-When Kaiser saw you wearing his jersey in public!
You didn't know anything about football. When you were visiting your family for the weekend, you accidentally spilled some juices on your shirt. Your brother, who was deeply obsessed with football, let you borrow his shirt.
You and your brother were walking down the streets. Your brother said that you should go first because he got a call from someone. So you went to stroll around the area as you waited for him.
Kaiser was with Ness walking behind you, and they immediately recognized the jersey.
Ness was nudging Kaiser from the side to get his attention. Kaiser raised a brow, and Ness excitedly pointed at you wearing "Kaiser 10."
'oh'
His lips curled up. He saw a fan on his day off.
"Should I call her to turn around?" Ness excitedly asked, ready to approach you. But Kaiser shushed him up and said that they should wait. You didn't turn around even after some time, and they lost hope.
Ness got an idea.
He asked Kaiser to pose behind you making sure that his jersey was proudly displayed, and he did a simple peace sign with his signature grin. He posted it with the caption "Hähä".
The comments were floated debating if you're unlucky that you didn't get to see Kaiser or how lucky you are to be breathing the same air as him.
Later that day your brother was scrolling through social media and came across his favorite player’s post.
Your brother— the fanboy, immediately recognizes you and was practically calling you so lucky and asked if you met Kaiser. You said you didn't know the guy, and he was bitter about it.
“That should’ve been me!” He whined. You rolled your eyes at his reaction and didn’t give a shit about his whining.
He went on Twitter and said the full story, saying it was actually him that was the fan and not you.
The fans were invested, and the story went viral to the point that it reached Kaiser and Ness. The fans were like “he was a clown for being too cocky”, and a few even said “Bruh doesn’t even know him” or “Kaiser was actually the fan of the girl”.
i think about fairy preg a lot actually. tiny fairies swollen with slime eggs, which would make a fairly small bump on a human but on a fairy its unbelievably massive. and of course slimes are known for never fully leaving once someone has been impregnated by them the first time, so the poor fairies who fall victim to them spend the rest of their days swelling up with slime eggs before having to birth them, and then the cycle repeats.
or what about a tentacle monster, some smaller species of which are specialised to breed using fairies instead of humans, stretching out their tight fairy holes and holding them in place as they get fucked full of eggs until they're swollen so massive they can barely fly. its difficult for a fairy to escape, even after the tentacle monster has had its fill, just because of how heavy their bellies become. no matter how many times the fairies warn each other about how hard it would be to escape, there are still fairies who fly a little closer than they need to over known areas with tentacle dens. but they won't be alone, there's plenty of other fairies there who met the same fate, all in varying stages of pregnancy. the cries of labouring fairies both a warning and an invitation for anyone else who may be flying nearby
Can’t stop thinking about all the little vulnerable curse darlings that exist and how easily they fall prey to the merciless Jujutsu Sorcerers that go hunting them down for pleasure.
Geto Suguru x The Curse of Virginity
Doe-eyed, chubby-cheeked and makeup-free. She's always chewing her lip nervously. Spawned from all the sweet, silly virgins out there who're afraid of having their virginity robbed.
Though always so fucking wet for it at the same time that it’s embarrassing.
Geto got lucky and swallowed her up before anyone else could get a taste. Keeping her in his bedroom. He kisses her cheeks while fucking her into a moaning, squealing little mess every night. Making sure all her sweet little virgin fantasies are met and satisfied.
Gojo Satoru x The Curse of Beauty
A defiant little brat who thinks her beauty will enslave any and all men who dare look at her. Cold and dismissive, she never lets anyone touch her – because, in her mind, she’s a goddess no one’s worthy of having or holding.
But Gojo scoops her up and keeps her locked up in his place like a pet cat. Smiling at her awfully condescendingly when she warns him not to lay his filthy hands on her.
She'll hiss at him, backing up with eyes going wide under the crushing realization that a pretty face stands little chance paralleled with a real force of strength. Understanding with a hitch in her throat how she better start using her looks to please rather than upset him.
Fushiguro Toji x The Curse of Insecurity
The cutest little crybaby who thinks every aspect of her is unappealing and gross. She’s always trying to hide her tear-streaked face, making herself as small as she can by curling herself into a ball, hoping no one’s able to notice her.
