump in your skin. Your shoulders relax when you realize itβs only Gojo. Normally that would make him happy, but not like this. Your hands are shaking. A nervous fidget in all of your movements that heβs never seen before, like youβve been shocked with electric wire. He hates it. The taste of your fear (this fear) is different and unfamiliar.Β
He doesnβt like it.Β
You turn your head to look at him then avert your eyes again. He canβt follow your gaze as it shifts. Itβs too erratic.
βNo, uhm. Itβs just, uhm.βΒ
βWoah! Hey, Miss. I wasnβt expecting to see you here,βΒ
Everything feels like it slows down as Gojo watches your eyes snap up. Your expression drops again, even lower, and if he listens close enough he can hear the sound of your heart. Your discomfort is tangible. It leaves a metallic taste in Gojoβs mouth as you suddenly curl in yourself, shoulders hunched and peeling skin off your nails.Β
You donβt even look to Gojo for help. Instead, your words go soft.Β You become helpless in front of his eyes.Β
βOh. Yes, hello.β You bow your head trying to say as little as possible. Gojo stares as you shake like a leaf in the wind. Something ugly curls up inside of him, a knife twisting in his chest.Β
βAw, cβmon? Whatβs with the unfriendly act? Is it βcause youβre here with your boyfriend?β
You look up at him panicked. Not because of the comment, but because of his tone. Gojo hears it too. How sinister it is. Like heβs blaming you for it somehow, like youβve wronged him. The feeling inside of him is so ugly, itβs so wretched. His knuckles turn nearly white from how hard heβs closing his fist. You put your hands up and go to explain yourself anxiously.Β
It makes Gojo sick. He smiles, turning his head just a little so he can see. He opens his eyes and stares, focusing his vision on remembering every detail of the bastard's face.
βIβm not her boyfriend. Weβre neighbors,β He explains, tone as cold as ice but smiling.Β
Gojo puts pressure in the atmosphere. His natural and suffocating aura returns to him easily. He smiles and remains unnervingly still, waits in quiet for the man to respond. He scratches the back of his head, still indignant.Β
βUh. Okay. I guess thatβs good. Wouldnβt be appropriate for a teacher to be out on a date like this huh?βΒ
Again. This guy, whoever he is, turns his head like heβs trying to talk down to you. Diverts his perversion and sadism towards you that leaves Gojo wondering what his head would look like against concrete. A bitter, heinous feeling waits inside of him, nesting into his ribs as the sound of every voice in the room comes to be muffled. All Gojo can hear is his heart. How long it's been since heβs heard it.Β
Itβs loud. A cacophony, or a hymn. Divine rage in the sound of his soul leaves has him unsure of how to proceed.Β
Gojo glances at you. Your eyes are rounded, full of desperation. Pleading.Β
Gojo hates whoever this is. Gojo wants to save you. He thinks you deserve to be saved.Β
He stands up. He has enough height on the guy to be intimidating, the guy just barely coming up to his shoulder. Gojo stares down wildly, pulling his glasses to the bridge of his nose to peek briefly over the edge. The bastard stops talking immediately, words coming to a stutter, Itβs satisfying.Β
βWho are you?β He asks.Β
βWh-why is that any of your concern? Canβt you see Iβm talking toββΒ
βI didnβt ask about who you were talking to. I asked who you were,βΒ
He hears you from behind him βHeβs a parent from my school,β
βAh, okay. Interesting. Since youβre a parent, we wouldnβt want to make this a confrontation right?β Gojo says, bemused βItβd be a real issue for everyone if it turned out that way,βΒ
Gojo puts a hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip hard enough to hear him gasp. Heβs weak, but thatβs to be expected.
βSo, I suggest you turn around and head home, hm? Since we wouldnβt want it to be a big fuss.βΒ
Gojo can see it now. With a little pressure, he could turn the blade of his shoulder in sawdust and watch him fall to his knees. Heβd let out a cry, a sharp pathetic wail like a hit dog. Gojo would make him say sorry to you before he lets up his hand from his skin. Heβd do it infront of everyone in the store so they could hold a little fear in their hearts.Β
He wonβt do it. Just for now. If it complicates your work then you wouldnβt be able to support yourself. What would he do if you ended up somewhere far away? Out of his sight, something like this could happen again and Gojo wouldnβt be able to take care of you.Β
So he doesnβt crush it. He pushes his palms into his shoulder blades and whispers quietly, just so the two of them hear. He pulls away and watches as his face goes pale, a simple stutter leaving his lips. Something about how heβll see you later and that somethings come up before he turns around and leaves.
Gojo watches as he does. The door chimes again, and the man disappears. The patrons who mightβve glanced turn away again like it was just a simple altercation, which is good. Then finally, Gojo looks at you where you are. Your hands are trembling so hard, a shake of relief in your shoulders as you cover your face. You look like youβre getting ready to cry, so Gojo takes it into his own hands. He cleans up all the food, wipes the table, and even grabs your jacket and bag as you take a minute to collect yourself.Β
He taps your shoulder lightly afterwards, waiting for you to look up. Once you do he smiles, reaches a hand out to you so you donβt have to think twice.Β
βAbout time to get out of here, huh?βΒ
You nod, so slowly. You look so relieved, even as you sniffle. Your hand is so small compared to his. He squeezes it protectively as you slide it into his own, and helps you walk out of the store together.Β
The air is cold, the same as before, the temperature having warmed just a bit. The bell above the door rings as the two of you finally leave, standing in the street. Unlike before though, thereβs something bitter in the air. The sun has hidden itself completely in the clouds and the streets feel emptier, lifeless.Β
Gojo turns to you with a somber expression, trying to smile. It doesnβt quite reach his eyes.Β
βDo you want to go somewhere to talk about it, maybe?βΒ
You chew your lower lip then sigh β...Yeah. Probably should, huh?βΒ
You and Gojo decide on a place not too far from where you are. Itβs a small park, a good place to end off an otherwise good day.Β
You have to take the bus to get there, but thereβs not many people. Gojo eventually gives you back your things, lets you slide your jacket on and fix your face - but ultimately takes your hand and holds it on the ride there. He brings it to his lap and you donβt pull away even though you seem to fidget the whole time.Β
The bus finally stops in front of the park. It takes hardly any time, but Gojo finds heβs unable to let go of your hand so he doesnβt. Instead, he holds tight and lets you trail behind. You let him lead you quietly out back in the street. You give your thanks to the driver as the doors close.Β
He canβt let go of your hand, though he knows now wouldβve been a good time to do it. His grip only grows tighter.Β
βLet's go find somewhere to sit,β He offers. You squeeze his hand this time and donβt look away.Β
βOkay,βΒ
He tries to keep pace with you this time, instead of walking ahead. Your strides are shorter than his so heβs careful that you donβt fall behind. Your eyes still have that watery look to them but youβre no longer trembling from fear. Just the cold, if anything.Β
And your heartbeat no longer sounds so hazardous. Gojo is still restless, still fidgety. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin but itβs not really for you.Β
You find a bench, eventually - in the middle of the long walk-way just a distance away from a playground. Gojo juts his chin out towards it, before turning over to look at you.
βLetβs go sit,βΒ
You nod as you walk together towards it. You sit first, and Gojo finally lets go of you. He sits besides you. Thereβs a minute where the whole world is deathly quiet. There should be something calm about it, but it isnβt. Youβre no longer terrified, and a distance away. Thereβs no danger lurking in the dark and thereβs no cars passing or children crying.Β
Everything is calm and silent, but Gojo couldnβt feel more unease if he tried. He thinks he hides it well. But thereβs that itch again, in a place behind his ribs he canβt reach into and he finds it hard to breathe.Β
βSo,β He starts, breaking the tension βIβm guessing itβs not a friend,βΒ
The stupid joke makes a smile appear on your lips. Itβs small, but Gojo takes some comfort in it anyway. You wipe away your lower lash gently, a wet laugh leaving your mouth.Β
βNo, not a friend. Heβs uhmβ¦ a parent from my school.βΒ
βThe one whoβs been bothering you for all these weeks?β Gojo supplies. You turn your head, eyes widened in surprise. Gojo lets out a breathy laugh.Β
βYouβ¦.knew?βΒ
βNot about him specifically, but I could tell something was bothering you,β He admits, and then adds βI always pay attention to my favorite person, you know?βΒ
The addition has you looking away, but Gojo doesnβt mind. You sigh, rubbing your face with your palms before leaning back against the bench with your head hanging off the edge.Β
βHeβs the parent of one of my students. Akio, heβs a good kid. A really well-behaved one butβ¦ too well-behaved. Never raises his hand, never complains or says he wonβt do something.βΒ
βIβm guessing that sent off an alarm bell, huh?βΒ
You nod softly.Β
βYeah. I figure it was something at home, but Iβd met his mom prior and she was a real angel. Then, his dad came to visit. The man we met at the store, and I knew right away.βΒ
Gojo feels his jaw clench listening to you talk.Β
βBut still, you know, my job as a teacher is to be as respectful as I can. I always politely declined him when he would make comments and remained professional. Eventually, his mom stopped coming altogether andβI tried, I reallyβbut heβ¦β You trail off, a lump in your throat. He watches as tears form in your eyes, his anger getting more and more tangible. He tries not to express it, putting a hand on your knee βHe justβ¦ kept pushing. A-and once, he looked like he was gonna get violent. I made a report, you know, to the school. But you know how they are,βΒ
βThey never even bothered investigating huh,β Gojo sneers. You laugh a tired sort of laugh.Β
βOf course not. After that, I just tried to endure it. And I know he hasnβt done anything technically, but it doesnβt really feel like a matter of if but when,β You explain haphazardly.Β Gojo squeezes where his hand rests.Β
βI believe you. Itβs okay,β He says as soothingly as he possibly can βItβs okay. Iβm here,βΒ
Thereβs a sense of relief that washes over your whole body and before he knows it, youβre breaking down. He feels a lot of emotions all at the same time, watching your little frame as you lose it so easily in front of him. A part of him is so furious he wants to make it everyone's problem. Another part of him is so deeply sad knowing youβve suffered all on your own.Β
And the most notable part of him is the sense of protectiveness, burrowing inside of him. A sense of possession. It sinks into him like teeth, seeps into his blood like the venom of an animal so that he bleeds and breathes it. Gojo canβt shake that deep sense of urgency, a nameless and faceless desire that consumes him. He shudders.. He holds it in, all of it. Cups his hands so desperately so that it doesnβt spill over and touch you, the ink of ruining the soft white of your clothes.Β
In a world that you have made beautiful, desire is ugly. Hideous and infectious, it tears Gojo limb from limb. It makes Gojo feel on edge. Gojo should not desire for any more than what he was. People always die when he does.Β
But maybe they donβt have to. Maybe, he can protect you. He can keep you safe. He wants to keep you safe. He wants to keep you all to himself.
