#that there is a potential that there will be that One Man who's an exception

[manicpixiefelix]

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

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It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

[pageofheartdj]

In your Enchanted radioapple AU does Charlie exist?

I like to think Lucifer adopted either a baby faun or a baby human, there is potential for both

Alastor's reaction would be extremely different depending of it lmao, imagine him slowly accepting that his childhood crush is actually a basilisk, meaning that he can't use this one for dark magic (damn feelings!) only to get hit with a brick when Lucifer casually mentions his daughter because first who dared, and then maybe Al found his next target after all, only to either find out that oh this daughter is actually an adorable adopted faun, everything's fine, anyway there's no need to examine the origin of this sudden burst of anger whatsoever, nope, nothing to see there, OR to be hit with a brick again because Lucifer adopted a goddamn HUMAN of all things

Aaaactually I was planning to have brief Lucifer/Lilith xD

He met this beautiful siren(the one that is half human half bird, she'll be a swan with a beautiful voice) and they quickly fell in love. But she was a free spirit and even though she loved him, she can't be shackled(I also have Adam as satyr(half man half goat) who was chasing her and she is like Fuck Off so he changed his tune to Eve, dryad(with her special tree) xD)

Except she ended up being pregnant and Lucifer promised he'll take the child, no strings attached. So this is like... a very open relationship, no hard feelings xD

And Charlie looks like her dad but mostly is a siren as well, a ducky <3 That BREATHES FIRE XD

So when he meets Alastor again Charlie is still a toddler. So poor Al, he finally found a basilisk but that's his childhood bestie/crush so he can't kill him(but maybe snatch a feather or a scale xD) And THEN he finds out he has a daughter which means he had an affair and suddenly he feels like he wants to drain life from something right NOW xD (it's okay though Charlie is too cute to hate HER xD)

And Lucifer doesn't even know yet about Alastor's... change in themes xD

#hazbin hotel #Enchanted Hazbin AU #radioapple #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor

[wystericwoes]

Doomed pt. 5

Warnings: Cursing, fighting and descriptions of gore + violence.

(Sorry this took so long)

Sukuna watched intensely through the window, a fist under his chin and robes loosely adjourned.

He stared As you picked a flower up and took it from the vine, sliding it into your loose hanging sleeve. Looking around making sure no one saw as a child would after stealing candy. 

He wondered what you were going to do with it. Put in your hair? A vase? His mind wondered. Why act as if it’s a deceitful act that one could get in trouble for when you could do whatever you wanted? 

“Lord Sukuna?”

Uraume approached him from behind, head lowered. His gaze was unwavering as he continued to stare at you. 

He grunted in response. 

“The councilmans here to see you.”

“Tell him I'm busy.”

“It's important.”

“He can wait.”

She gulped. Hating that she had to be the news bearer.

“He… demands an audience.”

He tightened his fist. 

“I'm afraid word got out. And now all your allies are beginning to talk. Not attending this meeting would only make things worse.”

“Tch.”

He turned around to face her, her head remained bowed.

“Where is he?”

That night dinner was quieter than usual. 

He didn't eat, you hardly saw him eat anymore. He simply watched atop pillows, one fist under his jaw as you indulged. You were no longer intimidated by him when he was like this, pissed. 

“What happened?”

You asked. 

“Nothing.”

“Don’t do that with me Sukuna.”

You said as you lifted a bite of food to your mouth. 

He scoffed and turned his head away pouting like a kid. 

“Something political?”

He was never able to lie to you. 

"Snotty pissboys who call themselves leaders who I have to upkeep diplomatic relations with."

His jaw ticked and fists tightened, the air growing thicker with tension. You decided not to press any further.

“Are you going to be okay or would like some help?”

He looked back at you, you had slid down your robe revealing your shoulder. 

He grinned. 

“I always want your help.”

Before Ryomen Sukuna was what he is today, he was a man. 

A man who had made a mistake, falling in love. 

He was a few things actually. 

A man, a sorcerer, a killer, and a ruler. 

But you held him back from his true potential. There were certain lines he would not cross as he progressed his reign of terror. 

He maintained an air of ruthlessness and a reputation of brutality. It's how he amassed power, no one threatened to cross his merciless path. Rumors of him killing a handmaid for bringing him his tea late, or killing a high-ranking nobleman with a hairpin because his footman offended him. These tales were what kept him on his throne.

But as long as you lived, he would never be able to cross the threshold of true power. Because you gave him morals, and morals were limitations. 

As of right now he was simply a king among men, a powerful sorcerer. 

He desired to be a god, but that simply wasn't possible.

For what god cares for a human?

That human was what he lived for, and what he worked for. 

Uraume and Sukunas inner circle despised you. They watched as the man who was on the rise to godhood was stumped by a non-sorcerer of no exceptional lineage or wealth. But they knew that you held more power over them than any of them combined- Killing you was not an option. You were untouchable, and an unmovable obstacle.

Even with your kindness you were a hindrance to them. They saw what you truly were. 

An inconvenience, A weakness. 

They had to stand by as he gawked at you and adorned you with jewels and silks, hand fed you grapes like a servant. Like he couldn’t snap your throat in an instant. 

Disgusting. 

And all the sex? fucking annoying. 

He would have a warlord waiting in the conference room as you were shamelessly copulating in the springs. 

People started to talk. About the ruthless leader Ryomen Sukuna and his only concubine. 

The one that he spoiled, the one that he daunted around and let speak freely at his side during important meetings and gatherings. 

Concubine. You could never forget that's what you are to most people, and you didn't. But it doesn't matter, because at the end of the day, you're the one who he’ll kill for. You knew that everyone either hated you or loved you, was either jealous or resentful. 

Now usually, fellow people in power wouldn’t care about any usual whore. But you seemed to linger. Always be by his side and be the only one he had- and while the servants of his residence didn’t dare to say anything in fear of his retaliation, his allies and their servants had no such obligation. And once they left his grand estate, people talked.

You walked with an air of power, after a while you stopped caring about all the talk and rumors- because that's all it was. Talk. At the end of the day, they would treat you kindly with a warm smile as you walked by. 

To a few who liked you, they admired you as the olive branch and as the light in his life. the one who stepped in with a moral objection before he killed or punished someone who likely didn't deserve his wrathful hand.

A sweet love story, and the last shred of his humanity. But to most, a mistake. To his inner Jujutsu circle, a hindrance. 

Some nights you could touch him in all the right ways to get him to open up, you were on top, you left the hickeys. 

Your face was buried in his neck, he never made any noise. Just moved. Maybe a grunt. You felt his hips rut against you as you traced the outline of his hard cock through his thin white robes. 

Times like this at his most vulnerable was when you pried.

“Sukuna?”

He hummed against your head. 

You placed your chin on his chest and looked up at him. 

“Why don’t you marry me?”

His breath hitched slightly. But his face remained unmoving.

“You know I'd say yes.”

You pouted into him 

“You’re cute.” He growled. 

“I'm sexy. Not cute. And would be excellent as a spouse.”

You pressed yourself against him, slouching down as if in defeat.

“You are. We’re already together though, is this not enough?”

You sighed and turned around, facing upwards next to him. 

“I just want it to be official. I'm tired of hiding behind doors. You're the strongest right? So why do you worry?”

He could lie and say politics. But he always found himself physically unable to.

“I've never been married before.”

“Neither have I, that's why we should do it together!” You whined as you nuzzled into his neck and threw an arm across his broad chest. One of his stronger ones wrapping around your back.

He chuckled into you. The truth was, a lot of reasons. He didn't want you to have the pressure that came as the married person to a powerful lord such as Sukuna when you were so young, and he also didn't want people to know about you. If he becomes married you become more of a target. Rather than your existence outside his home being whispers of a side piece, the ring on his finger would be an immediate show of “I have a weakness.”

 You could get kidnapped, enslaved, assaulted, killed- 

His fists tightened. 

But also rather selfishly, he couldn't bare the thought of accepting himself as a romantic. A wedding ceremony and honeymoon is all too intimate for one such as himself, he's supposed to be revered and invoke terror. 

You placed a soft hand across his own, easing the tension. 

“I just want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“That I'm yours? What about you?”

“They already know who I belong to”. You said with a sly smile, moving down your kimono donning several hickeys and bites. 

You moved so you were sitting on his lap, he sat up and looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. 

“I want you to do what it takes to become the strongest so we can get married and you won't worry.”

You placed your hands on his chest and rubbed circles across his toned muscles. 

He wasn't just scared of the enemy though; he was scared of losing himself. If he had no restraints, if he was away from his chain of reason and humanity- he couldn't hide the monster you suppressed. and the thought of him losing himself to madness didn't scare him- rather it stressed him out. The uncertainty of it all, the darkness he had been able to hide behind your shining light.

You laid down on him again and his arms instinctively found solace around you.

“Do you know what it would take for me to do this?” 

“I do.” 

“I’d be gone more. I might change.” 

“Life is short, don’t waste it all on me.” 

“It’s not a waste if it’s with you.”

You hummed in contentment as you nuzzled into his neck and closed your eyes. 

"I know you'll never hurt me."

He exhaled a long sigh unfurrowing his brows. You were his humanity, so as long as he had you, it would be fine. 

Right?

To gain power he needed to fight, which meant longer trips. But with your blessing he persisted, even if time away from you was torture. 

“Protect them with your life or I'll ruin yours.”

Was the threat he gave to everyone as he left you alone. 

He hated it. Absolutely fucking despised it Whether he was gone for two days or two months. 

And he quickly learned how to take that rage and loneliness and warp it into his new growing obsession- power.

A name had begun to spring around Japan, as the man who never lost. 

Rumors sprung of a monster terrorizing the region in which he reigned, and the ones outside of it.