Toji just grins his devil-grin with her doughy thighs spread around his hips – keeping her wrists pinned above her head so she can’t do anything but whimper out small denials when he gruffs out how fucking adorable she is, thinking she can keep herself away from him.
Nanami Kento x The Curse of Shame
Born from the guilt of every shameful nympho who can’t help but feel so awfully filthy after indulging in their dark desires.
She's always naked and needy – quaking with heat and dewy from the fever of it – rubbing her thighs closed with such a sorry expression it would make any man rush to comfort her.
Nanami takes good care of her, though. The poor thing. She can’t go a single day without getting her wet little pussy pounded – always coming to him with her coy eyes and sultry whines, riding the thick muscles on his thigh with such a terribly needy pout on her lips. Begging him to make it okay, to sanction her so she needn’t feel so awfully sinful as she cums while still whimpering for his cock like a needy wonton little slut.
Zenin Naoya x The Curse of Misogyny
Born from all the chauvinistic self-indulgent thoughts men have of what a perfect woman should be – having resulted in the most plaint sweetest little thing – one who only feels comfortable when she's either welcoming her man home, cock-warming him during dinner or when he's rearranging her guts into the late night.
She's the happiest little bride with Naoya. Smiling nicely and humming while he lists all his troubles after coming home in a foul mood like always – she'll play with his hair until he leans into the touch with a moan, possessively tugging her closer – palming her soft skin with a pouty scowl on his face. She'll kiss his chin and tell him how grateful she is for everything he goes through, and it's exactly what he needs to hear – beginning to brush his lips over her skin, undressing her while she continues soothing him with her devotion – telling him she'd be lost without him, that he should take whatever he wants from her as a reward for working so hard, that he deserves it for being so good to her, that he's the strongest and smartest and greatest man in the whole world, and that she'll never ever want to be or do anything but serve him until the day she dies.
Choso x The Curse of Misery
Manifested from the minds of all the world-weary and burned-out college girls who're simply too exhausted to do any of the things they want to do anymore.
Don't worry, big brother Choso is here, and you can leave it all to him. Just sit on his lap and cry into his collar and tell him all about what worries you, and he'll tell you how it will all turn out okay.
Global warming? Don't worry about it, sweetie. Capitalism? He won't let it hurt you. Work? No, you don't need to work. Real life? That's okay, you can just stay in bed. He'll take care of everything.
Written with my lovely, extremely talented wifey, @sugarfairychan ! My writing is in cursive, hers is normal.
(oh fuck I had a dream abt this a while ago. It was amazing. But the elves were like, Tolkien elves, so they had some magic)
They protect their forest zealously, but allow travellers to pass through the woods, so long as they do not step foot off the path.
They throw joyous and bountiful parties beneath the trees, deep in the forest.
But should any fool wander off the path and disturb them, the lights shall go out, the food piling the tables high, disappears, the laughter and revelry vanishes, leaving the foolhardy adventurer to stumble about blindly in the dark.
Eyes previously blinded by the bright light illuminating the clearing, now blind in the all-consuming darkness.
Blind to the terrible monsters reaching out for the easy prey, free to hunt in the elves’ absence.
- The elves get attached to a darling that loiters around the entrance to their domain, never quite venturing further than the fringes, but thriving in the comforting presence of the trees at the edge of the forest.
Dancing among the border trees, flitting in and out, just out of the elves’ reach. Clearly exulting in the embrace of the younger, more welcoming trees on the outskirts, but too afraid, too flighty to travel any further.
The elves are prevented from snatching them up, by the ancient agreements between their race, and the race of men. The edge of the forest isn’t sacred ground, since new saplings are always taking root, and an honest woodcutter may chop down a few trees in order to feed his family.
- So the elves try to lure the darling.
- They somehow get the darling to go on walks furthur through the forest, instead of just loitering at the edge. Maybe they influence another human to talk to them (as opposed to doing it themselves, so as to not scare the darling away)?
- “Oh go on, you like being around trees, right? It’s really beautiful further inside the forest and nothing can go wrong if you just stay on the path! Give it a try!”
- And from how I see it, the only way the elves could convince another human to convince you into venturing deeper into the forest is with a little incentive, a little violence, a death threat sprinkled here or there. Perhaps, they’re holding an adventurer’s team hostage and the only way they can leave the forest alive is if the leader goes and convinces the cute human loitering around the forest to go inside.
