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jordyn14 · 1 month

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request

angst (divorce, don’t love)

Y/N and Joe are childhood bestfriends, their families are friends and everyone waited the moment that they had start date. They started dating officially during 9th grade. They married after their graduation and they had four children. Joe always been a wonderful man, kind, gentleman, always treated as a goddess, and he is a greatest dad. but y/n leaves him devastated by asking for divorce, because she feels that her love as a wife is over, she no longer loves him as a husband.

Pairing: Joe x first person fem reader

Word count: 2283

Notes: thank you for this request! Keep in mind that it is the first request I’ve gotten so I hope you enjoy!!!

For the past few months, something has been weighing down on me. From the time I wake up to the time my head hits my pillow at night, I am thinking about it. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it. What’s worse is that Joe has no idea what is going on. I don’t know if the worse part about it is that I’m going to be dropping a bomb on him out of nowhere, or the fact that he has been so oblivious about his own wife being completely miserable. I wake up, take the kids to school, go to work, pick the kids back up, make dinner, say hello to Joe, go to sleep, and do it all over again. Over…and over…and over again.

It sucks. This life sucks. I never thought I’d be saying it, but it’s true. It didn’t used to suck, though. My life was great. I moved to Athens, Ohio when I was 10 years old after my dad got a new job. I knew nobody at my new school. I walked through school with my head held low, scared that I would never make friends and never connect with anyone at this new school. That was until someone took a chance on me. Can you guess who? Ding ding ding. Joseph Lee Burrow.

He was incredible from the start. Every chance we got, we were hanging out either with some other friends, or alone. We became such good friends that our parents had no other choice but to become best friends as well. From the start, our families used to joke around about how one day we would fall in love and get married. Of course we responded with, “ew, her? No, she’s my best friend,” or “ew, him? No, he’s my best friend.” I thought we would stay best friends forever, until I slowly started to realize that I was falling for my best friend. We stayed friends all the way until 9th grade when Joe finally confessed he had feelings for me.

All throughout high school we were together. We were inseparable. We were known as the ‘it couple’ of high school. Anywhere I went, Joe went, and anywhere Joe went, I went. We loved it that way, though. We never got sick of each other. We wanted to be in each other’s presence forever. We eventually won prom king and queen and obviously went to the same college. Right after our first year of college, when I finally turned 18, Joe proposed to me and we got married. We were so in love, even at a young age. When people said that true love or soulmates didn’t exist I wanted to say, “excuse me, speak for yourself.”

Everything was going right for so long, even through long distance when Joe went to LSU. It was hard, but we got through it and moved to Cincinnati right after the draft. My husband, the #1 pick in the draft. We were on top of the world. Everything was going our way. Shortly after the draft, I got pregnant. It was incredible. We were finally able to build the family we always wanted. One kid led to two, two led to three, and then finally we had our fourth child 5 months ago.

Everything was going right, until it wasn’t. After a few years, things started to fall apart for me. It was so incredibly hard to be in the spotlight. Not only was I supposed to maintain this image as the QB1’s wife, but I had to do it all while juggling work and kids. That’s when the anxiety came. Trying to uphold this image felt impossible and no matter how much Joe tried to reassure me, it just wasn’t enough.

I thought I could do it. I thought I could be with Joe while he lived out his dream, but I couldn’t anymore. It was too hard. It was too much pressure. The realization that I was falling out of love with my husband was heartbreaking and terrifying, but I wanted-no, needed-better for myself. Joe needed a wife who could endure all of those things that came with being married to a man in the NFL. I just wasn’t the right girl for him.

I sat on the couch with my hands in my lap, picking away at the skin until my fingers bled. I wiped the blood off on my pant leg while bobbing my knee up and down, up and down. So many Thoughts raced through my head, but I knew what I needed to do. All of a sudden, I heard Joe’s car pull into the driveway and knew that this was it. This would be the last time Joe would come home to his loving wife. This would be the last time Joe thought he was coming home to a woman who loves him.

I finally stood up while still ripping off the skin around my finger nails as the door opened up. Joe walked in a few steps and groaned loudly while throwing his bag on the couch. “Oh boy, today’s workout was tiring.” He chuckled and began to walk over to me, stretching his arms above his head. I gave him a small smile as he wrapped me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around him as a tear escaped, but I quickly wiped it away before he noticed.

Even now he still couldn’t tell anything was wrong. Was he really that oblivious? How Could he not tell that his own wife was miserable? When we pulled away, Joe glanced up at the stairs with a confused look on his face and asked, “where are the kids?” I stayed in place as he walked over to the stairs, waiting for the 3 of them to run down and give him a big hug. They usually did. It was the same thing every. Single. Day.

“Maisie is upstairs sleeping, but Dakota, Louie, and Georgia are at the sitters. Can we talk?” I asked him. With a hesitant shrug, Joe walked over to the kitchen, expecting dinner to be done and waiting for him like always. Don’t get me wrong, he loved me with his whole being. He loved our family with his whole being. But everyday was the same. He came home, said hi to me and the kids, ate and watched film. It was like I got no time alone with him. I craved that kind of love again. The love that consumed me. The love I felt before he let football come between us.

“Where’s dinner? I’m starving.” Joe said when he realized there was no dinner cooking yet. “I didn’t make dinner yet, can we talk first?” I asked Joe and followed right after him as he leaned on the counter. “I have to go watch some game film, but after I can go pick up some food.” He said with a smile. With a sigh, I looked down at the ground for a few seconds before dragging them up to Joe. “Joe, for the past 6 years, we haven’t been right…I don’t want to do this to you, but I want a divorce.” I said. I ripped the bandaid right off. I didn’t give myself time to change my mind and continue to be miserable. For the first time in a few years, I finally spoke my mind. It felt amazing.

Joe chuckled and walked over to the cupboard, grabbing out some potato chips. I heard the annoying ruffling of the bag before I heard him chewing. “Haha, so funny.” Joe laughed, thinking I was joking. “This isn’t a joke. Can we talk?” I asked. Joe glanced over at me with that same smile on his face as he shoved some more chips in his mouth. Still, he laughed like I was joking, going about his business. I bit the inside of my cheek as I continued to hear his annoying chewing in my ear. All of a sudden, I ripped the bag of chips away from him and slid them across the counter so he couldn’t reach them.

“This isn’t a joke.” I said. The smile on Joe’s face dropped immediately and he looked shocked. “What are you talking about?” He asked me in a nervous monotone way. I tried to stop the tears from rolling down my face, but I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted a divorce and how much I was miserable living here with him, I still felt like I was going to be losing a part of me. Ever since I was 10 I’ve been with Joe, and now I wouldn’t. I didn’t know how I was going to continue my life without him, but I needed to. For my own sanity and wellbeing.

“I want a divorce Joe. I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.” I said. Joe was quick to answer, shocked at what I was throwing at him, “what do you mean? Everything is fine…” Joe said, trying to think of when I’ve shown that I was not okay with the way our relationship was going. I felt crushed at the fact that he couldn’t even tell that for a while-mostly the past few months-I’ve fallen out of love with him.

“No it’s not Joe. I can’t do this anymore.” I said. I tried to talk more, but Joe talked over me. “Why?” He asked me quickly and abruptly. “I can’t keep doing this-“ I started to say but he cut me off once again and said, “What do you mean this? What do I need to do?” I put both of my hands on the counter and drug my eyes up to look like him. “Everything, Joe. Everything. It’s exhausting. I thought I would be able to juggle a full time job, being a mom, and being married to an NFL player, but I can’t, I’m sorry.” I admitted to him.

It felt like a weight was being lifted off of my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I was able to take a deep breath and let go of some anxiety and stress. “No, no, no,” Joe said to himself and then looked up at me with a painful look on his face, “you’re saying you don’t love me anymore?” My heart was crushed at the look on his face and how helpless he looked. The love of his life was telling him that she wanted to leave and he was in denial. “No, Joe. I don’t. Our crazy lives ruined that for us. I mean hell, we barely see each other. If you’re not at games, you’re at the facility or in a different state with friends while I’m at work or with the kids. I don’t deserve that and the kids don’t either.” I said.

Doing what I did, Joe leaned on the counter like he couldn’t stand up straight as tears streamed down his now rosy cheeks. “You signed up for that…don’t do this…we love each other.” He said. I let out a small sob, the emotions spilling over uncontrollably. I put my hand over my mouth and said, “I know I did, and I am so, so sorry for that, but I can’t do it anymore. I need a husband who is around more and is willing to sacrifice his job for his family.” I said. Joe walked closer to me while shaking his head, his face wet with tears and some snot from crying. I could barely look at his face. It pained me so much to see him like this. He was so despondent.

“You know I can’t do that.” He said simply, running his fingers through his long hair quickly. Oh that hair. I would miss that hair. “I know, and that’s why I have to leave. You don’t deserve a wife who no lon-no longer loves you.” I said, unable to get the sentence out without letting out a sob. It hurt me so much, but this was good. I needed to leave. I couldn’t stay. “Come on, don’t do this. I don’t understand. I love you more than anything.” Joe cried. I felt terrible, I did. For so long he went through life thinking nothing was wrong, and maybe I was good at hiding it, but he should’ve known. He should’ve been able to tell that his wife wasn’t happy with him or in love with him anymore.

“Listen to me, Joe. This life was great, don’t get me wrong. We were great…but football changed you and changed the way I feel about you. I want more out of this life than just being your second option.” I said. Joe looked up at me with a small scowl through the tears and said, “you were never my second option. Never. You know that.” He said. But it was a lie. I used to be his first option though, and I wish it were still that way, because this wouldn’t be happening if so. “Yes, yes I am. It started after your second year in the NFL, right after you tore your ACL. After that, me and the kids came second to your football career.” I said.

I scanned Joes face as he started to connect some of the dots and realize that after today, everything would change. Our lives would be so different after today. “I don’t hold anything against you, Joe, please understand that. It’s an impossible spot to be in, for both of us. But you deserve a person who is okay with being second to football, and I’m not.” I said. “Please don’t do this to me.” Joe said and looked up at me. We held eye contact for a few seconds, just scanning each other’s faces. I could tell Joe was searching my eyes for some sort of connection. For some sort of love. Maybe if he found that he could save this marriage, but he looked down at his hands when he found none. “It’s over, we’re over.” I said.

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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I don’t exactly know if I’m wording this right but would you mind doing TADC x png reader? Like instead of being 3D like everyone else they’re just kinda like a 2D image

TADC cast x PNG!reader!

Cant sleep so imma answer a few more requests!!! YIPEE!! I got to draw some TADC art tonight !! Dont like the sketch so I think I might post it on main when its complete...

Little self ramble aside! I hope you enjoy this op!

Written on mobile ♡

CAINE:

Honestly I can see caine making special IHAs that utilize different circus members unique digital abilities. Zoobles dismemberment thing, I like to think pomni has clown physics (as well as kaufmo!), and now you with your 2d self!

Though... I think more often than not it can lead to you possibly getting stuck somewhere... oops... he doesnt mean any harm, I promise!

POMNI:

Probably loses track of you if you turn, leads to her trying to call out for you only to be jumpscared by you turning to look at her

Eventually though she does kind of. Get used to it, at least the jumpscaring doesnt phase her anymore!

I think similar to zooble she would help you out of sticky situations

JAX:

This. Asshole. He would immediately pretend you're not in the room the second you turn 90 degrees. Will literally stop mid sentence

Mid SYLLABLE

Like he knows you're still there, hes just fucking with you

Has probably tried to see if a fan will send you flying. Like paper

Ngl this prompt is making me think ab teri from TAWOG

I need to watch TAWOG

RAGATHA:

makes it a point to keep the conversation going and include you unlike SOMEONE (glares at jax)

Always makes outwardly greets you to see if you're in the room (ie calling for you to get you to turn, ect ect ect)

Would not hesitate to help you if you got stuck somewhere somehow

Makes sure you dont get left behind in stuff

KINGER:

You know how in pomnis part I mention her losing you and getting spooked when you suddenly reappear? Given that he gets startled by gangle, when she hasnt done anything or left? I think kinger would be the same in that regard, but like. Worse. If that makes sense. Please dont sneak up on him, hes already at his wits end as it is, he doesnt need to worry about when hes going to get surprised again <\3

ZOOBLE:

Honestly I can see both of you getting along great! Unconventional digital body duo! Dismemberment mismatch body with body that literally becomes "invisible" if you turn.... do you think you've slipped through thin cracks before? Or just gaps in general?

Hey maybe if zoobles around theyd help fish you out!

GANGLE:

Kind of similar too, since ribbons are thin and flat; gangles ribbons are just curled to give her structure but they are still just ribbon.. she joins you and zooble in the unconventional digital body club

2d body, fall apart mismatch body, ribbon body

Silly club for you three

You guys both get stuck in the ground after slipping through a crack, gangles mask is the only thing visible since it couldnt fit/j

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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writersmacchiato · 11 months

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Sleep | Billy Batson

A/N: Takes place sometime after the first movie, interesting how superhero movies never discuss the trauma of literally almost dying lol this was requested - hope you enjoy!!

. . .

You're in that delirious state of dozing off; not quite awake, but not fully asleep. Sleep is beckoning you and you'll soon fall into its sweet embrace--

You shoot up, blankets getting tangled around your waist, arms swiping through the air.

"Hey, hey, hey! It's me. Freddy. It's Freddy. Geez, you almost took my eye out."

In the dark of the room you squint as your awareness seeps in. Freddy hovering by the bed with his hands held up.

"What the heck-" you look at Darla's sleeping form on her side of the room, "-the hell are you doing?"

Freddy quietly groans into his hands. "What do you think? It's Billy of course. Now scoot."

You contemplate kicking Freddy out of your room, turning over and tugging the blanket over your head. But then your traitorous brain forms an image of Billy in his room alone and you're getting up with a sigh.

"I hate you." You mumble as Freddy takes the spot on your bed, switching out your pillow for his.

He grins. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The house is dark and quiet but you've made this small trip enough times that you could do it in your sleep, or sleep-deprieved as you currently were.

Billy is sitting on his bed, eyes blank as he stares at the window. He briefly looks over when you open the door, creeping through.

Immediately he objects, the guilt on his face clear. "Just go back to bed. I'm okay seriously."

"I almost believe that." You shake your head, climbing into the bed with him. "Same dream?"

He hesitates, fumbling with the blanket. "Yeah..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay. Come here." You manage to snag some of the blanket, sinking down until you're comfortable enough to open your arms. Billy wraps himself around you, tension leaving his shoulders when you start to comb your fingers through his hair.

"Goodnight Billy."

You look down to see his eyes shut, breathing steady.

This was becoming routine. You didn't mind, even though Freddy complained about how it woke him up you knew he was worried about Billy. You all were.

Billy had been waking up from night terrors, waking up with the feeling of Dr. Sivana's hands on his throat as him, Billy, not Shazam. He had been embarrassed, seeing as no one else seemed to be suffering through the same thing but you always reassured him.

You kind of liked being able to soothe him, being the one to help him sleep through the night. And, it was funny seeing Freddy's annoyed face every night.

Sleep is calling your name once again when the door creaks open, Darla's sweet face popping through. She tiptoes to the bed, accepting the hand you offer to her.

"Is Billy going to be okay?' She whispers, snuggling up to your other side that isn't weighed down by Billy.

You look down at his face, completely relaxed as he starts to snore. It makes you smile.

"Yeah, Darla, I think so. He's Billy."

She mentions going back to bed, but her eyes are drooping shut with every second and she's quickly passed out on your shoulder.

Billy would be okay eventually.

. . .

[Extra]

"Hey, notice how everyone ends up leaving the room once Freddy gets there?" Billy says to you over breakfast.

You laugh. "Yeah, because it's Freddy. He's so weird."

"I'm literally sitting next to you. I can hear what you're saying." Freddy cuts in, rolling his eyes.

You share a look with Billy, an agreement flashing between you. He picks up his plate and grabs yours while you get the cups.

"Didn't realize he was in the room."

"Yup. Gotta go."

"I hate you both!" Freddy calls to your retreating forms.

#billy batson x reader #billy batson #shazam x reader #shazam #shazam imagine #shazam drabble #freddy freeman #darla dudley #shazam family

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layviyu · 5 months

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PJSK CHARACTERS WATCHING THEIR S/O DIE OVER AND OVER

short desc: kinda like the madoka magica plot where homura becomes a traumatized war veteran because madoka always dies

type: bulleted hcs

characters: hinomori shizuku, mochizuki honami, kamishiro rui, shinonome ena, aoyagi toya

genre: slight angst

note: i wrote this on january 2023 and i dont remember anything so it probably sucks

@ hinomori shizuku

shizuku was completely exhausted, to say the least.

she couldn’t bear the feeling of losing you and having to start over every time. having to turn the both of you into strangers again. her loving you with all her heart, and you not even knowing who she is.

even shiho, who’s not the closest to her sister, notices her sudden mood drop, yet, uncertain of what could be troubling her, she decides not to ask.

whenever shizuku sees you for the ‘first time’ again, she wishes she could tell you what to do to avoid your death, but she couldn’t — that would only make things worse, and she’s very well aware of that.

as much as it pains her, she can only do small things to try to change the future, for now.

“I promise you, one day, it’ll be over. And when that day comes, I can finally spend my so-desired time with you.”

@ mochizuki honami

what was honami doing wrong?

she did everything, everything, to avoid that terrible fate. but it couldn’t be helped — it would still happen, no matter how much she tried.

she gave her all, she devoted herself to saving you. she was trying her best, her all, to keep you safe and alive. apparently, it wasn’t good enough. it was never good enough. every time, you’d end up dying in her arms. over and over.

whenever she sees you for the ‘first time’, she feels her heart ache. knowing that she’ll have to go through everything again and again, only for a false image of hope that maybe, maybe she could save you.

she never had the chance to tell you the words she was dying to say. even in your last moments, she couldn’t bring herself to say it. ever since the first tragedy, you’ve never heard the words ‘I love you’ from her ever again.

“Once I can finally let my guard down, then I’ll allow myself to soften at your touch. I love you. Evsen if I’m not ready to say it, I hope you know that.”

@ kamishiro rui

as much as he wanted to, rui couldn’t give up. not yet. not until he saved you.

why him? why you? why did you both have to be disturbed in such a manner?

in the beginning, he thought himself to be really lucky, to have the opportunity of being with you one more time. but as more time passed, he started to believe this was not a blessing — but instead a curse.

waking up, knowing that he’d try his all to save you but being aware that it all would go to waste, was extremely exhausting.

whenever he saw you for the ‘first time’, he could feel himself relaxing at the thought of being together with you again. having your hands run through his hair, having you laugh at his cringey pick-up lines... he yearned for that, even if he knew he couldn’t have it, at least not at that time.

he watched you die over and over. eventually, death was not a new concept to him. but every time, even knowing it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last, watching your lifeless body always gave him a feeling of despair.s

you always called him a genius, then, why? why couldn’t he come up with a brilliant plan, as you’d say, to save you? why couldn’t he save the one person who stood by him at all times?

“I want to be with you so bad, but still, I’m not able to keep you here long enough. What am I doing wrong, my love?”

@ shinonome ena

this wasn’t fair. this wasn’t fair at all. why did they have to take you — ena’s favorite person?

she’d give 110% of her to keep you, even knowing that she couldn’t be with you, knowing that you’d die again, she still chased after your life as if it’d be the last thing she’ll ever do.

sometimes, she couldn’t help but being irritated. if only she didn’t love you, this wouldn’t be happening to her. she was very well-aware that this was one selfish thought, but she thought about it every now and then. despite being mad, she could never say that she regretted loving you.

whenever she saw you for the ‘first time’, she knew it was important to keep her distance, for your safety. despite that, she glanced at you quite often, fighting the urge to go after you.

having to be emotionally distant from you frustrated her. she watched you talk to a lot of people throughout the day, knowing that she wouldn’t be one of them. after all, you were still her significant other, even if you didn’t know it.

“Why won’t you simply stay?! Damn it... I want you to be safe, be alive, be mine! And I’ll make sure it happens, even if it takes a hundred... no, a thousand times.”

@ aoyagi toya

the only thing toya wished for was for it to be over.

it was extremely tiring. he’d never do something that pains him, but he couldn’t give up on you just yet. even if he has to go through the same feeling of emptiness every time, he’s willing to do it, if it means saving you.

not only that, but even his bandmates notice his sudden lack of motivation. every time, akito confronted him about that, but he never answered. he couldn’t tell him the truth, he’d never believe it. it was awful to avoid his best friend, but he couldn’t help it, rescuing you was his top priority.

whenever he saw you for the ‘first time’, you merely looking at him already made his heart flutter, as if it were before the tragedy. he loved to see you so... lively. yet, he knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, as he was already aware of what would happen.

he tried his best to keep you away from danger, directly or indirectly, but none of his actions seemed to help. in the end, he always held your lifeless body, never having the chance to confess his undying love for you once more.