Itβs in an effort to soothe those feelings that his arms find themselves around your form. Itβs the first time youβve hugged in such an intimate way. Where expects you to turn away - you donβt.Β
Instead you cling, your arms around his jacket and your face in his chest. You cry and weep and sob and you look so small like that. You look like youβll collapse and Gojo holds you. Says itβs okay, itβs okay, itβs okay as you let it all out. It must feel good to finally let it all out, after everything and he doesnβt intend to stop you.Β
βI promise Iβll always protect you from now on,β And he says it, and means it. If you feel the weight of his statement, you donβt let it show βItβs okay. You can cry if you need too,βΒ
You cry and cry and cry.Β
And Gojo thinks the call of heaven is nothing in comparison to the sound.Β
__
In the end, Gojo canβt forgive him.Β
Itβs not without effort. He tries to do it at your request, because after all the tears he wants to help. He says he can maybe pull some strings. But that gentle heart you have declines. You donβt want it to become a big deal. You feel a little better knowing he knows. In the end, you donβt want it to affect that brats reputation.Β
βYou know how kids can be,β You say, voice full of concern for everyone but yourself βI donβt want to make school life anymore difficult than his life at home must be,βΒ
So, Gojo tries to listen to you. But days pass, and days turn into weeks. In the end, a month goes by and Gojo is full of terrible and divine anger.Β
In the end, Gojo wonβt forgive him. Gojo canβt let it go. He feels so righteous in it, he starts avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. Thereβs something inside of them he has no desire to look at. Eyes that tell all, Gojo turns away from their gaze. Gojo is angry for you, and itβs not in his character to do nothing about it.Β
He decides on less of a whim that it looks. He wonders about alternatives, if thereβs anything that can stop this feeling from imploding inside of him but nothing comes.
When he decides that nothing can be done, Gojo goes out of his way to start watching him.Β
Like any mission, he needs enough background information to map out a plan.Β He wants to make sure that it has virtually no pushback for you. Thereβs always a possibility youβll get caught in the crossfire and thatβd be the worst possible outcome. Gojo can protect you from a lot of things, but heβs not as confident about the law.Β
(Not that he canβt. Just not in the good, right way heβs sure you want him to protect you in. Gojoβs love is divine, not right. Thereβs nothing in this world Gojo canβt shield you from, because heβs the strongest.)
Β He also canβt make anything obvious or leave any room for interpretation. If thereβs anything that feels off when the reports go live - youβll stick your nose where it doesnβt belong. He thinks in the instance you find out (about all of it, the premeditationΒ especially) youβd probably tuck your tail and run.Β
(Gojo would find you. But the chase means thereβs some time youβre apart. The thought is almost nauseating.)Β
He likes that youβre curious about everything. In most instances anyways. But he thinks itβs better to leave you in the dark sometimes. Having you worry about it would ruin the point of this. And sometimes, itβs better not knowing every detail. Honeytraps are more ethical than nets.Β
Heβs doing it for you in the end, like he does most things. And the kid will benefit, maybe even get some sympathy from his classmates for a while about the tragedy that befell his father. Gojo thinks itβs a good plan because no one loses.Β Itβs a lot like killing a curse.Β
It only takes two weeks to learn virtually everything there is to know. A guy like that doesnβt have much he can hide.Β
The name of his target, he learns, is Nobu Watanabe. Father to Akio Watanbe and ex-husband to Akiko Watanbe. Heβs a recently released felon (let off on good behavior) with a battery and assault with a deadly weapon charge. Heβs a college drop-out, and has been working a lot of odd-jobs since he was 16.
His personality is bad, worse is his drinking and smoking habits. Heβs often found drunk in the street, and has a track record for single nights spent in a cell. His ex-wife is usually the one bailing him out. Gojo canβt help but feel sorry for her. Somehow, he doubts that heβs good to her. Heβs a deadbeat father through and through. He only offers to pick up his kid to harass you. At least from what he can tell.Β
He isnβt as awful to his kid as everyone else. Gojo doubts that was always the case. Akio isnβt a bad kid, but itβs hard not to notice the way the light in his eyes disappears when his father comes around to pick him up. A head always looking towards the floor, hands tucked in his pockets.Β
Itβs difficult for Gojo to feel any guilt about what heβs doing. After everything, he canβt find it in himself to feel any regret.Β
His target is currently working at a dock, not too far from the city. He seems to work there most days, working at a bar on the weekends. Itβs a big company that handles foreign goods that he does physical labor for. Lifting and moving boxings, checking inventory - itβs not a complicated affair.Β
If thereβs not a major shipment, he still seems to clock in so heβs definitely paid some kind of hourly wage. He smokes often on the job, but works diligently when there is something to do. An easy but physical job, heβs strong. Gojo can understand what intimidates you about him.Β
Gojo, though, isnβt intimidated by him at all.Β
He waits a week before he takes action. To shake off anyone or anything that might be trailing him, and to make sure that everything is the same as he observed. That his schedule wasnβt going to change. A week passes, and when Gojo has confirmation - he decides to do what he does best.Β
Gojo Satoru decides to play God on a Sunday.
Sunday is a day shipments come in and a day he often works alone. The pay is better on Sunday and Nobu is the only one on his shift who takes it. Heβs not expected to finish the strenuous work because heβs alone for such a long stretch of time - just to make a dent in it. The people at the next shift are the ones who finish the job.Β
He starts his day as early as 6am. Itβs near winter, so the world is painted in a miraculously melancholy blue. Gojo follows him that morning. He knows the route well enough to trail behind him and not attract any attention. They pass together, turning corners and taking bus rides until Nobuβs finally in at his job.Β
There, they part briefly. His target goes into the big white building and he goes on top. Gojo has to teleport to the roof because everything is gated with security cameras covering every inch of the property. Following him puts Gojo at risk. So he waits on top of the building, hands in his pocket and pacing until Nobu comes out the otherside to the docks. His jumpsuit put on haphazardly, only half-pulled up to his waist, with a clipboard and pen as a bunch of boxes waiting for him to check them.Β
After Gojo confirms that heβs alone, he lies in wait. He sits and waits - watching as the clouds pass. Watching the open sea, how it remains unchanging no matter what boats pass through to shore. He looks at his phone every now and again to check the time.Β
It shouldnβt be too difficult to actually do it.Β
You know, if Gojo turns his infinity on, thereβs nothing in the world that can touch him. He can touch it, but it canβt touch him. There will always be a barrier between his hands and the world. Between him and the known universe, a bridge that started burning the minute Gojo was born into it. If Gojo turns on his infinity, thereβs no way to leave traces of him behind.Β
Did you know? If Gojo turns on his infinity, his fingerprints donβt show up. Thereβs no DNA to find. Not a trace of him in the world that he hasnβt left purposefully. Even if Gojo chokes him with his hands bare hands - he wouldnβt be touching him. But Gojo can feel it. Feel his pulse, feel his breathing come down slowly.
If thereβs such a thing as heaven or hell, Gojo wants to ask God about being homicidal. If it was a flaw of human design or their Lord reflected inside of them.Β
He lies in wait on top of the roof until 7.Β
When 7 hits, the world around him is still so dark. No one kills in broad daylight. The heavens are murky, sky full of black clouds like puffs of smoke. Itβs freezing cold, a spine-tingling chill making its way up Gojoβs skin and hardening his hands. . Gojo waits for the doors of the garage to creak open. When the sound echoes into the air, a metal screech in the void, Gojo stands to his feet.Β
He jumps to the ground, landing with a dull thud. He comes out unscathed, a cat on his feet. He dusts off the front of his pants. Nobu hasnβt taken notice of him. Gojo takes a look around them. Thereβs no cameras in the warehouse. Gojo waits alone in the dark.Β
Five minutes. Itβs five minutes when all of the lights go out.Β
βWhat the fuck?β Nobu mumbles, dropping his clipboard on top of a bunch of boxes, running a hand through his hair. Gojo waits in silence, watches as he turns around.Β
When he finally does, he jumps back in shock. Gojo feels a cold chill run through his body.Β
βWhat the fuck? Who the hell are you?β Nobu asks. Gojo grins.Β
βAh, you donβt remember? We met a few weeks ago! We had a nice little exchange and everything.β He says, voice going higher by an octave. The man in front of him stares, off put by Gojosβ presence. He stumbles in his thinking, his body tensing up.Β
βWho theβ¦what the fuck is going on?βΒ
βHey, donβt be so scared,β Gojo says, then uses his teleport to phase himself closer. Nobuβs eyes widen, shocked. Scared out of his wits, with the story of heartbeat like heβs being hunted. βTough guy like you has nothing to be scared of, does he?βΒ
βW-w-whatβ¦how did youβ¦βΒ
Gojo shakes his head.Β
βDonβt worry about it, man.β He says, voice calm and smooth and even. Heβs surprised by how his emotions feel in his body. Like heβs so angry that heβs not. Thereβs something inside of him, the white waters that wade, that Gojo can feel. Itβs strange βWeβve got about 5 minutes till the lights come back on.βΒ
For a while, they stand at a draw. No one moves. Not him, or Nobu, or the open oceans. Itβs quiet for a dock. Even quieter for a dock in Tokyo, and Gojoβs not even using his abilities. He probably wonβt need too, other than infinity - thereβs not any good reason for him to exert himself any more than he must.Β
Weeks of planning, weeks of watching, weeks of waiting. Nothing feels like it matters at the moment. He wants it to be over soon-ish.Β
Itβs not that Gojo is particularly sadistic.Β
Itβs just that, everything feels like itβs teetering over this very moment. He thinks it to himself quietly like someone trying to remember where they last left their keys.Β
Briefly, Gojo thinks βI canβt go back,β after this. In the back of his head he just knows.
He envies this aggravating strangers' ignorance, too.Β
βWhat do you want from me?β He says, stuttering - a gasping breath of fear in his lungs that snaps Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo shrugs.Β
βNothing, really. Iβm not short on money, you know? I make a good living,β He says, spouting off about nothing as he closes the gap between them. Stepping closer infinitely until Gojo backs him into the garage, into the tall tower of boxers where thereβs no cameras and no witnesses βHmβ¦is there anything you can do to fix this?βΒ
No, Gojo answers mostly to himself, But wouldnβt that be nice?Β
βP-please, I haveββΒ
βA son right? And an ex-wife, and a dead mom in Saitama. You didnβt think I came here without doing any research, did you? Weβre the same in that way you know, I might be a frivolous - but hell if Iβm not diligent,βΒ
He looks like heβs going to throw up. Gojo remains indifferent.Β
βWho are you?β He asks, this time really wondering. With that hoarse voice of curiosity, of defeat.