- A shame that, even if they do complete the task, they won’t be leaving the forest alive but in boxes of black.
- The elves try to get the darling to leave the path, showing them warm, glowing lights and tinkling laughter coming from just behind those trees to the right of the path. There must be a clearing just through there, where you can be sure you would have a wonderful time. Or they try to entice them with a delightful smell, the promise of fresh-baked goods, of things sugary and savoury, warm and soothing. All you need to do is follow the scent (don’t even worry about where your feet are taking you).
- But it doesn’t work. Darling doesn’t leave the path, no matter how tempting the visions the elves present are.
- However, the darling ends up getting chased by some dick from the local village, some young guy who can’t take a bloody hint, and darling being darling, runs away very fastly. Unfortunately, running in a more-or-less straight line along a very predictable path doesn’t do much to deter pursuit, and the village boy is gaining on them.
- Darling swerves off the path, desperately weaving through the trees, and trying to make sense of their surroundings through their terror and their tears.
- Until they slam into something solid. They thrash around in their panic, even as strong arms wrap around their middle-section. The look up, only to see the most stunning face they have ever gazed upon.
- They turn around and see two other strong, incredibly beautiful strangers are holding the village boy by his arms. The boy is dangling off the ground with how big the height difference between the elves (they had to be elves with the way they were dressed almost primitively in leafs and leather, armed with the wooden weapons they held and those pointy ears, too!) and him are. He is thrashing wildly but that does not deter the elves.
- The one who is holding the darling looks down and gently sets them down on their feet. He is a wonderfully beautiful man struck with Aphrodite’s arrow. He cups the side of their cheek and with his calloused thumb, gently wipes away the tears that had begun to pool in their eyes. “You’re safe now,” he says. “No harm will come to you. We will make sure of that.”
- If only you knew that they would count yourself as a harmful entity, too, and would do anything to ensure that no self-inflicted harm would occur, even if it meant they’d bound you with ropes and chains.
- Now, there are two ways this route can happen with two different version by two different writers. @sillyness343 offers one view and I offer another.
@sillyness343 - a meeker darling:
- Now, the darling is finally in the possession of the elves now, since they stepped off the path.
Darling is given something or someone sings to them to relax them. They are sitting on the lap of one of the elven elders, surrounded by the rest of the elves in attendance. For a forest full of elves, there’s only a few in this tribe.They explain about how everything’s alright, that they’ll be well taken care of from now on. Darling isn’t really listening cos they’re all warm and sleepy, and this pretty person’s warmth and voice is incredibly soothing. They drift off to sleep, and the elder just gently pats their head, and quietly orders for the darling’s room and bed to be prepared.
- Extra: All of the elves are soo much older than the darling, even the youngest ones, who view the darling as a weaker, much more vulnerable sibling (or a potential mate hehe) are many decades older (which is, like I said, still young for elves).
- Hence, infantilization central.
- Everybody thinks that Darling is the sweetest, most innocent thing in the universe, and when they get “grumpy” or “throw a tantrum” (ie. “has had enough of everyone treating them like a child, and wants very much to go home now”) it’s just because they’re tired, and need a nap.
- You won’t be able to escape from them. These elves have lived in the forest for centuries. They command its very nature and fuel its rejuvination. The elves are the forest, but this is not the only tribe within it, and if you venture too far (if you get the chance, that is), you might just find yourself in the possession of another tribe.
- And they might not be as nice as the first one.
My version: the manipulative
- The elves worship you. They think you are beauty and nature embodied and they thrive off of any attention from you. Though the elves may be much older than you, there ways are more primitive and well, they probably haven’t been educated about the ways of psychology and operant conditioning.
- Yes, at first, you were confused and slightly scared about the predicament you found yourself in but slowly, the elves warmed up to you. They made it crystal clear that they had no intention to harm you and they were practically on their hands and knees for you. It would be a lie if you said that having such handsome men and women on their knees, bowing before you and pledging their heart and souls to you wasn’t a turn on.
- These elves are slender and strong and that is seen in the muscles that buldge from their arms and thighs and the way they can effortlessly lift up large logs of wood with ease. They are at your service 24/7 and but a simple command or word will have them rushing to your side.