Each time he came back to you he had to remind himself who he was, with your saccharine kisses, delicate touches, and careless whispers. Such a stark contrast to the pure filth and violence he was subjugating himself to. 

But each time he left you, a piece of him stayed behind. 

You never cared for the details of what he was doing, ignorance was bliss after all. 

Until he came home with blood on his hands. 

“Sukuna…”

You had gone in to kiss him, and you brought his hand up to your face. But that was when you noticed it. 

“It’s not mine, don’t worry.” he said reassuringly, as if that was somehow better. 

You stuffed it down. He’s a good man who loves you- he would never hurt you. 

It was like a raging fire inching closer to you, but so long as you couldn't feel it, you could keep looking away.

You were looking around for him, trying to find his company as you carried your feet across the estate. 

“Sukunaa!” You sang. 

He came out from a corridor and closed it behind him. 

“I was just thinking about…!”

Scarlet was scattered across his body as if he had been painted like a fine canvas.

You froze. A surge of fresh anxiety hit your veins as your eyes wandered down to the bottom of the door, what was behind it?

“Y/n”

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him- his eyes were dead. 

This was not your Sukuna. 

You tried pushing him away, but he didn't let up. Instead his grip tightened. 

“Did you know that your handmaid liked you? They were going to confess to you.”

He whispered. 

“Stop…”

“To think that i’ve let myself fall from such grace that everyone has forgotten who you belong too.”

“Sukuna…”

You were not unfamiliar with bouts of jealousy. Of rough nights of fucking and hands on your neck. But in his eyes, there was always love, always sensual and caring underneath those layers of grit and abrasion. Extensive and precise control over his actions so as to not truly irreparably damage you. An air of caution and attention to detail to see if you were okay.

His grip was bruising, nails piercing the skin as rivulets of blood graced your skin. 

He feverishly kissed you, shoving his tongue past your teeth in an aggressive movement. 

You whimpered into him trying to leave, but each time you resisted he squeezed harder. He clogged your airways with his persistence and left you in shock. Pain began to violently spread where his grip was held.

He eventually pulled away as you stayed breathless and panting. 

“Sukuna you're scaring m-”

“Don’t go in there. I can’t help you if you do.”

He cut you off as he released you and signaled for the nearest servant for them to clean the mess. Then he walked away. 

Your eyes flickered to the cracked door behind him, terror coursing through your veins as you wondered what was inside.

The bruise on your hip blossomed shades of yellow and purple sharing an eerie resemblance to the blue lotuses in the garden.

You sat as hot tears glazed your face as the nurse dabbed your wound clean.

Small crescent-shaped abrasions graced across your hues of painted skin, artistic in a way.

The maid cleaning your wounds said nothing as you cried. too scared of what would happen if she dared utter a word.

She wrapped your wound in a cotton bandage, and instructed you to rest. 

You leaned back admiring the hardwood walls and paintings, tears eventually ceasing as you lay alone, and cried alone.

The next few months it only got worse. He would be gone for even longer periods, and he limited your access to the outside world. At first, you could go with an escort, but now only him. And he was never there.

You started to write letters. To him, while he was gone, but you never gave them to him. Writing helped you clear your head.

But who you were writing to wasn't the man who was alive today, it was the one who you knew before you sent him off to become the strongest. 

Sukuna, 

I hope this letter finds you well. Because I, selfishly, am not. I am scared. I am irrefutably alone. Things are dimming and becoming gray, I find myself terrified in your presence, and terribly lonesome in your absence. I am in purgatory. Unable to move, or breathe, I can't even find the words to…

You sniffled as you dipped the pen back into its ink holder and slid into a cold bed. 

You spent that night sobbing. At first quietly, but then you could no longer hold back the choked sobs that echoed through your shared bedroom. 

You had to make a decision. 

And so, you hid the final letter and packed your things.

And left within the dead of night. 

A monstrous roar echoed through the decorated walls.

He violently worked his way through the entire estate, ripping doors and dropping ceramics. 

“What did I say?!”

His voice almost echoed, filling the halls and invoking terror. 

Anyone unfortunate enough to be met in his path was either yelled at, mauled, or both. 

A trail of corpses and pools of crimson met his feet as he stormed through the halls. 

“I gave everyone ONE job. And none of you know where they went?!”

Uraume ran up behind him and hovered a hand over his shoulder.

“Lord Sukuna! Perhaps this is a good thing.”

He turned around to face her, and with his silence, she continued. 

“Now we can focus on your reign! You can inst-”

She was knocked to the ground. 

“Mind your place.”

She put a hand over her face as blood gushed from her nose, 

“I'll deal with you later.”

His words were toxic, malicious and deep, 

“L-Lord sukuna!”

A lady wearing nurses' robes bowed on the ground. 

“I may have information!" her voice shook.

“Well? Tell me!” He shouted

She got up and shuffled over to your room. Sukuna following close behind. 

She slid the door open and the sight shocked him. 

Your clothes were strewn across the floor, as well as papers, ink, and personal belongings. 

You must've left distressed.

Without hesitation she went over to the corner where your writing station was, and popped open a loose floorboard, revealing dozens of letters. All were addressed to Sukuna. 

She handed them over to him as she bowed her head to the ground. 

He grabbed them and began rampantly flipping through as his face fell. He sat down on the shared bed, and he hung onto every word, every affirmation, and every syllable. 

He brought his head up, a fury in his eyes. 

“Pack my things.” 

The nurse nodded and scurried away. 

He had a death induced grip on the papers, crinkling and tearing under his hold. 

He set off at night, alone. 

“I will find you even if I must sacrifice each living soul and cast myself to hell.” 

He made a vow to himself. 

He stormed through each village and town slaughtering every person he saw after he asked his question. 

No one knew what he was talking about, even after he killed their families. Some people would lie, but he could tell- resulting in their death as well. 

His newfound senses and strength had allowed him to know the general direction in which you went, but not specifically where you were.

He pillaged through Japan on a vicious spree of mass genocide. Bodies strewn out like constellations across what was once green grass. 

Men, women, children, babies. All were just sacks of useless weak flesh that stood in the way. 

He would cross the occasional Jujutsu sorcerer, but he didn’t even care. 

They all bleed the same. 

He had worked his way through the night, until it was sunrise. And he didn’t sleep, he continued his rampage. 

Throughout the next two days, an utter massacre as one of the most tragic events befell Japan. The countryside's peaceful silence was marked with grotesque screams, crop fields and farms now watered by blood. Corpses stacked into mounds of death. 

Until he finally reached his destination. It had been days, but he knew he was there. 

He could smell you. 

A small clearing in the forest, with a small village no larger a population than 40 people. 

He had warped into a beast, not quite physically yet, but the toll of murder to this degree puts a mark on one’s soul. 

A specific hut with smoke arising from it similar to your cooking, the door creaked open. 

You were sipping on tea, and talking with a member of the family that had offered you shelter, tending to the food- when the door creaked open. 

The shaded figure bore dead soulless eyes, blood of varying stages of exposure, sharp teeth, and a cruel face. 

“I found you.” 

Your eyes shot open, and your heart began to beat faster as he approached. 

“Excuse me! Sir? You ca-“ 

The sentence was interrupted and followed by a brief momentary silence, carried out by his body collapsing, missing a head. 

Some of the blood splattered on your cheek. 

“S..sukuna….” 

You squeaked out with bloodshot eyes. 

You backed yourself against the wall as he drew closer. 

“Stop it please…” 

He loomed over you, casting a deep shadow until he got down on his knees to be closer to you. 

“You’ve got blood on your face.” 

He brought a stained thumb to your cheek and wiped the blood from your soft skin. 

“Let’s go home. I’ll discipline you later.” 

He tried pulling you up by your wrist but you resisted. 

“I’m not going!” 

He picked you up with a fluid movement and threw you over his shoulder. You kicked, but it was for nothing. You had no effect on him. 

He started walking out of the house as you saw the remains of the one who once offered you headless at your captors feet. 

Tears began to form in your eyes as you saw the form get smaller and smaller. 

You really did try and resist, you did. You pushed and shoved and clawed, but he ignored you as if you weren’t even there. 

“Why are you doing this...?” 

Your voice was weak.

He stayed quiet. Simply looking forward as he walked. 

“I don’t like who you are anymore... I don’t feel safe.” 

He stopped. 

“Who’s idea was it for me to travel and get stronger?” 

You jumped

“I didn’t know that it meant this!” 

“Oh please. What did you think I was doing? Dancing? How else does one become powerful? You aren’t that stupid are you?” 

He was right. You knew he was a killer, you had just denied it to yourself to live in your happy bubble. Tears continued to stream down your face. 

You eventually fell limp and tired from the energy and exhaust, giving up for now. 

He set you down at a tree as he began collecting firewood.

“Stay.” 

Sukuna stayed close as he gathered sticks and logs nearby. 

You shivered as night fell. Leaning against a lonesome tree and hugging yourself tightly, trying to choke back your sobs. Your situation dawning on you cruelly like a whip.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps approaching you, you turned around to see Sukuna shirtless as he held his robe over you. 

“Take it.” 

With a shaky hand you held onto it, and he helped drape it over you. 

He put the final sticks in the pile, and you watched as he created a fire from his own hand, you were much too tired to even question how he could do that. And lit the log.

He made himself comfortable in the grass as his eyes met yours. You flinched upon the contact. 

“I thought you died.” 

He said in a gravelly voice. One that resonates through your entire body. 

“I- I’m sorry…” 

He tilted his head to the side. 

“You’re not allowed outside again after this understand?” 

You furrowed your brows and frowned, looking away.

You didn’t understand how he was remaining so casual, talking to you as if he didn’t just kidnap you and murder people.

You buried yourself in the familiar scent of his clothes. They were musty, but it was all you had. 

Comforting yourself with him from him. 

“Answer me.” 