Gojo hums.
βGood question. Who do you think I am?β Gojo poses and lifts his hands up. He puts them around his neck, pushing hard until his back is against the stack of boxes. Itβs dark but Gojo can see everything. He keeps his open, tightening the grip of his hands slowly.Β
Nobu tries to spit something out but the words get sputtered, muffled by lack of oxygen.Β
βDo you think Iβm a devil? An angel? God? I wonder,β Gojo says, staring. With his mask on, but his eyes opened wide. βGuess Iβm kind of like a boogeyman,βΒ
Gojo can feel it. His body underneath his palms, gasping and struggling for air. He can feel his hands try to pry his hands off. He can feel his body slowly start to lose its air, how he deflates like a balloon. Gojo is unmoving, unfazed, unworried. Heβs near motionless except the hard grip of his hand on his neck and the pulse that slows gently under his palms.Β
It takes 5 minutes, maybe less, with all the strength in both his hands. Gojo isnβt counting. He holds on for maybe 2 minutes after that, just to make sure itβs not a fluke. He waits till the heart stops sounding in his ears and until the body is completely limp except for where Gojo is holding him away. He goes out sad. Useless, even.Β
When Gojo stops, Nobuβs body drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stares at it for a while, then sighs. Itβd be nice if he could just leave it there, but he does his due diligence. Picks it up from the ground with relative ease, over his shoulders.Β
He walks it out towards the dock - the very edge, before tossing it in water and watching it sink. When it disappears from his sight, Gojo is left with his reflection in the deep blue. He meets his eyes for the first time in weeks, and knows heβs seeing exactly what he thought he would.Β
His anger has settled, just barely. Just enough to be able to see the change in his own vision. With his Six Eyes, Gojo can see that thereβs no turning back.
Β With his mask on, he looks at himself, warped in the vision of the sea. The vision of himβcrystalline and white and blueβmurky and moving.Β
Gojo jumps to the roof and turns the light on again. The power comes back.Β
A dog barks distantly, over and over and over. Gojo watches the sun rise alone.Β
__
The following weeks pass without a hitch. Gojo feels like nothing has changed.Β
(But thatβs not true. Everything is different. The same but different)
At the two week mark, winter has set in and Gojo is spending time with you in your apartment together. Currently, youβre cooking dinner (after carefully instructing Gojo to stay put in the living room.) Gojo is sitting watching T.V. Heβs helping you grade papers at the coffee table, humming to himself.Β
Itβs about 7 when the news starts to play. A local news channel and a familiar face on the T.V. Gojo is surprised when the breaking news report airs.Β
βTwo weeks ago, a missing persons report was filed for ex-convict Nobu Watanbe. Sources say he was last seen working at a Dock in Tokyo - which experienced a power outage. Itβs reported that Nobu seemed to have gone missing at the time, and hasnβt made contact with anyone since then. Could this be the work of aβ¦βΒ
The rest of the reportΒ Gojo tunes out. He turns his head slightly to see if youβve noticed. Your eyes are glued to it., standing and staring silently. You place your spatula on a towel on the counter.
βWe got word about a week prior to this,β You say, breaking the silence after some time without Gojo prompting. He looks at you βAkio started coming with his mom again and she gave me the story. It wasnβt unusual for him to up and disappear, but he hadnβt done so since Akio was born,βΒ
βThat so?β Gojo says, nonplussed. You nod.Β
βI feel guilty but,β You trail off, rubbing your arm anxiously βI canβt help but beβ¦ relieved. Just a little. I donβt want the guy to be dead or anything, but it,βΒ
Gojo stops you in the middle of your sentence.Β
βYou donβt have anything you need to feel guilty about,β He corrects, voice stern. You give him a sad look but he remains firm in his stance βHe was harassing you for weeks. Itβs only natural that you feel relieved, you know?βΒ
Youβre not entirely content with the response, but you seem to know well enough this isnβt something Gojo will compromise on. You sigh, looking down at the floor.Β
βYeah. Thatβs true I guess, but still. I wonder what happened to him, or if he just decided to run away,βΒ
Gojo pretends to think about it.Β
βMaybe. Otherwiseβ¦guess it was Godβs divine punishment,β He says, continuing to grade papers. He doesnβt even look up as he says it. You let out a puff of air through your nose in amusement .Β
βYeah,β You say, βMaybe. I should thank him some time,β
Gojo hums.
βI donβt think thatβs a bad idea,βΒ
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Yandere who is physically weaker than the other men of his age, politically powerless, restricted by the social hierarchy and who has often been bullied are like a seath of a sword. They have tasted hatred, humiliation and death like no other. Fear has long left his bones, he is used to this crude treatment of fate; has grown comfortable actually.
But when this very man is subjected to certain acts of kindness, suddenly he is experiencing fear, fear of losing you, fear of not seeing you again, fear of the unknown; and to avoid that unknown fear he will cling on to his darling like a leech: manipulate people around him to get close to her, be always the victim to receive her kindness even if that meant facing hatred, humiliation and be an abomination; just anything to get comfortable with this newfound fear.
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algorithmic
pairing: xiao x afab!reader II 1.8k
disclaimer: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, dark content, yandere content, use of they/them pronouns, cyberpunk:edgerunners au, sci-fi, hacker!xiao, inappropriate use of ai (xiao), nonconsensual use of likeness, masturbation, handjob, blowjob, couch sex, impact play. Creampie, momentary foursome (if youβve seen the anime, you know what Iβm talking about), stalking, invasion of privacy, nonconsensual voyeruism,Β rough sex, biting, descriptions of vagina, unedited
synopsis: when you joined the yaksha gang after stealing the sandevistan upgrade, xiao finds himself falling harder and harder for you until heβs completely obsessed. To statiate his obsession, he creates an algorithm to help him experiences situations he can only dream of doing with you.
WΗnshang Cityβnight lights shining for the very rich at the upper towers reaching for the heavens while the smog and sin consume the poor who couldnβt fathom reaching their hands that high. Xiao had seen glimpses of both in some sense.
He had a comfortable apartment, not at the highest towers but somewhere near but away from the slums he grew up in. As a kid, he was always talented when it came to programming, hacking and netrunning. His new lifestyle was funded by unsavory methods working with a gang known as the Yakshas. Led by Bosacius, they got gigs from an unknown sponsor. It unsettled him but Indarias and Menogias swore it was fine.Β
He didnβt feel bad the blood he knew that was on his hands or the blackmail he gathered against Celesti-corp. Xiao knew to keep his head down and do what he was told and he would live a comfortable life for the days he had left unless a gig went wrongβbut he didnβt fear death either.
He did fear you though.
There was something about your eyes, and determined face that made Xiaoβs heart palpitate tightly in his chest. His cheeks grew flushed as he furrowed his brow.
You had come under the Yakshasβ radar after you managed to steal a military grade Sandevistan implant that Bosacius was supposed to get. Even when the group insisted on stealing it and even killing you for the upgrade, he uncharacteristically chimed up saying you could fill in Pervases old role as a Solo, just helping them run schemes with your Sandevistan implant that made you faster than human comprehension.Β
As Bosacius hesitantly agreed, demanding Xiao become your βbabysitterβ, he could feel that fear begin to shake at him. The fear of how quickly and innocent you had wormed your way into his heart.
Spending time, going on runs, Xiao felt himself falling harder and harder for you but struggling and choking on words on how to go about it. Even as he closes his eyes, he can see your image laughing with him in a simulation he programmed on the moon.
He scoured through any bit of information he could on you: discovering you were a college dropout after getting into a fight with a classmate, living in the slums your whole life, you losing your best friend in a highway accident due to an egotistical executive not paying attention to the road.Β
Anything. Pictures, videos, your social media, your address, he knew everything he could about you.
It was like a sickness, a virus that infected his mind; always thinking about that genuine smile and laughs you gift him with.Β
God, how much he would love for those lips to wrap themselves around his cock.Β
Xiao snapped his eyes open, downing the rest of his drink and placing it in the kitchen skin. He could feel his cock beginning to strain his sweatpants. He leaves the kitchen, cupping his appearing bulge with a soft sigh before finally reaching his bedroom. He closes the door, quickly taking his shirt offβrevealing the various tattoos and upgrades he has along his torso.Β
He grabbed a hair tie, pulling his hair up in a small ponytail and shivering from the change of temperature on his now revealed neurolink port. His hands grab the waist of his pants, slowly pulling the bunched fabric down along with his boxers. Xiaoβs cock springs up, trembling and flushed.Β
He crept his hand up, gently clasping on it as a whine emitted from him causing his cheeks to flush harder. He dragged his thumb to his tip, feeling the moisture of his budding pre-cum coat the pad of it. He jerked along his member a few times before letting himself go as he walked over to his nightstand drawer and rummaged, grabbing two things: a bottle of lube, and a masturbator port.Β
Throwing the port on the bed, he squeezed lube into his other hand and clasped his throbbing cock once more, pumping it slightly faster and completely coating it in the translucent, thick liquid. Goosebumps began rising in the few places that donβt have upgrades at, the coolness of the lube adding to his sensitivity.
He lets himself go once more, grabbing his VR headset and throwing it on the bed before he joins. As he rests his head on the pillow, he grabs the masturbator port lining it up to his cock and sank down, velvety and gummy walls of the toy clamping down when it sensed he had bottomed out.Β
βIβll see you soonβ¦β he muttered, putting on his VR headset and closing his eyes. As his consciousness finally adjusted to the simulation.
As Xiao opened his eyes, he saw you in front of himβeyes half-lidded guiding your finger along his lower abdomen. He was fully nude already along with you, seemingly on the couches of the yakshaβs headquarters.
You pressed your lips on his chest, leaning back up and flashing a not-so-innocent smile at him.
βAww, Xiao. You always treat me so wellβ¦itβs time I pay the favor back,β you cooed, leaning into his ear. βIβll let you do whatever you want to me, anything.β
βAnything. You should be careful with those words, you know. You better not tell anyone else things like that,β he grunted. You pouted, pressing your lips against his tanned nipple, darting your tongue out and letting it swirl around the bud. Your hand drifted up, grabbing tightly on Xiaoβs cock, beginning to slowly pump himβhe could feel the machine beginning to suck down and milk his cock.
βNo one but you Xiao. There is no one but you. But donβt worry, Iβll remind you over and over again, just like this,β you cooed. A moan escaped from Xiaoβs lips and his hips bucked, feeling you jerk him tighter. His eyes settle at your chest before reaching his hand out to squeeze tightly, furrowing his eyebrows.