- And you thrive off of it. I mean, who wouldn’t? Having these powerful and magical elves hang off of your every word was a power trip in and of itself.
- You are constantly surrounded by elves, guards and those who attend to you in any way possible. You are given the finest and freshest fruits and vegetables to munch on. They hunt the biggest animals to present to you as scared offerings and in every feast, you are the first to eat, a sign of great respect.
- The elders adore you and they are comprised of the most powerful and strongest elves. They command nature and the other elves like its nothing and wield an iron fist over the rules and sanctions over you. If you are on their good side (and you often should be as long as you don’t try to escape or continously reject the elves’ affections), you are given all the privilegs you could even think of, but if you are on their bad side…well, you don’t ever want to think about it.
- The elves are not a violent species. They are mostly pacificistic in their natures, but should you express delight in their physical prowess, you can best be certain that the more ambitious youngsters of the tribe will be hosting tournaments in your name. The prize often ends up being something relating to you and, like I said before, it’s too much of a power trip to decline.
- You adore the forest and the trees and once you heard that the elves could use magic, you were the one all over them. You beg and plead and whine for them to show you just a little whisp of their powers and they can’t help but give in. Their egos sky-rocket when you are in absolute shock of their gifts, face contorted into an expression of wonder and awe. Though the elders have commanded them to not use their magic excessively, they can’t help but show off a little whenever you’re around, pumping out more magic than necessary to rejuvinate the grass lands around them.
- But this new life does come with some unfortunate consequences, such as loss of freedom and minor autonomy; social isolation from any and all humans and sentient beings outside of the elves and the animals around; obsessed elves who could easily snap you like a twig who can’t control their clinginess and weird fetishes.
- But hey! At least you’re having fun…right?
- You are. You hate to say this but manipulating these elves, these supposedly hundreds of years old beings, is incredibly fun. You get away with it, too. A little bit of positive reinforcement or negative reinforcement here or there, an aversive stimuli sprinkled to the left, a pleasant one sprinkled to the right, and suddenly, they’re all putty in your hands and obeying your every will with voluntary behaviours that suit you in the end.
- Aka you manipulate them into being your bitches.
- You tend to listen to them mostly and not venture away from the tribe and its stronghold fortress of trees and buildings. It’s nice to be doted on and the novelty of the experience brings you great joy and boosts your ego to the max. Though, curiousity does get the better of you and you do try to leave sometimes. The first time, you were caught immediately and taken to the elders, to which they found great amusement in your pouts and complaints. But they soothed you as they took you into their laps and gave you pets, cuddles and kisses. You weren’t a big fan of the infantalisation, honestly, but when you’re suddenly engulfed in the mightiest elder in terms of physical strength, whose arms were easily the size of a tree trunk and whose chest was fluffy and warm and squishy— well…you can’t really complain.
- The mightiest elder is a bit (understatement of the year) of a himbo. He is kind and warm with the heartiest laughter you have ever heard. He takes great joy in drinking ale and wine made from the freshest grapes and streams, and he is not above (like the other elders) to fool around with the youngsters and partake in their immature contests. And hate to say it, but he’s my favourite hehe.
- The other elders are a little more sly, a little more wiser. They know about your manipulation but they do nothing to deter or stop you. If you are having your fun and are not looking to escape or cause any physical or mental harm, what’s the problem? They find it cute and they always watch you from above in the cavern inside the trees as you mingle and manipulate down below. Their eyes are predatory, as fierce and sharp as the eyes of a snake and sometimes they make you shiver and unnerve you but when they are staring at you from below, head buried deep between your thighs…yeah what’s there to complain?
- You are given so much freedom and liberty whilst with these elves only because you know that it comes from good behaviour and actively wanting to be with these elves. You are no fool. You know that the minute you step out of line or you majorly hurt the feelings of more than ten elves (because why would they blame you if one elf gets too close for comfort and you’re forced to slap them because you aren’t comfy? No, they’d blame the assaliant and give them a massive scolding about consent and a major punishment, too— because anything that brings harm to you in any way, shape or form is practically treason), you’re screwed. As long as you make an effort to like them back, the elders and the elves will let you do anything.
- You want to go out and tour the rest of the forest greatly, that has always been your wish since before you ventured deep and fell into their grasps. It was just that your fear stopped you. You have always been told about stories of violent and savage beings dwelling in the forest, who slaughter humans left and right if they stray from the perfectly paved path.