“I’ll do everything for things to go back as they used to be. Even if it takes thousands of times, I won’t give up, not until I make sure you’re safe.”

layviyu — do not repost my work on any other social media

posted on: 01/03/2024 — last edited on: 01/14/2024

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stayandot8 · 10 months

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Defrost

Genre: angsty mess

Relationship type: idol!chan x reader

Important Contents: Thank you Jellybean. I hope this lives up to it. It's short but...eh...

WC: 1.5k

Part Two l masterlist

This apartment had dropped ten degrees since he left. No matter how much I turned up the thermostat, it was always freezing. The winter months had been the hardest, when no amount of layers would help. Bundled in several coats all day long and curling up on my couch with a hot mug was starting to become a habit, the norm. The frost of the previous night was slowly but surely starting to melt from the early spring sun.

Christmas time had been the worst. My family asked every question that was certain to rip my heart out all over again. A slew of ‘where’s Chris?’ or ‘when is Chan getting here? I’m excited to meet him’ everywhere I turned, impossible to escape. My mother had to intervene, the angel that she was. I couldn’t bring myself to answer their attacks, knowing no answer would suffice. I didn’t even have one myself, not really.

That night was a bur. All I could remember was my emotions taking control of my brain and my mouth. A flash of you’re home late again and I didn’t realize I had to answer to you and words coming out faster than either of us could think first about the repercussions, all things neither of us meant. Bitter tones, angry words, and a slammed door later, I told him I needed space. I didn’t mean months, but months I was given all the same. And then, he stopped completely. That was when I missed him the most. But by the time his calls and texts had faded, I was too late.

So now I was alone. Alone to face every holiday family gathering, every unbearable question, alone to fix this vice grip on everything good. Nothing helped. Not the condolence texts from his friends that had become like family while I was so far from mine. Eventually they stopped too, to be ignored at the bottom of my contact list. Sometimes I thought I missed them more than I missed him, but then I would find something of his left over in my pantry or bathroom and that thought would disappear faster than it came.

Today was no different than the past several months. Mug in hand and staring at the several books on my coffee table that I had started and left unfinished while trying to sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to pick one up, my favorite glaring at me from the center of it all. The comfort of the familiar pages was doing nothing for me. Nothing that used to bring me comfort from that time in my life, the need to find other things just another pressing matter to go to the top of the list.

Another thing to add, another day to get through, another passing hour to fill with menial tasks that mean nothing in the grand scheme of the pit that had become my life. Each day was the same, any day I wasn’t working was just looking forward to the next time I went in for something to fill my mind with. I believed the thoughts of him would die down eventually after all this time but they only dulled in how vivid they came back. Now they were just getting blurrier and fuzzier, details not coming in their entirety until I slept and my subconscious snuck them into my dreams. Then they came back in full force.

What I wasn’t expecting was a text from Hyunjin with a video attached.

Hyunjin: This is how it’s been. Please come home. We miss you.

The video was from a lower vantage point, clearly taken without the subject’s knowledge. The subject being my ex boyfriend, sitting at his desk at their studio and seemingly looking at the screen but not moving. His back was to the video so his face was hidden underneath the shadow of his hood pulled up.

“Chan-hyung?” A voice called from behind the camera. The hooded boy didn’t move, still staring at the screen. “Channie-hyung?” A few seconds passed, the image still the same, then the video ended and the picture of my ex was still on my palm-sized screen. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. It was the first time I’d seen him since he left. It was like I was still there, in his presence. I was sure if I just reached out, I could touch his shoulder and he would smile at me, like nothing had happened. Everything would be fine.

I couldn’t bring myself to click out of the video, so I just continued to stare until the screen became a blur and my cheeks were wet. I thought I couldn’t cry anymore, but as with everything lately, I was wrong. I hugged my phone to my chest and curled up against my couch pillow until I drifted off, chased by dreams of when my life was simpler, everything felt right, and I was in love.

My love was waiting for me, standing with his hands in his pockets, swaying to some song playing in his head and watching the people go by. His denim outfit was unusual but a welcome change to his wardrobe. The boardwalk was loud tonight, a carnival happening around me as I walked to him. The lights are bright and chatter even louder. Children walking around with cotton candy and all kinds of fried foods. I would have to convince him to try one with me, which wouldn’t take much. He always listened to me when it counted.

He was looking around expectantly. He had his closed-lipped smile on and his eyes were shining, from the reflection of the lights or something else that made my feet so light I was surprised I was still walking on the old wood. He was waiting for me, I just knew it. He was right there in front of me. If I could just get to him…

But the closer I got, the more he stayed at the same distance. Still waiting, still eager. I was walking, I knew it, but my feet weren’t moving. I looked down to see my feet now having some sort of gravitational pull of their own. I was lifting with all of my might, baffled by how this force had suddenly come to be, but it was no use. I glanced up to find him to call his name, somehow get his attention. But he was no longer leaning against the railing where I had spotted him. No, I thought. Not again.

I open my mouth to call his name but no sound comes out. My throat is empty of words, empty of air. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

My voice is lost. I am helpless. He is gone.

When my eyes finally cracked open, the tears I had cried in my subconscious broke the barrier into the real world. The trail of dried tears now made wet again. It was one thing to cry in my dreams, or nightmares, but for them to cross over and be made real…

I sat up, the moonlight now peering through my blinds. My empty cup sat on the table, as lonely as I felt. I was tired. I was so, so tired. Tired of being alone, tired of running from something I wanted. I wanted him back. I needed him. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

But it had been so long. Would he want to talk to me after all this time? Would he even have my number still? Was he trying to move one, but was unsuccessful?

Like me?

I moved my feet in the ground, finding a solid footing and relieved to feel no extra pull on them . It had been such a vivid dream, the beginning looking so familiar. One of our better days, that carnival was so fun. We both had eaten so much funnel cake that we got sick when we got home. Whether it was that or the four rides we went on after that, I didn’t know, but it was the first time I had the opportunity to take care of him for once. He didn’t let me very often, but seeing him lying on the bathroom tile awakened something in me that I couldn’t ignore. After that, I took any chance I could to do for him what he did for everyone else.

I missed that.

There wasn’t much else to do now. I could either stay in this place of severe depth, or do the one thing I knew would fix it. One of two things would happen: he would answer or he wouldn’t. I would have my answer either way.

I felt that familiar pull of gravity. Not on my feet but on my arms. And in the other direction. Before I could think too much, they were bringing the phone to my ear. It rang and rang and rang, going to voicemail eventually. I waited until the beep and said the only thing that came to mind.

“I miss you.”

And that was it. I hung up and left my phone on the table, going to my room where I could pretend I didn’t just do what I did. I ended up leaving it there all night long, trying to ignore it and drowning out my thoughts with mindless television and movies of peoples’ lives that felt much less complicated than mine.

Chan: I miss you too.

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imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

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My manifestation is complete. Prepare yourself because I'm going to leave you a shock (Hopefully)

OK sub yandere felix/hyunjin/jisung (pick one because I can't 🫠) Who you dated but eventually broke up (Nothing horrible you just didn't want to be in a relationship anymore). After hearing that they're absolutely devastated. You guys can't break up, he's your baby boy and your his mommy/mistress, you're supposed to be together forever. So the'll do anything to get back together. They make unexpected visits to your job, they send you lots of gifts, they'll send pictures and/or videos of themselves in "compromising" positions while wearing lingerie, the'll send you letters writing in great detail what he wants you to do to him. He'll even break into your apartment because he has a BIG surprise for you. When you enter your apartment and head to your bedroom, he's right there, on your bed, wearing lingerie and makeup (maybe a leash) and he is absolutely BEGGING you to use him and treat him as your little toy. Use him as you please, everything he is belongs to you.

That is my manifestation, I hope you enjoy.

-🐟anon

I ENJOY SO MUCH

HOly FuCK

y'know i'm gonna pick my hannie bc he's my babygirl and i can't resist him.

he'd do anything and everything so that you would take him back, yes, including sending little gifts to your office. flowers (your favourite kind ofc), chocolates, little trinkets he found that made him think of you.

gradually though they get bigger and bigger. an expensive purse you'd been wanting, high end shoes and clothing that was just your size, some new earbuds because yours had broken...kinda weird, you'd never told him that yours had broken but whatever!

it's sweet at first, adorable and sweet until suddenly it isn't. until one day you get a little box with a seemingly innocent little bow on it.

inside is a small remote control, one arrow pointing up and the other pointing down, a power button and a small note written in that recognizable handwriting

'go wild;)'

you hesitate, where does it cross a line, where does it become falling back into the same old patterns. but on the back it has another message.

'don't overthink it, please, you know you want to.'

he'd be so desperate to get you back, shame is gone. who's she? he doesn't know her.

he only knows humping his pillow, moaning your name as he clutches at the soft fabric, begging to cum while his hips rut needily and a camera sits recording catching all of it to send to you later.

he knows pictures of his hard dick, messages underneath describing absolutely sinful imagery of everything he'd let you do to him-everything he wishes you'd do to him.

lacy lingerie and pretty collars that dig into the delicate skin of his neck, a little tag engraved with "(name)'s property". thigh highs and skirts and tiny crop-tops that show off his slutty little waist that you were oh so obsessed with.

lighting and positioning and exactly what angle he knows will rile you up the most-he's mastered the art of nudes and sexting-knowing exactly what sets you off and what leaves you wanting more

it's all yours anyway. he belongs to you. even if you've moved on, even if you're done with him. you're not really.

you can't really be. because here he is, sending you the lewdest images you could possibly fathom and there you are, still getting off the them.

and then you come home one day, and there he is.

dressed all up in a pretty little outfit with his collar and leash, makeup done up all nice.

he gets down on his knees, begging for you to take him back, to love him, to let him please-he'll do anything, anything for your love and affection, for your praise and attention.

tears well up in his eyes, ruining his perfectly done eye makeup in a way he wasn't expecting-he was ready for a much different scenario to make him cry.

use him- treat him as your toy. use him as you please-take anything and everything.

it's all yours anyway, without you he's nothing, without you he feels like nothing matters.

he's yours. he belongs to you. you can't move on, not when he's still here and you're still here and you never could resist his pretty tears.

#inbox💌#🐟anon #...#YOU ARE A GENIUS #hard thoughts #stray kids smut #dom reader #sub stray kids #sub han jisung #han jisung smut #stray kids hard thoughts #sub skz

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chaoticpuff17 · 8 months

Text

Amygdala

Masterlist

Hey ya'll, sorry it's been a minute. School and kiddos have been crazy and I just haven't had time to write!--- chaotic puff

Chapter 13

Margot woke up the next morning back in bed with no recollection of how she’d gotten there. She had to assume it was Yoongi who as far as she could tell was not in the bed with her, much to her relief.

With a groan, Margot sat up willing herself to start the day despite the voice in her head nagging at her to stay under the covers and hope that this was all a terrible dream, but she knew it wasn’t and hiding wouldn’t do her any good. She’d be much better off exploring her new enclosure and figuring out exactly what she was dealing with. But first she needed a shower. She found a good hot shower fixed a lot of things. It wouldn’t change her circumstances, but it would make her feel a little better.

As much as she didn’t like the situation, Margot had to admit that she was completely in love with Yoongi’s bathroom. The shower was spacious with a little bench indented into one wall that would be a godsend for shaving her legs, and there were two different shower heads, one on each side of the shower. Clearly this shower had been made with multiple people in mind which sent a wave of anxiety through her.

Margot brushed the feeling off, knowing there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. Dwelling on what features Yoongi had picked for his home would only cause her more worry, and after the events of the previous night, she was fairly convinced that Yoongi had lost his mind, becoming fixated on delusions of what their relationship could have been.

Washed, dried, and wrapped in a deliciously warm and fluffy towel, Margot wandered out of the bathroom in search of something to wear, finding the closet fairly easily.

Half of the space was filled with Yoongi’s clothes, an assortment of jeans and tshirts, sweatshirts and joggers, and flannels. These were things that she expected. There was also an assortment of other things, things that didn’t fit with the image of Yoongi that still lingered in her brain from their college days: dress shirts, suits, expensive watches, jewelry, shiny dress shoes. Even if she wasn’t personally used to seeing him in suits and shiny shoes, she supposed that he needed to curate a certain image as the head of his own enterprise, even if it was a criminal one.

The other half of the closet was bare, and she swiftly came to the conclusion that that was her side of the closet and that the boxes piled there were meant for her. Upon further examination, the boxes were filled with her things: her clothes, her shoes, her jewelry.

Another spike of anxiety shot through her.

He hadn’t asked for permission or her opinion. He’d simply acted. Within a matter of hours he’d managed to have her life packed up and brought to him as if it was the most simple thing in the world. As grateful as she was to have her own things, Margot was also sick at the idea of her entire life being so easily transmuted, seamlessly stitched together with Yoongi’s as though this was all natural.

Shaking off her quickly darkening thoughts as best she could, Margot began the process of digging through the boxes in search of something to wear. Eventually, she would need to unpack, but for now she was going to search for her comfy clothes and leave the boxes for another time in the vain hope that Yoongi would snap out of his delusions and allow her to go home.

Eventually Margot was able to find a comfortable sleeveless mock neck shirt and a stretchy pair of palazzo pants that would work well enough. She’d even managed to dig out one of her many cardigans to keep herself warm in the chill of the air conditioning. She tried not to think about who had packed her clothes or the box of her intimates which had been one of the first boxes she’d stumbled across.

With her cardigan pulled tightly around her, Margot left the relative safety of the bedroom to explore the rest of the house. Yoongi had been the one to take her to and from every room she’d been in so far except for the brief walk from the kitchen to the open living area. She had no idea how big the house actually was or if she had any limits on where she could and could not go within it. Yoongi had said that this was her home too, a horrifying thought in of itself, but he hadn’t established if there were any boundaries within the house. She knew well enough that she couldn’t leave the house unsupervised, but there had been no mention of any part of the house being off limits. But before she could do any real exploration of the house, she desperately needed some caffeine.

The house might have been strange to her, but at the very least she remembered where the kitchen was.

Slowly, Margot made her way down the hallway to the staircase that would bring her to the lower level of the apartment where the kitchen was situated.

She found that the penthouse looked much different in the daylight. The night had cast long shadows over everything that combined with the low lighting had made everything seem dark and dismal, the perfect hideout for a criminal mastermind. It was different with light streaming through the floor to ceiling windows that made up several walls of the apartment. The space was actually much more light and airy than she had previously thought.

The walls were painted either in shades of light gray or in white with a cheery wood floor beneath her bare toes as she explored. The sofa was a soft white color with a multitude of throw pillows decorating it in muted shades of blue, off white, and what seemed to her to be a terracotta orange. Artwork covered several of the walls, and as she looked around she couldn’t find a single piece of furniture or decor that she would have objected to having in her own home. Of course everything here cost far more than she would have been willing to spend on furnishing an apartment, and it lacked the random knick-knacks she had collected over the years. Everything else was designed to her taste. The color palette especially would have suited her college aged self who had favored those soft autumnal shades of blues and reds that she saw on the sofa.

As she looked at it all, she was struck quite clearly with the thought that this didn’t just suit her design preferences, even if the color palette was a little outdated, it had been designed for her. Yoongi had built a home with her in mind and had simply waited for the day that he could bring her back to it.

“Min buin.” A voice called, bringing her attention to the young man who was standing in the entrance to the kitchen watching her with a warily, almost as though he was sizing her up.

Margot didn’t recognize him, but she had to assume that he was a part of the security team that Yoongi had assigned to her.

“You one of my babysitters?” She asked, folding her arms under her chest as she pulled her cardigan a little tighter around herself, one foot shifting to be perched on top of the other as she watched the unknown man.

“Kant Chul, ma’am.” He introduced himself with a respectful bow.

“Buin.” Another voice called, as Yeong stepped out of the kitchen to greet her. “The boss had to step out to take care of some things.” He explained answering a question she hadn’t even thought to ask yet. “He asked us to get you anything you need until he returns later.”

She sighed, shifting her weight so that both feet were once more on the ground. “You don’t need to call me ‘buin’. I’m not his wife.”

“It’s a sign of respect, ma’am. As the boss’ woman you’re to be treated with great care and deference.”

She chuckled a little at that partially because of the situation itself and partly because she hadn’t expected someone working for a gang to be so eloquent.

“Did he say when he’d be back?”

“No, ma’am.” Yeong shook his head, the other man keeping silent as Yeong spoke to her. “There was an…” he paused searching for the right word to use for the situation. “Emergency at work that required the boss’ continued attention.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “Same thing that dragged him away yesterday?” She didn’t particularly care what it was that was keeping Yoongi away. She was just happy she didn’t have to wake up in the same bed as him, but it was polite to continue the conversation.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Right. Well, could either of you show me where he keeps his stash of tea and where the mugs are?” She asked, moving towards the kitchen. “I desperately need some caffeine.”

Chul piped up, speaking for the first time since Yeong had made his appearance. “I can get you a cup of coffee, buin.”

Yeong scoffed, whacking the other man upside the head lightly. “Yah. Don’t you know she doesn't drink coffee? How long have you been on her detail?” He scolded.

“I‘ll be just fine with a cup of tea.” She told them both, amused by how relaxed they both seemed despite the situation and despite the fact they were meant to be keeping her prisoner in the house. “Have either of you had breakfast yet?” She asked as Yeong moved to get her a mug and find her a selection of teas to choose from.

“Yes, ma’am.” Yeong answered, giving her a soft smile. “We ate before our shift started.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird to be taking shifts to guard one woman?” She asked, staring at Yoongi’s bland white mugs in distaste. There was no pizazz to them, no personality.

“The boss is very concerned with your safety, ma’am.” Yeong answered. It was the same party line she’d been given the day before.

“Of course.” She scoffed. “This has nothing to do with the fact that your boss is delusional and paranoid. It’s totally normal for someone to need at least two people with them at all times to go places.”

“The boss just wants to keep you safe, buin.” Chul piped up, placing a selection of tea down in front of her.

She picked a nice looking green tea, but before she could move to start making it herself, Chul had already taken her selection and started the motions himself.

“I can make my own tea.” She moved to try to stop him, feeling odd having the two strangers waiting on her, but Yeong stopped her, gently directing her to sit at one of the stools at the island.

“It’s our job to look after you, ma’am.” He told her gently. “Last night must have been… difficult for you. Let Chul make you a cup of tea.”

“I feel kinda useless if I’m not doing anything.” She admitted, fighting with her fingers, eyes fixated not the dark red polish on her nails.

Yeong nodded understandingly. “Have you had breakfast yet, buin?” She shook her head no. “Then you can help me get something started. The boss wouldn’t be very happy if we let you starve.”

“Is he ever really happy?”

Yeong paused for a moment as he opened the fridge in search of ingredients. “Since I got the order to look after you, buin, he’s been happier than I’ve ever seen him.” Margot stared at him blankly. “I’ve never seen the boss like this about anyone.” Yeong explained.

“He’s threatened everyone within an inch of their lives if anything happens to you.” Chul added on. “He’s damn scary when he wants to be.”

Margot couldn’t disagree with that. Yoongi terrified her to the very core of her being, and yet there were times she couldn’t help but to still see him as the boy she’d known in college. If he terrified her when he was trying in his own twisted way to woo her, she could only imagine what he was like with people he was actually trying to scare.

“He’s not a bad boss though!” Chul hurried to add as though he was frightened his comment would get back to Yoongi. “And watching you isn’t a bad gig! It’s been pretty easy so far!”

“Glad I could make your lives less difficult.” She commented dryly.

“It’s an honor to be trusted with something the boss considers so precious.” Yeong explained, a little more eloquently than his partner. “What would you like to eat, buin?”

She shook her head, leaning against the island as Chul placed a cup of tea in front of her. “Nothing. I’m not really hungry this morning. Bit nauseous actually.”

Chul nodded understandingly before turning to rummage through the cupboards as Yeong looked at her worriedly.

“The boss won’t like you not eating.”

“Well as the cause of my nausea he can fuck off.”

A bowl was set down in front of her with a clink. Margot looked up to see Chul grinning at her.

“A little rice might help settle your stomach. Empty stomachs don’t help nausea.”

She wanted to argue, but she knew he was right, and it was sweet of him to try to help.

“Thank you.”

Slowly, she dipped her spoon into the rice, taking a small bite.

“So what would you like to do today, buin?”

Margot stared at him blankly, unsure if he actually wanted her to answer that or not. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was allowed to do within the bounds of the Yoongi’s control. “The boss never said you couldn’t go out.” Yeong explained just as gently as he had been explaining everything else, allowing her to keep some of her dignity. “You just have to have your security with you, and the boss needs to know where you’ll be.”