βIs this how they really feelβ¦is this what they really look like?β he asked himself, resisting the urge to sigh. His thumbs roll over your nipples before pinching them as you yelp. You stop pumping his cock before slowly falling to your knees, kissing along the base of his cock until you reach the tip.Β
βYou still seem so tense today Xiao. Relax, let me help you!~β you cooed. You opened your mouth, taking him inside of you. He watched as you gagged, trying to adjust to his length before sucking sharply and kneading the area you couldnβt fit in your mouth. Watching your bobbing your head, Xiao digs his nails into his thigh. When he looks up, he is shocked when he looks up at another, glitchy version of you gazing beside him.Β
This version played with your puffy folds before rubbing along your clit, moaning his name repeatedly. His eyes zeroed in at your slick oozing out of you, strings of it connecting to both of your soft thighs. Just as he looked away again, another glitchy version of you appeared legs lifted high showing off the dildo you were pushing inside of yourselfβalso moaning out his name.
Overwhelmed, Xiao looked down at the first version of you, still sucking his cock as his hips began to buck once more. Shutting his eyes tight and clenching his jaw, Xiao unraveled himself pressing your head down further on his cock as globs of his cum shot into your mouth. You struggled to swallow all of it, taking a few gulps as some managed to slip down your lips and chin, staining the title floor with his shame.Β
The glitched versions of you disappear as he left your mouth with a pop. Adjusting your body so your ass was in the air. He pressed his hand down on your head, into the leather of the couchβcock-drunk smile on your lips as he guided his tip along your slit.
He grunted sliding it back and forth, trying to slip in and missed before nudging against your clit. You whined, shaking your hips together as Xiao clicked his tongue in frustration. Xiaoβs pace is relentless as he plunges his cock into you. The sound of slapping skin echoed throughout the room, vibrations from his pace rippling through your ass.Β
βXiao! Xiao! Fuck, harder! Even harder, please!!β you beg out, only causing his frustrations bubbling.
βThey wouldnβt say it like that!β he growled, feeling them clamp tighter against him. He leans down brushing his canines along their shoulder and roughly bit down, digging his nails to their waist.
βMore, more, more, more! I need more. I need all of you. I need it. I need you,β he hissed out. He could tell the copy of you said something back along with the line of βI love youβ but it was distorted, causing tears to begin to develop in Xiaoβs eyes. His fantasy was crumbling down, this thing he was fucking was merely a cold, fake copy of you.
Xiaoβs hips halted, as a grunt escaped himself as his second high of the night overtook him. Thick ropes of cum spurted deeply inside of the copy, before Xiao abruptly slid out and slapped their clit as they whined. The copy hummed while a small river emerged from their hole, dripping out and along their thighs.
βYβknow I still wanted you inside of meββ
βI still have to play with the programming if I want to protect it. Maybe make an algorithm to see how they properly would respond to these situations based on interactions I had with them,β Xiao muttered, ignoring them. βAll the errors and the glitching is proof this isnβt ready yet.β
Xiaoβs vision went black before he ripped the VR set off of him, revealing his bedroomβalone, with you nowhere near him. Sweat clung onto his forehead, bangs sticking to it as his eyes focused on the masturbator; never truly inside of you as he wished.
βTck, pathetic,β he grunted. He slid the contraption off, throwing it to the side and grimacing at the cum clinging on his softening cock. Throwing his head back to the pillow and looking at the ceiling, Xiao sighed.
He doesnβt know how much longer he can go with just having you with his programming.Β
He clicked his tongue, getting up from his bed and moving to his desk determined briefly to recode his pathetic algorithm but his eyes drifted to the spyware he had. Xiao clicked it, revealing your form. You were in minimal clothing, trying to deal with the hot summerβs night without air conditioning lounging in your bed and scrolling on your phone.
A rare soft smile fell on Xiaoβs lips, before it darkened, noticing your hands beginning to wander beneath your pants.
It seems he may have the means to upgrade his algorithm with your true responses after all.
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cw: yandere!fyodor, he treats you kinda like a doll, slapping, religious themes, daddy kink, hard/mean dom!fyodor
yandere!fyodor who really treats you more like a pet than a lover. sure, it started off normally, with him courting you, taking you on nice dates, whatever you wanted to do.
now, though, itβs different. ever since you moved in with him, fyodor had been subtly switching his demeanor around you. from encouraging you to quit your job because he could handle everything, darling, to making letting you stay home from any and all events.
you hadnβt even realized the changes were happening. you were so swept up in your love for fyodor that the alarm bells had been silenced, just as heβd planned.
even when heβs fucking you, he really sees you as more of a toy. a pretty little doll that he can pull his pleasure from.
βoh, youβre just so pretty for me, arenβt you, doll?β he asks, lithe fingers pinching and pulling the thin fabric heβs dressed you in.
a soft, flowy white lingerie set that, of course, heβd bought just for you. he just adores you in whiteβyou are, after all, oh so innocent.
you melt under his affections, your cheeks growing warm and your brain utterly dulled from the danger you were truly in. instead, your heart just flutters and your pussy gets wetter.
fyodor dips his fingers between your legs before licking your arousal off of them.
βso wet for me, babydoll. yβthat needy for my cock? just need to be stuffed to be happy, donβt you?β
you nod at him eagerly before he gives his command to βlay down then.β
you comply, of course, your mind knowing no other course of action than to be good for him. oh, heβs trained you so well.
the thought makes his chest puff with pride as he pulls his cock out, already hardened just from seeing you submit to him so easily.
βsuch a perfect pussy, princess. gonna stuff it so full, just like she wants,β he groans against your ear.
you whimper out a desperate, βplease.β
βplease, what?β he prompts, rubbing his dick through your soft folds.
βp-please, daddy,β you manage to get out, desperate tears pooling in your eyes.
he swipes away the first tear as it falls, βaw, no need to cry, my dear. you know iβll always take care of you and that princess cunt, donβt you? donβt i always take good care of my little girl? keep you safe, keep you happy, keep you full,β he punctuates the last word by pressing his length into you, forcing a cry from your lips.
βohh- thank you daddy, oh my god,β you cry.
your plea earns you a sharp smack on the mouth, βah ah. you know better than to use our lordβs name in vain. guess daddyβs going to have to punish you for that, hm?β
βah!β you moan, βah- βm sorry, βm sorry, please donβt punish me!β
βiβll have mercy on you, just this once, darling. but itβd do you well to watch that mouth of yours,β he replies sternly, rutting his hips against yours, stretching you even more.
he thrusts into you relentlessly, pulling every single moan and sob out of your body. at some point you go limp beneath him, but that does nothing to deter his desire, his need, for you and your tight cunt.
he reaches a hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, and thatβs the only warning you get before heβs coming deep into your womb, pumping you full of his warm seed before even a drop can spill out.
eventually his thrusts still, but he keeps his cock stuffed inside your pussy, keeping his baby full, just like he promised.
he lets you fall asleep like that, holding you tight against his chest, savoring what is undeniably his.
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Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1
Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. π₯
Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader
Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist
Word Count: 2679
Ao3 Link
Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.
Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)
A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience π
Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader π
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
I should just leave. Heβll just tell me the same things. Itβs a waste of time.Β
You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body.Β
The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.
βHello, howβs your day going?β
A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard.Β
βI-Iβm well thanks. Howβ¦β
βGood! Itβs always nice when the captain can help people. Heβs the best! Just fill that out, and heβll be with you soon.β
Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.
βRate your pain from 1-10.β
How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain Iβm in on any given day?
βCircle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.β
I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.
βList your diagnoses, and family medical history.β
I donβt have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. Youβre the one whoβs supposed to figure this out!
You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously.Β
This new doctor. βThe Surgeon of Death.β A fucking pirate.Β
But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of βmiracles,β that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone.Β
Please fix me.
This was it. You couldnβt take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.
βMiss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,β the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.
He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like youβd entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon.Β
As long as he can fix meβ¦
βHere you are,β Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. βYouβre in great hands.β
Hands.Β
Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room.Β
Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down.Β
Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word βdeath,β spelled out across both sets of those fingers.Β
The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized heβd been speaking to you.Β
As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.
Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes.Β
βMay I look at your form, miss?β
βOh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. βIβm Y/N.β
βDr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.β
Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table.Β
He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking.Β
βStand up, please,β he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand.Β
βOh, sorry. I thought you saidββ
βWalk to the corner, and sit back down, please.β
His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen.Β
But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately.Β
βWhy are you favoring that hip?β
βOh, itβ¦βΒ
Hereβs where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.
βSometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I canβt put any weight on it.β
He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when youβd never been injured before.Β
βAnd your right knee?β
βOh, itβs not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But itβs not as bad as it used to be.β
βDid you sustain any injuries?β
βN-No. None that I can recall.β
His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.
Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.
βYouβve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?β
His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. Heβd sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.
βTheyβve been acting up recently. They often feelβ¦ loose. Thatβs how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, itβs just incredibly painful. And then itβs weak, and I can barely hold anything.β
βWhat are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?β
He was impossible to read. But you couldnβt lie. He wouldnβt be able to help you if you lied.
βUm, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.β
βDid you used to have longer hair?β
βWhat?β
βDo you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?β
βOh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.β
βI imagine youβve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.βΒ
Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment.Β
βIf you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.β
βOkay.β
The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside.Β
He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.
βNow, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as youβ hm.β
Your palms were flat on the ground, just as theyβd always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to.Β
βDoctor?β
βYou can take a seat.β
Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement.Β
He stood, towering over you as he came close.
βFor this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?β
βI do,β you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.
βDo you consent to me touching you?β
His voice came out softer once again, and you couldnβt hold in a shiver as you consented.
Those fingersβ¦
His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you.Β
βI imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,β he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders.Β
The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.
βIt has.β
βIβm sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.β
You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.
βCan you keep still for me,β he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.
βJust relax,β the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when youβd opened your burning eyes.
βIβm sorry, docββ
βNo need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. Itβs all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.β
His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.
βThank you, doctor.β
βPlease, call me Law.β
He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him.Β
βDo you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?β
βI mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. Theyβre supportive.β
He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.
βIβm going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.β
βOkay,β you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good.Β
βHow does that feel, Y/N?β
βFine.β
He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises.Β
βHowβs this?β
βFine.β
He hadnβt gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay.Β
βYou said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?β
βOh, uh,β you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion heβd started as he pushed you even further.
βThey help me whenβ¦ They help me when Iβm having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.β
βHowβs this?β
βStill fine.β
βYou can go further?β
βYeah, I canβ,β you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did.Β
βIβll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?β
βPerfect,β he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit.Β
βThat is quite the range of motion,β he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. βMay I?β
He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.