- Your fear deterred you back then and you waited years before you went inside. Your patience does not run very thin and you are simply biding your time until you are given the permission to leave and tour to your heart’s content with guard dog privileges, aka the multiple incredibly strong elves by your side.
Note: I edited my bits a little just to make it look and sound better, hope that’s ok @sugarfairychan
modern!aerion have sweet angelic!reader as his best friend (no one knows how this cruel asshole has the sweetest angelic girl as his closest friend though)
except.... he keeps perving on her all the time but she's too innocent to notice it
his hand is on her thigh, he kisses her, and gropes her all the time. she just thinks he's being friendly to her and that he likes her (not like that)
so it's summed break and he takes reader to his family vacation house (reader can be loaded too, just a lot more sheltered) and the entire family - baelor, maekar, daeron and valarr - seeing their satan spawn perving on this angelic girl who's kind and gentle to everyone
egg, daella and rhae would love her though and she'd love spending time with the girls (and egg)
No, because everyone would be so confused about how they became friends, but also what do they even talk about? It's one of the world's biggest mysteries. When the pair went to Dorne for a holiday a few years back, the paparazzi went crazy because there was Aerion... and angelic!reader? Maybe angelic!reader's family rarely made it into the news, but this certainly had more eyes her way.
But now, they're both in the summer home and Aerion cannot stop eyeing angelic!reader up like he wants to eat her. More than eat her, actually... devour her. And yet, she's none the wiser.
"Aerion's so kind!" she'd say to Maekar, making him gape. Aerion had applied her sunscreen for her, sliding his hands far too close to the strings of her tiny bikini bottoms, and had spent far too long sliding his hands over the planes of her back.
Daeron walks out to the garden one day to see the pair cuddled up on a sun lounger, their bodies intertwined in a way that friends wouldn't do – not to mention, Aerion's hand resting upon her ass, fondling the flesh to his heart's content.
Egg is confused too, but, selfishly, he doesn't want her to go away and so he will try to ignore his brother's weird behaviour. But then, after angelic!reader had offered to take the younger children in to town for a ice cream, he watches wide-eyed as Aerion drags angelic!reader into his arms and places a firm kiss on her lips. "Don't spoil them," Aerion mumbled. It was clear he was mad about having her push back their plans for the day.
Egg would be even more confused when they sit outside the ice cream parlour and angelic!reader asks, very poorly attempting to be nonchalant, whether Valarr has a girlfriend. He thought they were just lying to his family about being friends, but now he's worried because this might be worse. He doesn't think Aerion will be happy.
Thigh riding Choso by @tobio-rs
Nerd!chose x curvy!reader by @madamechrissy
Satoru Gojo
Eden University Series by @reignpage
Bubblegum Bitch by @reignpage
Satoru really can't keep quiet during sex by @mimuju
How gojo makes love vs. how he fucks by @megumour
Divine dicking by @indiewritesxoxo
Vampire nerdjo by @sweethearticism
How Boyfriend Satoru deals with you when you're angry by @reignpage
Ryomen Sukuna
Big Sukuna by @tobio-rs
Sukuna is... clingy by @fireflyschiikawa
Sukuna doesn't like the silent treatment from you by @pika-toru
Heianera!sukuna takes on another concubine by @epicderpface
Husband sukuna since baby yuuji started walking by @fireflyschiikawa
Fratboy!sukuna playing 7mih with his secret gf by @rioride
Blue collar sukuna by @eraserbread
When did you get hot by @splurtz
Hiromi Higuruma
Work husband higuruma by @trefacot
Higuruma is the type to absentmindedly play with your pussy by @kill4ill
Higuruma and reader w/ an 18+ twt by @in-the-melancholy
Take Me To Church by @nyxiedreams
Rintaro Suna
Mine by @sunee-syrup
Take the Edge Off by @sunee-syrup
Young by @sunee-syrup
warnings: non-con, smut, bullying, childhood friends to lovers, boss-employee relationship, breeding kink, obsession, possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, butler reader, illumi being a psycho, minor character death, reader tries to cope
word count: 3.1k
i started watching a couple episodes of hxh but couldn't push through, so i dropped it. but then, i got to read 'guessing game' by hypnoswrites, and it was so freaking good it convinced me to go back and finish hxh and i did lmaooo. and damn, illumi is really that cool. so i gotta write about him. as usual, english isn't my first language. if you see a mistake or something weird here and there, it's me fighting for my life. enjoy!