“It’s a safety issue.” Chul chimed in.

Margot cast her gaze down to her mug sitting beside the half eaten bowl of rice. She couldn’t pin down why, but the plain white dishware grated at her nerves. There wasn’t even a pattern or a design to break up the stark white on either of the pieces of dishware. There wasn’t a chip or scratch to suggest that it had been well loved. It was just white, plain undiluted white.

Margot sighed, turning away from the dishes and her irrational dislike of them, a headache beginning to take form just behind her eyes, and a deep exhaustion settling in her bones despite the fact she’d only just woken up.

“I think I just want to lie down.” she admitted, missing the comfort of her own bed.

“Are you alright, buin?” Yeon asked, eyeing her with concern.

“I’m just a little tired.” she said, sending him a brittle smile. Every bit of her felt brittle these days. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

—————

Yoongi arrived back home more than a little pissed off. He’d had to spend the entire day away because his men were too incompetent to deal with problems without him, and as a result he hadn’t gotten to be with Margot on her first day in their home.

Overall, he was tired and upset and a little more than ready to see the love of his life, but when he entered the apartment, everything was silent and still as it normally was. There was no immediate sign of Margot or any other living person in the space setting his already rankled nerves even further on edge.

“Margot?” he called, stepping further into the apartment.

There were a few lights on, but they were dimmed, a barely there glow over the space.

“Boss.” Seongnam, a member of Margot’s security team, appeared out of the kitchen bowing respectfully.

“Where is Margot?” Yoongi demanded, eyes scanning over the apartment in search of her even as he asked, and a wave of relief sweeping through him as he spotted a lump on the couch covered in a throw blanket.

“She had a migraine today, sir.” Seongnam stated. “She’s sleeping on the sofa right now.”

“A migraine?” Yoongi asked, head tilted slightly to the side.

It was a problem he wasn’t unfamiliar with. She had gotten them from time to time when they were in college, usually when she was under a significant amount of stress.

“Yes, sir.” Seongnam nodded. “She took some pain medication and has been asleep for a few hours now.”

Yoongi hummed in understanding, his eyes still fixed on Margot where she laid dead to the world on the sofa.

“If I could say, sir…” Seongnam began again, hesitant as though he was unsure how the mob boss would react to what he was about to say. “I think the move has been hard on her.”

“Did she go out at all today?” Yoongi asked, making his way over to her and taking a seat beside her, eyes scanning to make sure that she was alright.

“No, sir. She wasn’t feeling well and spent the majority of the day on the couch.”

“Thank you,Seongnam.” Yoongi sighed, smoothing a hand over her sleep rumbled hair. “I’ll take care of her from here.”

The other man bowed, leaving the couple alone.

Yoongi looked down at Margot, a frown marring his features.

Logically he’d known that there was no way she was gone. He knew that, but arriving home to a still house without any obvious signs of her presence had sent a bolt of panic through him. He didn’t like the idea that being here with him caused her stress, but he liked the idea of her being gone even less. Not knowing where she was even for a moment, had caused his mind to jump to the worst case scenario.

He knew it wasn’t healthy. He knew it bordered a little on the obsessive, but he’d only just gotten her back, and being unable to be with her on her first day in their home especially given the circumstances in which the move had happened had already put him on edge.

His fingers curled into the strands of her hair, playing with it as he calmed down. She’d very rarely let him play with her hair back in college. She’d always said that it tickled uncomfortable or that people tugged too hard, but when she didn’t feel well, she would let him play with her hair, curled into his side like a contented cat as he mindlessly twirled the strands and let them run through his fingers. He did that now almost subconsciously, a natural response to the knowledge that she didn’t feel well.

Part of him felt a twinge of guilt at the state she was in. He knew that stress caused her to get migraines, and here she was after a stressful transition with a migraine, her foot peeking out from beneath the blanket still bandaged from the broken glass the night before. He’d wanted nothing more than to keep her safe, and yet she was in worse shape than when he’d brought her home.

Despite knowing that, there was no part of him that had even considered the possibility of letting her go. He couldn’t even if he’d wanted to, but he also couldn’t let her wither and fade in his care. He wanted her happy and healthy. A faded and diminished version of her was not his goal, and he wouldn’t let that happen to her.

“I’m sorry, jagi.” He whispered, brushing a stray piece of hair away from her face. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

part 14

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shinynewboots · 21 days

Text

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Adam's Interlude

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN:

Hi all! A little bit different of a chapter since I wanted to give a little bit of Adam's perspective and insight. I do want to say that as far as Adam becoming a reflective drunk (which def is situational, I promise there will be a fun party/drinking chapter at some point), I felt that would be the most accurate portrayal. I was worried about him coming off as ooc but Adam has had a very long life and I really envision heaven as being a place that numbs all bad feelings. And suddenly, all these feelings that Adam has bottled up are being exposed one by one. And if the writing seems weird and abrupt, I was trying very hard to convey the drunk musings experience (lol from first hand experience)

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it! I apologize for the chapter being so short. It has been a very long two weeks for me at work lol

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny, alcohol use

Chapter 5

“This is so much better than that watered-down shit they serve in Heaven,” Adam said, sipping on the Old Fashioned that Husk had just finished making at the bar. Only he, Husk, and Angel Dust were left in the foyer of the hotel as most occupants had retired after the intense mid-morning activity.

“Watered-down? Some heaven if they don’t even give you the good shit.” Angel answered, an eyebrow raised as he took a sip of his pink cocktail.

Adam shrugged. “Something about the desire for temptation or some bullshit like that. It’s hard to get liquor anywhere in Heaven anyways, it's mostly just light beer or wine.”

“Paradise, huh?” Husk scoffed, wiping down the bar with a rag.

Adam had to agree to an extent. He hadn’t been good and drunk since he was alive; whether that be due to his angelic status and resistance to alcohol or the lack of options in heaven, he had no idea. Heaven was a paradise, but it was a controlled paradise. Overindulgence was unthinkable. Impurities that lingered from the living were snuffed out quickly.

The lack of control was one of the things he missed most about living; it was one of the reasons he looked forward to the Exterminations each year. Extermination Day was one of the only days where he could feel, well really anything. There was no high Seraphim to keep his emotions and actions in check. No snitching saints to remind him of his status as First Man and the image that entailed. Just him and his team of Exorcists killing shit and leaving carnage in their wake.

The whiskey of the cocktail burned as it traveled down his throat. Alcohol hadn’t burned in a long time, and so Adam relished the feeling. He could already feel the cloudiness start to wrap around his head.

His time in Hell since the failed Extermination Day had been nothing but feeling. The wounds in his chest, his abdomen, his back. He felt them constantly and was reminded of their presence with every minuscule movement. His palms had moments where they would grow sweaty. His mouth would run dry. His skin would form gooseflesh during intense feelings or emotions.

He didn’t feel completely numb for the first time in centuries.

He knew Lute was feeling the effects of Hell as well. He noticed it in the way she would flinch from the pain of her arm (she tried not to make it obvious, but he could always tell). He noticed it in the way a flush would rush to her cheeks when she was unsure or embarrassed (Lute would never have done such in Heaven). He noticed it in the way her pulse had quickened under his touch when he cleaned her wounds.

He also knew that if they had been in Heaven, their wounds would have completely healed by now. Even the most severe injuries would only take a day or two to heal in Heaven.

He had his suspicions. But suspicions required investigations that led to ugly truths. And an ugly truth was not something Adam felt inclined to acknowledge at present.

And so, he knocked back his rocks glass of whiskey and relished the burn that accompanied it.

“What do you even do in Heaven if there’s no good booze or drugs or anything remotely fun?” Angel asked, eyebrow raised as he watched Adam shoot his drink. Husk began to make a second cocktail for Adam (and himself one, because it felt like the beginning of a long afternoon).

The two hotel occupants still eyed him warily but were not nearly as antagonistic as they had been yesterday. Adam suspected Charlie had something to do with the change of heart.

“Fucking everything. Heaven has everything you could ever fucking dream of. It’s paradise.” Adam said, taking the freshly made cocktail that Husk had pushed in his direction.

“Except booze.”

“Or gambling.”

“Or porn.”

“Or—”

“I got it,” Adam exclaimed, taking a sip of the Old Fashioned. “Heaven’s not about what you don’t have. That’s not what makes it fucking heaven. In Heaven, you don’t worry. You don’t stress. You’re not at risk of some asshole screwing you over or killing you just because they feel like it. Missing booze and drugs and every other vice just isn’t a thing in Heaven. It doesn’t even cross the mind of most Winners that they are lacking in anything because Heaven is supposed to fulfill everything.”

“Sounds like it gets boring after a while,” Angel said, nursing his drink. He had a solemn, faraway look in his eye. Husk also seemed to be in deep thought. Fucking shit, all Adam had wanted to do was get drunk and feel good. Not any of this thought-provoking bullshit.

“Doesn’t everything after a few millennia?” Adam scoffed, the haze in his head trying to pull him into introspection. Fuck, he didn’t want to think and dwell and re-live thoughts and memories. He grabbed his drink and moved from the bar to the fireplace and sank into the sofa. Anything to get away from the two fucks who were making him think.

Since the Extermination, Adam had felt very exposed while in Hell. He could no longer hide under the cover of his exorcist mask, which had broken and likely had been fought over by scavenging sinners. And without the mask, he wasn’t the leader of the exorcists or Adam, the mythical first man. He was simply, Adam the man. Without the mask, he was so obviously human, even with angelic eyes and wings.

Not to mention the vulnerability of having to rely on the hope that the Hotel occupants wouldn’t kill him or Lute. However, the only truly threatening occupant (aside from the psychotic maid) was the Radio Demon who seemed to be kept on a decently tight leash.

Well there was Vaggie, but Vaggie would never truly harm him or Lute. Not if she wanted to stay in the good graces of her girlfriend. He didn’t necessarily feel remorse for being apart of the cause of her to fall (fuck, she seemed happier here anyways) but he also didn’t like to dwell on her past life as an exorcist either.

Excorists. Lute. Lute really was the last person he had left. She could have just left him to die (honestly, maybe she should have) but she didn’t. And she was damned right down here with him for it.

He had always known she was loyal. Most of his exorcists were. She had taken on so much responsibility over the centuries, things that he delegated to her time and time again until he was nothing more than a figurehead. Oh, he was still the all-time symbol of the exorcists. Adam: The First Man. But Lute was really the one running the show.

He would make his appearances, sure. Watch their trainings. Give the occasional encouragement or feedback. Occasionally get his ass kicked by one of his girls just to give them an ego-push. But as far as day-to-day management and liaison between himself and his girls, that was all Lute.

Adam took a swig from his glass, unable to concentrate on anything besides his white-haird lieutenant. What had he done in his eternal life to deserve her loyalty?

She was Lute. Just Lute.

Just Lute, the only person who thought maybe he was worth saving. He was still too sober for this.

Fuck it, he needed another drink. Or two. Or three.

Lute had finished showering and pulled on an oversized t-shirt and shorts to lay down. The warm water on her face had helped with the swelling but honestly, nothing sounded better than laying down and simply sleeping the pain off. She had made the decision to lay in the only bed in the room, Adam’s bed, as the cot was long forgotten and stored away. He had been gone for a few hours or so and she was confident she would be awake by the time he decided to come back.

She laid down on the bed, her wings wrapped around her tightly like a blanket. The pillow was soft and smelled of Adam, with its notes of spice (courtesy of the hotel shampoo), and a pleasant outdoors smell that always seemed to linger around him, even in Heaven. Lute assumed it was due to his humble beginnings as the First Man, but who was to say.

The smells and comfort of the bed wrapped around her and she felt herself relax in an unfamiliar way. Her eyes grew heavy and she could feel herself being seduced into sleep.

She was—

Knock! Knock!

Her eyes abruptly opened and she groaned.

“Hey, Lute can you open the door!” Adam called from the other side of the door. His speech was slurred. Great.

Lute rose from the bed, regretful to leave her brief paradise. She pulled the door open to find Adam leaning dangerously against the wooden frame. His eyes were glassy and his face was contorted in a grin that Lute could only describe as shit-eating.

“Hey Bitch!” He exclaimed, swaying dangerously into the room. Lute’s eyes widened and she rushed to support his tall stature under her small frame. “You didn’t come down and drink with me.”

“I was tired,” She muttered, trying to adjust his weight. Adam let out an exaggerated groan.

“Excuses!” He said, letting out a loud laugh. “What were you doing instead?”

“I was about to take a nap,” Lute deadpanned. She began trying (and failing) to guide him into the room. Fuck, this would have been so much easier if she still had her other arm.

“Lute! That’s a fucking great idea! Let’s take a nap!” Adam said, suddenly much more steady on his feet and standing at his full stature. Lute abruptly found herself being guided to the bed by Adam, who had placed a carefree arm around her waist. His hand was large and warm as it rested upon her waist and she could feel a blush come to her cheeks.

“I don’t know Adam.”

Adam stopped moving and looked down at her. He was pouting. Full on pouting. His bottom lip was pushed out and his had widened his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

“You’re tired right?”

“Yeah?” She answered hesitantly.

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, pushing her towards the bed once more. “And I haven’t had a fucking great nap since being on earth. The secret to a great nap is to be drunk as shit.”

Lute sighed and looked up at him with a smile. This wasn’t necessarily appropriate, but fuck what had been the last few weeks. Every day Lute could feel the invisible line of their relationship blur into oblivion even more. And yet, she didn’t want to stop whatever actions either of them were taking. She also didn’t want to dwell on it anymore. And a nap sounded fucking great.

“Okay,” She said, agreeing. Adam’s face lit up and suddenly she found herself thrown over his shoulder as Adam moved them both over to the bed.

“Hey, watch your stitches!” She exclaimed, her face even redder than it had been moments before. Adam only laughed in response and sat her on the bed. He pulled off his shoes and crawled onto the other side of the bed.

He laid his head on the pillow, his wings expanded out from under him. He looked at her expectantly, his right arm spread out her side. “Come on!”

Adam grinned at her. Lute could only nod and lay down beside him. In place of a blanket, Adam chose to wrap his large golden wings around them and snuggled in closer to Lute. His arm was under her head and pulled her closer to him.

This was…a lot of physical contact. More than Lute could ever remember experiencing in her life. She couldn’t say she found herself complaining though. Adam was warm and large and Lute quickly found her eyes grow heavy.

“Night Lute,” Adam breathed out, his breath growing slow and steady.

“Good night, Adam.” She whispered, unsure if he heard because she heard soft snores coming from his mouth. She smiled to herself and snuggled in closer to his body.

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel #staring at the sun #adam hazbin hotel #adam x lute #guitarspear #fanfiction #hazbin hotel lute #lute #hazbin lute #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel adam x lute #lute x adam

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nanistar · 1 year

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i saw ur nightheart posts and i noticed u hate him quite a lot and im curious for the reasons why! i hope it doesnt sound rude! its a genuine question out of curiousity not an attempt for you to justify ur opinion, personally im aloof when it comes to nightheart i think hes just an edgelord tbh

nah you're not rude dw i get it. tbh i don't hate HIM as a character, i mean he's kinda annoying but whatever. instead i hate everything about him as a written extension of the authors and their views. nightheart isn't real, and doesn't have opinions but they authors do and they speak thru him to a young and volatile audience that might not know better. (which is also why i don't buy the "unreliable narrator" thing)

they twist the female characters around him to fit their narrative of "poor misunderstood sadboy" surrounded by "cruel mean women". squirrelflight, sparkpelt and even finchlight already had personalities, squirrelflight especially is known for bending rules for what she views as "the right thing", so why would she turn around and scream at him for wanting to change his name? why would finchlight, in one book, support his name change and stick up for him, only for in the next book to completely turn around and call him disrespectful and selfish. they needed to create more drama for him. before his warrior ceremony, he pulls off dangerous stunts trying to show off during his test, and it ends up blowing up in his face and fails, and he doesn't see this as HIS failing, he blames squirrelflight and his mentor for "expecting more of him because he's related to firestar" which??? and for that plot point to be given to him instead of his mother sparkpelt who is multiple times described as the spitting image of firestar? but she's like, totally fine with it. she's never given anything to do ever until she becomes a mother, (except disagree with alderheart like once and be the "rude misunderstanding woman" for his story too.)

and speaking of mothers... sparkpelt lost her mate as she gave birth, two heavily traumatizing things happening simultaneously. she had post-partum depression for a while, which is a serious and debilitating illness that KILLS people. yet she was still able to feed the kits, she didn't abandon them. they had plenty of attention from their family and from the other nursery cats. they were never once neglected. she was only out of commission for about a month before squirrelflight helped her back on her feet but that doesn't matter, because for the narrative, (and by the fandom) she is treated like a horrible abusive mother who neglected her kids on purpose. which. first of all crookedstar couldn't even LOOK at his daughter for the first week of her life and he is heralded as nothing but a loving father. second, nightheart goes on and on about how she left him and how she is hardly his mother because (lilyheart? i dont remember) one of the other queens helped raise them for the first month. the erins tie the worth of their female characters to how good of a mother they are, and any deviations from the nuclear family with a working husband and a housewife are automatically bad in their eyes,( yet they killed off ferncloud because she was "too annoying" for being a loving nursery mom.) (also think about how anti-adoption they are. the second the po3 secret was out, suddenly brambleclaw and squilf were never their parents despite literally raising them) they are horribly misogynistic, and their female characters are just pawns for either manpain or to be baby machines. this doesn't even begin to touch on how boy crazy the female protags have been lately, bristlefrost was interesting at first but eventually just turned into a wife for rootspring and then fridged for manpain, and sunbeam suddenly deciding shes in love with nightheart even though he stalked her and creeped her out???

adding on to this point, during ashfur's takeover, sparkpelt is EXILED from thunderclan (after being mauled by dogs, and by who she believes to be her father btw) she BEGS imposterstar to let her stay because of her family but he refuses. finchpaw chooses to go with her mother but flamepaw stays behind. then in his POV parts, he goes on and on about how she walked out on him!

again, nightheart the character: not real. he's a puppet for the authors to speak their misogynistic rhetoric. i would LOVE if he was just kinda a whiny emo dirtbag, or an actual unreliable narrator and whenever he complained everyone around him rolled their eyes and was like "ok nightheart" . remember that scene in meet the robinsons where bowler hat guy is telling his tragic backstory and he's talking about ppl at school and his narration says "they alll HATED me" while everyone in the scene was like "hi goob cool binder!" or "hey wanna come hang out with me later?" THAT'S (hilarious) but also what an unreliable narrator is. if that was nightheart it would be so funny. but instead, he HAS to be right, he HAS to be mistreated by all these mean horrible women. sorry for ranting, i promise im not mad at you.

#nyask

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dboliklover · 2 years

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A sequel to my other work, 'The Perfect Wife'. Please read that one first, lest you be confused reading this by itself. Part of a series I wrote for a wonderful anonymous commissioner. Contact me at [email protected] if you're interested in commissioning me. Or DM me. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, this work gets quite dark. (Y/N) finds herself at a loss when she realises she's pregnant with her captor's baby. Shu struggles with emotions.

MDNI, DARK CONTENT AHEAD. (NON-CON, IMPREGNATION, PREGNANT SEX, BLOOD KINK, ABUSIVE THEMES, YANDERE.)

Chirping crickets, for many, were a soothing sound. This was not the case for a certain blue-eyed vampire who, as he laid in bed, believed that the most soothing sounds were the ones that escaped his wife’s lips. Her tiny snores, her sighs, her moans, her whimpers, her screams...they all filled him with such ecstasy that something as mundane as birds, crickets nor even his beloved orchestral music would ever sound remotely enjoyable to his ears again. Her warmth was also something he found himself drawn to. He was a being of frigid frost; his veins icy and skin deathly cold. Warmth was a rarity to experience and he embraced her mortality for his own pleasure and comfort, basking in the knowledge this woman was now his wife.

Shu Sakamaki was used to sleeping alone, used to being alone; his entire existence he’d been a solitary creature devoid of love or affection. Not anymore. Now, he had someone to take care of him as a dutiful wife should - even if it took more time, effort and punishments to get her to that point.

Before (Y/N), he found the noise of a beating heart irritating. At that moment, however, Shu listened to the steady rhythm with increased fascination, holding her to him to feel her body heat on his glacial skin. This felt...nice. Significantly more so than he’d assumed it would feel to sleep beside someone as lively and soft as she was. Pride filled his chest as his deep azures glanced over the marks and bruises covering her skin like a painted canvas of which he was the masterful artist; these cuts and wounds proved to all eyes that she was his wife.