βYou said that they help you on bad days, is that right?β
Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.
βYes, they do.β
His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax.Β
βBut Y/N, from what Iβve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Arenβt they?β
βIβ¦β
βAll these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain youβre in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?β
Heβd pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him.Β
βWhy are youββ
βI need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.β
His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.
Heβs the only person thatβs ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, heβs a doctor. A doctor that believes me.
Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.
βDo they believe you?β
βI think,β you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, βI think they try to believe me. They justβ¦ They donβt know what itβs like. They donβt understand.β
βHowβs this?β
βItβs fine.β
βAlright, last push.β
Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.
βDoes this hurt, Y/N,β he rasped, his breath warming your face.Β
βNo.β
He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.
βI believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why youβve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.β
βCan you fix it?β
Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions.Β
βI believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications youβve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.β
βYou can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?β
You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.
βIβm sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,β he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. βConnective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.β
A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that youβd fought so hard to fix.
That can never be fixed.
The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.
βIt may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You donβt need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. Iβll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?β
There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight youβd carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.
βI trust you, Doctor.β
βPlease. Y/N,β he hummed, releasing your hand, βcall me, Law.β
Likes and reblogs bring me much β¨dopamineβ¨ thank you so much!
a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system π
Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel
Part 2
| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |
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Hi! I love reading your story's, can I request a yandere Hannibal x fem reader please?ππ
Itβs not surprising that Hannibal plays the long game but Hannibal also makes the game.Β
It was easy for him to set up the game, almost laughably easy. He was a renowned therapist who helps police on cases, strong, smart, made a name for himself- a good name. Your parents didnβt even have a chance to have doubts when he came to ask for your hand in marriage. If anything your parents were elated, over the moon that you, the black sheep of the family, had the eye of a man like Hannibal. They practically threw poor little you to into his hands.Β
One thing Hannibal likes is politeness, manners, and no matter when or how Hannibal had meet you he was struck with the need to understand you, figure you out and not in his usual killing urge type of way. After a few months or even years of following you around he finally realises what it is, love.Β
Does he really think its love? Not really, its something deeper, more sinister than love. He would rip apart anyone that would try to hurt you, he wants to keep you safe with such feral intensity itβs not sane. But he himself canβt even breathe at the thought of hurting you himself either so he chalks it up with a simple word. Love.Β
He should have seen it coming, really he shouldβve since he had been watching and βprotectingβ you for so long, but heβs still struck shocked when you fight back your holy matrimony with such pettiness and sass. You couldnβt stop your parents from practically forcing you to agree to marry him, getting dressed up in a dress you didnβt really care about, everything too grand and nothing like what the little girl in you envisioned. So, in retaliation you tried everything to get him to re-think his decision, anything to get him to divorce you, even if it meant being a sassy brat. Turning your nose up at his delicious food just to piss him off, doing little things you knew he hated just to push his buttons.
Itβs cute, he thinks, really cute that you think being a brat would stop his heart from yearning for you so much his physically body aches being away from you. But you arenβt a brat, are you? Your just pretending because your sick of your parents stupid pressuring expectations, hating how they dictated every little thing in your life and now your βlifeβ partner.Β
Every time you push and shove and take bits and pieces of his sanity it just fuels his obsession for you, every time he feels himself get frustrated or irritated it just makes him more head over heels over you. Staring at you with hearts practically in his eyes as you make his blood boil, he takes everything in stride. With a polite smile on his lips and insanity in his heart eyes.Β
But he does feel bad, really he does, he feels bad that you have terrible no good rotten parents who are ready throw you to the wolves once they get their greed filled, or bad enough for a man who feels no remorse or guilt. Maybe its pity, he thinks, like how one looks at a wounded animal. But he could never see you at a level as an animal, no matter how adorably cute you are. Maybe a goddess then, a fallen goddess, he worships you as if youβre a goddess anyways, taking your sass and anger as some sort of twisted love from a holier being.Β
He canβt help the feeling of amusement that bubbles up when he seeβs you try to be a brat, but the manners engraved into your very soul peek out, like your body and mind are fighting on your decision to pretend to be mean when your really such a sweet nice darling.Β
The little βpleaseβ and βthank youβ that come out when you demand something from him or the sweet little βno thank youβ that you give him when you pretend to glare at him with faux hatred in your eyes, because you didnβt really hate him. How could you? He was unbelievably sweet and attentive, picking up on the little things you didnβt even know about yourself until he picks up on it. He was the best husband anyone could ask for, in and out, even if he could be a little serious, cold and calculative at times. Hannibal shields you from everyone, including your parents, shutting them down so quickly and efficiently when they start their bullshit of bringing you down it seems natural.Β
And one day your fake anger towards him slips, your tipsy on alcohol and his love, its all consuming but it feels oddly soothing, like cool balm on an open wound. You stumble and almost trip, but his arms are already there to catch you, ready to do anything to keep you safe and without thinking you lean up and press a soft, albeit clumsy, kiss on his lips.Β
Something in Hannibal snaps. The kiss, as quick and fleeting as it was felt like heaven. Like he was reborn, like for once in his life he could finally breathe.
You gave this dirty, blood-stained sinner a slice of heaven and now heβs your most devoted worshiper at your alter. For better, or for worse.Β
~~
Hannibal has you pressed in a mean mating press, one of your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. The thin handmade anklet he got you for your wedding present, dainty and small, designed from start to finish by him with a little βHβ dangling on it chimes in his ear and makes his head spin.Β
βI- god- I love you so much.β He groans out, sweat clinging to his brow as his messy blonde hair sticks to his skin. βGoddess." He murmurs into your skin, pressing his lips against your ankle, kissing all the way up to the side of your knee as he saours the way your skin feels on his lips. Pulling back he licks your sweat that smeared on his lips and he smirks.Β
Β His pupils are wide and blown as he gazes down at you with so much love and tenderness it hurts. Sweat clung to his muscular frame as he threw his head back, groaning so low you feel it in your tummy.
Your in worse shape than him, yourpractically writhing under him, not able to escape the torturous pleasure as he puts all his weight down onto you. As sweaty if not more than him, twisting and bucking and shaking, hair messed and sprawled out on the bed beneath you, eye brows knitted. Your breath being selfishly stolen by him as he takes and takes, gasps the only thing able to leaven you as well as broken keens and whimpers. You had long stopped trying to muffle your embarrassingly lewd noises, he had practically growled at you to let them out, not letting you hide anything from him.Β
Sparks zing up your spine as he hits deep and a wail leaves you, your hand coming to push at his lower stomach, nails scratching over his muscles. Hannibal moans and his eyes roll at the feeling, quickly snatching your hand he slams it softly next to your head. His fingers entwining with his as he locks them together.Β
Long deep slow strokes makes your brain melt out of your ears, brain gone all fuzzy as you get addicted to him and his touch.Β
βTake it sweetheart, I know you can.β His breath hitches as he forces your thighs open wider to accommodate him, he looms over your more and the change of position makes you cry out. βLet me worship you my goddess, your mine, all mine.βΒ
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Woo wee thats finally done! I hope my first proper attempt at smut was ok
I think there was another ask for Hannibal but it was H/C's, I'LL GET TO YOU MY LOVELY I PROMISE π
Im trying to get back into writing but its hard, im sorry but I will get to you all. Some might be before others just because some things kick start my writing process π₯Ί But please keep sending requests I love the ideas and support even if it takes me a bit to get to them. Hope you enjoy lovelies.
~Mwah β‘
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Okay so Iβve loved your papa Balerion but what about protective Cannibal? π
See... I absolutely love the Cannibal. He's my second favorite dragon (first being Vhagar). Like, he completely rejects the Targaryen family, and never (in canon) had a rider. He's very much a wild dragon, and I love him for that.
However, if we're talking about bastard! (Name) and Cannibal, I can see them connecting very well. Neither of them wants anything to do with the Targaryen's, and both are sort of pessimistic about life, at least to a certain extent. The Cannibal's bond with bastard! (Name) is much different from Balerion's, though.
Balerion is pretty old, and his temperament is pretty mellow, considering his war days are over. The Cannibal, however, is very violent towards anyone other than his little rider. He doesn't like people, and he likes the Targaryen's even less. I love how dragons and their riders are connected emotionally, so he can basically feel the resentment (Name) has for Daemon, and he's always on the verse of killing Daemon due to feeling her emotions.
The Cannibal is extremely protective, though. (Name) is absolutely invincible once she bonds with him because he's so terrifying, and no one is willing to become his next meal. That being said, (Name)'s life would be easy once she bonded with her beloved dragon. She doesn't have to worry about much, except for keeping him distanced away from the other dragons on Dragonstone.
Bastard! (Name) isn't a huge fan of Daemon and Rhaenyra, but I imagine that she'd become close with the other children, particularly Luke and Rhaena.
She doesn't want Cannibal to eat their dragons, and potentially kill her 'siblings', so she keeps him on a small island located near Dragonstone. She spends a lot of time there doing some upkeep on her dragon. Since Cannibal had been a wild dragon for so long his scales and skin would be a little out of shape. (Name) enjoys cleaning his horns and scales, and he likes it as well.
They have spa days together!
my favorite dragons in order: Vhagar, Cannibal, Rhaegal, Viserion, Drogon, Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, Caraxes, Balerion, Meraxes, Meleys, and Syrax
taglist -> @your-favorite-god @apollonshootafar
I was a little drunk writing this so if it's bad you guys know why <3
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Would Temothy like it if his darling dressed up in one of those sexy cow print undies? Complete with horns and a tail and thigh highs of course x3
γFeaturing your Yandere Assistant paying your office a nightly visitγ
βββββ-;ββββββ
Cw: MDNI πFem!reader, Temothy going feral, mentions of breeding, impregnation, very suggestive
βββββ-;ββββββ
It all started with you wanting to reward your devoted lover and Assistant. For always giving his all in producing the best results for the company. But it soon ended with you fearing for your capability to walk. Since the Bull hybrid who was trying his hardest to persuade you to let him inside you Your office.
Temothy can hardly stand it any longer - the bullβs desire for his darling boss wearing sexy cow print lingerie. Alongside the signature cow ear headband and cowbell that was dangling from the cute choker around their neck. Sent his head spinning and his balls itching to be emptied out in that sweet womb of yours.
Temothy: βMy dear please open the door! I promise I wonβt fuck you till my balls are emptyβshit! That slipped out. Sorry, what I meant wasβ¦β
Your Assistant was trying and failing to convince you to open the door after nearly going feral. In trying to quite literally snatch you up and fuck you senseless on sight. Right then and there on top of your pristine desk. After catching a glimpse of your provocative choice in attire. By chance of walking in on you changing within the safety of your office after closing hours.