“Okay…” 

“Okay what?” 

“I understand.” 

“Now go to sleep.” 

“I can’t when you’re watching me.”

You wiped your eyes and sniffled, trying not to think about the situation. 

“I don’t care.” 

You desperately tried to sleep. To close your eyes and forget the day. But then you would feel the monstrous breathing behind you. 

You swear he's a little taller than the last time you saw him. 

Eventually as the night passed, the crackle of the fire lulled you into something close enough to sleep. When your breaths were slowed, he inched closer to you, laying down behind you. 

The blaze of the dying fire dwindled and failed to distract you from your own thoughts. You slowly turned to face the beast behind you to see him asleep, audibly letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. 

The warmth he emitted was solace. And his peaceful face hid the killer within. 

Maybe you could lie to yourself long enough to make this work, maybe you could pretend it was all okay. 

You clenched your eyes and shook the thought away. 

It’ll all be better in the morning. 

His eyelids fluttered open, rays of light peeking behind the blinds to reveal your sleeping form breathing rhythmically in short paces. 

He knew he shouldn’t be indulging in this. 

But something about the attention filled a hole in him he never thought he needed filled.

He was always enough for himself. 

It was only temporary he thought, as he sat up and eased out of bed. 

Walking to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower, as quietly as he could. 

This really wasn’t like him. But he had just gotten so used to your unfamiliarity, to your sporadic actions and intangible remarks. 

Even after over a month of living together, he still hadn’t aired out the mystery of you. He decided for the first time to just let it be for a while, let it sit- because things were too good the way they were right now. 

One of you would start cooking or making tea and coffee, then twenty minutes later like clockwork the other would begrudgingly dredge in the kitchen with tired eyes and messy hair, sitting in a chair and accepting whatever plate of food or beverage was slid their way. 

This morning, he was feeling particularly lazy and decided to order food. Something he knew you would have no objection to, considering the last time he cooked you called it “the nastiest tasting excuse for shit food” you had ever tasted. 

Truth was it wasn’t terrible. And your attempts at cooking weren’t much better. But it felt nice practicing together.

He pulled out his phone and began putting in the food as he plopped himself down on the couch. kicking his feet up on the coffee table. 

He could hear your disinclined footsteps from the other side of the big yet humble house make its way over to you. 

“For someone so rich I really wish you had a guest bedroom. You snore.” 

“That’s a pretty interesting way of thanking me for letting you live here for free.” 

You drank a glass of water and made your way over to the couch, sitting down next to him before abruptly collapsing and falling your head into his lap. 

“I can't live in my apartment remember?” 

“What are you feeling for breakfast, sugary or savory?” 

“Sugary.” 

You rolled over to be facing upwards, staring at the bleak and perfectly eggshell white ceiling. 

“A person after my own heart.” 

He finished sending in the order as he set his phone down and also kicked his head up. 

“Why is your house so boring? It wouldn’t kill you to paint it pink or something.” 

“Pink? Really?” 

“Sorry, blue.” 

You looked over at his upwards facing chin, admiring his features until he looked down at you, causing you to avert your gaze. 

“It’s rude to stare.” 

You simply huffed and sat upright. 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“You love it.” 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” 

You stood up and scampered away avoiding his remark as he shouted at you. 

“Don’t slip and fall!” 

You really shouldn’t be getting used to it. But this routine was so comfortable to you now. And for both of you, served a purpose outside yourselves. A selfishly selfless act. 

For you, the safety and regiment you so desperately needed to ground yourself after all the change and trauma you had witnessed in the last month. Being with Gojo was a slow addiction. you tell yourself you can quit anytime, but realize too late that you can’t live without it. 

For him, the wild and crazy circumstances of the whole thing made it too delicious to quit. The sheer absurdity of it all for him- you being an exception. It was a stronger but fleeting high. 

You had been making impeccable progress, as far as he was concerned. Which was good, because there was so much banking on your success. So much more than you knew. 

You dreamt about him again. All these memories keep resurfacing that you never had. You suddenly developed an interest in ancient Japan and Jujutsu society, taking in any history about it that you could. 

Physically, you still had a long way to go before you reached your full potential, but you were trying. 

You hadn’t been on a mission in several weeks, learning only the basics such as how to wield a weapon and concentrating cursed energy at will. But seemingly everyday it gets a little easier.

You let the hot water roll over your body, an act almost cleansing in the physical and spiritual sense. The steam awakens your senses, and you rest easy knowing when you get out food will be waiting for you in the kitchen. That all things are as they should be for the time being. 

The weather is slowly getting colder, as fall creeps its way over summer. Leading you to wear warmer clothing, a long sleeve and pants. You step out into the kitchen drying the remnants of water in your hair using your mostly damp towel, the smell of food hitting your nose. 

“This is the real reason why I stick around Satoru.” 

“Really? Nothing else?”

You didn't even entertain him as you ripped open the bags filled with stacks of delectable goodness. 

Adjacent to you he got two plates out and utensils, the both of you began setting your plates. 

“Oh and also, you have a mission tomorrow.”

You halted your movements abruptly, slowly turning your head to his unbothered disposition. 

“And you just thought to tell me?”

Venom laced your words.

“I didn't want you to be mad at me! you get scary.”

You took a deep breath and spoke behind gritted teeth. 

“Okay. Care to tell me more?”  

Aggressively shoving food on your plate, he stepped a couple paces farther from you.

“There's been reports of a higher ranked curse going around, weird stuff keeps happening, people dying, mutilation, blah blah. You’ll be accompanied by a pro this time rather than just babysitting.”

“Alright. And will my life be in danger? Are you hiding the details from me again, so I have no idea what I'm walking into?”

“Nope! Not this time.”

  He walked away with his plate of food and sat on the couch. 

“Are there any other details you'd like to disclose before I find out the truth?”

“Not particularly.”

He said before a big bite.

You very annoyingly sat down as far away from him as possible. 

“I better not find out you're lying to me.”

“Just watch a pro at work, that’s all you gotta do.” 

“Do I at least get a weapon?” 

The first thing you notice about Nanami is his deliberate ability to make any situation feel more or less stressful. 

His face bore little to no reactions, his posture stiff and correct, his voice commanding. 

He made a lasting impression. 

The second thing you noticed was that he was also handsome. Not pretty like Gojo or cute like Yuuji, but handsome. 

You trudged through the tunnel of a dark sewer. You had to remain strong. As difficult as it had been to accept over the last weeks, this was going to be your life now. 

You honestly didn’t know what to expect. 

“You’ve been misinformed I assume.” 

He broke the silence. 

“Probably. I have a terrible teacher.” 

“Sounds in character for him. What all do you know of the situation?” 

“Basically nothing.” 

You felt that feeling again, of being in the dark. Quite literally and metaphorically. 

“Itadori and I have done most of the leg work already, the hunt for this transfigurer and tracking its location.” 

“Transfigurer?” 

“I suppose I should prepare your for what you are about to see. If at all it becomes stressful I understand if you want to leave.” 

He took your affirming nod and silence as a means to continue his explanation. 

“This curse can alter one’s physical shape into anything it desires. It’s a truly grotesque and disgusting power. Which is why I take urgency to exorcise it.” 

“By ones physical shape do you mean…?” 

“Humans.” 

You felt a tightness well in your throat. 

“You’re new to this, and if I’m being frank this assignment was not the best to be one of your first. But I suppose this is a good way to throw you into the field and begin developing your tolerance.” 

Tolerance? You wondered what he meant. 

As honest as he was, you knew he was hiding information from you. 

“Nanami, I have a question.” 

He continued in silence, your sign to continue. 

“Is Satoru hiding something from me?” 

He pushed his glasses up and came to a stop. 

“It’s not my place to say.” 

That made your stomach drop. 

“I will tell you this, no single functional mind could comprehend that man’s intentions.” 

He continued walking. A shared silence as you felt torn between not wanting to pry, and desperately needing to know more. 

“Whenever we find what we’re looking for, I want you to stay a consistent 20 paces behind me at all time. If you get in the way it could compromise your safety as well as mine.” 

You simply nodded. Far too on edge to properly respond. 

You weren’t going to question his authority, especially when his confidence made you feel at ease. Usually being commanded on what to would have made you livid, but now you could do nothing but listen. It was mostly silence. 

You just kept trudging the seemingly endless tunnel on edge until something happened.

“H-e…lp m…e…” 

A distorted and raspy voice was heard beyond in the darkness.

You froze. Immediately following Nanami’s rule and slowly easing yourself several feet behind him. 

And you’re glad you did, when what you saw made you feel dizzy. 

A creature with four legs and deep purple skin, eyes on opposite side of its head an no neck. 

Without any hesitation or time to process, Nanami sliced across its chest and with a single blow, killed it. It’s body falling limp at his feet as he continued walking. 

You attempted to remain calm. Seeing as how he was, you were scared of what he may think if you freaked out, you couldn’t imagine burdening him during a serious moment and messing things up. 

“Those are what I was talking about, transfigured bodies.” 

“That was once a…” 

You walked by it, footing unsteady, giving one last fleeting glance at the cadaver. 

“Now you see why we need to eliminate this curse.” 

Sudden emotion over took you as you continued walking, remembering its eyes. Human eyes. 

You shook your head. Choosing to not care in the moment. 

That cycle repeated. A monster crosses your path, Nanami slashes it, and you continue down the endless paths of dim tunnels. 

You weren’t exactly a master at this or anything relating, but it didn’t take a genius to notice your comrades growing irritation. 

“Are you okay?” You muttered

“I only wish this curse would show itself. Even if these are disfigured and beyond help, killing humans leaves a bad taste in my mouth.” 

“Oh Good Good!” 

A different voice approached from the darkness; a sudden gut-wrenching feeling overcame.

“I was really worried someone strong would show up. But you two should be easy to experiment on!” 