Beautifully and completely his. Even if she wasn’t perfect yet, she would grow into the role; she had no other choice but she certainly captured the air of perfection and domestic rapture when she slept. No woman, especially no mortal, could compare to his choice of woman. She was going to take care of him, his desires and needs and in turn, he, too, would care for her; and in that way, Shu was determined to achieve the family he never had, proper and loving.

Thoughts traversed to the night before, the punishment. He had to bite back the pleasured groan brought by the fresh memories, his sadistic heart relishing in what occurred. Of course, it would’ve been preferable that she behaved and thus would’ve never experienced such a harsh punishment, but he learnt long ago not to cry over spilt milk. What was done was done; (Y/N) made her decision when she resolved to leave him and had to face the consequences of her actions, though he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the look of pure torment on her sweet face forever etched into his mind. She looked celestial when she wept for his forgiveness. Shu was hopeful that she would learn from this experience and learn to do better by him in the future - this marriage was significant to him and it ought to mean everything to her, too. If he had it his way - and he would - she’ll become the pristine image of a devoted wife, willing and pliant for his every desire. The mere notion was enough to make his grasp on her tighten, his eyes closing and throat swallowing dryly to ease his oncoming arousal. He didn’t care if she was unwilling now, because he knew she would eventually succumb to her womanly vices and lust after him; it was in a woman’s inferior nature to fall easily, but he couldn’t help thinking he might miss her pleas against being forcibly fucked by him, those turned him on more than he cared to admit.

Unfortunately, Shu acknowledged that one measly punishment would not be enough to break her spirits down enough; a frustrating sentiment, but one that he wasn’t stupid enough to ignore. He loathed having to place effort and waste time in most matters, but he supposed this wasn’t ‘wasting’ time when it was crucial and he derived some enjoyment out of it. Still, the sooner she fully submitted to him the better for them both.

Abruptly, his thoughts were interrupted by the change in her heartbeat’s pace, a huff of annoyance leaving him at the realisation she was awake, her body instinctively swaying away from his. His embrace tightened, much to her chagrin, and the way her body tensed filled him with discontented pride - on one hand, she was trying to shimmy from his grasp, but on the other, he eased in the knowledge that she was afraid of him, of what he could do to her if he wanted to. Last night revealed merely a silther of his strength - Shu knew that the previous night’s events were bound to affect her by dosing her in apprehension. Wives should respect their husbands, and the only kind of respect Shu acknowledged was bred through trembling fear. Perhaps now she’ll understand he is not a force to reckon with. Maybe she won’t try to do something as troublesome as escape again.

Whilst her punishment lessened his rage regarding her wrongdoings, the subtle pit of wrath remained and feasted on the panicked look upon her (s/c) face when her eyes met his. “I-” she stuttered out, her voice hoarse from all the screaming mere hours ago, “I need to go to the bathroom.” Shu groaned, dissatisfied. “No.” “Please,” she swallowed, staring up at him with wide, nervous eyes. “I need to. I...I won’t be long, just...need to go.” He pauses, sighing with a roll of his eyes, pressing her nude frame closer to his own; she shuddered against him, fighting the urge to push him away. She was smart enough not to, and so he gave her kudos for that - the punishment did her well. Satisfaction swelled in him as he felt her shivering, heart beating in a gradual frenzy with every second spent in his arms. She’d learn to enjoy his embrace, someday, but he didn’t care whether she liked it now. He noted her legs were crossed, a pained expression etched on her face whenever her pelvis shifted; assumingly her body burnt with aching flames, her injuries setting. “Fine,” he eventually granted, “You can go.” The soft sigh of relief was hard to ignore as she pulled away from him - the covers unfurling to reveal her battered body in its beaten excellency; Shu smirked. Her body belonged to him. “Not so fast.” He declared just as she was about to rush out of their shared bed towards the ensuite bathroom - her spine tensed, she dared not meet his eyes nor speak, waiting instead for him to continue and - assumingly - holding back the urge to run. “Come here.”

Shu believed there was no point in wasting words; he said only what needed to be said, and nothing more. His thoughts were his own, he felt no need to share them unprompted. With extreme hesitation, his wife made her way across the bed to his side at a snail’s pace. Seeing his grimace, (Y/N) gulped taking bolder steps until she reached him, thighs clenched together, covered in his dried blood-stained semen. His eyes bore into hers with a burning intensity before a smirk graced his lips and he brought her wrist to his mouth, kissing the tender flesh, pleased with how her body jumped at his every movement. She would love him eventually, but for now fear was just as great of a motivator for her to behave.

With unusual mellowness, his fangs pierced her the skin, drawing blood his tongue then collected like the sweetest nectar, her whimpers a graceful melody. When he was satisfied he pulled away, getting out of bed. “Let’s go.” “What?” she breathed out, taking a small step back. “I can...I can go alone, I won’t be too long.” Shu ignored her pitiful attempts at repelling him from joining her, grabbing her arm he dragged her toward the bathroom, “You really a troublesome woman.” Reluctance plagued her steps, the idea of cleaning herself up was likely still appealing to her given her slovenly state but if her hesitation revealed anything, the thought was just a little less tempting now that he decided to accompany her.

She was fortunate that waking up beside her warmth placed him in such an agreeable mood - in the future, he’d allow her to walk to the bathroom at her own leisure, however, he couldn’t yet trust her to be by herself even if she was only metres away. Besides, he liked taunting her. And so, Shu leaned against the bathroom doorway, his earphones in as he listened to his music on low volume whilst watching her clean the blood and cum off her tainted skin. Her discomfort was evident, afraid of doing anything that might upset him lest it bring her more pain, the punishment still fresh in her scarred mind. He didn’t move a muscle to try and assist her as she wiped herself of filth, choosing instead to simply observe. Shu admired her naked body in the harsh bathroom light; the curve of her hips, the skin of her thighs, scratched and cut, the bruises around her neck from the choking and chain he kept around her neck for the days she spent alone in the dungeon. His wife was a masterpiece - one meant only for him like a secret symphony, to be played and altered however he so pleased.

She likely realised by now that she would never get away from him. Until she learnt her place definitively he wouldn’t even allow her stolen moments of solitude.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Routines, like most things, were seen as boring by the Sakamaki heir - but now he found himself somewhat thankful for them. Two weeks passed since the consummation of his marriage and in that time (Y/N) settled into somewhat of a habit. She spent her days lounging around his room with him when he was there, reading or doing whatever it was she desired (provided she did not try to leave his bedroom he didn’t care what she asked him to bring her or what interests she cared to take up) when he was absent. Every day, the servants would bring her meals upon a silver platter; anything she could possibly crave, she was given - promptly, in silence, social contact limited so that the only one she was able to speak to was her husband. Thrice a day like clockwork her meals were delivered.

The lack of socialising and captivity within Shu’s room mellowed the miserable woman as the days dragged on in dullness and despair. None of which Shu worried about, the only thing he minded was that she obeyed; and, much to his pleasure, she’d done well. There were a few problematic slip-ups followed by minor punishments, he saw it as his job as her husband to correct her behaviour. She hadn’t tried to leave again, the most she’d done was regain some valour to stand against him when he tried to be intimate; a few times where she tried to shove him away or struggled a little bit too intensely, or one time during the first week when she locked herself in the bathroom and refused to come out under any circumstance. At worst, it was a nuisance to deal with but he could at least say he hadn’t felt that exact simmering rage since the night she foolishly tried to run.

Her punishments were primarily psychological than they were physical - though the fact she still required occasional violence was a given; he couldn’t let her forget that he could murder her like he could kill an ant; a single tug of his hand and she could be dead and gone - notwithstanding, he didn’t want to beat his wife bruised and bloody too often. He did love her, after all, and chose her for a reason; everything he did was for the good of their future. Patience was something Shu possessed, albeit reluctantly.

When she spoke out of line he withheld her meals, let her starve and feel excruciating thirst until she’d heartfully apologise, preferably on her knees in front of him, after which he’d push her to use that spiteful mouth of hers to gratify him, which inherently always turned into his fingers pulling her (h/c) tresses as he fucked her face, shoving his cock down her throat mercilessly, forcing her to swallow every last drop of his cum, punishing her further if she failed. Alternatively, he would leave her alone for hours - sometimes days - at a time if she did something to especially incite his wrath. She’d be locked in her old room with no way out, not even able to set her sights upon the servants who’d come to ensure she wouldn’t starve. Under times of (Y/N)’s punishments, they opened the door only enough to slide the food tray in and lock it again as quickly as they could. His goal was simple; to make her see that she should devote herself to him, to their marriage, future and, eventually, to their children. That he was the only person she could confide in, seek out.

She existed for him; that, to him, was her only purpose in life. It was his right as her husband, as her owner and superior to take her body whenever he wanted it, to fuck her and hurt her if he wished it and it was her duty as his wife, his belonging and his pet to take it all with gratitude. She was chosen by him to have a position worthy of envy, her marriage to him excelled her into high vampiric society if only in name, as the day he’d allow anyone too close to his wife would be a cold day in hell. Nevertheless, Shu was willing to surround (Y/N) with luxuries he cared little for; she could have any materialistic thing she wanted provided she accepted him for all he was, every flaw and malignant bone in him. And his efforts appeared to be working; she was more yielding, these days. Spoke less unless spoken to, cowered in his presence and bit back sharp remarks he knew were bubbling in her chest. She craved his presence more, letting herself be held at night without incident, though her stiffness never lessened.

Her subservience was appreciated, but he knew it still did not stem from a place he wanted it to - fear was a powerful motivator and he stood by his belief that wives ought to fear their husbands, but more than that he desired her love; the one thing (Y/N) refused to give. Shu understood that perhaps it was too early in their marriage for the fear to turn to love but the longer it took the worse his frustration became. She was supposed to love him. And she would, he had no doubt about that, there’d come a day when she would no longer be able to imagine her life without him, wouldn’t be able to breathe without him beside her. But that time had not yet arrived, and it was a slow-paced venture; she was developing a fondness for him but it wasn’t enough. None of it was enough for him, he needed more from her. Always more.

After a life devoid of love hadn’t he deserved to be cherished by his wife? Worshipped like his mother did his father, in her own way? For Karlheinz, Beatrix endured the sufferings Cordelia tormented her with; if his mother had been able to survive the worst for her marriage, so could his own wife do the same for him. (Y/N) was doing well, but in life few things went the way he wanted. He’d left (Y/N) in their bedroom, attending to some “important” matters imposed upon him by his father that he couldn’t shift onto Reiji for once. He was eager to return to his wife, parched for a drop of her blood but was greeted by a distasteful sight upon arrival.

He never paid much mind to the servants that brought his wife’s meals - they were worker ants with a singular purpose. Now he wished he had considered them more thoroughly. With his arms tensely crossed he stood by the bedroom door, dull blue eyes lethally glaring into the back of a male servant who dared pay his wife too much attention. It took far too long for her to notice his presence, irking him to no end; she was his wife, she was meant to notice his entrances from far away, her attention was supposed to be on him and him alone at all times; so to see her smiling at another man, especially such a weak and pathetic excuse for a creature felt like a horrid insult. Slighted, Shu waited for the wretched man to turn around, his usually apathetic face barring a stone-cold expression of contempt that immediately shook the human servant to his very core, instantly regretting gazing upon his superior’s wife, even if it had been a genuinely friendly act with no nefarious intent, the fact the eldest son kept his wife in the custody of his room should’ve been enough to warn the servants never to anger him. This pathetic ant did, and Shu found it terribly bothersome; pent-up fury seethed, every single thing he’d ever lost in his life flashing before his eyes, a painful ache in his chest at the notion of ever losing (Y/N) to some worthless waste of space. She was the one thing he would never release from his grasp - nothing would take her away from him, dangerous jealousy clawing at his psyche as his gaze pierced the man dead, who gulped, bowing his head in ashamed trepidation. “You seem to be enjoying yourselves.” “Lord Sakamaki, I-” Before the servant could finish his sentence the breath was knocked from his lungs, back thrown against the wall. Shu stood over him, apathetic. (Y/N)’s alarmed shriek ricocheted off the walls, begging Shu to stop, that it wasn’t the servant’s fault, that she was to blame - yet the words died on her tongue, the fear of another punishment kept her from truly defending the servant’s innocence, loathing her husband’s brutality but being too afraid to challenge him. Shu was terrifying when he truly wanted to be - she’d learnt that the hard way. Her need for survival overcame her desire to help the unfortunate man, fearful of her own fate should she try a further transgression. So she stood there and hopelessly urged him to stop, words drowned out by his violence. Time moved too fast and too sluggish; she was crumbling, losing her sanity. “You are such a shameless whore,” Shu growled out, his eyes drifting from the coward in the corner of the room to her emerald hues, filled with possessive spite. She flinched. “Shu-” “Don’t.” She gulped, eyes wide as she leaned against the wall at the other side of the room, shaking inconsolably. All she did was smile at a servant boy - they didn’t even speak. Regardless, it was enough to fuel the flames of hell in Shu’s chest. The truth, one (Y/N) would never be privy to, was that he was terrified of losing her. He felt like he’d emotionally crumble if something happened to her; not death or circumstance and especially not a weak human coward would steal her from his clutch. Their wedding vows sealed her destiny. He just needed to teach her a lesson, again.

Shu pulled out a knife from the bedside table, turning to the servant who pleaded for his life, begging falling on silent ears. “This is your fault, (Y/N),” He rarely ever used her name, “Everything that’s about to happen to him wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t so hungry for another man.” She shook her head, crying. “No, please I-” she choked, her heart pounding bitterly. She was the reason this man was going to die. Worthless apologies left her lips, ignored. ‘Sorry’ couldn’t undo the ache in his chest. She needed to feel as hurt as he was.

Shu was a patient man - if nothing else, he was more patient than his brothers. But that patience was limited, and when it came to something like this - something he saw as a betrayal - that patience crumbled into vengeance. Underneath layers of apathy, he was furious. This anger was rarely exhibited before he found (Y/N), even when violence was needed of him; but now he had something to fight for, to cling to - she was the catalyst that set his emotions in motion. It felt good to feel again - but it was in equal parts a curse for both himself and for (Y/N). He wanted this to disturb, wanted this to scar her, to be a constant reminder of what he’ll do if she misbehaves - if she disappoints him. His mother was faithful to Karlheinz, but he wasn’t so illusioned to believe all women made faithful wives. Cordelia proved to everyone that women could be temptress sluts, and he’d never allow (Y/N) to transform into that. That meant keeping her here, away from provocations. Away from other men. Women were irrational creatures.

He’d keep her until he grew bored of her, though given the intensity of feelings she sparked in him, he doubted that would ever happen.

Screams flooded the room as the scent of blood filled (Y/N)’s nostrils, for once - not her own. The smell of the servant’s blood did nothing to appease Shu, who scrunched his nose in mild disgust. Even his blood was rotten. (Y/N) dared not intervene, closing her eyes. “Look.” Shu’s tone was absolute. The blade dug into the man’s face, a sickening squelch heard as Shu cut his eyes out of his head, the mortal man unable to fight back due to his weaker constitution. Shu’s expression was lifeless as he tormented the man without a shred of guilt. He felt entirely justified; the man got too brazen with his wife, and Shu wasn’t willing to share.

In sickness or in health,

It wasn’t as slow a death as Shu would’ve liked to give him, but (Y/N) couldn’t be left unpunished for this slight, either. And so he scooped out the man’s eyes, the bloody mess dripping on the floor and coating Shu’s face and shirt, the human servant writhing on the ground, choking on his own plasma. Shu grinned at the sight. He deserved this. With a final slash, the man fell limp, gargling before silence filled the bedroom, the man, once alive, now merely an eyeless corpse with a slit throat. With a cling the knife fell to the floor as Shu stood back up from his handiwork, bloodied and stained. (Y/N) shivered in the corner, horrified. Until now, her ‘wedding night punishment’ aside, he’d been lenient with her, he never had a reason to force her to witness just how cruel he could be. That was his mistake; she required this vital reinforcement.

Dread ran down her spine as he slowly turned around, the moonlight illuminating his figure, the overwhelming scent of murder and the gore covering her husband almost made her vomit.

He wondered what she was thinking - perhaps that he truly was a monster. Or, maybe she was acknowledging her blame in all this. Preferably, it was the latter. In the end, though, her thoughts were meaningless. Either way, he was the only person who’d matter in her life.

His slender fingers unfastened his shirt with ease, staring dead into her eyes. “Undress.” “What?” She croaked, trying not to gag, troubled by what she was forced to observe. The look he gave her let her know there’d be no repetition. With trembling hands, she undressed, swallowing shallowly to keep herself from panicking. Everything about this situation was so fucked up and never in her wildest nightmares did (Y/N) think this is what her life would come to. Married to a monstrous man who valued no life. But she relied on him and him alone, and as much as hatred swirled within her (e/c) eyes as did the slow descent of her sanity, the way she’d cling to him proved that she was apprehending there was no life outside of him. Not anymore.

For better or for worse.

She snivelled, her dress falling to the ground. Humiliated, disgusted but unable to refuse him, she resigned. She aspired to fight but her instincts refuted any thoughts of aggression from her mind; one wrong word, one wrong move and he could so simply discard her life. “Since you’re such a filthy, worthless whore,” He spat, his midnight blue hues dark and uncanny as he watched her, posture towering over her, “I need to remind you that you’re my whore.” Shaky fingers undid the bra around her chest, freeing her breasts as she quivered over to him, preparing herself for the carnage that would befall her, knowing this would be another painful night. His degradation made her flinch. She had to swallow the venomous words of defence building in her lungs. Shu despised it when she tried to stand up for herself, once he convinced himself of something it was final. His silence was so much worse than when he raised his voice, it spoke a thousand words. “Get down. On your knees.” She did, reluctantly, kneeling before her husband, quivering. His shirt loosely hung from his torso as he unbuckled his trousers, releasing his softened cock. “Suck.” (Y/N) stared up at him with a look that begged for mercy - mercy that was non-existent in him. With tears welling in her eyes, (Y/N)’s lips wrapped around Shu’s thick cock, the salty flavour, now a familiar taste, coating her lips with his precum. Her eyes were trained on him, terrified that her eyes would fall upon the corpse in the room if she looked anywhere else, much to Shu’s contentment. He finally had the attention from his wife he desired; all he had to do was kill a worthless waste of space to achieve it. Once he was satisfied, his cum dripping from her chin, he roughly pulled her up by the hair, turning her head to see the corpse. “He wouldn’t be dead if it wasn’t for you,” he admonished darkly, his whispers filling her mind with remorse, shoving her naked form onto her hands and knees, arms in the warm puddle of metallic blood. She gagged and wept quietly, shaking her head and closing her eyes hoping she’d wake from this unending torture.

He wondered how far her sanity was from shattering.

Shu leaned down and grabbed ahold of her throat, squatting beside her, lifting her head up to give him better accessed to her neck, now bruised and cut from weeks of his relentless abuse. She was the most beautiful wreck. His fangs dug deep into her skin, blood pouring from the punctures in her neck, feeding him. He swallowed her essence, devouring her as retribution for her transgression. “We’re only getting started, you useless, dirty slut.” he muttered, crimson dripping from his lips as he thrust inside her unprepared cunt, uncaring whether it hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ferocity surged through Shu’s bones as he stormed across Sakamaki Manor, his face betraying none of the feverish emotions dwelling beneath the surface. He was infuriated. Ravenous; not out of genuine starvation but, rather, out of bitterness. He never handled emotions well; he rammed them down, bottled them in the mundane dullness of his existence and deep-rooted depression.

But (Y/N) changed him.

She did something, created a hole in that metaphorical bottle of feelings, and ever since they’ve seeped through him. It frustrated him because it was something he could no longer control.

Reiji’s criticisms were numerous and mostly disregarded by Shu. What his brother thought of him was inconsequential; but ever since his marriage, his father’s been on his ass far more than Shu would like; meddling in Shu’s life. He held no care for his future ‘responsibilities’, only thankful for his status as Karlheinz’s heir for a sole reason - his marriage to (Y/N). Everything else, to Shu, was undividedly insignificant.

His selfishness wasn’t as outward as, say, Ayato’s; it was tucked beneath disinterest, but he loathed the idea of allowing any strangers to gaze upon his wife’s visage; his father was demanding for them to attend a soiree a few weeks from now, much to Shu’s dismay. These past few days he’s allowed (Y/N) around the manor, barely, but he figured she’d have to eventually (much to his own caution). He noticed she was getting too cosy with the arrangement, another reason for his boiling blood. The final strike was when he saw her speaking to Subaru. His youngest half-brother never seemed like a threat, what with all his steadfast aggression; yet (Y/N) seemed to run into the silver-haired vampire too regularly for Shu’s liking. He wouldn’t allow for anything to occur; he’d be no fool as his father was.