Y/n: βTem I heard that! Iβm sorry but I canβt open the door and risk having my office in complete shambles cuz of youβ
Temothy nearly growled at your soft rejection as he had the insatiable urge to bully his heavy cock. That was leaking copious amounts of pre within his slacks within your velvety walls. The more you kept him away from your delectable form. The more his shaft was hardening in anticipation and need. To sink his meat deep inside your walls and knock you up with his calves. Despite his best attempts at trying to contain himself by gnawing on his bovine tail. But Your Assistant couldnβt conceal how much he looked like a bull thatβs about to go rogue from seeing the color red.
The bull hybrid was quite literally hanging on his last thread of common sense before he crashes out. And turns into a polar opposite of himself that was a savage beast. Who wants nothing more than to satiate his needs than that of his sweet little cowgirl. So by total accident he broke the door off its hinges and glowered down at you with wide eyes. A big hungry expression on his face as he completely lost his mind. With you being the sole one to blame for his loss of composure.
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Thank you @spacecampauthor for this commission.
Commission description: Fic of having sex with Yves on that rare occasion? But from his point of view
(2319 words)
tw: smut, non-consensual drugging, dub con, gender of the reader isn't specified but Yves is doing the penetrating
Yves started the session off by slowly lowering you onto the bed. You were under the influence of something Yves slipped into your drink earlier, but you consented to have sex with him when you're sober. He's only drugging you just to elevate the experience, it isn't out of malice, it was out of pure love. At least, to Yves. As always, you're excited and a tad anxious, trembling to his touch but receptive to his affection.
He gently ran his slender fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, soothing you enough to stop shaking so much. He utilized the other hand to cool your warming cheeks, his skin is always smooth and cold to the touch like an ice block. It was a nice feeling, coupled with the perfect ambiance in the room, where it wasn't too dark nor bright, within the Goldilocks zone in every way.
The soft, comforting blanket that is draped over Yves, who is now straddling your hips and gazing at you oh so lovingly, grazed over your skin. Yves's green eyes took in every curve of your nose and lips, having his fingers sensually trace over them. Another hand caressed you from the side of your cheek, down to the base of your neck. Gradually, he tucked his digits under the neckline of the thin shirt you're already wearing. Yves is careful in his movements, ensuring that you will be adequately acclimatized and nothing will come as a shock to you.
"Are you enjoying yourself, my love?" He whispered, feeling his heart skip a beat when you nodded at him and stared with half-lidded eyes. You are so sweet, always such a darling to him.
Yves chuckled, bending down to press a kiss on your forehead. Then, another between your eyes. Then, the tip of your nose, your eyelids, and finally on the lips. He moved so tenderly, softly pressing his supple lips against yours. They slide against each other pleasantly and in a rhythm that you can keep up with. Yves had always loved how you taste, there is a distinct flavor to yours that he knew, and could infer if you were healthy or not.
His fingers are now intertwined with yours while his body pleasantly compresses your own.
Eventually, he pulled away to admire the love of his life beneath him, caged between his arms. Your face is flushed and you tend to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment. Yves lets you squirm a bit before speaking again.
"Would you like to keep your shirt on?" He held you by the chin, stroking it with his thumb. Yves had asked that question as he knew you have always been insecure about your body, and he didn't want you to feel pressured into giving in to his whims. You don't need to be fully naked anyway, only the genitals need to be unclothed for this ceremony to proceed.
Remember, he may be the dominant one; the one who directs the flow of the moment but he isn't a master nor an owner. Ironic, given that he has drugged you without your knowledge or consent. But Yves chooses not to dwell too much on that, instead believing that he has done nothing wrong and is merely elevating the experience.
You're unsure if you should. So you didn't give him a nod or a shake of the head, no verbal confirmation either. Yves simply smiled, leaving your shirt alone, and dove back into flutter kisses along your jaw.
A hand slid down to your bare hips while touching all the hidden pleasure points along the way, Yves had your anatomy memorized as if it were its own.
Your hands absentmindedly fiddled with his hair like a toy, twirling around your fingers and watching it glide through like water. This too gave him fulfilment.
"Shall I proceed?" He asked in a tone that relays no urgency, positioning himself against your entrance. He had ensured to prepare himself with enough lube, Yves wanted nothing but your satisfaction and enjoyment, none of the pain.
You feverishly nodded, wanting to put an end to your growing arousal with a climax. He responded by encasing your lips into a passionate kiss. Yves didn't stop his sultry fondling on your hair and neck, each touch melting you further into a pool of respite. He does this to allow yourself to loosen up for him and distract you from his penetration; which usually causes at least a twinge of discomfort.
You let out a muffled whine when he finally entered you, writhing a bit in his hold. He had felt your heartbeat becoming erratic, which is a normal response at the start of every session. Oddly, though, it kicked in half a minute earlier than usual. Yves released the kiss to hush you, further calming you with his words after: "Shh⦠It's alright. Breathe in for me, dear."
You took a deep breath at his request and held it until. "Exhale." While you were heeding his instructions, he had his hands cupping the sides of your face, tidying messy strands away from it. But actually, he was discretely monitoring your pulse. Yves refused to go any further until you settled down enough through the use of his breathing exercises, feeling the warmth and slickness around his member twitching in desire and excitement.
"Very good." He purred, rocking his hips against yours in largo. Your breath hitched when he managed to hit your sweet spots relatively quickly, angling himself to be the most efficient, but ensuring that you would last for at least half an hour before you orgasm. Yves drank in all your adorable little expressions and mewls, he cherishes how your nose would wrinkle whenever you felt a powerful pulse of sexual gratification wash over.
Erotic squelching was very audible to both of you, making your face warmer by the second. But Yves isn't too concerned about the suggestive sounds, he's too engrossed in hearing you whimper, the inflections and incidence of it. "You're doing well, my beloved. Do you know that?" Yves wiped the drool away from the corner of your mouth using his thumb, and the other one massaged your shoulder, smoothing any knots or tension that may have arisen from this exhilarating moment.
You locked your legs around his torso, squeezing it with your thighs as you struggled with your soon-to-be rapture. He bent down to peck you on the forehead again, his hair brushing against your cheeks and tickling them. "Relax your legs for me."
You tried to control your breathing as you loosened your grip, following his orders is always worth it to see such a proud smile on his beautiful face. "My sweet, obedient little spouse. You always listen to me so well." cooed Yves as he thrust himself into you, a bit stronger now, but it's still considered extremely gentle and loving; just like everything he does for you. The room gradually feels unreal, it's as if the bed that you're making love with Yves on is sleepily floating away in an ocean, and the fragrant smell of Yves's shampoo gives a strange yet deliciously sweet taste on your tongue.
You brought your hands up, you're unsure what you wanted to do with it in your drug-induced stupor but you had instinctually made this decision. Perhaps the flawless of his porcelain skin is drawing your fingertips to touch it. Before you could do that, Yves brought his lips to it and gave you numerous kisses on them. All this while, he had kept pumping into you at a consistent pace and force, neither he nor you are fans of change.
"I am so proud of you." He whispered, re-intertwining his fingers with yours again. Odd how it felt like you were touching something fluid on your palms that sent electricity through your nerves. "You have strived hard to achieve your goals, and I have been witnessing every step of the way," Yves murmured against the back of your hand.
"I saw it. I saw how you pushed yourself and tried your best." He continued, draping your arms around his neck as he leaned back down to kiss you along your jaw. "You were nothing but diligent, persistent, and wonderful. It breaks my heart to hear you criticize yourself for not doing enough. Why do you torment yourself so? When you gave it your all and made numerous sacrifices? When you have only impressed me beyond belief with your efforts?"
The mattress dips each time he rolls his hips in deeper, only then, do you realize how fluffy the bedding was. It's so kind towards your body and you appreciate it very much. You blinked, swearing to yourself that you saw Yves glowing as he looked at you with eyes filled with worship and reverence. He had showered you with tenderness, tangling his manicured fingers in your strands.
"You were made the way you are, and I love everything about you," Yves spoke up again, seeing that the blanket was slipping off the two of you, he swiftly brought it back to conceal what he didn't want you or himself to focus on. "Even that you saw as flaws, your shortcomings⦠they are all so precious to me. Good, bad, and any in between, I love them all. I love you. And you only."
Yves went on to nip the shell of your ear. "You are beautiful." He breathed. "Simply radiant in all there is. Your kindness shines through you, and your vast intelligence allows you to flourish with your unwavering authenticity. All it took for you to reveal the full goodness of humanity, was a singular, lovely smile." He tickled you under your chin, causing you to laugh and squirm. Yves chuckled and pressed a few more kisses all over your face. "Thank you, my love. For bestowing me the gift of witnessing such a blessing today, I look forward to receiving more glimpses into your gorgeous soul."
"I cherish your loyalty, not only towards me but to what you stand for. Even if you are afraid to express yourself genuinely, you do so with great courage. It's such a shame, I cannot keep such a miracle to myself. I can only be eternally grateful to be in your presence." Yves pressed your forehead against his and continued his gentle thrusting. He nuzzled his nose against yours playfully, "You have a heart made of the purest of golds. And I want you to know that."
Yves ended his sweet nothings for now with a long, deep kiss on the lips. His hands are tenderly rubbing all over you, likewise with yours on him. The night went on, but you appeared to have forgotten what you and he were doing, you knew it was very intimate and vaguely embarrassing, but you were too captivated by Yves's words of affirmation and sweetly innocent touches. The colors are getting more and more vibrant as time passes by. It's marvelous to witness, you felt like you're floating and unburdened. Just how Yves wanted you to be, before your ultimate reward. The air, which is neither too hot nor cold felt nice on your skin. You felt extremely secure under him as he worked his magic and strange shapes and hues flew past your vision when you closed your eyes.
"You make me the happiest man alive, and I will depart from his realm with a smile, knowing that I had the pleasure of meeting you."
His voice had a bit of a waver as he was also getting close to his own orgasm, but you were too entangled in your untouchable heaven to notice or care. You're simply enjoying the ride Yves is taking you on, a ride full of exciting yet relaxing sensations.
"I love you."
Those were his last words before it was drowned out by your deafening moan, body convulsing in ecstasy and digits curling in euphoria. A soft gasp escaped Yves's moist lips as he too, had a chance to experience his own state of exaltation. His breathing became much more labored than usual as he tried his best to control his involuntary bodily reactions to you. But you just have this effect on him that bypasses his rigid grip on his functions. He too, shivered as he was milked of every single drop, his fingers were quivering as he felt the waves finally reach them.