Nanami seemed unbothered. Pushing his glasses upwards. They stood in an uneasy silence for a moment. Just a moment.

And before you knew it a series of blows were exchanged faster than your eyes could keep up with. You didn’t even see who attacked first.

All you could do was try and stay out of his way. 

The curse suddenly slid back several feet. Wide eyed. 

“Was that some kind of cursed technique? I should’ve blocked it.” 

“What do you mean some kind? I don’t appreciate questions that are left to interpretation” 

“Oh good, seems you don’t mind talking!” 

“That depends on who I’m talking to.” 

“Guess I’m special then huh?” 

This curse oozed a certain arrogance which reminded you eerily of Gojo. 

You stopped breathing when he pointed to you.

“And who’s that then?” 

Nanami stepped further in front of you to block his view. You were honestly shocked he could see you; you were so far back in the darkness that you could barely even tell what was going on. 

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Emotional support? I guess your job does get pretty tricky huh? Humans can’t handle much.” 

“They're my colleague.” 

He tapped his foot on the ground, seemingly thinking something. 

“Hey what do you think came first? The body, or the soul?” 

You both had a confused look. 

“Y’know like chicken and the egg? Is the soul inside the body, or is the body outside the soul?”

“The former.” 

He was tense. You didn’t like the air around you; the whole situation was awkward. You had been looking at curses as non-human things to ease the guilt and trauma, but to know that they could talk and be coherent, sent you someplace dark. 

“Wrong. The soul always exists before the body.” 

Nanami looked like he could care less. 

“It’s the source of my power. I transform the shape of my soul; it’s not healing or shapeshifting like many believe.” 

Out of nowhere a creature summoned at his hand.

“I make humans small and store them, it’s pretty hard Y’know?” 

You watched as Nanami checked his watch and muttered something under his breath.

“An ordinary person dies after being transfigured. I wonder what will happen to you jujutsu sorcerers…” 

So much had happened you struggled to make sense of any of it. You no longer knew how much time had passed. You would have guessed fifteen minutes- but knew it was probably longer. 

They were ruthless. The punches, the kicks, the blocking and dodging. You felt too appalled to do anything and too interested to look away. 

Somehow this felt familiar to you. Watching it all was like replaying a movie you had seen when you were a young child. Details blurred and specifics unknown, but a certain naturalness came with it once you saw it again. 

“I'm now officially working overtime.” 

Nanami eased his tie, and a sudden shift was felt in the air. 

“So, you have a way to get stronger from fighting past a certain time huh? You’re not half bad.” 

He sported a sickening smile through the entire ordeal. One that made your insides curl.

You watched as the ground beneath Nanami shifted beneath him and lifting him up, another deformed body had been conjured and was serving as an impromptu ledge. He crouched and wiped his thumb across a crying face. 

“I’ve mastered transfiguring souls without killing them. Try not to feel too bad.” 

“I don’t let personal feelings affect my work.” 

It all suddenly hit you. He changes the shape of people into grotesque… things. And all the while they stay fully conscious and feeling. 

“You’re such a terrible liar! About this and your ‘colleague’.” 

A strong sense of justice took over you. 

“So, you just transform people into whatever you want? Just because you look like a freak doesn’t mean everyone else does too!” 

A sudden sense of Deja Vu came over you, remembering when your fear left your body in place of anger when you were fighting that special grade curse. You were no longer yourself, just your emotions. 

Nanami looked back at you shocked, and judging by the curses face, he was as well. 

“Well I’ll be damned. The cheer section has some voice. What rank are you? I hardly defected any cursed energy from you before. I thought you weren’t even a sorcerer!” 

“I don’t have a rank.” 

Nanami sighed. Clearly annoyed at the fighting and provoking. 

“You should get one soon so we can have a proper fight. I’m really looking forward to seeing what would happen to that deformed soul of yours once I get a hold of it.” 

You went to open your mouth.

“That’s enough.” 

Nanami butted in before you two could insult each other again. 

“And what about you my blonde-haired friend? What’s your rank.” 

“Grade 1.” 

“So, you’re strong huh? Perfect for experimentation. Both of you make a fine pair. First, I just have to get rid of the bodyguard!” 

Suddenly, the hand of the curse slammed against Nanami's stomach, flat-palmed. They stood still for a brief moment. 

It felt like time stopped. 

Did he kill him? Was something going to happen? What would happen if Nanami died? You can’t fight this guy by yourself! 

Panic started to set in, and you had to fight every natural instinct telling you to run away. 

“Looks like your soul is being subconsciously protected by cursed energy. But that’s no worry, another 2-3 times you’ll no longer be human!” 

As much as you hated this helpless feeling, you were learning a lot. 

Learning how weak and ignorant you were, and how strong you could be. Nanami was inspiring, unlike Gojo who flaunted strength and barely delivered, Nanami showed and didn’t boast. He simply acted, strength just coming to him, and it suited him well. 

“Y’know you’re getting kind of boring.” 

He looked back to you. 

You felt a breeze hit your face, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

He was behind you. 

“You’re much more interesting.” 

Nanami gritted his teeth and ran back to you quickly, with a face that could only be described as something between concern and fear. He aimed a critical hit, but his blade was met with nothing, causing him to stumble forward but gracefully compose himself.

The curse was far behind him.

Your knees buckled. You didn’t even see him move, he was well over thirty feet away and he suddenly appeared behind you- you felt your throat tighten and your lungs fail to collect air as the shock subsided.

Your heart started racing, your hands clenched, and face flushed. 

“Well I’ll be damned! Nothing happened when I touched you either!” 

Suddenly, Nanami lunged at the curse, swinging his weapon to which the curse dodged. 

He shouted at you. 

“Hey! Are you aware of your unique soul?” 

You figured it was best to not engage at all. Swallowing a nervous lump in your throat. 

“Your fight is with me, leave them alone.” 

“Why bring them along then? It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that their soul is in a different shape, does it?” 

“A different shape?” 

You muttered out. 

“Yeah! I’ve never seen anything like it. You two are sure an unforgettable pair. I really wonder what would happen if my cursed technique worked on you.” 

“Y/n.” 

Nanami's voice cleared the space of your spiraling thoughts. 

“Leave.” 

You hesitated for a second, before turning around and letting your feet carry out as fast as you could, back where you came in from. You heard fighting and struggling behind you as you disappeared into the dark, not daring to turn around. 

When you reached the entrance, you nearly vomited.

You held your stomach and doubled over, supporting yourself on some near railing, the events finally settling in. 

Everything seemed to be delayed in these slowly turning familiar terrifying circumstances. 

You were panting and shaking- trying desperately to compose yourself. 

“Y/n?” 

You slowly turned your head up trying not to hurl as the images and phrases repeated in your head. 

It was Yuuji, accompanied by a black-haired teen you hadn’t seen before. 

“Are you okay?” 

He looked so concerned.  

“Y-yeah. Just…” 

You felt bile build up in your throat, moving a hand over your mouth and the other to hold up your pointer finger in a ‘one second’ motion. 

The boys looked at each other awkwardly. 

“Just... adapting.” 

“I get it. It was hard for me too, in the beginning.” 

A still silence sat for a moment. 

“Wanna come with us? we could sit down somewhere and maybe get you a drink or something?” 

You slowly nodded your head yes. 

The darker-haired boy didn’t seem to talk at all as you and a Yuuji conversed, maybe he was just shy. You didn't care enough at the moment to ask questions though.

The three of you sat on concrete steps overlooking a river, holding sodas. 

“They were people once. And when I finally found that out, I just couldn’t hold back this feeling of dread.” 

“Yeah. I felt the same way.” 

“How do you do it? Keep it together? You both lived normal lives then suddenly had to throw it all away for monsters and magic.” 

“You don’t have a choice. These things, they’re true evil. They’re not people, and they only exist to kill. And I guess, knowing that they exist and that I can do something about it is better than not doing anything at all.” 

You sat on that. This was a chance for you to better the world, to make a change.

“I guess I never thought about it like that.” 

“And Y’know, you don’t get any awards or medals or credit or anything. No ordinary person will ever know what you do for them, but you have a community to share that with. It’s not like Spider-Man where he goes home every day and has to pretend everything is normal. You have friends who are like you!"

“Did you just compare Jujutsu society to Spider-man?” 

“It works doesn’t it!” He flashed you a smile that made you feel better.

It does.

“I just don’t think I’m ready. Ready to fight… monsters or anything.” 

“Not many people are. I guess I’m an exception because I want to help people more than anything. You just got to find that motivation!” 

What motivates you? 

You wanted to help people. But not as passionately as Yuuji did. You weren’t angry enough to take it out on curses like Gojo suggested, and you weren’t calculated like Nanami where you could treat this like a day-to-day job. 

So why even do this? Self-defense? 

Your head perked up. 

“Answers.” 

Yuuji turned his head over at you in confusion. 

“Huh?” 

“I want answers.” Your fist tightened. 

“I have to go, thank you.” 

Yuuji and the other boy stared at you as you walked off. 

You stormed inside the home after unlocking the front door. 

You took off your shoes and walked past Gojo on the couch. You didn’t utter a single word to him. 

“So, how’d it go?” 

“Tell me the truth.” 

“I asked you a question first.” 

He joked, but quickly his smile dropped as he saw the seething expression on your face. 

“I want answers, Satoru. No more half truths or bullshit.”  

With a blank expression he stood up, walking over to you. 

“What do you want to know?” 

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsukaisen fanfiction #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines

[venerawrites]

Could you do gaara x fem reader only one bed trope pls pls pls pls ♥️

author's note: this is heavily inspired by the headcanons I wrote about Gaara's ideal partner and how I imagine him being with someone, who is somehow involved in politics. I loved writing this one and I really hope you enjoy! <3

warnings: slightly suggestive? nothing explicit or NSFW;

"I heard that some representatives from Suna are going to arrive today."