Like bugs when a rock was lifted, everyone around you suddenly scattered when they saw someone approaching, and in no time, they were all gone. Heading in your direction was a boy with short black hair and eyes that were even blacker. You didn't know him; you bet your friends didn't as well, but there was something about him and his lifeless eyes that screamed 'bad news,' and that was probably why everybody were so quick to leave.
Only you stood there as he walked closer, not because you were curious or brave or that you cared that the boy's feelings would be hurt if you left too. You were seven years old, and that was the first time you met Illumi Zoldyck, and you were scared shitless you physically couldn't move.
"Oh, you're not going with them?" he asked.
He looked to be around your age and was a tad shorter than you. Still, just hearing his voice sent shivers up your spine.
Your legs violently shook as you stammered, "Hu—huh?"
"Good," he said with a soft but chilling smile. "I choose you."
"Wh—whatever for?" you asked, feeling like crying all of a sudden.
"To play with me," he said. "Now, do you like hide and seek?"
Hide and seek was all fun and games until you had to play it for six hours straight with no rest and with a playmate like Illumi, who always found you within minutes whenever it was your turn to hide. Even so, he never seemed to get bored and would demand another round, preferably with you as the hider.
"Again," he said after he found you hiding behind a bush.
He always said that—again—making you feel like the game would go on forever, and after three hours of playing, being found over and over again and still having to keep going, you feared it might actually not end. There were numerous spots to hide in the vast public park you were playing at, but Illumi was too good at this. He was unbeatable.
"You are very bad at this."
He hadn't even seen you yet when he said that, and you thought you had chosen a very promising spot this time. It was only when you climbed down from the tree and turned to him that he locked eyes with you and unemotionally said, "Again."
"Again."
"Again."
"Again."
"Huh," he muttered.
This time, he found you at a bus stop near the park, and from the way the bus card was clutched tightly in your hands, you didn't think you had to say anything for Illumi to have a clear understanding that you were leaving.
"I'm tired," you said. "Let's call it a day."
"Sure. It's already late anyway." He looked towards the sun that was starting to set, and then he turned to look at you with that small, creepy smile he'd been giving you way too many times today. "I'll see you tomorrow."
To you, that sounded like a threat. But what could a boy do if you decided to hole up in your home all day? Drag you out? It wasn't until the following morning when you heard your mom call you to come downstairs that you knew he could actually do that.
"You didn't tell me you made a new friend. Illumi here said you promised to meet him at the park to play," your mom said in a chiding tone. "Why are you still in your pajamas?"
Funnily enough, that was the first time you knew his name. His last name, however, wasn't revealed to you and your family until months later, sending your parents into a state of shock when Illumi casually mentioned it while having dinner at your home one night.
Illumi Zoldyck.
You'd been playing with the eldest son of the most dangerous assassin family in the world, and you didn't even know it. And by that time, it was too late to change anything. There was nothing you could do but lower your head, accept your fate, and play any game he was in the mood for, whether it was hide and seek, board games, or whatever random, fun ideas he came up with.
The fun ideas were the worst. Sometimes, it was just you following him around like a shadow because he ordered you not to lose sight of him. If you did, you'd get punished. That was his definition of fun.
Locking you in the sleek, black car his family sent to pick him up was one of the punishments. He'd tell you to get in first, and then he'd follow and sit beside you in the back seat before telling the chauffeur to drive without telling them where he wanted to go. After he made sure you texted your parents that you'd be home late, watching you like a hawk as you typed each word and tapped send, your phone would then be confiscated for the rest of the endless ride.
This meant hours in silence, as you'd rather die than make small talk with Illumi to kill time. And sleeping was out of the question. If he caught you closing your eyes for a little too long, he'd poke you in the waist to startle you out of your attempt.
To keep you up and present. His word, not yours.
If not a car ride, he'd make you watch him hurt something—or someone—often with his weird-looking needles he carried with him everywhere. He'd stick them into his targets, animals and humans alike, and they would cry, drop to the ground, and thrash agonizingly. Only when he pulled the needles out did the pain seem to stop.