Slamming the door to their shared bedroom, (Y/N) gasped at the sudden intrusion, eyes staring up at Shu. “Is...is something wrong?” Shu didn’t speak, glaring as he watched panicked paranoia fill her until she was overbrimming with frightening thoughts. As she fucking should. She’d been more restless around him, as of late; she was avoiding him - which, in his warped mind, was the highest taboo she could commit. She had no authority over herself; he decided everything for her as it should be. If Shu had a healthier mind perhaps he would’ve acknowledged the fact this wrath he felt should not be targeted to her but at his father, but he was not of a sound mind. Everything twisted to be her fault.

He needed to dispel this pent up stress the only way he knew how; through stringent sex. And she would be his victim, as she was almost every night. Flinching, she stood from her seat, attempting to stay brave. “Shu.” Her shattered softness had no effect on him, not tonight; not after a conversation with Karlheinz where he had to bite back all the horrid things he wished to utter because his father could rid of him in an instant should the wrong thing be said. Nevertheless, all those insults and all those centuries’ worth of hatred for the man who gave him life had to go somewhere, and (Y/N) was the unfortunate victim of circumstance.

Women were made to please men. She was made to please him, and sure as hell she’d put her pathetic inferior body to good use by making him feel sated, after which he’d keep her in his room all over again, refusing to let her out of his sight. The concept of showing her off to snobby vampire nobles infused him with fiery rage, she was made for him, to be seen and touched only by him. The only way he would attend that boring ball with her would be with her neck adorned with his passionate bruises and a collar with his name, screaming to the world that she belonged to him.

Revulsion pervaded at the notion of anyone else watching her with lustful eyes. That was a role reserved for him; the one and only man able to fuck her body as he willed it.

Shu was scarcely gentle, but nights like these - when something truly irritated him - when he was insatiable with his violence, he threw her around like a worthless rag doll for his entertainment, he hit and slammed and bit her until her bones cracked and (s/c) skin turned purple. In his state of paranoid hostility, he failed to understand the reason behind the agitation on her face, the way she took two small steps back. This wasn’t her typical fear of him for she’d started to become accustomed to the abuse; there was no running from it, only minimising it. The flame inside her that died revieved. She wasn’t going to let him harm her tonight. . Because it wasn’t just her he’d be hurting.

With broad steps he made his way over to her, planning on grabbing her face and forcibly kissing her when she ducked and moved out of his grasp, squeezing herself against the wall as though praying to morph into the wallpaper and phase through the wall into safety. “(Y/N). What have I told you? You belong to me. Every part of you is mine to do with as I fucking please. You don’t get to evade me, leave me, or even breathe unless I give you permission to, you worthless fucking failure of a wife,” his voice elevated, the wrath poisoning her blood as she tried to keep steady, determined not to let him touch her. “N-no!” She hissed, eyes glassy, “No, Shu. Not now. Not like this, I’m...I can’t!” Saying no to him after the trauma he inflicted upon her took all the strength she could muster - maybe at that moment, it occurred to her how much of herself she’d lost since meeting Shu. “No?” He laughed, but the sound was anything but comforting; it was a sinister laugh, “and I thought you were doing good.” She whimpered but kept her ground, heart beating in her chest, “I said no.” she repeated, fear increasing by the second. “Well that’s too bad, slut,” He grimly muttered, “Because that’s never been your decision to make.”

He was done with these games. His patience disappeared into nothingness as he stormed over, ready to beat her into submission if he fucking had to, he rose his hand against her, ready to strike her until she was bloodied and begging for his forgiveness only to freeze mid-air as she screeched and lowered her head, messy strands of (h/c) hair concealing her face and arms resting protectively over her abdomen.

With battered breath, she braced herself for a hit that never came, tears freely flowing down her face as she sobbed unabashedly.

Prolonged moments passed them by, neither sure what to do or say. She trembled in front of him, still clenching at her stomach, terrified of the potential of her baby getting injured by his blows. Shu wasn’t sure how to react. His arm didn’t move, stuck held in position until he pulled it back down, relieved, for once, that he hadn’t hit her. And then he smiled - this time it was a genuine smile - soon replaced by a smirk and then furrowed eyebrows. He was going to be a father. He was going to be a father. The words rang through his ears like a bell, drowning out his anger and the frustration he held for his father, Reiji and her seeming closeness to Subaru. That anger was instead replaced with a recognition she thought he would harm his own child. “You’re pregnant.” It was a statement. She shamefully nodded, head down. “Look at me.” She didn’t. Shu sighed and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up to stare into his eyes, coloured with a myriad of feelings all mixing and conflicting, “I said look at me.” She was shaking more than usual like a bunny about to be devoured by a fox. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tears ran wildly down her cheeks. Shu was a volatile creature, one wrong word could so easily set him off; “I...wasn’t sure how you’d react.” His gaze fell onto her stomach. Her womb - which held his child. But the fact she thought he would let any harm befall their baby left a sour, enraged taste in his mouth. “You’re my wife.” He snapped, his grip on her chin bruising, “You’re supposed to keep no secrets from me.” “I know, I’m sorry-” “Show me.” “What?” His grip relaxed, hand falling to the side as he sat on the bed. “Prove you’re sorry.” He knew, now, that he couldn’t be as violent as he was; for the good of their unborn child. After all these weeks of trying to impregnate her, it finally came to pass. He wondered for a moment how long she’s been pregnant - and, bitterly, how long she’s known. Nevertheless, this was a moment to be celebrated; and he would, by fucking his wife until he was content, knowing that they now had a good reason to attend his father’s soiree. He still detested the idea of others staring at her, but that jealousy would be fed by the satisfaction of getting to announce her pregnancy to their world. The ultimate claim he could place upon her; she was bearing his child - if her body hadn’t belonged to him before, it did now. Everyone would know that she was irrefutably his - carrying his heir in her womb. That eased most of his anxieties in the midst of his abrupt euphoria.

(Y/N) hesitated, hands still clinging to her belly before easing, her hands undressing the clothing adorning her newly pregnant figure, shaken up. Her eyes didn’t meet his, and the reluctance in her movement was evident, but for once he ignored them; the bliss of fatherhood was calming his mind whilst causing a tempest all the same; the thought he’d do something to endanger his family burned and he was resolved to prove to her he could be compassionate. His eyes were stern yet held a glint of tenderness - a softness (Y/N) hadn’t seen in him yet. Despite finding her thinking he’d injure their baby offensive, he welcomed her eagerness to defend the life growing inside her - a profound instinct for a mother to have. A good mother would do what his mother couldn’t accomplish; what none of the mothers could succeed in; protecting one’s child. His family was a ruinous mess from the start, which was why he found solace in the prospect she already adored and nurtured the seed. It was comforting.

As she stripped in front of him he imagined her breasts swelling with breastmilk over the coming months, her body preparing itself for the tedious perils of vampiric motherhood. Her stomach would curve so perfectly as their infant developed and he couldn’t wait to feel the sensitive kicks when it was closer to her due date. He’d have to enquire about everything she knew concerning the pregnancy later, but for now, he wished to experience this fleeting moment to its fullest. He’d punish her in other ways for keeping this vital intel from him.

Knowing that fighting back wasn’t an option, (Y/N) surrendered to his will, with delicate steps she sauntered over to her husband, whose strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his lap as his lips pressed down on her ever-wounded neck, kissing the puncture scars of his previous assaults.

“Never keep something so important from me again.”

Her full obedience was delightful. The baby, he realised, was the perfect way of making her docile, willing. If it made her like this now, he was envisioning how she’d be after the birth; he would be a good father, he assured himself. He had to be. He wouldn’t be like Karlheinz - he would actually care about his offspring. She gasped as he left butterfly kisses down her neck, pulling her as close to his body as possible. He wanted to connect with her like he hadn’t before. His fangs bit into her neck leaving another bruised mark as he drank from her, eyes closed in his bliss. He was finally getting what he wanted, all the hard work and effort he put into claiming (Y/N) and forming the idyllic family would come true. Streaks of blood fell down her neck as he pulled away and licked over his lips, eyes half-lidded as she stared up at him in apprehensive fear, shuddering when he grabbed her hips, unaware of the cuts his grip painstakingly left on her flesh.

His cock was achingly erect, the pent-up tension made him desperate to seek out relief but the thought of his wife’s body warping into something entirely his own in every possible way set his loins aflame with passion. He needed to be inside her now and was going to fuck her until the sunrise until her legs were weak and she couldn’t stand. He was going to show his wife his happiness by lovemaking. The word - lovemaking - was one he previously mocked but now, being a married man and soon-to-be father, he understood the true connotations of the phrase. (Y/N) made him weak. But it was the kind of weakness he’d always craved, deep within himself. The kind of weakness he always wanted to experience. The weakness of family. Of love. He ignored how uncomfortable she seemed against his lap, how her eyes divulged she wanted to be anywhere but here. His hands slide down her body, groans coming from his lips as he breathed in her scent.

He’d worried that once she got pregnant she’d despise it, but to his relief, it was the opposite; she loved their child already - she wouldn’t have defended it so foolishly otherwise. Shu told himself he would be gentle and he would fulfil that promise to himself but that didn’t quell the frustration of her standing up to him. She was passive now, but punishment was still required. He was a good husband. He provided for her - she had no reason for acting out or for daring to think he’d harm their family. His hands travelled down to her stomach, still too flat for his liking but he rested in the comfort of knowing he’d get to fuck her with her pregnant belly to his satisfaction in only a handful of weeks. His cock twitched at the thought. She whimpered as his hands wrapped around her thighs and his nails embedded into her skin, “You’re a terrible wife,” He whispered to her, making her flinch, “Thinking I would ever lay my hand on you whilst pregnant.” (Y/N) looked like she was about to refute the claim, words forming on the tip of her tongue - you were about to - but before the syllables slipped past her teeth she bit her tongue. She knew better. He took her smaller hand in his and guided her towards his cock, wrapping the smaller palm around himself as he groaned, “You’re my wife.” he reminded for the nth time since their wedding night, never letting her forget, “You do what I tell you to,” He breathed out, making her please him, “You exist to satisfy me. To revere me.” The misogynistic jeers came naturally to him, “To take my cock like the good little slut you are. To give me children,” he rubbed her abdomen. “I won’t accept you questioning my authority.” He spread her thighs apart as her hand pumped his cock, pitifully attempting to hold back the tears welling in her lustrous eyes. How many tears had she wept since her kidnapping? In her mind; too many. In Shu’s mind; not nearly enough. He thrived knowing only he could turn her into this obedient mess of sobs. She was his woman; it was that simple and he had every right to do anything he wanted to her; be that praise or degrade her, hurt or love her; it was his choice to make. Lifting her hips as she pulled her hands back, Shu lowered her onto him, filling her cunt with his member, the tightness making it difficult to lower her body over himself completely. She cried harder, muttering in pain as her dry walls were penetrated by his impressive size; one would think her body would get used to the feeling, but every time he raped her she was in the same hell over again.

It did hurt less when she didn’t struggle against it. She cried as he moaned, loud and unabashed, completely bottomed out inside her but unmoving as he stared at her expectantly. “Go on,” she froze, tears blurring her vision, hands covering her stomach. “S-Shu-” “Ride me, you filthy, useless whore.” His tone was tranquil but dangerous, one hand on her hip loosely holding her to him and the other wrapping over her neck, “I told you to prove you were sorry.” With a defeated wail she stiffly rolled her hips to get accustomed to the feeling of his cock inside her, much too slow for Shu’s liking so he bucked his hips, making her jump and squeal out, a sharp ache shooting through her spine. “You mean nothing to me,” you mean everything to me, “So make yourself serviceable. Show me how you’re sorry.” (Y/N) moved her hips up before lowering herself onto his dick once, twice, thrice until she set a steady pace, walls clenching tortuously around him. Every movement was agony but in its own way it was a familiar type of torment; one she was becoming used to. The hand perilously hovering over her throat pulled back and traversed down to her stomach, stroking it with pride. She was going to fulfil her wifely duties by giving him an heir he so longed for; a child of his own.

He wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father made. This family he created for himself was better, superior and loving.

He made it apparent he was determined to do none of the work; pleasing him was her duty despite the humiliation present on her face as she was forced to fuck herself on his dick, stomach exposed as he grabbed at it, reminding her of the future that was to come. The future she could never escape now that there was a child involved. Any attempts at running away after the baby would mean she’d have to abandon the child, something that he would use against her if need be; after all, what sort of mother would abandon her child to a so-called ‘monster’ of a father? Despair flooded her, the sensation of his thick member hitting her cervix unignorable; agonising. Her body clenched around him, bringing him bliss as she held tightly onto him. “Faster,” He demanded, refusing to move a muscle. Mournfully, she increased her pace despite her aching thighs, her hands pressed against his chest to stabilise herself, her body producing slick to lubricate the painful intercourse and make it easier on her. Her breasts bounced in the dim light as the sound of skin-on-skin surrounded them, ensuring she couldn’t even dissociate to any mental happy place - he wanted her actively here, physically and emotionally until the concept of leaving him in any sense - dissociation included - was the furthest thing from her mind.

“Fuck,” he growled, scratching her naked hip with how tightly he held onto her, his other hand kneading her stomach uncomfortably, getting himself off on the notion of her pregnancy. This was everything he ever wanted and he was going to relish this; the thought of a warm family was one that made him feverish, sweat piling on his forehead as her cunt excitedly welcomed him inside. It still wasn’t fast enough so he grabbed onto her waist, “You’re such a waste of space you can’t even ride me properly,” he smirked, feeling her tighten at the cruel remark; she enjoyed his rough words, his degradation - and even if she didn’t, she would learn to. Shu already believed he knew her body better than she knew it.

With a dull expression on his face, Shu bounced her on his dick at speeds a mortal man could never hope to achieve until he engraved her pussy with his shape and she could never fantasise about being fucked by anyone else but him again, his possessive instincts exultant he managed to impregnate her.

All the things he never had he would gain through this marriage; this pregnancy. “You’re fucking mine,” he moaned out, his tip slamming into her cervix, surely bound to bruise it and make her ache for days on end, “Mine, mine-” another moan cut off his words, “Mine.” He watched her through lidded eyes, her hair dishevelled from his treatment and stomach nude, breasts not yet filled with milk but slightly swollen; the early signs of a pregnant woman; the female body at its prime, what it was made for. “You’re my personal slut,” she mewled as he slammed into her g-spot mercilessly, “To fuck just like this, to breed and use how I see fit.” Their fucking was humiliating, each time (Y/N) felt she couldn’t feel any lower he outdid himself by destroying her hopes even further. This baby inside her ruined the last trace of individuality she clung to aside from her role as Shu’s wife.

Her clit remained untouched, the cold air being her sole stimulation; whenever she tried to touch herself he shoved her hand away, retorting how as his wife and cumslut his cock alone should be enough to satisfy her. Her tears aroused him, bringing him to the edge, thrusting messily as their fluids mixed and dripped from her thighs, his cum filling her entirely, leaving no corner of her womb untainted. His pace didn’t decrease through his orgasm, and it was only a minute later that he started slowing down, pulling out of her despite his cock standing taller than ever, libido still going strong. Shu’s eyes stared at the cum falling from her cunt, white and thick as it fell to the bed, and the ground, staining them both. Grabbing her chin he smiled, parting her lips open before spitting in her mouth, “Swallow.” (Y/N) did, almost gagging, body spent and stirred. “Good woman,” his hands laid on her belly, “Our child needs this,” the statement widened her eyes in confusion, “I-” Before she could question it, he brought his wrist to his fangs and cut a slit of flesh soon stained crimson as blood poured from the wound. She gasped, breathless as he brought it to her face, “Drink.” “No, No I can’t, I can’t I-” “Drink.” (Y/N) choked at the odour, memories flashing back to the night he fucked her in front of the corpse of the poor servant boy, trauma arising. How much torment would this man make her go through? Closing her eyes she trembled, small, bruised hands wrapping around his larger arm and bringing his forearm to her lips, trying not to retch. She gave a kitten lick, the red staining her sensitive tongue, body seizing in an attempt to refute his order. Remembering that her child was at stake she persevered. She gave another lick, then another, until her mouth latched onto the cut, sucking out the crimson directly from the source, the taste embedding itself into her psyche. The furrow of her brows showed she wanted to be angry at him for forcing his blood down her throat but even she knew that he was right; the seed planted inside her wasn’t human. It required monstrous nutrients only her husband could provide, and the fear of what her child would grow to be like filled her mind.

Eventually, he pulled his arm away and kissed her, tongue devouring the leftover blood that dripped from both their mouths. “We’re not done yet,” with surprising softness, he pushed her down onto the ground, “You still need to show me how sorry you are,” He reminded, his cock erect and ready for more.

As she sat on the ground, cum dripping from her pussy, the last shred of resistance died in her eyes. There was no escape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four moons passed them by, seasons slowly changing and with them, (Y/N)’s body. Her shape morphed into something exquisite, form taking on its role as a mother, housing Shu’s child within. In their shared bed the mother of his child laid with him, his arms securely wrapped around her, protective and hopeful.

Insomnia held Shu in its grasp, laying with his palms on her growing stomach, inhaling her scent. At the end of the day, she was his wife and he knew he could not deny to himself the love he felt for her. Partially, he was aware of his own cruelty, but he was too far gone to change. She was learning to love him day by day, though, so he couldn’t be too bad. Everything he wanted was in his embrace; his woman to keep his bed warm, to take care of his urges, to love him and a baby in her womb. As it should be.

The kick was hard to miss, putting his thoughts on pause. He pressed his hand deeper into her stomach, if his heart beat like hers it would be palpitating. There it was. The unmistakable sensation of his child making its presence known, its way of announcing its existence. Subtle, but he swore he felt it. This was all he strove to obtain. All that he ever told himself he needed to make him happy. And he was - he wanted to be.

So why, as his consciousness slipped away into slumber, did the worrying thought of “I don’t want this” threaten to echo in his mind? Worry permeated as he felt his eyelids falling heavy.

What if he was just like Karlheinz?

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after-witch · 2 years

Text

Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Nowhere Near the Edge [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Follow up to 'I Never Could Tell You.' You've been kidnapped by a member of the Phantom Troupe, who makes you witness horrific torture and murder in a dingy, blood-soaked basement. And that's not even the worst part of it.

Word count: 4306

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, descriptions of (non-reader) torture/gore/death, reader gets demeaned

It’s not that you don’t care about the people he’s torturing. You do, though they’re strangers. How can you not feel sorry for the people who beg for their lives, who beg for their families to be left alone, who pray for mercy with blood gurgling out of their mouths?

It’s not that you don’t find it all horrifying, the way he orders you into the basement so that you can sit on a rusty folding chair and watch him “work.” His work consists of knives and hammers and pliers and all manner of terrible things. His work consists of blood and gore and wounds you didn’t realize that people could survive. But they do. Oh, they do.

Of course it’s horrifying. Of course you feel a sickened type of pity for the people he’s--eventually, after much suffering and so much blood--killing.

But…

You feel far more pity, far more frustration, far more stomach-twisting agony… for yourself.

Is it selfish to feel this way? Surely it is. But you think, after all that’s happened, after what your life has turned into, you are entitled to a little selfishness. It’s only right. It’s only fair. Your life has become a difficult, red-hot living hell that you barely managed to endure day in, day out.

No, he hasn’t tortured you like he does the others he brings “home.” He hasn’t cut off your limbs or sewn your mouth shut or broken your hands.

You thought he might, at first. You remember the first day he marched you into the basement. It wasn’t that long after he took you. A few days, maybe. Your eyes took in the table stained with old blood, the restraints, the sharp and nasty tools hanging up on the wall. There was an oppressive stinging stench of cleaning liquid, but it didn’t completely take away the lingering metallic odor of old blood and other vile liquids underneath.

“Are you going to hurt me?” You’d asked. Your voice hadn’t been shaking, you didn’t have tears in your eyes. You asked it like you were asking him what you were going to eat for lunch.

And maybe that’s why he had snorted, why you saw his eyes crinkle above his cowl the slightest bit. He had shaken his head and pointed to the chair. You sat, quiet, as you often were. And then he brought someone down the stairs, handcuffs keeping their arms pinned behind their back, and tortured them to death while you watched in silent shock and horror.

“What did you think?” He asked afterward, blood on his face, his hands, his shirt. His voice had been high and teasing. An image came to your mind, an impression--that of a neighbor boy presenting a dead frog to a little girl, hoping she might shriek.

But you didn’t shriek. This was a shock, to be sure. You just watched another person die in horrible pain. There was real blood and real gore and real body parts in front of you. But what good would shrieking do? You never reacted like that, when you were scared or worried or horrified. You always managed to stay calm; to think things through, rational, weighty. That is the way your mind is always worked, and it hadn’t changed, despite the change in your circumstances.