"Hope they got lost!", a second voice scoffed, "Desert worms coming here and begging us for help is the last thing we need. They should just burry their head in the sand and stay away from us!"

The words were followed by a choir of laughter and the sound of clinking glasses. With each step the man took, the voices grew fainter and fainter till they completely disappeared. Soon he was surrounded by silence, disrupted occasionally only by the drunken shouts coming from the nearby alleys and the soft music coming from the brothel at the end of the street.

Gaara adjusted the hood of his coat lower into his face, successfully hiding it from the passing by group of young males. For all the years he had been ruling over the Village Hidden by Sand, he never had to conceal his identity when visiting neighbouring lands. Thanks to his peaceful approach and his infamous speech during the Fourth Shinobi War, the young leader managed to build strong alliances with almost all of the Five Great Countries and their leaders.

With the exception of one - Iwagakure.

While he had somewhat friendly relations with the Tsuchikage, the attitude of the locals remained just as cold and hostile as they were before the war. Decades of betrayals and battles have resulted in a deep mistrust between the two villages, and the unwillingness of many to come and work together to fix it. Some believed that any form of union would never be possible, and even if it was, it would take many years to build.

As someone who has experienced change himself, Gaara was firmly opposing this view. Mistakes were made by the leaders in the past from both sides, but that didn't mean they had to bind the new generation to a future of hate and suspicion. So when he first received the invitation by the current leader of Iwagakure to visit the village and discuss the establishment of new trade routes, he had the clear agenda that he would visit only by himself and two members of the Council.

No guards. No warriors. Nothing that can look like a potential threat to the locals and trigger them to act irrationally.

His vision, however, was quickly shattered once he was met near the entrance of the village by a few of the Tsuchikage's guards, who warned him that there had been some civil unrest since the news of the Kazekage's visit spread around and that it is better if he remained incognito for now.

"A Kazekage should not wander the streets all by himself", the sound of your voice made his head whip toward the corner of the nearby building where he could see the outline of your walking silhouette.

"Not here anyway."

You finally made it to the well-lit part of the street where he was standing and he had the chance to take in your appearance. Much to his surprise, you were dressed in your usual white linen dress, held close to your body by a golden belt. The shiny jewelled collar, which you usually wore, was still resting around your neck, while a number of thin bracelets were covering both of your wrists.

"Councillor", he greeted with a light bow of his head, his eyes travelling from your head to your toes, before setting on your own face, "I should say the same about you. Especially given the nature of your attire."

With a tilt of your head, you looked down, one of your hands smoothing the fabric of your dress before you looked at him again with a small smirk on your lips.

"Is it not appropriate?", there was a humorous note in your tone, "I took extra care in choosing the best gowns in my wardrobe for this visit. It would be disappointing if you are finding them... unfit for the purpose."

The man before you loudly gulped, yet his expression remained unchanged. His ability to keep his composure and his face free of any emotion has always teased your curiosity and it was a personal mission of yours to make him crack.

"You are dressed beautifully as always, Councillor", he finally said, his pale eyes dancing across your figure one more time, "But I fear it doesn't do much to hide who you are or what are the purposes of your visit."

A low, playful giggle escaped your lips and you brought your hand in front of your face, successfully hiding the bottom part of it. The innocence in his question entertained you and you allowed yourself a few long seconds of silence before your replied:

"I believe there is a misunderstanding, Kazekage", with these words your clasped both your hands behind your back, before closing the distance between you, "I am not trying to hide."

A few creases appeared on the man's forehead, a sign of his confusion at your answer. He patiently waited for you to elaborate, but was met by nothing but your silence. You stepped to his left, before nodding your head toward the end of the street.

"Perhaps it would be wise for me to escort you to your hotel."

Completely ignoring your offer, Gaara couldn't help but focus on your words from a moment ago.

"The Tsuchikage's guards warned us-"

"They warned YOU", the emphasis on the last word came out sharper than expected. You took a deep breath, before you turned your head back toward him, this time a tight smile plastered on your face.

"I appreciate your concerns, Kazekage, but I believe there are no grounds for them. I have served Iwagakure for many years in the past and I am well familiar with the locals, just like they are with me. There are no doubts in my mind about my safety."

The eyes of the man narrowed in your direction and he stood frozen in his place for a while before he finally decided to follow you. Both of you fell in a comfortable tempo, neither breaking the silence.

Despite you being part of the Suna's Council for over two years now, the red-headed man had learned little about you since he met you for the first time.

Your appointment was unexpected - he was sitting in his office one day when he was called for an urgent meeting with the Elders. With many of the members either unfit to advise because of their age or the injuries they had suffered in the war, there was a great need for new Councillors to fill their positions. Gaara knew the remaining advisors had been researching and debating among themselves for quite a while now about potential proposals, so he was not surprised by the call, but rather by what followed next.

Three of the proposals he already suspected - they were the names of some of the warriors who had contributed the most to the Allied Forces' and who had an excellent record as Sand Shinobi. The young Kazekage was familiar with them all, as all of them had accompanied him during different missions in the past.

The last proposal, however, took him completely by surprise. When your name was brought the first time, he was unsure if he had heard correctly. Not only were you a foreigner, originally from distant lands far south, but you were also not a shinobi. You came from a family of farmers and did not seem to have any qualifications, yet for some reason, the Elders were quite adamant about their choice.

"Appointing someone who is not native to Suna is unheard of", Gaara protested that day, "And I am also quite unsure about her capacity and qualifications. What makes her so special that you want her to be part of the Council so badly?"

His question was answered as soon as he laid his eyes on you. Stepping into his office with the confidence of a warrior and the looks of a goddess, you demanded the attention of those around you. So when you started to explain your proposals for the establishment of new transport links, trade deals, and cultural exchange programs with the neighbouring villages, it was as clear as day to him why the choose exactly you.

Despite his years of experience as a leader of the village, Gaara was not a political strategist. He didn’t understand the art of manipulation and persuasion, instead relying on his honesty and genuine dream to one day see a united world. And while that seemed to work fine during the troubled times of war, the effect of his inspirational speeches was significantly less in times of peace. He never knew what was the cause for that, at least till he saw the ease with which you managed to persuade the whole Council to support your ideas. Including him.

The admiration of your beauty combined with your sharp mind, also came with feelings of uneasiness and suspicion. Despite your young age, you had an impressive history of serving a number of villages as an advisor, all of them which provided excellent recommendations based on your diplomacy. You seemed to have achieved an impressive record as a state politician, even though you lacked any experience in the battlefield.

“Something troubling you, Kazekage?”, your words brought him back to reality and he looked at you, his jaw working while he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Where does your loyalty lie?”

The question fell out of his mouth before he could think of a less direct way to ask what had been weighing on his mind. You froze in place, your eyes moving toward him, slightly narrowing. His expression also changed and his posture became tense, almost as if he had surprised himself by voicing his thoughts out loud. “I don’t believe in loyalty”, you said with an even tone, focusing your attention on the road ahead again, “Only in doing the right thing in the name of the people’s safety and well-being.”

The answer you offered was not one Gaara was satisfied with. His lips twisted in a scowl and he sped up his step, so he could be shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Thinking of others before yourself is a noble way to live", he reached for his hood and slid it down his head, before ruffling his red locks with his fingers. The smell of his cologne suddenly hit you and you took a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to close the distance between you. You must have been pretty distracted, as his next words almost startled you:

"But I am afraid it will not suffice as proof that it is the interest of my people that you are having in mind."

Closing your eyes, you let out a dry chuckle before stopping in your tracks. His lack of trust did not come as a surprise, you knew about it for a long time. What amused you, however, was how long it took for him to say something about it.

Ever since you became Councillor, the young Kazekage always eyed you with a dose of suspicion. His eyes followed your figure's every movement when you were in a room together and while he thought he was secretive about it, you knew he had been trying to dig into old archives about your past and the work you have done for other villages.

You had no right to blame him. He was looking after the safety of his village, after all. In his position, you wouldn't trust a foreigner who was already an advisor to some of his past rivals, too. Yet you find it a bit ironic, considering he was once the biggest threat to the community he is trying to protect today.

"Nothing more to say?", he stopped next to you, his light eyes boring into yours. You offered a small smile, before making a step forward and leaving just a tiny gap between your bodies. Your fingers reached to his chest before adjusting the little strap that held his coat closed. You could feel his breath hitch under your touch and you had to bite your lip in order to prevent the smirk from spreading on your face.

"Oh, I have plenty to say, Kazekage", you said, before tilting your head to the side and lifting your gaze to the flashing sign above your heads, "But sadly time is not on our side. We have arrived at our destination."

Gaara followed your stare, only to find that you were already in front of the hotel where he was arranged to stay. The building looked old and in poor condition but per the request of the Tsuchikage himself, the red-headed man had to stay there for at least a few days till the officials dealt with the threats made by some of the locals.

While he tried not to question the judgment of the Iwagakure's leader, a tight knot of worries started to form in his stomach, once his eyes met the hostile glares of a few men standing near the entrance of the building. You must have noticed it too, as you made sure to stop near the door and wait for him to enter first, your expression hardening.

Once you entered, you were immediately met with the strong smell of smoke mixed with dust. The lighting was so dim, Gaara had to squint his eyes in order to make his way to the reception. There, sitting on a high wooden chair, was an old woman, who looked at her chipped nails with disinterest, her lips sucking a hand-rolled cigarette.

"Good evening! I have a reservation under the name of-"

"We have no rooms", she growled, not even looking at him. The man blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by her attitude, before trying again. He cleared his throat, before pressing his lips into a thin line.

"There is a room already booked-"

"I said we have no rooms", she interrupted him again, spiting the already burning filter out of her mouth and finally turning her attention to him. Her small yellow eyes scanned him up and down before her expression twisted into a disgusted grimace.