You felt the extreme pleasure pulsate throughout your form, radiating from your core, throughout your chest, and finally hitting your brain. Blanking your mind to oblivion with your climax, and it was too much for you to handle. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you lost consciousness from the blast. And so, you let your head fall limply on the plush, fluffy pillows.
It took Yves a few minutes for him to recover from everything, to think sharply again, and not be trapped in this lovesick haze no matter how amazing it felt.
Yves pulled out from you and laid on his side, drawing circles with his fingertips on your clothed chest. He has a wide smile that crinkles the side of his eyes, if only you were awake, you would have seen how blown out his pupils were while staring at you. Yves snuggled closer to your side, tangling his legs with yours as he gave you an appreciative kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, you are always so good to me." He murmured, burying his face in the crook of your neck and tucking the two of you under the sheets. "But the same couldn't be said towards yourself. Why must you be so unkind to the body that took care of you?" Yves pouted, speaking as if you're awake. "You are so special to meβ¦"
Yves closed his eyes and continued whispering loving words of affirmation, knowing that your subconscious was hearing it.
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β£π[ I'm stravin' , Darlin' ]πβ£
Tw: non-con, dubcon, yandere, stalking, Somnophilia, Drugging, breeding, cockwarming.
A/n: this is my first detailed smut. It was going well at the start until I took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff. Possessive music got influence. I don't know what I wrote, am going to hell, his more delusional; than me. smh. ENJOY!
Note: this is a y/n x pretty yandere, female-bodied reader. Based on the songs Eat Your Young by Hozier and An Unhealthy Obsession by Blake Robinson, helped write this song. pet names such as Darlin, Love, and good girl. If I forgot something plz tell me.
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Part 2 β₯
You were exhausted. Who could blame you for being tired? You enjoyed your job as the owner of a small coffee shop, but you were drained, and your staff adored you.
When they had an emergency, you were incredibly nice to them and understanding. You didn't inquire. You just told them not to worry because you trusted them and they trusted you.
You didn't hesitate to assist your staff when an aggressive customer screamed and yelled at them. You listened to all sides of the story and kept your eyes on the cameras.
When they realized they didn't have a foothold, you politely requested them to go. But if they weren't kind enough to go, you merely called the cops. You would never let them get away with it; you had patience, but not that much.
So, after the day was done, you secured your doors and walked upstairs to your house. You double-checked that all the doors and windows were secured and that the security system was turned on and operational.
Taking a soothing bubble bath, dressing, and preparing for some much-needed rest. Closing your eyes and basking in the warm embrace of sleep. Your eyes slowly opened, and you attempted to move your fingers, but they wouldn't budge.
You had been under a lot of stress recently due to overwork, and sleep paralysis was now typical for you.
You could hear your door opening and the floors squeaking. The ebony form of a guy appeared. He was tall, and the broadness of his shoulders suggested that he worked out.
As you felt the bed drop at your feet, he sat at the end of it. His hand began to go up and down your leg gently. Coming to a halt at your thigh. He hummed to himself while pinching your inner thigh.
You uttered a grunt. He came to a halt and gazed up at you. As he peered down at your face, his face slowly entered the frame. "Oh, how pretty," he said, lovingly cupping your face. "I don't think I could hold myself back." H
is breath lightly fanning your face, he murmured. He kissed you, and you let out a frightened moan and screwed your eyes shut. He took advantage of the situation by inserting his tongue inside your mouth.
While squeezing your inner thigh, he hummed to himself. His hand creeps up and beneath your shirt from your thigh. He pulled your nipple and squeezed your breast.
He linked his mouth to yours with a thin string of saliva. He licked his lower lip. "You taste amazing," he replied with a smile.
He kissed your lips once more, and you felt him get out of bed. You sprang awake and took a glance around. Your clothing was in good condition and not flung around.
You raced to your restroom and looked in the mirror; there were no handprints anywhere on you. You rushed to your front door, terrified, and examined your alarm system; nothing was amiss. You were befuddled, and your thinking was jumbled.
You summarized it up toΒ well: an odd wet dream, stress, and being punted up may all lead to unusual nightmares, especially when combined with sleep paralysis.
You sipped your favorite comfort drink, rubbed your temples, and took a few deep breaths. Exhale a sigh of relief as you feel your tension wash away.
You put on your business attire and prepare to open your shop. The business opened at 8 a.m., so you were there by 6:30, and by 7 a.m., staff began to arrive.
Everyone was having a fantastic time in the shop, which was filled with laughterΒ and music. When the clock struck eight, you laughed, "It's eight, you know what to do. Hit it!"
Everyone queued up got into place, and you opened the store. Customers arrived quickly after that.
When a well-dressed man entered and approached the counter, your staff was busy. As you finished serving one of your usual clients, you noticed him and called, "I'll be with you in a minute."
"Thank you, hun." The kind old lady stated. You smiled at her and walked over to the counter to assist the man. "I'm sorry, did I keep you waiting too long?" you said as you set up the ordering machine.
"No, not at all." He informed you in hushed tones,Β he was attractive, you had to admit it. His voice seemed strangely familiar to you, but you couldn't place it.
But you shrugged it off and smiled as you asked him what he needed.
"A coffee with a cake," he answered politely. "Ah, what cake would you like sir, we have many options." you beam up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Oh, what would you recommend, my dear?" he asks, quietly tappingΒ the counter.
"Would red velvet cake be acceptable?" "It's one of my favorites," you inquired. He nodded, and you concluded his order with a small 'mm'. " Would that be all, sir?" "If so, this is your total," you say, pointing to the sum on the side of the register. " Yes." He responded and paid.
As soon as the order appears on the screen, one of your staff takes it while you assist with the other tasks and clients. Since the front of the store was fully filled, the man was directed to the back.
He could see the counter and you from where he was seated. The manager patted you on the shoulder and smiled at you as they spoke to you. You chuckle and smile as you remove your apron.
"I'm taking a break, everyone," you say. 'Okay, ma'am,' they respond. You step away from the counter and take a seat on one of the unoccupied stools close to his table. While on the phone with someone, you smile and giggle.
He can't stop staring at you. It was fortunate that he instructed his assistant to investigate you. He even postponed a lunch date with the daughter of a well-known corporation.
He didn't mind because he could tell she was attempting to catch his attention. He couldn't care less about how much her clothing cost or how it 'accidentally' revealed her chest. He'd rather be here, staring at your face and grin.
It was a coincidence that he first spotted you; one of his clients requested to meet at this cafe since they genuinely enjoyed your coffee and sweets. He couldn't get your face out of his mind and thoughts after that.
Your phone call had finished, and you turned to meet his gaze. You froze as you studied his face. He saw the fact and grinned.
You realized he hadn't touched his cake and sighed in despair. "Do you not like the cake, Sir?" You questioned him quietly, your gaze fixed on the plate. "Oh, no, it's not like that. "I was saving the cake for last because it was so delicious." He let you know quietly.
"Oh, okay," you said as you stood up and turned around. "Would you like to join me?" he offered, and you graciously accepted his invitation.
You spoke till your break ended. He became a regular client after that and frequently asked about your favorite treats to try.
It had been months since then, yet you still felt tired whenever you saw him. He was the final customer in the shop on one such occasion.
You sent your employees early, not wanting to keep them waiting so they didn't miss their bus or train.
"It's closing time, Mister Blackwell; you should go home," you said. "I told you to call meΒ James, Darling." He told you firmly. " However, I agree. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." While drinking his drink, he informed you.
"Would you mind joining me before I leave?" He remarked this while pointing to the seat next to him. you exclaimed, "You are extremely persistent." You shook your head and set your favorite drink on the table.
Turning around and laying a little slice of cake next to your drink. You had no idea what he had placed into your drink by the time you sat next to him. He grinned as you took a sip of your drink, seeing your expression shift.
He watched as your eyes gradually closed and you collapsed on the table, spilling your cup on the floor. "Whatβ¦did you do?" You questioned him carefully, feeling yourself nodding off. "Don't worry, my love, I'll take care of you."
As you eventually slid away, you heard him declare. You wake up with him twirling his tongue at your clit, then cat licking your entrance, going back and up to your clit, before his tongue went into your pussy, tasting every inch of it.
You eventually let out a whimper as the knot in your gut finally split and you filled his mouth with your cum. "You're awake, I hope you don't mind," he whipped his mouth with his palm. "I was dying to taste you." He stated.
His gaze moved up and down your body, forming an image of you in his mind. You attempted to speak, but all you got was a broken wail. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and you were entirely bare to him.
Your eyes began to water, and silent tears streamed down your cheeks. " Why are you crying, Darlin?" He stated this as he licked your tears away before giving you a ravenous kiss, His tongue quickly claiming your mouth.
He released your lips as he stated, "It will take a while until you can move again, but don't worry, I'll make you feel good." He gently graded your hand before bringing it to the bulge on his pants.
"This is what you did to me." He talked as he stroked your palm up and down his bulge, letting out a groan as he began to accelerate.
He stared down at you, hungry, and proceeded to remove his outfit. He was now entirely exposed for you to see. " Oh, very lovely. I'm curious how you'll look after I slit you in half on my dick." He murmured this as he sank his thickΒ fingers into your pussy, causing your back to arch.
When he noticed your body jerked up and your jaw fell open, he smiled even more.
He discovered your sweet spot! He curled his fingers in the same place over and over. You felt that familiar tight knot in your gut emerges, prompting you to tighten your walls around his fingers.
"That's it, cum on my fingers like the good girl you are," he said. Your walls flutter subconsciously at his words, "Oh, you like being called a good girl?" he questioned, advancing faster.
Your moans and whimpers sounded like music to his ears. He was itching to sink his dick into you. You came undone under him with one more stroke, cumming on his fingers and hand.
He took his hand away and brought it up to his mouth, licking your juices. "You taste divine." He exhaled.
He positioned himself at your entrance, tapping his dick on your assaulted lips. He graded your legs and pushed them on your chest in a typical mating press position, and you could plainly see his pink tip and how enormous he was.
Once he got you the way he wanted you, you felt the swelling tip of his cock press against your tight entrance and buckle his hip. He bottoms out in one push, his pelvis colliding with your entrance.
He took your breath away since he was so large. And, as he claimed, he was splitting you in half with his dick. "Don't pass out on me, Darlin," he remarked, softly patting your cheekΒ with his palm." The fun is just getting started," he remarked as he kissed you on the lips.
Allowing you to get used to his size before proceeding. You were so tight! And you are his and his alone.
His cock began to slide in and out of your tight pussy, as if you were nothing more than a fleshlight at his disposal. "Y/n I'm going to make you only mine," your desperate cries mixed with groans as you sought to stop him.