So, instead of crying, instead of calling him a monster, you simply pursed your lips and gave him an expression that the other students back at university often called “haughty.” Judgmental, snobbish. Like you were above it all. And you were, in a way. You refused to even dignify his question with an answer, consequences be damned.

His eyes had widened, but he didn’t say anything, not directly. And you don’t think you imagined the way his eyes crinkled again, as if he was smiling underneath the now-bloodstained cowl. As if he liked what you said, even when he was trying to tease something else out of you.

That was the first time he made you watch someone die. It wasn’t the last.

You wish you could say that you hate it when he brings you into the basement the most. That watching people die is the worst experience you have with the Phantom Troupe member who kidnapped you. That you simply wring your hands over having to watch people suffer over and over.

But it isn’t the thing you hate the most. Far from it.

It’s what he does outside the confines of the basement that dig into you again and again, like the rusty hooks you’ve seen hanging up downstairs. Every little action is another shift, another press against your heart and soul, making you want to claw your way out of here in any way possible.

The problem is, it just isn’t fucking possible. You’ve had nothing but time to think of ways to escape. But it seems like every time you find a possible avenue to explore, he’s there to quash it, as if he can read your thoughts. It’s like he knows you almost as well as you know yourself. And you hate it.

He hasn’t hurt you. Not seriously. Some bruises on your arms from being dragged downstairs or sore muscles from standing in the same position for hours notwithstanding. Sometimes you think that you could handle it better if he was hurting you all the time. If he was threatening to break your fingers or tying you down and running a knife down your collarbone, maybe you could deal with it, compartmentalize it like you do the screams in the basement.

But what he does instead? It’s unbearable. It’s agonizing. It’s…

A touch.

You feel his hand ghost along the small of your back and your breath hitches as your body jerks forward. And in that moment, you truly hate yourself for that sound, that soft, startled helpless little noise that he managed to get from you.

“Scare you?” He asks, voice thick with amusement. If you could see his face, you imagine he’d be grinning.

But you can’t see shit, because there’s still a thick blindfold wrapped around your eyes. You weren’t tied up--God, it would be so much easier on your mind if you were--but you kept your hands stiff at your sides all this time anyway, willing yourself to feel bound by something other than practical obedience to your captor’s whim.

After he’d secured the blindfold with a tight knot some time ago, he’d simply whispered in your ear, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Keep it on for me. And don’t move.”

Of course he was planning to sneak up on you. You should have been prepared for it, but you were lost in thought. How long had he left you standing there, anyway? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Long enough that your feet had gone tired. But you didn’t move, even to ease that ache. Out of stubbornness. Out of the practical knowledge that when he told you to do something, you did it, because otherwise…

Goosebumps run up both your arms in the wake of his touch, of the startled biological response that you can’t help, no matter how much you try to prepare for him.

Bastard. Fucker. Your jaw clenches down and you resolve not to let him hear anymore unwilling sounds from your lips today. Not if you can help it. And you can help it, you think, tightening your fists. You can, you can, you can.

His hands rest against either of your sides, but this time you’re prepared. You stiffen underneath his touch, but you give him nothing more than that. Not even when his hands ghost up the delicate white fabric of the dress he put you in that morning. Not even when the feel of his fingers softly tracing the lace up your side reminds you of the utterly humiliating dress that you’re wearing.

He makes you wear such stupid clothing. Soft things. Frilly things. Dresses, nightgowns, delicate fabrics and flowing skirts that are so far from the practical sweaters and tailored trousers in your carefully curated wardrobe at your apartment.

This clothing makes you feel small and helpless and above all, stupid. It makes you feel like some wide-eyed doe, trapped in a horror movie. (You are, a part of you suggests. Isn’t that exactly what you are?)

Above all, it makes your cheeks burn. Especially in the aftermath of slipping on whatever dress he’s thrown at you and seeing his eyes rake you over, assessing. Especially when he smiles and coos at you. “Pretty.”

He probably gets off on humiliating you, you reason. But even that knowledge, and the desire to prevent him from getting as much satisfaction as humanly possible in your situation, doesn't keep your cheeks from burning red hot every time. It doesn’t soothe your wounded pride or patch together the barely-hanging-on remnants of your dignity.

“So quiet,” he murmurs, as he continues his touch. The warmth of his body feels oppressive against your back. You want to fight him. You want to turn around and do something, anything. Fight back! Scream at him! Scream at yourself, at the world. Let something out other than that low burning controlled irritation that slips out now and then.

But you don’t. You clench your fist tighter and you take slow, shallow breaths.

It’s not in your nature to do otherwise. You know that. And besides… you have to stay in control. Some control, any control. It’s all you have now.

If you give that up, what do you have left?

And that’s why, instead of thinking about the woman in the basement who died this morning cursing out the Phantom Troupe through blood-spattered breaths, you’re currently thinking about yourself. Your helplessness and your humiliation and your burning anger. At Feitan, at the Phantom Troupe, at Marie. At yourself.

Is it wrong? Is it selfish?

You don’t think it’s fair to make yourself decide the answer to those questions. Life is unfair enough, now.

You feel Feitan moving, stepping around to your front now. His fingers ghost the straps of your dress and your shoulders tighten at the ticklish sensation. And then he reaches around and unties the blindfold, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously.

You keep your eyes shut tight to avoid giving him the satisfaction of your full expression.

Feitan doesn’t believe in God. But if he did, he thinks he might just be willing to get on his knees and thank the Almighty Lord Above for giving him you.

You’re a mess of contradictions. Stoic but afraid. Composed outwardly but so unsteady underneath.

Hard, prim, on the outside… but oh, you can be so much softer than you want to be on the inside. You hate it, and he loves it. There are such delightful prickles in his chest when he can tell that you hate everything he does to amplify that inner weakness of yours.

He sees the way you snub your nose at the clothes he picks out, the way your lips curl in distaste, the way you try to tug down the short hems or shrink away from the flouncing skirts. The way your body takes a few moments to react to his orders, the way you keep your expressions neutral and composed as much as you can as you flitter about the house like a good little thing and do what he says.

Something in him curls up with such wicked content to see you, every single time.

Not just because he likes the way you look in the clothing. Not just because he loves to see you so obedient for him. He does. But because more than that, he loves the way you look when you can’t do anything about it. When you frown and shove down irritation but you do what he says, because you know you must. When you stand so, so still as he touches you, lips ghosting over your jaw, hands groping your breasts, and he knows you want nothing more than to shove him away.

There’s something else to it. He won’t voice it. Not to you, not to anyone else. But he wonders, he really does, if this is how Chrollo might react in the incredibly unlikely event that he would ever fall under the control of someone more powerful than himself. Would Chrollo have these little tics? These subtle tells that give away what you’re thinking to someone who has spent time studying you?

Every reaction hat he can illicit from your body, your mouth, your very being is utterly thrilling. Like the strum of an fine instrument under his fingers. And you’re not even a nen user. Just someone who, in that ordinary world that Feitan has never truly lived in, would be considered strong and confident.

Out there, anyway. In here, what else can you be but his good little pet?

Sit, stay, roll over.

You hate it. But you do it anyway, because you are, above all, seeking to avoid pain. Isn’t everyone that comes into contact with him doing just that?

He wonders if even if you have a limit. If there is something he could demand that you would finally deny, giving him free allowance to punish you properly. The thought makes him shudder with pleasure. He imagines your skin reddened under his fingers, the sting of his palm on your ass, maybe, or even thin stripes of blood from a whip…

He’s almost grateful for the cowl that hides the way his mouth curls up at the thought.

Silly thing. Prideful thing. He’s having so much fun breaking it down, he can’t imagine why he should ever stop.

So he won’t.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

And it takes a moment. He sees the thoughts in your head whirling, gears clicking. Your eyelashes stick to your skin for just a moment as you slowly release your clenched muscles and stare straight ahead, looking at him with the dullest expression you can manage

All he has to do is glance down at your hands to see them clenched, the easiest sign of how perturbed you really are.

But you, precious you, see him looking and slowly, carefully release the tension in your fists, letting your hands lay limp at your sides. Do you think he’s fooled? Do you think he didn’t already enjoy the sight of your shaking fists?

You’re lovely to him, and you probably don’t even know why.

“Stay still.”

His hands move to grip your jaw, firm but not squeezing. But you don’t push him away. You even keep your hands limp, probably through quite a considerable amount of effort. Your eyes flick to his face when he pulls down his cowl, and you look away just as quickly. He caught you, silly thing.

He smiles. And your eyes narrow just the tiniest bit when he does, sending low pleasure down his stomach. Do you even know what you do to him? You must. At least in moments like this, when he’s content to give in this carnal desires.

He tilts your chin up with his fingers, moving your head from side to side, like he’s examining a prize horse up for sale at the market.

Your throat swallows and he watches the movement before leaning in and tracing one of the faint bruises his teeth left on your neck with his tongue. The skin underneath tenses, and he can feel the way your muscles tighten as his mouth makes contact.

Delicious.

You must want to get away so bad, he thinks. But you stay so perfectly still and let him do what he wants with you--because you must.

What else is there for someone like you?

Every touch is sickening. You want to clench your fist so bad, but the knowledge that he’s seeing you do it keeps that urge at Bay. You want to deny him as much as you can. You want to keep even the smallest shred of your dignity intact for as long as possible. Just an ounce. Just an inch.

If you can.

And then his fingers are on your chin and it makes you wanna vomit. The soft gestures normally reserved for lovers are perverted and twisted. You’re thankful, mildly, when his mouth goes for your throat and not your lips. You can’t stand it when he kisses you. Especially when he does it, on the occasional moment, gently--like he is your lover, like his something soft and sweet. Instead of who he is and what he is and what this all is.

Your throat swallows reflexively as he begins to kiss and suck at your neck. There’s residual soreness from the last time he decided to leave a wake of painful hickeys, but for now it’s merely an annoyance. Merely something that churns your stomach and makes bile rise to your throat.

You feel like a doll. A dumb little doll in a frilly dress that can do nothing but stand and let some asshole do what he wants with you.

The feeling is only amplified when he pulls away, returning his hand to your chin and gently stroking it. Like you’re some prize. Like you’re his doll.

“You have been good,” he says simply.

You simply stare at him, dull as you can manage.

“Don’t you want something?” He offers. There’s the hint of a smirk on his face, a smug expression that you’re all too familiar with by this point. You ignore it as best you can. You ignore him as best you can.

But it doesn’t last.

The hand on your chin tightens.

“Answer.” Just a hint of annoyance to his voice, the stretch of tension that tells you that you’ve reached the thinnest part of the tightrope. Better not press your luck.

You set your jaw low. But you do answer.

“Like what?”

His grip softens, and it makes your stomach drop when you recognize the move for what it is--training. Be good, and he’ll be good back.

That smirk returns and his voice is lower, taking on an almost huskier tone

“A reward. For being so good for me.”

And oh, there’s a snake inside you that wants to lash out with venom and tell Feitan where to stick his fucking reward.

There’s something else inside, too. A curdling feeling when you realize you have no idea that he might consider a “reward” for you. There are so many terrible possibilities that you wish you’d acted out, if only to avoid this very conversation.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You shrug.

“I… can’t really think of anything.”

It’s not a lie. You don’t think about rewards or things that you want anymore. You just think about what you don’t want. You don’t want to be dressed up like a doll. You don’t want to be told what to do. You don’t want your life controlled by this piece of shit.

You don’t get what you want, anymore.

He flicks your forehead, and it’s such an odd, childish gesture that you can’t help the confusion that crosses your face. You regret it immediately, because he sees, and you’ve given him so much already today.

“Don’t worry,” he says, reassuring. “Thought of something for you already.”

Your throat feels like it has something hard and sharp stuck in it when you swallow. You don’t really wanna hear the next words out of his mouth, but you don’t have a choice.

He jerks his head towards the kitchen and walks away. Your limbs feel stiff as you follow, regret in every footstep. You should just tell him you don’t want a reward. But then he might use that as an incentive to punish you in some way. Which would be worse? Whatever he has planned, or whatever he might do if you stop obeying him.

In the end, you can’t choose, which is perhaps the hardest pill to swallow because it’s the truest action you can take. It’s not up to you anymore. It’s up to Feitan now.

In the center of the kitchen table is a cell phone. Your legs start to feel heavy and numb as you sit down, waiting for Feitan to do the same.

As he sits, he pushes the phone towards you.

“Go ahead. One number on it.”

The dryness in your mouth seems to come from nowhere, and you lick your lips, desperate for some relief. Who is he having you call? He said it was a reward, but… things are not so simple with Feitan.

Never has the prospect of a phone call been both terrifying and hopeful at the same time.

Slowly, with shaking fingers, you lift up the phone and open it up to the contacts list. There’s no name, just a number. You don’t know how long it takes you to press SEND, but you do, and press the phone to your ear.

Dread and elation mix terribly in your stomach as it rings, making you feel sick, making your heart pound.

“Hello?”

It’s Marie.

Immediately, your eyes dart to Feitan. He’s watching you with an almost placid expression, like the type you usually strive to keep on your face. It’s unnerving. You’d rather he smile. You’d rather he gloat. Instead, he’s… watching. Observing.

You’re torn between focusing on keeping your outward control intact and focusing on the voice coming from the speaker.

“Marie,” you say, and there’s so much in your voice that you can’t quite pinpoint. Worry. Bitterness. Regret.

“I… I’m sorry,” she says, quickly, half-muttering through a choked voice. “Really. I didn’t mean--I didn’t want, I didn’t want you to--” her words cut off and you get the impression that she’s muffling sobs into her hands.

You feel terrible, because you have to bite back the urge to tell her that she’s not the one stuck watching people get tortured to death in some psychopath’s basement. … Well, probably. You certainly don’t know much of anything about the man who took Marie, but you get the feeling that if Marie had been forced to witness people getting killed on a regular basis, she would have been in far worse shape when you found her.

Instead, you drum your fingers on your arm.

“Marie. Calm down. You have to calm down if you want to talk.”

You hear a loud sniffle on the other end. She clears her throat.

“O-Okay,” she says, softer, a little calmer. “How…. how are you?”

There’s a pause, and in the pause you can hear her telling herself that it was a stupid question. And it was.

“I’m… alive,” you say, and you can’t help the way your eyes glance at Feitan once more. Still nothing in his expression. It only makes the pit in your stomach harder.

“Has he hurt you?” Her voice is soft and strained and whispered. “What is he doing to you? God, I’m so sorry--”

“I’m fine,” you bite out, harsher than you meant to. You soften your tone for the next part. “Really. I’m… he’s…”

But you don’t finish, because you’re not stupid enough to talk bad about your kidnapper when he’s sitting right across from you. And when you’re only a few steps away from the staircase that leads into his literal torture basement.

“You can tell her,” Feitan says, watching you from across the table. There it is, now, on his lips--the ghost of a smile. “Tell her everything. Why not?”

Is it a command? You can’t exactly decide.

“What--what does he do to you?” There’s this empty sound in Marie’s voice that inspires both pity and ire. She’s sorrowful, but she isn’t you. You knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t out of place being under someone’s thumb, whether it was you pushing her to get back to school or the leader of the Phantom Troupe keeping her like some sort of caged bird. But you? The same could not be said about you.

You bite your lip. And then you tell her. Everything. You tell her about all the people you’ve watched die. You tell her about the clothes he makes you wear. You tell her about all the times he’s ordered you to sit still while he touches you, hands groping, pinching, taking whatever he wants. You tell her about everything, all while Feitan watches, chin in his hand, expression almost dreamy and faraway.

By the end, you feel some sort of cathartic release. You got it out to someone. Not to someone who can give you sage advice on how to handle it, but fuck did it feel good to give your thoughts a voice for once.

The same cannot be said about Marie, who began crying about halfway through and has yet to stop. It wouldn’t be out of place to call her borderline hysterical at this point, but she ignores your interjections, your attempts to make her relax.

There’s more sobbing, pitiful sounds, some high-pitched begging--”Please, Chrollo, make him let her go”--and then the line cuts dead.

There’s silence for a few moments. And in that silence, everything clicks. You’re being rewarded. Or so he says. You got some emotional release, however brief.

But for Marie, the phone call was meant as a punishment. Now she’s left to deal with the heavy regret of knowing exactly what her friend is going through. Or at least the surface parts of it.

Your hands feel tingly as you slide the phone back in the center of the table.

“Feel good to say it?” Feitan asks. And you get the sense he’s not teasing, from the way he’s still looking at you, chin cupped in his hand, eyes alert and focused on nothing but your expressions.

You think about it. Why not be honest? You have nothing else.

“A little.”

The chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, making his way over to you. There’s the innate instinct to set your expression into neutral, prepared for anything. For him to pull you up and drag you into the basement or his bedroom or who knows where.

Instead he reaches out and, gentle as anything, pats your head.

”Keep being a good girl, you get more nice rewards.”

Oh, the fucking bastard. Your head practically whips around as you shoot him the angriest glare you can manage, cheeks burning, mouth pursed, nostrils flaring in irritation. How dare he. How dare he treat you like some porcelain doll, some sweet pet, some thing to manipulate and manage--

He chuckles, throwing his head back a bit, and the genuine appearance of mirth on his face is both terrifying and annoying as hell. Hot humiliation flushes in your chest, sharp with irritation at yourself for losing so much control. You’ve given him too much. You’ve lost the day to him, giving him what he wants, what he’s been trying to tease out of you for hours.

You hate him.

There’s always tomorrow to try again. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that…

#yandere feitan #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan porter #yandere #afterwitch writes

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blueberrypancakesworld · 7 months

Text

What if ? - Adrien becoming a big brother

warning : angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/n

Gabriel Agreste x fem!reader

Info : So I needed to wrote another idea of @iamallthingsasian of what could have been when Betterfly's wife (adriens stepmother) got pregnant. Have fun reading this little thing ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°What could be?

°It could have been that in one of the many parallel universes Adrien was not an only child. That his father, who found hope and love in Hesperia or Betterfly, and his two former enemies Shadybug and Clawnoir, the latter being his own son Adrien, found hope and became good.

°They all saw hope and love in a new future Adrien with his Marinette finally came together and his father eventually found love. A stroke of fate that the blonde could not immediately cope with. He fled to his girlfriend and the two together in drawings, music and concerts tried to process the fear that they felt.

°But after Adrien realized how happy his father was with his new girlfriend. How kind she was to Gabriel, Nathalie, Marinette and himself, his resentment against her had slowly subsided and together they were all the good that now fought against evil.

°A team that one year later had a message to announce. Adrien would have a half-sister and become a big brother. Is it true?" murmured the blond, looking at the ultrasound image as they sat together at the table. Gabriel nodded and Y/n put a hand on her belly.

°Yet you couldn't see anything, but in a few months you would start to see something. They both feared that Adrien would get angry or even run away. The reaction was understandable. To their surprise and relief, the blond stood up and hugged his parents. He had finally taken his stepmother more than just into his heart.

°The family would grow before a little girl was born months later. ,,Adrien your little sister Emelie" said Gabriel and stepped aside. He put a hand on his son's shoulder before Adrien saw his sister in his stepmother's arms. The little baby looked at him curiously and gurgled before taking a finger from him.

°,,Emelie...like mother" he said and his voice became brittle Marinette took his hand and Gabrielle put a hand on his shoulder and stroked his head. The family seemed to have finally found peace...at least in this universe.

°But they wanted to share the happiness with Ladybug and Catnoir from the other universe. They traveled there with the help of Alyas and had a meeting. Ladybug was completely enraptured by little Emelie and Gabriel held his wife supportively while Adrien held the baby. ,,Emelie...she's so cute...you're lucky" the only child murmured and his friend held his hand. Before he gave the baby back to its mother and she rocked it slightly.

°They all knew about the pain, the mistreatment of his father and fine Hawkmoth. They knew that Adrien was suffering until Hesperia had an idea. ,,How about we visit more often and train together and you could see Emelie" he suggested and saw the blond's look turn from disbelief to gratitude.

°He fell into his "father's" arms and stroked the baby's head one last time, knowing that in this pain he was feeling there was also hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#miraculous world #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #gabriel agreste #hesperia #betterfly #hesperia x reader #gabriel agreste x reader #cat noir #claw noir #shadybug #ladybug and chat noir

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iovetecchou · 1 year

Text

Oblivious.

Part 10.

Oblivious Masterlist!

Pairings… Jouno Saigiku x Reader and Tecchou Suehiro x Reader

Contains… sexual themes, making up, domestic bliss, fluff, cuddles, banter, bickering (jouno & tecchou), housewife!jouno, one use of"good girl", feel good vibes!

AFAB Reader she/they pronouns used.