"We don't provide shelters to demons, especially if they come from the Sand."

You watched the interaction from a distance and judging by the attitude of Gertri, the woman who had worked the old boring job of a receptionist for years now, she had not noticed your presence yet. Neither had the few shinobi, who had abandoned their game of cards on one of the lobby tables and were now slowly walking toward the front desk, their hands placed on their weapon pouches in case the situation escalated.

The pale eyes of the Kazekage subtly moved around, noting every single one of the people who were approaching. His fingers twitched under his coat, the cork of his small gourd already gone. He clenched his jaw, deciding to give diplomacy one more try, before he strikes.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. Your leader himself has arranged my accommodation here."

"You heard the lady!", one of the male shinobis that have appeared hissed, "There is no misunderstanding! Now go away before we make you!"

The low chuckle that sounded past your lips made everyone turn around and you finally stepped into the low lighting of the lobby lamp, with a small bounce in your step.

"Is that a way to show Iwagakure's hospitality, Gertri?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at you, but eventually lifted her hand and waved it, signalling the shinobi to go back to their original places. With hesitation, they agreed.

"We offer no hospitality to those who wished for our death just a few years ago."

You hummed, dragging your forefinger across the surface of the desk before lifting it and inspecting the heavy amount of dust which you had collected on it.

"Do you remember when this place was about to be shut down?", you asked, lifting one of your brows, "And the Council voted last minute to change its tax laws, so you can keep this... business or whatever you call it."

The more you talked, the deeper the woman's frown became to the point her mouth was twisted way down to her chin. Gaara stood next to you, his fingers still in position to attack any second.

"Our debt to you was paid once we agreed to provide a roof over your head", her angry stare moved to the Suna's leader, a loud exhale passing through her nostrils, "But when it comes to him - there are no free rooms!"

You looked over your shoulders to the young man, noting his tense posture. Finally, with a small nod, you moved away from the desk and started walking toward the stairs.

"Very well then", you said, waiving your hand next to you, "As you have no availability, the Kazekage will stay with me for the night."

"What? You can't just-"

"I can and I will", the fake smile on your face quickly dropped, "If you have any problem with it, I suggest raising a complaint with the Tsuchikage tomorrow. Of course, given he doesn't seek you first after I inform him of the poor service of the Kazekage today."

Not giving any chance for a reply, you turned on your heel and made your way up the stairs. For a few seconds it was all silence behind you, till finally you heard the sound of rushing steps and a large hand wrapped around your wrist.

"What do you think you are doing?", Gaara scolded you, a light blush creeping up his neck, "This is totally inappropriate! Do you even realise the position you are putting us in?"

He looked at you with annoyance and all you could give in response was a slight roll of your eyes before you snatched your hand away. Walking a few more steps up to the second floor, you started walking down the corridor, leaving the angry sand shinobi behind.

"Are you listening to me?"

Letting out a tired sigh, you stopped in front of your door, before finally looking at him.

"Are you more worried about your reputation than your safety?"

The man watched you taking out your keys, before entering the room. He switched his body weight from foot to foot, wondering if he should follow you or go back to the ground floor and somehow attempt to secure himself the room that he was promised.

Hesitantly, he choose the first option.

"I know how to handle myself, Councillor."

Humming under your nose, you started to undo the bracelets from your wrists. Gaara used your distraction to look around the room. It was wide, yet almost bare - there were only one double bed in the middle of it with two nightstands on each side, a small coffee table in one of the corners, and a big old rug, covering the majority of the concrete floor. The walls were grey and cold, making the whole space appear darker than it actually was.

"You can call me by my name. We are going to share a bed, after all. No need for formalities", you joked, putting the last of your jewellery on your nightstand and moving toward him. Stopping just a few steps away, you eyed his crossed arms, before meeting his soft glare.

"You are a great leader, but a poor politician. The majority of people here are not the warriors you were fighting side by side with - they are civilians, who have suffered generations by the conflicts between Iwagakure and Suna. If you think that they are just going to provide you with shelter for the night and let you rest peacefully, I am sad to inform you that you are greatly mistaken."

You turned your back toward him before moving to the other side of the bed. Pulling the strap of your dress down, you exposed your bare shoulder to him and you could hear his feet shuffling, a sign he probably had turned away from you.

"You can either roam the streets of the village by yourself all night, hoping nobody will ambush you, or stay here, rest, and think of a solution tomorrow."

There was silence and you knew he was thinking over his options. The receptionist was unwilling to cooperate and if he went back downstairs, the conflict was bound to escalate. He couldn't roam the village at this point of the night either - the risk of encountering unfriendly locals was too big.

Finally, he sighed, looking around the room to find a spot where he can lay down.

"I... um, I will sleep on the floor."

You couldn't help but laugh at his words. Lifting your legs onto the bed, you threw the blanket over your body, while your hands worked at the pins holding your locks up.

"Or you can come here - there is enough space for both", one of your palms made its way to the covers next to you and patted the space, "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before... Kazekage."

Gaara froze at your words and you could hear him slightly choking on his saliva. Smirking, you looked up, only to find him staring at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

"That was a one-time mistake."

Your brow quirked.

"Okay, two-time mistake."

With an amused smile, you lay down, turning toward the wall instead.

"Goodnight, Kazekage! Rest well."

Maybe it was the low tone you said it with, or the sudden flash of memories he got from the time spent with you, but something made him walk over to the bed and sit down. He removed his cape and started working on his shirt, while he debated internally if he really needed sleep at all. Maybe, he could just stay awake all night and... well, probably try not to overthink the hold you had on him.

It was not right for a man of power like him to be so easily seduced. But as he watched his community flourish as a result of your ideas and charm, he found himself unable to say "no" to anything you suggested. Even when you invited him to share your bed in front of others, who were surely going to spread the "news" of such a political scandal first thing tomorrow.

He finally laid down, his forearm resting at the top of his head, while he stared at the grey ceiling. The rhythmic sound of your breath started to calm him and he closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching up once he felt your body twisting toward him. He mirrored your movement, but did not dare to reach out to you, despite his increasing want to do so. Maybe one day this was going to be more than just a mistake.

cc artwork: Emanuel Dias

#gaara of the sand #sabaku no gaara #gaara x reader #gaara imagine #naruto requests #naruto imagines

[lilas]

Commentary on the various rizz of WoLs:

from this poll

Io: has rizz, it’s quiet and she doesn’t know she has rizz, but she has rizz @coldshrugs

Aureia: has rizz, will swear up and down she doesn’t but like Ellis said she has that sad anime boy way about her @myreia

Quoye: Anna said it best that they have no rizz except for exactly one person, who it can be argued either way does or does not have rizz (I vote…….no, but in the way that some movies are so bad that they’re good, raha is so rizzless that he circles back around to having rizz anyway this isn’t about him) @syrcus

Calantha: has rizz until she opens her mouth but that’s part of her charm @galadae

Liori: also has rizz until they open their mouth. Gains more rizz as time goes on @greyyourwarden

Corisande: has the kind of rizz that sneaks up on you like I can imagine they’re the type of person to say something out of nowhere that makes people go “🤨💕⁉️” @scionshtola

Tuana: has rizz out the wazoo, very funny and charming, and also look at her hello @birues

Emile: has rizz cause his eyes are so 🥺🥹🥺 like whatever you want you gorgeous brown eyed man @hythlodaes

D’alia: she has Incidental Rizz, heavily situational, has limitless potential in rizz. …Maybe Fray is also her rizz @lavampira

Utha: SHE LIVES AND BREATHES RIZZ ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Never have I seen a more rizz-filled individual @gefiltefished

Ilya: not a rizz bone to be seen but that doesn’t stop him from pulling some hotties. Rizzless… but not maidenless @fooltofancy

Alyzen: has rizz but doesn’t know what to do with that rizz! Something something parallels with her weird aether something something @roguelioness

Zori: Like the hot goth rocker partner of everyone’s dream, Zori has rizz but doesn’t know how use it to her advantage! So full of potential and powerful when used @consulaaris

Meryta: mery is 100%, her picture is in the dictionary under rizz right by Avi @thevikingwoman

#i think this is everyone i saw who reblogged it and i know their wols enough to make the call #but i might add :> #also avi has gotten a unamious score of 100% rizz which is flattering but also he’s such a useless fool with his emotions #i feel like we need to dock him points for that

[pbaintthetb]

fanfic (comedy?) idea where jgy and nhs are stuck in a time loop of the day of guanyin temple and they will be stuck until there is a day where nobody dies*, not Jin Guangyao, not Nie Huaisang and certainly not any collateral bystanders along the way (think Su She and the potential of NMJ's rampage)

Anyway I think this has serious comedy potential, especially the first repeat where neither of them know the other is stuck and JGY just ices Nie Huaisang. This then does give NHS a slight upper hand of realising that both of them are repeating, not just him but still

*I say until nobody dies, TBF JGY would probably be reasonably content to at least temporarily stash NHS somewhere until further steps can be taken, ignore this

#mdzs #jin guangyao #nie huaisang #actually so much comedy potential of being stuck in a timeloop with teh man you hate most in the world unsure how to end it #except you don't want it to end until you win anyway #tragedy: worst person you know is the only one who understands you at all #this is not a bonding exercise

[widowshill]

“He is not to them what he is to me,” I thought: “he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine;—I am sure he is—I feel akin to him—I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.” Jane Eyre, XVII.