He did that to your ex-friends, the ones who fled the moment they saw him and left you to face him alone, saying something about having to complete several missions in order to be allowed to come out of his house and play, and them not wanting to cooperate totally wasted his time.
"Good thing I had her," he said, cocking his head to the side as he observed the writhing bodies on the ground before turning to you. "Good thing she stayed."
You did, and even after fifteen years had passed, you were still with him.
You didn't know it at the time what knowing Illumi would entail, didn't know you'd lose your parents in a car accident just a few years later. Tragic deaths caused by bad weather and slippery road, making them lose control of the vehicle and plunge off the cliff. That was what you were told.
Thereafter, you were hired as a butler by the Zoldyck family, and since then, your new home had been the Kukuroo Mountain. Since then, Illumi had become an even bigger part in your life.
As your master and teacher, he taught you to use nen, to utilize your weak aura and make it stronger. He trained you hard and well enough to work with him, to assist him, heal him, but never well enough to hide from him, never that. His lessons were deliberate, crafted just for you. For some reason, you'd never get to learn how to leave this man.
You had tried to use Zetsu to conceal your aura, so he wouldn't sense you, but the moment you put one foot in front of the other with the intention to leave, he always knew—exactly what you were thinking, exactly where you were.
When it came to hide and seek, Illumi never lost. And although you both didn't play it anymore, it didn't feel like the game had ended at all. For a long while, you had wondered why he'd want to keep you so close to him, or to be precise, why he never grew out of his childish obsession of having you as his one and only, carefully-selected playmate.
The answer came to you one winter night as you watched him sleep, his body nestled against yours under the blanket. Eighteen and constantly questioning your life choices, or lack thereof, you had an epiphany.
You were the only friend he had.
The one he left in the forest on more than one occasion when it was your turn to be the seeker and yet the same one he had asked his mother if he could have share his room. You might call him 'Master Illumi' and do whatever he commanded, but then again, it was you who tended to his wounds while listening to him vent about his day. It was you who played with his hair until he fell asleep.
He had beautiful hair, jet-black, silky, and not short anymore as he'd decided to grow it out. He loved it when you ran your fingers through it. At such times, when he closed his eyes and breathed in and out evenly, welcoming your touch, it was almost like he had ceased being a cold-blooded assassin and had turned into a normal man who sought not violence but warmth. And for a moment, you were safe from his antics, cruel and sadistic antics that had later become something more perverted than evil as you both grew older.
You were nineteen when he threw his needles at you mid-sparring. It wasn't the first time he used them on you, but it was the first time you didn't remember anything after they pierced your skin. Normally, you'd just be paralyzed; you'd still see things that happened around you even though you couldn't move a muscle. But that time, everything went black, and when you regained consciousness, you were lying against Illumi's naked chest in a bathtub and his long fingers were pumping in and out of your pussy.
You remembered trying to get up from the tub, but because you were still disoriented and he was much stronger, you kept getting yanked back against his chest. When you were still enough, he lifted one of your legs and rested it over the edge of the tub, and then he got back to work, fucking your pussy until you came right there on his deft fingers.
He'd been a perverted, touch-starved demon ever since, and it was ridiculous how stable he was with this kind of thing. Because now at twenty two, he still found a way to touch you at every opportunity. Time and time again, he'd grope you when no one was watching. Walking past each other in the hallway would result in him pressing his needle against your throat just to back you into the nearest empty room for a couple of kisses, and more times than you could count, those kisses would then turn into a full make-out session, and he'd end up sucking your neck a little too hard and leave bruises that would raise a few eyebrows.
On some nights when playing with his hair failed to lull him to sleep, it wasn't unusual for him to hold you close and rub his swollen manhood on you while whispering possessively in your ear, reminding you that you belonged to him and him only.
He had taken his time with you, like a predator playing with its pray. Because despite the lewd advances, he had never actually gone all the way, but at this point, you knew it was only a matter of time.
That wasn't to say you were ready when it actually happened.
You didn’t know what had gotten into him, but things got a bit intense last night, and by the end of it, you were left battered and beyond used. One minute it was a harmless grinding. You were both lying on your sides, and Illumi was fucking your thighs from behind. His cock was rubbing against your pussy's lips with every thrust but never penetrating, and that was how things were supposed to be. Nothing could have prepared you for the way he pushed his cock all the way inside you in the next unguarded moment. The action was sudden and absolute, as if to tell you he demanded no argument, and all you had to do was take it.