5,345 words.

hope you all enjoy this part! im trying to figure out their whole dynamic as i go, but im really enjoying it so far! let me know what you all think (:

You woke up the next morning to a faint ticklish feeling on your face. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking up toward the man above you. Jouno had a content smile on his face as his fingers continued to dance along your supple skin. “Good morning Giku, what are you doing?” You said in a hushed voice. Bringing one of your hands that was still wrapped around his lithe waist up to his chest.

“Good morning darling, I’m trying to get a mental image of your features. I never had the chance before now so, I took a gander,” He stated, with the softest smile adorning his features. You began tracing shapes of your own into his chest as you leaned into his touch along your visage. “Well? Do I feel pretty, Giku?” You giggled out gently, amused by the way Jouno's whole body shivered when you ran your pointer finger along his bare nipple. He tilted his chin down a bit further, so you could get a clearer view of his expression. “I didn’t need to feel out your features to know that you’re beautiful, y/n. You see, I’ve known all along, but I’ve become addicted to touching you all over,”

He stated boldly, his lips slightly curving into a smirk. You slapped his chest lightly at the flattery. “You sure know how to make a person feel special, Saigiku.” You said softly, a small blush decorating the apples of your cheeks as his finger began to trace your lips. He slowly dipped his thumb past your parted lips, and on instinct, you wrapped your lips around his digit. Giving it a playful suck as Jouno gasped out at the sensation. Heat swirled within his abdomen at the warm and wet feeling. He wondered what your lips would feel like wrapped around his-

“Oh Sai, I almost forgot!” You pulled your lips away from his lithe finger. Popping him right out of his little perverse bubble before you continued. “I need to go find Tecchou and make sure he’s okay. Will you meet me back here in a few hours?” You had climbed off of Jouno at this point, much to his displeasure. You hurried your way out of bed, walking over to your wardrobe. You began rummaging through all of your clothes until you found an outfit you liked. Pulling it on haphazardly before making your way over to your bathroom to freshen up. “Oh! And bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush, you’re sleeping over again!” You shouted out from where you were now fixing your hair in your bathroom mirror. Even if you didn’t shout, Jouno still would have been able to hear you loud and clear. He just sort of shook his head and chuckled to himself at the whole endearing display. This is another one of those reasons why he loves you so.

“Very well princess, I'll grab a few things from my place and come back here, sound good?” You had walked back into your room now, looking refreshed and energized. You couldn’t even spot that you had been a complete emotional wreck only eight hours prior. “Yes sounds perfect! I'll see you later, kay, Sai?” Jouno had climbed out of bed as well at this point. He had walked over to where you were standing in the doorway, craning his neck down slightly as you were now face to face. “Aren’t you forgetting something, princess?” He quipped, illuminating the slyest smile he could muster.

You rolled your eyes at his words before you eventually wrapped your arms around his waist. You pushed up on the balls of your feet as you captured his lips. Jouno moved his hands up to cup your face. He tilted your head slightly for better access as the two of you shared a passionate kiss. Jouno's whole body shuddered at the sensation. He still hasn’t gotten used to the intense physical intimacy with you. But he loved it, so fucking much. This is all he’s ever craved. You pulled back first, placing one last kiss on his cheek before you turned on your heel. Making quick strides toward your front door. “Bye Giku, love you!” And just like that, you were gone. Leaving Jouno standing in the bedroom doorway, flushed from head to toe. From the kiss, your touch, your taste, and most importantly… your words.

“Love you.”

It sounded as sweet as honey the way it dripped off your tongue. He still wasn’t quite used to that phrase coming from you, and being directed toward him. It made his heart flutter. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. He honestly had to pinch himself to make sure this was really happening. Jouno had been replaying the events of last night over and over again in his head. He never came that hard in his own life, ironic isn’t it? Ah, you truly didn’t know the full effect you had on him.

————————————————————————

You were standing outside Tecchou's apartment door now. You had been there a few times for work parties and during the holidays. But never alone like this, and never under these exact circumstances. What if he’s still mad? What if he doesn’t want to talk to you yet, and you’re being a pest by coming around to his place like this? You were so nervous. You kept reaching your fist up to knock, holding it still for a few moments. Mere inches from the steel door, only to drop your fist back down. Ah, you were a lost cause! You needed to do this, and now. You were a Hunting Dog, after all, you needed to have some guts! And just as you were about to knock, the door flew open. And you were met with an on-guard Tecchou. He had his blade unsheathed, and a stern look on his face. But the moment he saw you, he let up.

“Y/n? What are you doing out here?” You franticly took a step back before blurting out. “I came here to see if you were okay… what are you doing with your weapon..?!” He looked confused for a moment before he looked down. Oh, that's right, he thought you were a bad guy. “Well I heard pacing outside of my door so I assumed I was getting ambushed,” he said matter of factly, before sheathing his sword swiftly. You let out the breath of air you were holding in relief. “Tecchou, can I come in? There's something I want to talk to you about…” you trailed off, shifting your gaze away from his intimidating one. He nodded once before stepping aside so you could slip by.

You nervously walked your way over to his couch. Sitting down slowly as you began to fiddle with your thumbs. Trying to ease your nerves in any way possible. Tecchou walked over to you, inevitably sitting down beside you. He turned his body so he was now facing you. “Y/n… there's something I want to talk to you about too..” he sighed harshly. Bringing his hand up to grip his locks. His own way of soothing his nerves. You took a deep breath, as did Tecchou before you both spoke up.

“Y/n I’m really sorry about yesterday—“

“Tecchou, I’m so sorry for what happened-“

You both unintentionally spoke over one another. Sharing a puzzled look before you spoke up once more. “Tecchou, why don’t you go first, I'll say what I wanted to say after, okay?” You offered him a small smile as he nodded his head at you. Taking one final intake of air before he blurted out. “Y/n I’m really sorry for the way I came off yesterday. I was just pissed at the moment, not at you, god no, not at you. But at Jouno, and I didn’t mean what I said… I don’t want to break up, I still want to be with you y/n… I love you so much…” He was staring down into his lap now. Letting the weight of what he just said linger in the air. You slowly brought your hand up to cup his face. Pulling his gaze up to meet your own. You had such a gentle smile on your visage. Beaming at him softly before you spoke up.

“Oh Suehiro, that makes me so happy to hear. I love you too. So, so much. I still want to be with you… but there's something else I must confess…” You sighed, taking in one last deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Suehiro, I’m also in love with Jouno. I was in denial about my feelings for him for the longest time. But, this past week really had me sorting through a lot of emotions that surfaced. I was confused, and I tried to suppress how I felt toward him. But, I can’t anymore. I’m in love with both of you, and I know I sound so greedy... but, I just want to make the both of you happy, and make new memories and experience new things with the two of you...” You paused for a moment so Tecchou could catch up. His expression was unreadable. You swallowed the lump in your throat before continuing. “Suehiro… I’ve already talked this over with Jouno, and he said that he’s okay with me… dating both of you. As long as there are ground rules in place, he said. Now, I know this is a lot but—“

“Yes. I accept.”

Tecchou blurted out confidently, not even letting you finish your train of thought. Your jaw had dropped. You didn’t think that would be so… easy? Tecchou's voice broke you out of your intrusive thoughts. “Y/n. I don’t care. I'll do whatever it takes to be with you. I'll even follow Jouno’s rules. I understand that you can’t control who you fall in love with, so who am I to criticize you for that. I appreciate you being honest and open with me. So, yes. I accept.” He smiled down at you at the end of his sentence. His chestnut irises held so much love and adoration for you at that very moment. Your heart swelled. Tecchou was so amazing, this is exactly why you loved him. You wasted no time wrapping your arms around his neck and crawling into his lap. You pulled him into yourself. Locking your lips with his own. It was so raw, both of you pouring all of your love for one another into the kiss. Tecchou grabbed ahold of your hips. Squeezing them gently. The small gesture alone gave you so much reassurance that everything would be okay. That things would work for all three of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine at this very moment.

You were so scared that you had lost Tecchou forever, and that he hated your guts. But to find out that it was the complete opposite? Well, that's all you could have ever hoped for. It was the best-case scenario, for everyone involved. No more heartbreak, no more hurt feelings or lies. From this day forward, things would change, for the better. You pulled away from the kiss slowly. Resting your forehead against Tecchou's. He had his eyes closed in contentment. A small smile etched on his face. He was so happy to have you back in his arms again. “Hiro… what do you say we pack up a few of your things? Come stay the night at my place, and we’ll talk over everything, all three of us.” You uttered softly, letting the pads of your thumbs graze over the nape of his neck. He shivered slightly at the action before he pulled his lids open. He looked up at you from where your foreheads were still touching. Offering you one last nod of approval. You beamed up at him from the gesture. You were just about to climb off of his lap before he pulled you back down with the grip he had upon your hips. You let out a small yelp at the sudden movement before Tecchou resounded,

“Wait, don’t move… not yet. I just want to hold you for a little longer.” Your heart swelled at his confession, ears growing hot. Ah, Tecchou was so adorable in moments like this. He became so clingy and touch-starved whenever you were apart too long for his liking. He curled his arms tightly around your midsection. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, and breathing in your scent. To feel your warmth against him like this is all the reassurance he could ever need. He meant what he said, about doing whatever it takes. If it was for your sake, it was worth it in his eyes. “Okay are you ready now-“ he squeezed you tighter, whispering out against your neck, “No, five more minutes.”

————————————————————————

It was longer than five minutes, but hey, who’s really counting? You had helped Tecchou pack a few of his belongings. Making sure he had everything he would need for this overnight stay before you inevitably headed out. As you pushed through your apartment door, you were immediately met with the smell of something divine. But- wait, you didn’t have dinner planned out just yet tonight… unless it's… you quickly made your way to the kitchen. Leaving Tecchou behind as he kicked off his sneakers at your front door. As you turned the corner you were met with quite a sight. It was Jouno, he was cooking something at your stovetop, with a kitchen towel draped across his left shoulder. An apron was now adorning his figure as well. He looked so domesticated it made your heart flutter. Jouno smirked at your physical reaction before turning around. You were met face to face with a sly Jouno as he approached where you stood. “Long time no see, princess. I was beginning to think you forgot all about me.” Jouno gave you a small, fake pout as he craned his neck down. Placing a chaste kiss atop your lips before returning back to the flame. “Oh stop that, what are you making?” You asked excitedly. He already missed the feeling of your lips against his, “Curry katsu, now go take a seat darling. It’ll be ready in just a moment.”

Tecchou had reared the corner now. He was watching the two of you intently, almost unsure if he should join in the conversation. You had noticed his hesitancy as you walked over to the dark-haired man. You gingerly grabbed ahold of his hand before leading him over to your kitchen table. “Take a seat, Hiro!” You gave him a quick smile before taking your seat across from him. Jouno was now plating up dinner. He placed a generous helping in front of you and Tecchou, before making one last trip back to the countertop. He placed the kitchen towel adorning his shoulder against the cool granite, and his apron followed shortly after. Pulling it over his neck, and folding it neatly before resting it atop the counter, grabbing his own plate in trade. He took the seat dead set in the middle of you and Tecchou before he cleared his throat. “Tecchou, I’m not sure if y/n glossed over everything with you. But, I think we need to lay down a few ground rules.” He paused, taking a small bite before continuing. “Now, I’m going to be very patient, and share the floor. Once I’m done expressing my terms, you are free to do the same, understood?” He really emphasized that last part as he turned his head in Tecchou's direction.

Tecchou was already stuffing his face with the delicious meal like a man starved. It made you giggle to yourself as he quickly tried to chew his food and swallow to answer an awaiting Jouno. “Got it.” Is all Tecchou muttered, after all that anticipation? Jouno ticked up his eyebrow in frustration, but you were quick to notice. You grabbed his hand from where it rested atop your table. Giving him a small reassuring squeeze, as to settle his annoyance. He let out a deep sigh before continuing. “For starters, I want us to split alone time with y/n fifty-fifty. The three of us may spend time together like so, but I don’t prefer it. If we all sleep in the same bed, then y/n must be in the middle. If y/n requests alone time specifically with one of us, then the other must oblige. Oh, and when it comes to the matter of taking y/n’s virginity… we both shall be present. It's only fair, don’t you think?” Your face completely flushed at the last part of his demands. The thought of it alone made you heat up.

Being sandwiched between the two men you were completely obsessed with? Ah, it's what all your wet dreams were made of. You squeezed your thighs together at the thought. Jouno slyly chuckled, a smirk growing over his face at your physical reactions before Tecchou spoke up. “I can follow those rules. But, I think it would be nice if we all hung out and got along, for y/n’s sake. I know you hate me Jouno, and that we’ve had many differences in the past, but I don’t hate you at all. Sure, you piss me off at times but I can see that deep down you’re a good person. I mean, why else would y/n fall for you? I don’t really see any other appeal.” Tecchou deadpanned.

It started off sweet and then… oh yeah Jouno was aggravated. He was gripping his chopsticks with so much force. You squeezed his free hand a little tighter this time, trying your hardest to keep him at bay. “Great then it's settled! Ah, thank you for the meal Sai, it's amazing!” You spoke up. Scooping up the last few bites on your plate before bringing it to the sink. You began cleaning up for Jouno, It's the least you could do after all the hard work he put into making dinner for the three of you. The two men hadn’t said a single word to one another since you left your seat. You were internally panicking. Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as you first assumed.

“Well Tecchou, I will applaud you for not adding any fowl additions to my meal,” Jouno said, trying to play nice. Which you greatly appreciated, letting out a breath that you weren’t aware you were even holding. “Thanks for the food. I didn’t know you could cook.” Tecchou said before taking one last bite. “Why yes, I really enjoy cooking and baking in my free time.” Tecchou’s eyes lit up at this, not that Jouno could see, but he could hear the other man's heartbeat quicken. “Baking too? Do you know how to make strawberry shortcake?” Jouno simply chuckled at the question.

Of course, he knew how to make that. It was one of the easiest desserts to make. “Obviously I know how to make strawberry shortcake, but let me guess. You put ketchup on your slice because it resembles strawberry jam, yes?” Jouno quipped, smirking at Tecchou, enjoying his own snide comment. “Yes, how did you know that?” Jouno's jaw immediately fell. He brought his hand up to cover his head, shaking it slightly in disapproval. He let out a drawn-out sigh before uttering. “Tecchou… you imbecile, your soul truly has no artistry!” You couldn’t help but snicker to yourself at the whole conversation the two men shared. Maybe things would be okay after all. “Y/n! quit your giggling, this is no laughing matter!”

You just began to laugh harder at his demand. Ah, Jouno didn’t realize how adorable he was when he was irritated like this. Tecchou simply just tilted his head in confusion. What was so funny? He thought. You walked over to where both men were seated. Placing a kiss atop each of their heads before reaching down and grabbing their plates. Making your way back to the sink to finish up. “I'll meet you two on the couch, why don’t we watch, and listen, to a movie?” You exclaimed, not bothering to look back as you lathered up the dirty plates. Jouno rolled his eyes from beneath his closed lids. He had to keep reminding himself that he was doing this for you. “Okay, can we watch A Bug's Life again?” Tecchou said with a trace of excitement in his voice, which was quickly snuffed out.

“Absolutely not. If I have to listen to buzzing for an hour straight, I'll go insane. However, I am not opposed to listening to horror movies. I love the sound of those pathetic fools screaming and crying as they beg for mercy.” Jouno smiled wickedly to himself before Tecchou reached over the table and slapped his hand. “Ow? What was that for, Tecchou?” Jouno’s eyebrows scrunched up at the dark-haired man's actions. “Stop that. Your nasty habit is showing.” Tecchou deadpanned once more before he got up and made his way over to your couch. Jouno cursed under his breath, something along the lines of… “I really wish you would drop dead right now…” It made you laugh to yourself once more. Who needed television when you had these two men? They were your prime entertainment.

You dried off your hands, making your way over to Jouno who was still sitting at the table. You grabbed ahold of his cold hands before tugging him up from his chair. Wasting no time in dragging him over to the couch. Tecchou scooted over where he sat. Allowing you to plop down in the center, with Jouno taking his seat beside you. Tecchou was on the left of you, and Jouno was on the right. Ah, had you died and gone to heaven? “Okay let's compromise… why don’t we watch, and listen to, Mimic? It has bugs, and it's a horror flick! What do you say, boys?” You reached out for the remote that was resting atop your coffee table. “I suppose that works.” “Yeah sounds good to me.” Both men said in unison. Making you chuckle under your breath.

You started up the movie, making sure that the Audio Description was enabled for Jouno’s sake. You grabbed the throw blanket that was also laying on top of your table. Discarding the remote in the process. You draped it over the three of you, making sure everyone was covered before you sat back. You found each of their hands from beneath the covers. Grabbing ahold of them both before relaxing into your couch further. Both men were now focused on the sights and sounds coming from the tv. You quickly took a peek at each of their faces. They both looked concentrated and invested. It made your heart flutter even further. You eventually turned to face the tv for yourself. You had seen this movie countless times, so the looks on your two boyfriend's faces were way more interesting right now. But, you digressed.

You had dozed off somewhere towards the end of the movie, sleeping soundly where you sat. That was until you were abruptly awoken. “That was crazy! Imagine if this were to happen in real life?” Tecchou spoke up, looking over at Jouno to see what he thought as well. “Tecchou, you idiot, it's simply fiction! However, I will agree that the movie sounded outlandish. The screams were my favorite part.” Jouno snickered out, as Tecchou just shot the other man a pointed look at his sadistic nature. Tecchou then moved his gaze down to your sleepy face. Your eyes were half-lidded as you let out a small yawn. The endearing sight set Tecchou's heart ablaze. You always got so quiet when you were tired, he noticed. Jouno heard Tecchou’s heart rate pick up, as well as your small yawn.

His own features softened at your steady heartbeats and subdued emotions. “Y/n? do you want to get ready for bed angel?” Tecchou asked softly, reaching his free hand that wasn’t interlocked with your own up to your face. He stroked your cheek softly as you leaned into his touch. Causing him to smile wider down at you. “Mn… that sounds nice…” You mumbled out leaning your head back against Jouno’s shoulder. He stiffened up a bit at the unexpected gesture. But softened almost immediately after, because he knew it was you. Jouno gave your interlocked hands a gentle squeeze before he spoke up. “Come on princess, let’s head to your room.” You nodded where you were resting against Jouno’s shoulder before Tecchou spoke up once more. “Come here, I'll carry you.” He untangled your hands. Reaching for your waist with both of his instead. “Mn… kay…” Tecchou scooped you up into his arms bridal style before standing up slowly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, closing your eyes once more.

Jouno rose from where he sat, following close behind. As you all arrived inside your bedroom, Tecchou placed you upright against the bed. “I’m just going to get changed, I'll be right back love,” Tecchou whispered. Placing a small kiss atop your forehead before he descended towards your restroom. Giving Jouno a small pat on the back as he passed by him, making Jouno stiffen once more tonight. But he didn’t let it affect him. Instead, he made his way toward your wardrobe. Pulling out what he presumed was a tank top and shorts, before walking over to where you sat. "Alright, arms up, princess,” Jouno ordered, tugging on the hem of your shirt. You were too sleepy to fight it as you lifted your arms up slowly. He pulled your shirt over your head, before reaching down to unclasp your bra. Your eyes flung open at this, suddenly feeling very flustered at the intimate act. Jouno held a small smile as he began tugging the tank top over your head, and down your midsection. “Good girl. Now, lift your hips for me,”

He ordered once more, reaching up to undo the button on your pants. Your ears grew hot, but you obliged. Lifting your hips up slowly as Jouno hooked his fingers through the two loops located on either side of your hips. Pulling your pants down slowly. The feeling of his cold fingers brushing up against your bare thighs gave you goosebumps. Eliciting a small gasp from you, almost inaudible. But Jouno heard it. Crystal clear. The corners of his lips tugged into a small smirk as he finally pulled your pants fully off. He slowly knelt down to hook your legs through the holes of your sleep shorts. He gradually ascended as he dragged the shorts up your bare legs, and to your hips. You lifted your hips up once more so he could pull them over. “There, now you’re ready for bed,” He whispered out, his face now hovering in front of your own. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips. Causing heat to pool in your core. Jouno just lightly chuckled against your lips at your reactions before you heard a soft,

“Uh... the bathroom is free now, Jouno.”

Tecchou said, before making his way over to the bed. He wasted no time climbing in on the left side. Patting the spot beside him, prompting you to crawl under the covers with him. He was shirtless, only clad in a pair of grey sweatpants. Making your heart flutter at the sight of his bare abs, muscular arms, and lean chest. Jouno just clicked his tongue as he stood upright. Making his way to the bathroom himself. He had to remind himself once more, he’s doing this for you. You indulged Tecchou, crawling under the sheets and cuddling up to him. Nuzzling your face into his bare chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “Mm, you’re always so warm Hiro… my own personal heater!” You giggled out, making Tecchou flush. He moved his own hands up to your hips.