18 / 139 / 91 / 78 / 2 / 12 / 75 / 80 / 75

#''we are very much alike‚ you and I. I and you. us.'' ''oh‚ except for a sense of honour‚ and decency‚ and a moral centre.'' #➤ roger collins & victoria winters. ┊ pain sometimes precedes pleasure，miss winters. #➤ edits & art. ┊ the evans cottage art gallery. #compilation tag #this is. well idk if it's anything. it's not nothing. #but ... man. i happened upon that line of david's and i simply. yelling. in context... does it mean much? not really. #other than .. partially gesturing to the shared evolution in their relationship with david — from david's hatred and wanting them dead #to open affection and protection. but anyway … their parallelism compels me. their matching outfits! #as though they were … not perfect mirrors to each other‚ but contorted ones. not quite foils‚ less than doubles. #a reflection in water — not silver. #Roger’s likeness to Vicki doesn’t feel as immediately obvious (at least to me) as the parallels drawn between he and Carolyn #(who is a collins formed in his own image — physically as well as emotionally; mentally) #Vicki though: outwardly quite different. where roger is callous‚ selfish‚ tempestuous‚ hedonistic; #Vicki is ingenuous‚ compassionate‚ stoic‚ temperate #but they find in each other more of themselves than they’d like to. roger who sees in her not only the imagined weakness of her alliance #with Burke‚ but the weakness (so perceived) of authentic affection‚ of curiosity‚ loneliness‚ even love for his own family. For his son. #the interest in collinwood's ghosts that he would like so well to ignore. #and Vicki who finds herself always with ''a potentiality for corruption.'' #she’d like to believe she remains here selflessly — out of love for David and wanting to help him — but it is her own self interest that #keeps her here: wanting to know her past‚ wanting to know these people‚ to be involved with them (no matter how fervently she denies it) #she who typically is calm as still water in suffering their wrongs but can lose her temper as well as roger if pressed. #who begins as almost pure truth but begins to lie — first via omission‚ then conscious untruths. #who — not without good reason — falls into paranoid suspicion of him just as he had her. #Vicki who is an auditory and visual echo — repeating dialogue; repeating clothing; repeating his haunts of the cliffs and the beach. #anyways. I just think they’re neat :) I love a gothic almost-couple

[merlinmerlot]

I could play one of the most beautiful well crafted video games on the planet and it will never be as appealing to me as one that kind of sucks shit but has soooo much potential

#merlin.txt #just finished cyberpunk #i feel like they could have done sooo much more with the concepts they had #the game showed us a bit of everything in the world but i dont think they explored any one topic enough #and they pulled a ton of punches. the ending did not feel like this big 'grab your allies and fuck the corpos' thing it shouldve been #it was mostly just tying up johnnys loose end. one big loop. which i fuck with; but it wasnt rlly anticapitalist at all in that sense #i have a bunch of other thoughts on johnny but ill save it #but god. the beginning (act 1 and the first bits of act 2) where just soooo fucking good #and it rlly felt like it was going to gear up into this huge thing instead of just being one last hurrah for rogue and johnny #AUUUGHH theres just So Much Potential. goddamn #imo i think the major thing is that at some point it stopped being v's story. it was everyone elses #he has Very little agency. which is interesting but man this guy deserves better #when it comes down to it the game Is really shallow. whenever there is any sincerity in themes its very centrist #the fact is you dont rlly meet many characters in game who are Truly working to take down corps except for johnny and he doesnt rlly count #and if there Are its usually played for irony and laughs (looking at kerry) or theyre flat out kind of awful. #judys story is probably the best of the companions bc shes actively trying to help sex workers and its played very positively #i also think two of the main themes (letting go of the past; what it means to die) are Majorly helped by some incredible emotional beats #and w/o some just Really Really good scenes and good repetition of lines and motifs its very tropey. #ok i wasnt going to write a full thing. but let me be clear: i fucking loved this game. i would not be writing so much if i did not love it #the sun ending was Still soooo vindicating. v is still kicking and that's all that matters to me #(it helps that v is a Great protag like one of the Best voiced rpg protags next to hawke da2) #(which is kind of a funny comparison since i think both protags suffer from a lack of agency) #ok im done now

[lupismaris]

Didn't get to smoke before work this morning (also not at all confident I took my meds) and while I'm managing the immense stress of the day (hello three new projects) rather well I'm reminded that the ritual of a spliff and a cup of coffee does in fact help keep my teeth dull and my temper subdued

#asked my fellow hiring committee members one of whom is my supervisor if i was really the only person who liked one candidate #and was blatantly honest that I think the issue at hand is the ego/insecurities of the man who oversees this role/department #and we have to toe the line of choosing someone good for the job and who wont be bullied by him/clash with him 24/7 #and id been shocked that i was the only one who saw potential in one or two candidates and ultimately i think it's due #to the fact im less willing to let the supervisors insecurities/ego play a role in this. and i said as much #and the response was a laugh and 'well shit everyone duck for cover he might hear us james is getting nasty ' #and I'm not really im just tired of pretending like that isnt the core of the issue here. his ego has been wounded for the whole o last yeat #*year and now he's continuously making it everyone else's problem and whomever gets this role with be the Andy to his Miranda #except he has so little to offer in terms of real guidance i feel. hes going to bully and boast and be petty to whomever gets chosen #but any attempt to say that to leadership will get waved away ultimately because he's leadership and he's fought to get his own admin #so rather than get someone with a diverse and varied skill set who can match him in work and intensity #we'll end up with some kid who probably cant set boundaries and will get steamrolled completely #so yeah im irritated by the whole process. and my lack of meds today is making it hard to play nice about it

[white-weasel]

I am staring DIRECTLY at Film Reroll Luke Skywalker watching and anticipating his next move

#film reroll #the film reroll #Tim Nolan you played him so well!!!! #I don’t think this will happen but this version of Luke is one I can kinda see turning to the dark side?? #like think about it. your aunt and uncle are killed. Ben Kenobi tells you it’ll be alright though and that you have the force in you #you can come with him and train to be a Jedi just like your father was #you leave planet and on the way have to put up with this asshole smuggler and even free a serial killer just to get to the rebels #but it’s fine! because once you’re with the rebels you’ll then be able to train with Ben like he’s promised #except you get there and there are two other Jedi candidates. each seemingly better options than you #one is a child who already has pretty good control of the force without anyone telling her how to wield it. #she’s also young and thus full of so much more potential than you #and the other is a woman older than you. but she has so much more life experience. she’s proven herself worthy both to the rebels #and to the force itself. she is strong and basically everything you’re not #but that’s alright too because Ben knows you. of course he’s going to pick to train you!! but then they say your name Skywalker with horror #and you are told about who your father is and how if you are trained and given everything you want you will become just like him #you are evil and violent by nature even though you feel as if you are anything but… except maybe they’re right #because when confronted with this fact your first instinct was to attack an injured man on death’s door #and if Kenobi has his time taken up by training either kahki or Jyn/planning the destruction of the Death Star #Luke is potentially left in a very vulnerable state to stew #I just am foaming at the mouth thinking about it!!!! #(I do feel like Andy will ultimately take Luke in a more redemption/I am not my father by ‘righteous’ sacrifice’ route though #which also has a lot of potential to be delicious)

[dudefrommywesterns]

i haven't really considered what my s/i's reaction to matt faking his death would be.

#like they don't even tell lovey the man's not dead #and his funeral is...as sad as it is funny #because only the girls who he was taking photos of for the raunchy calendar and lovey and macdonald showed up #i have two theories here: 1. this man really is alone and no one cares if he's alive or dead except lovey (his secretary) and macdonald #(his boss) #OR #2. they didn't tell alone in his family he'd was *dead* #which i doubt because they were trying to keep his alive state from big o and ANYONE besides macdonald #(and potentially higher govt operatives) #knowing could've been dangerous #i know these movies are as deep as a glass of water but like. damn.

[ruairy]

.

#okkk okk heres my theory for totk im sorry everyone who follows me and doesnt care about zeld #but im gonna be sooooo annoying until release and then sooo annoying when im playing it #anyway so!!!! #in the last trailer sidon doesnt always have his blue tear #so my theory is that in the game you have to go through seven dungeons ala oot to assemble sages except now instead of medallions its tears #ganondorf was the gerudo sage from 10k years ago but since he is a male gerudo it did not go well for him #thats why he has a tear #and yunobo also has a tear and maybe they wont ahow yunobo yet bc it would potentially spoil that ganondorf was a sage 10k years ago #idk this is just me spitballing my brain rotation of zeld #i am certain its a sage thing BC if certain art book spoilers i have not actually seen but im p sure i Know #ofc the other zelda like character is the zelda from 10k years ago #ganondorf got possessed by demise and had to be put in eternal sage prison #im not sure if he's gonna be evil in our timeline or not #ot could be us helping him become unposessed #just think its interesting we see two arts of ganondorf #one where he has an intact red tear and one where he has a cracked colourless tear #maybe his tear was broken when he was put in 10k years jail so now there's a new tear in the present #idk man i have so many thoughts how can i wait until release im gona go insane #ready to be completely wrong honestly

[vamptastic]

danganronpa is whispering its siren song to me but alas nobody shares my big brain million iq opinions (drv3 hater) (korekiyo defender) (ishimaru understander) (celeste and hifumi apologist) (kaito hater) (protagonist love triangle poly advocate) (post sdr2 anime enjoyer) (fucking hates the writing bar the first half of sdr1 and ending of sdr2) (never even finished v3 because it was so dogshit terrible and also i genuinely can barely get through the minigames) (problematic psychological horror fan)

#the executions were not gorey enough they were not even that camp. except the celeste one. #leon baseball one was good. the korekiyo one had potential. kaedes ROCKED. taka's concept version was cool. everything else was shit. #everything about the way they wrote korekiyo drives me fucking insane ive written essay length posts on it before. i care him okay. #let me project onto the predatory fem gay man stereotype incestual serial killer. #mostly because his writing was wildly homophobic + transmisogynistic and a horrible depiction of abuse #but had so much potential for a genuinely good character if theyd pulled their heads outta their asses and deconstructed the tropes #which is what danganronpa is all about thats what makes the first game halfway secent #ughhh. its just so frustrating how all the writing js so close but so far. #like genuinely this is one place where i think fandom and fanfic is better than the original #say what you will but it's one of the only fandoms where ive felt p much all fanfic and headcanon done genuinely #has told a better and/or more complete story while keeping the original concepts and tone #unfortunately most of the fandom is insane and/or too preoccupied with shipping (understandable. i guess.) to like. engage with it fully. #and there's still such a dearth of content for my faves #kiyo is like at best a side character and at worse written as even more of a parody of himself 😭 #theres literally like four people in the world who get it max. korekiyo eating spaghetti is still my favorite fan art of all time #...anyway. idk why im thinking about this rn but im nostalgic all of a sudden #i never really got invested into any of the crazy fandom stuff i just read old fanfic and watched from the sidelines #but me and a couple friends had a lot of own interpretation and theories and fanon sequel ideas n they mean a lot to me yk? #genuinely got me to do a lot more writing and art even if it was all korekiyo themed. im like soooo good at drawing him now (lie) #he's still my litmus test for picrews if i cant make him it's shit. he literally just has long hair a mask and pretty eyes. simple elements #anyway whatever he will live on in my head forever.