The sound of skin smacking against skin got louder as he thrust harder and harder. Your muscles were absolutely spasming, and your eyes could hardly fixate or focus on his sweat-splattered faceΒ above you.
So this was how it felt to be with a man like him, putting you precisely where you should have always been.
BELOW HIM, you were groaning, saliva flowing from the corners of your lips, and your eyes rolled up every time his cock brushed your cervix and his pelvic bone stroked against your swollen clit.
Your eyes met his and he kissed you passionately; the longer the two of you kissed, the more his hips appeared to press into yours. The headboard of the bed was crashing fiercely into the wall, adding yet another obscene sound to the symphony.
You could feel his dick pounding against your walls; it was clear he was nearing his climax, which was going to totally fill you up to the point of leaking, and then fuck a baby into your womb.
As he furiously pounded into you, his hands came to your waist and had a tight grasp on you. You felt James base expand and get even bigger only seconds before his hot sperm was spurting into your womb, and the veins surrounding his dick were pulsating against your walls, making you gasp for the nth time.
The sensation of being totally filled was so intense that you almost ended up cumming again.
He lay down next to you, panting and allowing you to collect your breath. As your body was extremely sore, he began spooning you from behind his cock,Β still inside you.
"Sleep, Love, you must be tired," he kissed your neck. I'll prepare something for you in the morning." You were exhausted, and your half-lined eyelids eventually closed as you slept off. James grabbed up his phone and called over yourΒ sleeping figure.
The phone rang till someone answered, "Ray?" "Did you do what I asked?" he inquired calmly. "Yes, I made sure to delete the footage of you breaking into the home months ago, as well as the alarm system," Ray stated gently. "Perfect," James smiled, hanging up the call as he fell asleep next to you.
After so long of only admiring you from afar and secretly stroking you as you slept, he was overjoyed to finally hold you in his arms.
Don't worry, you can have a better life because He will take excellent care of you. "It'll take some getting used to, but we'll make it work." were his final thoughts as he fell asleep affectionately sound asleep with you in his arms.
Am gonna dig a hole and hide. bye....π©π½βπ¦―
Update thereβs a new hole to hide in now π³οΈ π©π½βπ¦―
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cw for ; cheating like really bad cheating dskfsk, mind games, bisexual reader (its relevant!!!), emotional sadism, yandere in the most uncomfortable flavor, and sexuality fuckery.
readers gender is intentionally left neutral!!. @p00pdev1l tag for my beloved.
You can feel yourself starting to cry again.
You have a headache. The noise of the izakaya is flooding out into the streets. Even with alcohol and cigarettes and other distractions, you can't help but feel like you're about to throw up. The dry-heave works itself up to your throat, and you smoke a little to shove it back down.
You were careful this time.
When you hear footsteps walk themselves next to you, and see nice black dress shoes from your gaze is downcast - you already know it's Suguru.
You feel yourself getting sick again. Your voice is hoarse, scratchy with pain and tears. You're unimaginably angry at him, and you're sure if you were a little drunker, you'd take your pocket knife to his throat.
But the words don't come. You're so frustrated you just ended up crying again, hiccuping. Something falls onto your shoulders, a jacket that smells like cologne.
That wakes you up, makes you turn your head to one side. Your heartbeat is hard and loud, and your anger is the only thing in your body. Your seething, all hard lines and rage.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He shrugs. "It's cold. You'll get sick."
"Don't act like you give a single fuck about me, you psychopath."
His reaction to that is cold. Makes your blood run cold. "Call me whatever you want but don't say I don't care about you."
"Fuck off, Suguru," The feeling of his name is intimate in the same way knives are. Sharp against the roof of your mouth because of the smooth way the syllables slice. The familiarity of a cut. "Go inside and fuck off. Go be with..." Your words trail off.
"I'd rather be out here," He assures, then shrugs. He joins you in smoking, but you turn your gaze back to the pavement so you don't have to look. "She'll be fine without me."
There's a lot of things you don't understand about him. What you understand least though is this. How long has it gone on? How long did he plan on doing this?
The first time Getou stole the girl you loved from you, you're nearly too heartbroken to stay friends with him. It was your first real crush. A girl in the same year as you. You loved her. She smelled soft like roses and put her head in your lap. You managed to confess to her despite yourself at the end of your second-year.
She was your friend, still - even as she let you down gently. Told you that she had a boyfriend now. He was your friend, actually.
The first time it happened, you thought about cutting your ties with Getou. He didn't pretend to be apologetic to you, said she was cute and he liked her. He didn't say he was sorry.
Instead he said: "You shouldn't be with a girl who could get over you so easily." And leaves it at that.
You almost got physical with him, you remember. Gojo stopped you.
Over the years, the incident becomes pattern enough to recognize. The first is a mistake, the second a frustrating coincidence. The third time it happens you do get into an altercation. Each time Getou confronts you he says the same thing. That if a girl really loved you, she wouldn't been with him so easily. If a girl really loved you, she shouldn't have been so easy for him to persuade.
You think abut killing him. It's so frustrating, so humiliating, so painful it nearly puts you in therapy. The fourth time in happens, you try to cut him off but you can't. Your lives are so tied together you can't avoid seeing him and for whatever reason he can't leave you alone.
When there's no one you're interested in, he's your friend after all. That's the strangest part. The part that makes the least sense, that he acts like your fucking friend when he does that to you but he does it again and again and again. It hurt less when it was just puppy crushes. Eventually you grew numb to it. Gave up on love for a while.
When you meet Mikoto, you don't make the mistake of showing your interest. You especially don't show it around Getou. On the job, a sorcerer from a branch in the Nara prefecture who's recently moved. A nice woman with black hair and soft eyes, you seek her friendship first and don't let yourself indulge in anything more.
You don't dote on her more than friends. You don't show your feelings off. You don't tell anyone, not even Gojo whom you tell everything, or Shoko - who you tell when you don't want Getou finding out. You bury the feeling of love in yourself and hope they die there. You hope she ends up with anyone but you, or you in some miracle.
You fall in love with her because it's who you are. Getou shows up with her at your gathering the minute you begin to accept it.
If he doesn't hate you, it must be something much stronger. Disgust or pure disdain. Something stronger than hate must drive him to do this so perpetually.
It's not even something you can tell anyone. What do you tell girls before you go out with them? What do you say to people when they ask why you and him act so odd?
There's nothing to say. Nothing to explain. It's so fucked up that you wouldn't even know where to begin.
Your voice is trembling as you take another drag of your cigarette. "How did you know?"
He laughs a little. "You make it obvious."
"Why do you keep doing this to me...?" You ask, defeated. Broken, maybe. "....I really loved her."
Getou shrugs again. You can tell even if you don't see it. "She was the same as the rest of them. I'm doing you a favor."
"Do you even like her?"
He takes a drag of his cigarette and looks at you a little longer than you expct. "So-so."
"I hate you," You give up on everything else, letting your cigarette fall to the ground. Your voice is shot. "You're fucking horrible. Just leave me alone. Please, please just leave me alone."
There's a minute of silence there. He stamps his own cigarette out and sighs. "You should come in. You'll catch a cold." You don't reply. He sighs again. "I'll buy you a drink."
You break down in tears all over again.
When you're in highschool, you date Satoru for a week.
Suguru remembers this. It's one of the only things about his highschool experience that feel standout. A defining moment of his youth, where the two of you try it just because everyone says you should and neither of you really like it. You end up being friends again, laughing it off after it happens.
But he hated it.
There was a pit in his stomach the entire week. Even though you barely dated, and only really held hands as a joke - Suguru hated it. You kissed Satoru too, you confessed. He was a decent kisser, but you didn't feel much.
It was a joke of a relationship. Still.
He remembers too, the first time you had your first real crush. Up until then, you'd really never thought of anyone else. There was no one for Suguru to care about. But he remembers exactly when it happened, and where - how the four of you were slacking off in the storage room, passing around Shoko's cigarette. He remembers the way you got embarrassed telling them about her. How you could barely keep the smile off of your face.
The first time Suguru steals someone from you, it's during highschool. It wasn't because he had really wanted her. He hated her. Hated how she smiled at you and hated how innocently she spoke. But when he stepped closer to her, she blushed.
It was to get her to fall for him. And that wouldn't do, he didn't think. How could you like someone with so little resolve? When she couldn't be even a little loyal to you?
He asked her out on a whim that time. But he saw how angry it made you. How your eyes were wet with tears and how much you hated him in that moment.
How much you thought of him. Have you ever before then? Considered him so much? Suguru didn't think so.
It becomes an obsession, Suguru can admit. It didn't really matter who it was, though it'd been mostly girls. Anyone you showed interest in. Anyone who caught your eye. Suguru got their first and you always, always looked so miserable about it. Like a puppy who can't get on a couch, he thinks.
He prefers when you've already been with them. He prefers knowing that your skin has touched theirs. The parts of you that linger in their life become Suguru's so wholly. When he can smell your scent and taste your cigarette smoke. It'd be better if it was you, but there was something gratifying in this.
In the roundabout ways of finding you. Of seeing pictures of you in their phone, or of tasting you. It's like being with you, even though it's never enough. Always wants to make him break you more.
He likes when they cheat on you with him. He likes when it's just after. They get some cheap thrill out of it. Suguru can entertain it even if it disgusts him.
It's the only way your shirts end up in his closet. The only way he can smell your new shampoo so deeply because you share it. They think that he must hate you. He's sure you think that too.
But that's not it. He couldn't hate you. All the people he's ever fucked, he's tried to find evidence of your intimacy with them. Kiss marks he didn't leave on their skin, clothes they don't own, music they wouldn't normally listen to. You would. They're all yours.
He'd ask about you to them. Often. Listen to the parts of yourself that you'd been trying to keep secret from him.
He'd take it all by force and discard them all afterwards. That was all he wanted. You were all he wanted.
He liked seeing you angry with him. Liked seeing you cry and weep. Liked that you couldn't go anywhere or love anyone without thoughts of him following you and haunting you.
Satoru thinks he should just ask you out already. Suguru doesn't think he's broken you down enough. You need it to hurt a little more. You need to think of him a little more until you can't love anyone else.
Suguru wants to see you hurt a little more. Until you're so broken you're really begging. When he brings her with him today, you react even worse than he could have hoped for it. He shivers a little thinking about it.
He's getting closer to really breaking you, he thinks.
He looks at you now as he puts out his cigarette, broken from his thoughts.
"You should come in. You'll catch a cold." You don't reply. He sighs again. "I'll buy you a drink."
Suguru turns around to leave after he says it. Goes back inside. Before the door of the izakaya closes again, he can hear the way you sob so desperately.
He smiles at that. Just a little.
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