Holding you snuggly against him. He kissed the top of your head before he spoke. “Hm… I’ve always been this way. but I like when we cuddle like this. You’re so soft, y/n… and your shampoo smells so good, like strawberries.” He mumbled into your hair, causing you to giggle into his chest. “You really like strawberries, don’t you baby?” You tilted your head up now to get a clear view of his face. He was smiling down at you, his eyes holding so much love for you at this moment. “Yeah, I guess I do. That's why I asked Jouno if he knew how to make strawberry shortcake… I’ve been craving it recently.” You smiled widely at him one last time before leaning in to place a warm kiss against his lips. You squeezed your hands around his waist slightly as you deepened the kiss. Tilting your head for better access.

“Why don’t we get the supplies for the cake tomorrow then? It's fairly easy to make. Plus, it's Sunday so I suppose it wouldn't be a hassle.”

Jouno spoke up as he began to pull the covers up on the right side, before snaking his way under them. You hadn’t even heard him re-enter the room. His voice startled you slightly, as you pulled away from Tecchou. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?” Tecchou quirked his head to face Jouno, and you did the same. The both of you were awaiting his response. “It's no trouble. Princess, think of what you want for dinner tomorrow. I'll make whatever you’d like.” He said matter of factly as he turned on his side to face the two of you. You could tell he was sleepy as he let out a small yawn after his words. Jouno was now in a cotton t-shirt and a pair of boxers. You beamed up at him widely before making your way over to his side. Wrapping your arms around his slender frame as you pulled him in for a hug.

“Really? You’re the best, baby! I can’t wait to eat more of your delicious food!” You whispered out softly, being cautious of the close proximity you had to his sensitive ears. He shuddered at your touch. Your bare legs brushed up against his own as you laid flush against one another. Tecchou scooted in closer. Bringing his hands up to your hips as he pulled your backside to be snugly pressed against his front. Jouno moved his free hand that was not tucked under the pillow above his head up to your waist. Holding you gently in place against him. Yeah, it's official. You had passed away and ascend up to heaven. You were face-to-face with Jouno. Chests flush against one another as you tangled your legs in between his. And Tecchou was pressed impossibly close to your backside, his bare chest lightly rising and falling against the expanse of your back. With his pelvis pressed up oh so sweetly against your ass. You sighed softly, closing your eyes in pure contentment.

“Night… my loves…” You yawned, before letting sleep overtake your mind. Tecchou closed his eyes as well, nuzzling his face into your hair once more before whispering out. “Goodnight, angel.” Jouno gave a small squeeze to your midsection, placing a loving kiss on your lips. As he pulled back he let out, “Sweet dreams, darling.” Succumbing to sleep himself. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Jouno was a lonely man before you. He would get off of work, go home and go about everything on his own. Each day blended into the next. Same routine over and over. That was until you brought some light into his very dark world. Getting to hear you laugh, and feel you embrace him just like this made life so much more bearable. And… I guess conversing with Tecchou wasn’t completely mind-numbing. He hadn’t let another soul enjoy his cooking, ever. It was always a meal for one. So imagine his surprise when practically overnight, that meal for one manifested into a meal for three. Eating with others was fulfilling, he came to realize. It made the flavors more vibrant, and the dinner conversations more meaningful.

He was doing this for you, but he was finding that silver lining for himself. And it made his heart swell with love in a way that he’s never felt before in his whole entire life.

woah, woah, woah, um. what are we thinking? are we liking where this is going? am i liking where this is going?

taglist: @coco-goat-milk @madelynwolff @tecchoufr @saharei @lyrstybsd @chalksdreams @itssara-chan @mizu-san @win-writes @daushu @nymphsdomain

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jessamine-rose · 2 years

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⋆‧͙˚*✧•̩̩͙*˚ Fairytale ˚*•̩̩͙✧*˚‧͙⋆

I thought that writing Herbarium would free me from the Capitano agenda. But I was wrong and now we have a side story + epilogue written from Capitano’s POV…….pls don’t expect much from this, as it’s just a collection of dark fluff and bonus scenes which take place throughout Herbarium. Also, three cheers for Sumeru update ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

To those who previously enjoyed Herbarium, I hope you enjoy this fic and don’t mind me tagging you. I will forever be grateful for your feedback!! And thank you once again to my dear friend @diodellet for peer-reviewing another self-indulgent fic :’>

Tw:: YANDERE, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping, violence, blood, murder, psychological trauma, mention of child abuse, mention of nsfw, spice, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano, pre-release characterization of Capitano which will likely be obliterated by canon lore

♡ 3.3k words under the cut ♡

i. Once upon a time, an unlikely romance blossomed between a Monster and a Damsel.

The battlefield is a merciless place. A corner of the world nourished by violence and bloodshed, a place where only the strong could lay claim to honor and victory. For as long as he had been a Fatui Harbinger, Il Capitano had full control over this domain.

On the battlefield, there is no chance to appreciate the beauty of the natural surroundings, not when all would eventually be sullied by blood and death.

And yet here he is, standing in a peaceful meadow so far removed from the reality of the world. Having fallen victim to an opponent like no other, whose weapons take the form of melancholic glances and immortalized flowers.

“This is for you.”

She gives him flowers again. The dandelions are pressed between two sheets of parchment paper, puffy seeds flattened and denied of their promised liberation.

And just as he had done with that fateful bunch of windwheel asters, Capitano accepts her gift.

“The flowers are preserved this time,” he notes. “Are these from your personal collection?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t share my flowers. I picked these two weeks ago and pressed them for you.”

“And for what reason have you taken pains to offer this gift to me?”

She looks up, directly facing him. “You don’t seem to be the touristy type. I just thought that you might like a souvenir of Mondstadt to bring home. Or think of it as compensation for helping me read those Snezhnayan classics.”

How strange. Many a soldier have looked at him with fear or hatred, oftentimes as the light faded from their eyes. On the other hand, there is a sense of privilege to be felt in occupying ______’s gaze. The melancholy look in her eyes is a mystery which he has yet to uncover.

“Your gesture is greatly appreciated.” He keeps the parcel in his coat pocket, careful not to crumple the flowers. “I shall see to it that your gift is properly maintained.”

“That is good to hear.” She looks away, ending that brief moment of recognition. Then she sits down on the grass and opens her library book, quickly absorbed in her newest story.

For her to put herself in such a vulnerable position before him…he cannot tell if her trust is a matter of blind naivete or foolish courage. Had she met a lesser person, she would have quickly fallen prey to the cruelty of the world.

His appointment in the Goth Grand Hotel will begin in a few minutes. It is time to resume his mission.

Capitano walks over to the edge of the meadow, nodding at a hidden subordinate. They bow and run deeper into the forest to prepare his carriage.

He looks at ______ one last time. She is still staring at her book, completely apathetic to his departure. Among the flowers, she presents the perfect image of ethereal beauty.

It would astonish many to hear that the Captain had fallen victim to the charms of such a delicate little flower. But that was the reality of this battlefield.

ii. The Monster, having fallen under the spell of true love, sought to become the Damsel’s protector.

Procuring information had been child’s play.

“My lord, the Maier son was spotted leaving the Angel’s Share! He will arrive in an hour.”

The Fatui agent is careful not to step on the blood. The cleaners already have their fair share of evidence to dispose of.

Capitano is still standing inside the Maiers’ office. “Keep an eye on him henceforth. Should he ever suspect the involvement of the Fatui or ______, eliminate him at once.”

“Yes, my lord!”

They rush out of the room. Capitano glances at the bodies on the floor.

The Maier couple had been cowards to the very end. Up until their slaughter, they had begged for mercy and spoken ill of their former foster child.

“Lord Harbinger, it is all a misunderstanding!”

“That brat! What kind of lies has she been telling everyone?!”

To think that he even granted them the mercy of a quick death. The Tsaritsa would forgive him for turning their mere interrogation into a spontaneous massacre. The suffering of his soldiers is nothing compared to what his darling had been forced to endure.

“My lord!” Another agent appears, holding up a worn folder. “We were successful in obtaining all records of ______ from Mondstadt Orphanage. All available personal information is listed in this folder, with the exception of the adoption papers.”

“Has the orphanage been sworn to secrecy?”

“They promised to never speak of her moving forward.”

Another pathetic lot. For a safe haven to be easily silenced with bribery and threats…he is already aware that injustice flourishes beyond the battlefield.

Capitano wipes the blood off his gloves and opens the folder. By now, he already knows most of his darling’s past through earlier background checks and careful deductions. There is nothing romantic to be found in her melancholy; it is simply the byproduct of a tragic story.

NAME: ______

STATUS: Dismissed at the age of 18.

How pitiful. All her life, she has been a powerless damsel deprived of hope and a kind savior. She was only able to leave her prisons once her tormentors were done with her.

“My lord.” The agent is still bowing before him. “We have already completed our other task. The purchased books will be delivered to your home shortly.”

“Confirm that the books will arrive before my return. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!”

He can still recall the titles and stories of every book his darling had read in the meadow alongside him. She has a fondness for fairytales, from the classics to dark fantasies to creative subversions. It is easy to tell which archetype Capitano would be associated with.

He would never be regarded as her hero or knight in shining armor. To claim that his love is honorable and pure would be a falsehood.

But he would protect her. He would place her in a tower so high that it would be impossible for anyone else to reach her. And regardless of her feelings, his darling would never be exposed to the violence of the world ever again.

He only hopes that she will quickly adapt to the merciless winters of Snezhnaya. A flower does not take kindly to being uprooted from its natural environment. However, she has shown him that it is more efficient to claim ownership over a pressed flower.

“My lord.” The cleaner gives him a brief bow. “All evidence of your involvement has been erased. What should we do with the bodies?”

“Leave them as they are. Let their deaths become a public spectacle in Mondstadt.”

So she may know of his resolve to destroy all of the monsters in her story, with himself as the sole exception.

Capitano closes the folder and turns to his darling’s slain tormentors.

“Let the consequences of their dishonor be put on display."

iii. Following the Monster’s profession of love, the couple was married in a faraway land.

There is no grand proposal or wedding. A few weeks after their arrival in Snezhnaya, Capitano presents his darling with a simple ring crafted in the likeness of flowers.

She doesn’t resist. She simply allows him to slip the ring onto her finger, flinching at their brief skin contact. Following that short ceremony, he begins calling her his wife.

His darling has adjusted to her new prison but she remains a silent captive. She denies him of her flowers and friendliness, instead offering her obedience as the bare minimum. It is a futile strategy, but Capitano can respect her logic.

She knows that she is locked in a one-sided battle. Eventually, she will concede defeat.

On occasion, he is granted small victories. He often catches his darling polishing her wedding ring despite it being a dreaded mark of his ownership. At one point, she had even dared to inquire about his real name.

“I’m curious, that’s all,” she whispers. “I just want to know your surname.”

He only stares back at her. “For what reason? Do you intend to use my family name?”

“...Never mind. Forget that I asked.” She opens her notebook to the newest flowers. The white roses make a lovely addition to her collection, including the one that has been permanently stained with her blood. “Can we visit the woods later? I would like to pick more roses.”

Capitano’s mask hides any hint of his smile.

iv. The Monster, however, could only dream of the Damsel’s requited love.

Another stack of books is delivered to their manor.

His darling gives him a confused look. “You bought more books for me.”

Capitano is already unboxing them for her. “That is clear.”

“But why?”

Her confiscated book is still fresh in their memories. After that minor dispute, Capitano had limited his book purchases and her interlibrary loans to reserve his darling’s time and attention. His sudden bulk purchase only serves a similar purpose.

“Is it indecorous of me to support my wife’s hobby?” He sets the final book on her desk. “I trust that you will be reading these for your personal enjoyment and not as a means to avoid me.”

Her collection of books is steadily increasing. Perhaps he should set up a bookcase or even a personal library.

“...Of course.”

She uncaps her pen and opens each book, writing “Property of ______” on the front pages. Then she selects a leatherbound novel and flips to the next page.

Capitano remains in the bedroom.

He can already ascertain the moment she realizes his tactic.

The books are all printed in native Snezhnayan at a level far too advanced for her comprehension. Her dictionary would prove useless in translating the archaic words and figures of speech.

To her credit, his darling makes a noble attempt. She takes out her dictionary. She mutters words and phrases. She flips through the other books and does not even acknowledge his presence.

Her shield has become another weapon for him.

Her favorite books have served as an excellent source of psychoanalysis. Capitano’s new pastime of reading his book purchases beforehand has even equipped him with an arsenal of story spoilers. He wonders if his darling has noticed the recurring themes in his choices.

After an hour of her fruitless endeavor, she finally approaches him.

“Capitano.” She gives him the book. “Can you please read this to me?”

“Would you like me to start from the beginning?” He adjusts his sitting position in the armchair and pats his thigh.

She only sighs before taking a seat on his lap.

She is practically weightless to him. It would only take a tight embrace to crush her.

“Yes, please.” She stares ahead at the pages. “You…it has been a while since I last asked you to translate for me.”

The Snezhnayan classics have been untouched ever since she labeled them. Perhaps Capitano will reread those to her one day.

He does agree with the sentiments of the stories’ villains.

v. Yet he persisted in his efforts to win over the Damsel’s heart through priceless treasures and chivalrous acts.

The battlefield is red with dendrobiums this time.

The flowers bloom across the ravaged scenery, vermilion petals demanding the soldiers’ attention. Some survivors have taken the opportunity to rest and admire them.

“My lord, the Inazuman forces have retreated! A few survivors have been captured for interrogation. Shall we…?” The sergeant’s voice trails off.

Capitano picks the dendrobiums and stands up. He had chosen only the prettiest, most vibrant trio for his darling.

“Sergeant Agapov.” He holds up the flowers, careful not to get blood on the petals. “See to it that these flowers are safely transported to Snezhnaya along with my luggage. They are to be kept in fresh condition.”

“Yes, my lord!” They take the dendrobiums and rush to their tent.

Capitano turns around.

Two soldiers are staring. They look away immediately.

By now, he is already used to this. The Fatui headquarters is rampant with whispers of the Captain’s despondent darling and his punishments for minor offenders. Some even claim that she has cursed him with moments of weakness.

He has no response to those allegations. If not for his loyalty to the Tsaritsa, he would have left the battlefield ages ago to devote his strength to his ethereal flower.

Though a chat with those soldiers would effectively remind them of his earlier show of strength.

✿ ⚘

“Sergeant Charon, your status report.”

The spy enters the tent and kneels. “My lord, you will be pleased to learn that your wife is in good spirits.”

Capitano looks up from his report. “Do elaborate on what you mean by ‘good spirits.’”

He had already expected his darling to act differently while he was away. If she has been eagerly awaiting news of his death, their reunion will be rather disappointing.

Charon shakes his head. “I…I was referring to her health! Your wife spends the majority of the time reading her books, and she rarely speaks to Sergeant Fames. She looks neither joyful nor sullen in your absence.”

“I see. You are dismissed.”

Charon leaves immediately.

So his darling seems unaffected by his absence, at least to outsiders.

He has only been gone for a week. He can still recall their conversation from the night before his departure.

“Will you miss me?”

In that moment, she had never looked more vulnerable.

She was beginning to show signs of defeat.

It had taken everything in Capitano not to abandon his position and swear his undying devotion to her. Instead, he had knelt before her and made a sacred promise.

“There is not a single moment when I do not think of you or your safety. Let these be your words of comfort until I return to you.”

His hand was caressing her cheek, the other clasping his darling’s own hand. And for once, she did not flinch from the contact.

“All right.” She averted her gaze. Her free hand wrapped around his wrist, but she made no move to remove his hand from her face.

Her touch was so delicate. A sensation so light and insubstantial that it left him wanting more.

“I’ll trust you on that.”

His collection of Mondstadt souvenirs is safely stored amongst his luggage. Capitano unlocks the box and takes out his preserved calla lilies.

vi. As the seasons passed, the Damsel slowly succumbed to the same curse that had befallen the Monster.

She welcomes him home this time around.

“Welcome back.” She closes her notebook and leaves her desk. “Ceres didn’t tell me that you had arrived. Has she left?”

Capitano enters the room. “Sergeant Fames was dismissed a few minutes ago.”

“I see.” She stands in front of him, head lowered. “How was your mission in Liyue?”

Liyue had greatly improved their military defense. What was originally a three-week mission had been extended to a full month apart from his darling.

The flowers of Liyue pale in comparison to the one he already has at home.

“Liyue boasts of a scenic landscape and unique flora.” He walks over to his closet and takes out a change of clothes. He has already removed his coat and armor. “Your souvenirs are in the living room. I was able to procure wild Glaze Lilies for you.”

“Thank you.”

He unbuttons his shirt.

A quiet gasp. “Are you hurt?”

The wound on his chest is only a scratch. But his darling is already rushing to his side to inspect the bandages.

She must have gone mad in his absence.

“The pain was only fleeting,” he assures her. “The wound will heal in time.”

“But it could leave a scar.” Her touch is gentle. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

Capitano only shrugs. “A scar is but an everlasting reminder of the past.”

“Exactly. Do you…can you still remember the pain until now?”

She looks up.

Her gaze is clear. The listless veil has been replaced with pure concern. All that he can see in her eyes is his own singular reflection.

“Darling,” he tells her, “this pain is incomparable to what you inflict on me daily.”

He removes his mask and kisses her.

She has weakened him. How could he go a day without the blessing of her touch?

She is more responsive this time. She clutches his shirt and kisses back, careful not to touch his bandaged wound. She smells like flowers, the combination of different fragrances mixing into her own intoxicating scent.

Her hips still bear marks from their last night together.

Capitano touches one of the bruises. His darling whimpers and looks up at him.

Their first night of intimacy had been an enlightening experience. He quickly learned that it is much easier to garner noises and reactions from his darling during lovemaking. Her own scars had been covered up with his marks of affection.

When they are connected, neither does she fear his touch.

His own love bites had disappeared weeks ago. If he could choose his scars, he would willingly carve his darling’s marks into his skin.

“Capitano.” She steps away from him, head lowered. “You…shouldn’t you rest first? We don’t want to agitate your injury.”

He only laughs and tilts her head upwards, claiming her gaze once more. “My beloved flower, you truly underestimate my strength.”

vii. And so the Monster and the Damsel lived happily ever after.

The flowers of Sumeru are beautiful. Nilotpala Lotuses glowing in the dark, Padisarah with purple-tipped leaves, Kalpalata Lotuses blooming across treacherous cliffsides, fragrant Sumeru roses bereft of thorns. And beyond that region, there are still so many other flowers to admire in Teyvat.

Capitano still prefers his own ethereal flower.

“The Sumeru roses belong to a different family from the classic rose. They are just as lovely, aren’t they?”

His darling snips six purple flowers and presses them inside her notebook. Each rambler rose takes up two whole pages.

Capitano is standing beside her. “You already picked numerous Sumeru roses near the bookstore. For what reason do you desire such a bountiful collection?”

She merely faces him. “I told you before, didn’t I? I don’t share my flowers. These are for you.”

Her gaze is as mysterious as ever. Some claim that it has changed over the past year—that her eyes have become completely consumed by darkness and melancholy, only to light up whenever she looks at the Captain. She only sees him.

She has gracefully lost to him. But Capitano could argue that he had been defeated first.

He holds her wrist. “We should return to the hotel. The remainder of my time will be devoted to my mission at hand.”

She does not flinch this time. “Good luck with your negotiations. I’ll just be reading my new books in our room, I guess.”

“Do not even think of trying to sneak out,” he warns. “I have guards stationed all over the hotel. Until we find a suitable replacement for Sergeant Fames, you will rarely leave my side.”

Her pulse continues its steady rhythm.

“I know.” A small smile forms on her face. “If I ever run away, my husband will capture me immediately. Can you promise that?”

She has truly become his one and only weakness.

There are also rumors of the changes to Il Capitano, the Fatui Harbinger who dyes the battlefields with blood then proceeds to pick the loveliest flowers for his darling.

To the entire world, he may be nothing more than a monster. But in the eyes of his beloved flower, he is her loving protector and knight in shining armor.

“You have my word.”

♡

Author’s Note ๑ Epilogue 1 ๑ Epilogue 2

Askndkfnaddk I am very surprised with myself for completing Fairytale in just a little over 24 hours. I can’t say much about the quality of this addition to Capitano and Darling’s twisted story, as I only focused on fairytales as the primary theme. But it was worth it to write about Capitano’s yandere tactics and give him back his flower rights <3

Once again, thank you all for reading and I hope you liked my work Σ੧(❛□❛✿)

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