[thursdayg1rl]

Ok another day done..

#I met a girl who was really nice when we both got lost together #we’re in the same chemistry and physics class #oh ALSO the guy I used to know is in my physics omg #wjat are the chances… #AND the beautiful man is in my physics AND he’s friend w the other guy #still don’t know his name lmao #and there was a nice boy in maths we only really spoke ab the problems #but I liked him he was nice and really smart #actually met a lot of ppl today.. #I feel like there’s no real friend potential except for that one girl but! #better than nothing

[talaok]

Like a Virgin

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.

warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol

Now this wasn't like him.

He hadn't done this in a long time.

The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.

But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-

And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?

Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.

You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.

He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.

God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.

And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.

"Joel please"

Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.

Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.

"need something?"

He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.

"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"

fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.

He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:

"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.

"want me to stop?"

For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips  

"Definitely not"

You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze

He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.

"Good christ"

that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.

"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.

"Joel please-"

"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.

He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.

The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this

"god you're so deep"

Yeah, you definitely knew

"and so big-" you cried

He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.

"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.

"just like that Joel- oh-" 

And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.

"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.

And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore

"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.

"why?" 

"nothing it's just-"

And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.

Goddamnit.

"you just feel too good Joel" 

"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"

"what is it?"

"Jesus Christ I-"

"is there something wrong?"

"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"

And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.

"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together

"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.

"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"

You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.

"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"

You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.

"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"

"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head

"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"

He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs

"that I can do"

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #joel miller angst #fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

[ozzgin]

okay, hear me out: mean girl!reader x nerdy/sub!yandere

nerd!yan who gets bullied by you all the time, with harsh name calling and forcing him to do your homework.

nerd!yan who grows intrigued with you. you’re so confident, so pretty, so cool! how can he not like you?

nerd!yan who’s slowly growing more obsessed. his breath hitches whenever you loom over him with that annoyingly hot smirk of yours, calling him such mean, degrading names

nerd!yan who gets jealous whenever he sees you targeting someone else. you can’t bully them!! you should pay attention to him and only him. oh well, he’ll just have to eliminate the competition, so you can go back to “tormenting” him again.

nerd!yan who’s really such a pervert! he followed you home and was pleasuring himself to your scent that lingered on your clothing… such dirty behaviour!

mean girl!reader who returns home to find one of her classmates in her bedroom, and how can she not smile at the sight? he’s so pretty, such a cute little plaything…

mean girl!reader who had always been aware of nerd!yan’s obsessive tendencies, and played along. but now that he’s been caught red handed…

mean girl!reader who degrades poor nerd!yan for being such a disgusting pervert, but submits to nerd!yan’s fantasies anyway. she plays with him, leaving harsh love bites and scratches over his soft skin, reducing him to a moaning, whiney mess.

nerd!yan who’s basically your pet now, obediently following you throughout school, happily accepting all your orders, no matter how demeaning or gross they are.

people who even dare look your way with romantic interest? they get disposed of in…well, let’s just say, messy. oh, but not that nerd!yan will ever let you see it happen! your precious, beautiful eyes should be shielded from such violent acts. but if you ever ask… tilt your head playfully with a soft smile and ask him to let you watch, he might.

tldr; mean girl and a nerdy yandere that are both equally toxic for each other

have an awesome day!! I would really like to see you write a concept like this <3

-Ash

A/N: I'm including someone else's request as I think they mesh well together: "a mean bully!reader with a yandere!loser, where reader basically just uses him like a pet and has him do whatever she wants" I'll be doing my best, but do keep in mind this is written by a loser nerd so I can't guarantee accuracy. I also don't want to be too mean, even if it's hypothetical, y'know? 😭

Nerd! Loser! Yandere x Mean Girl! Bully! Reader

They say being in the right relationship motivates you to strive for the best version of yourself. Sometimes, the opposite is true. What happens when your soulmate brings out your most depraved self?

Content: female reader, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, violence, bullying, loser is meant in a loving way, yandere consents to everything

You really aren't that bad of a person. Or at least you weren't before you met the odd man you now call your boyfriend. How did it all begin? For the sake of full disclosure, alright, you have always been somewhat on the mean side. A little too sarcastic, a little too blunt, perhaps a little too harsh. You don't like soft people and have little patience for their stumbling attempts. But, you can hold your tongue as long as it doesn't involve you.

The meeting, at least from your point of view, was entirely accidental. Despite just starting your university year, your charisma had quickly gained you enough friends and acquaintances to have a stable sample of potential group partners. Except for one class. One single missing person, and you were asked to include a name you didn't recognize. Some young man who almost never showed up to class.

Oh, but he did. He was there for every lecture, for every seminar. His, and yours. His first encounter with you was not what most would call romantic. On day one he'd gotten lost. The crowded halls, the new environment, the noise, the smell, everything overwhelmed him, and he found himself wandering in a panic, until at last he bumped into you. The impact sent him straight onto the ground, books pathetically spilling from his trembling arms. You, on the other hand, remained standing as if nothing happened. "Pull yourself together, dumbass", you hissed through your teeth, looking into his eyes for one brief moment before moving on to your friends: "You have to give it to them straight, otherwise they'll think we're still in high school and someone will hold their hand all the time. It's embarrassing! Grown adults!"

He can't remember anything else from that day. Only your voice, your expression, your stance. Somehow, for whatever reason, that "dumbass" went straight to his heart. To think you'd look after him, a complete stranger. You were right, he needed to recollect himself and figure it out. Something even his own mother omitted to mention.

How he wished he could be like you. The way professors relied on you for discussions, the way your friends flocked for advice. But see, he knew you were faking most of it. That overly sweet smile and exaggerated politeness, all of it was a mask you'd learned to wear at any time. It only came off when dealing with people like him. There was a certain pride in that fact: he'd seen the real you. Not your "friends".

The more he thought about it, the more plagued by need he became. The need to hear you speak to him again, in that raw, unfiltered voice, with that disgusted glare piercing through his entire being. Thus, he did his best - as per your advice - to find another opportunity. The group work. One glance at him was enough for you to remember: "Ah, fuck, you're that dumbass from first day", you whined in frustration. Instant arousal.

And so, your unusual partnership began to develop. Or rather, your game of tormentor versus tormented. (Un)Paid actors and nothing more. It didn't take you long to notice his strange reaction to your verbal aggressions, almost as if the man relished in your ruthlessness. He seemed to know exactly what buttons to press in order to anger you. In return, you decided to see how far you could go until he'd finally cave in. From insults, to flicking him in the forehead, shoving him against the wall, ordering him around like a collared dog. You had your suspicions, but it all culminated when you went over to his little dorm room for a final project review. You'd gotten so upset - what did he even do? - that you pushed him hard into the ground and straddled him, holding onto the collar of his jacket and shouting profanities. A horrified grimace struck his face, and you froze. Have you gone too far? Was he finally going to ask that you stop, and put this strange charade behind? "P-please give me a moment, I..." he panted, frantically trying to move you aside. "I need to take care of myself. I'm so sorry." You hesitantly stood up and noticed the obvious erection in his pants.

You have a strange effect on him. He is not incapable; he knows it very well. And yet, the temptation is too great: to pretend, to exaggerate, to fail, anything to have you take the lead and lovingly scold him in the process. "What do you mean you're too anxious to present your part? Christ, you're useless. Utterly, completely useless." He can't wait to pleasure himself later to the memory of your words. Truly addicting. He doesn't mind being a doormat if it's your feet keeping him down. You bring out his most pathetic, perverted, deplorable self.

The same can be said about you. You've never been this mean to anyone. You hadn't even intended to reach this point, yet something keeps riling you up. Maybe it's his pleading pout whenever he's being reprimanded. The hooded, lustful eyes gazing up at you submissively and waiting for the next burning whip of your tongue. He brings out the worst in you and he loves every second of it.

You unlock the door and march into the bedroom (you've since moved in together). Without a warning, you grip his chin tightly and give the man a firm tug, forcing him to pay attention. "You did something, didn't you? I was supposed to meet with a classmate for coffee and he vanished without a trace. Won't answer my texts or calls." He shakes his head in denial at first, wide innocent eyes glistening in fear. Ah, he can't help it. His lips curl in a crooked grin. He's been caught. You shove two fingers in his mouth, and without delay he twirls his tongue around them hungrily. "What a psychotic bitch you are. You want to be the only one, huh? Is that what it is about?" Between the slurps and the whimpers, you can discern a hurried nod.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere nerd #yandere loser #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #tw yandere #female reader #obsessive love