"This is nice," he said in your ear. "You feel so good around me."
"Master Illumi," you gasped and heard him huff a laugh.
"Yes?" he murmured.
"Am I—"
"Am I what?"
He began to move, slowly at first, but it didn't take long before he was pounding hard into you. Both of your naked bodies intertwined, so close, as though they were about to merge into one. In the midst of the intimacy, a series of questions rang deafeningly in your mind.
What if this changed everything? What if this was more serious than you thought? What if this was your life from now on? What if fifteen years were not enough to satisfy his twisted fixation? He had taken your parents from you. An accident? You knew Illumi too well to believe that lie. He killed them, and now he was fucking you, taking your body even though he already had your freedom. What was next, you life? Well, he already had that, too.
You felt tears prick your eyes as you asked, "Am I not your friend?"
"Of course you are," he answered after a short pause. "But don't you get it?"
He grabbed your face and forced you to turn your head to look at him.
"You were meant to be more."
Your thoughts were interrupted when the car came to a stop in front of what appeared to be an abandoned house. Turning your head to the driver's side, you found Illumi behind the wheel, staring straight ahead down the road at a low-rise hotel with an illuminated sign of its name at the top. He wore green today, looking as regal as ever and a tad more content than usual.
All you could think about as you took in his side profile was how sore your pussy was and that it was all because of him. The rest of the night was quickly replayed in your mind, and in all shameful honesty, it was mostly just you being fucked all over the room after that little conversation between you and him.
You remembered trying to fight him when he wouldn't let you rest after dumping his cum inside you for the third time. Annoyed and exhausted, you snapped and tried to strangle him with your nen rope, and for that, you'd learned a very important lesson.
Illumi didn't fight back or even dodge; he let it happen. He merely watched as you tightened the hold around his neck, his face turning redder and redder from the gradual increase of pressure, but never once did he utter a sound. You felt it in your heart that he would let you do it, that this was it, the chance to be free of him, but at the same time, you knew Illumi wouldn't fight a battle he wasn't sure he could win.
And he was right, as always, because he won.
The moment you let go of the rope, he immediately flipped you onto your back, shoved his still-throbbing cock in, and fucked you limp. He made sure you came on it too, and considering you had just tried to kill him, coming so hard your cunt pulsed around his dick was total a disgrace to your pride.
"I'm supervising this time," Illumi said, snatching you out of your memory. His gaze was now shifted to you. "You're on your own."
"You're coming with me, right?"
"I'll wait here."
It wasn't as if you had never been assigned a mission before, but it was the first time you had to complete it alone. The fact that Illumi was going to let you step out of this car, walk to that hotel the target was staying in, kill them, all without him watching your every move, told you more about what he was thinking than words could ever do.
He knew now you would never leave.
But you wanted to, you swore.
He knew last night changed everything.
And you wished it hadn't!
He knew you cared.
Because despite everything, he was your friend, too.
"Do you want me to fuck you in this car," he said and suddenly leaned across the center console towards you, "right here, right now?"
You blinked, eyes wide and face suddenly very warm, and quietly shook your head.
"Then stop looking at me like that."
He said that, but instead of backing away, he placed one hand on your thigh and then slowly dragged it up your body, unhurriedly, like you both had all the time in the world and there wasn't a job waiting to be finished. You held your breath, waiting to see where Illumi was heading with his little touch. When he stopped at your breast and gingerly kneaded it, you finally let yourself breathe and arch against his hand.
"Master Illumi," you whined, wishing whatever switch inside him wouldn't be flipped, so he would keep being gentle to you.
It was almost tolerable like this. This was okay.
"Calling me Master like I haven’t spent all night breeding you."
He said against your lips and then he gave them a peck, once, twice, so uncharacteristically sweetly, yet so… him.
"It was good. No wonder Father kept knocking Mother up." He breathed the words out. "I want to do it again, wanna put my babies in you."
Illumi had always been a straightforward person, and he could say the most outrageous things, and you wouldn't be fazed. But now, you felt your face burn just from listening to those last few words that sounded suspiciously like a promise.
"I—I gotta go," you said before withdrawing yourself from his touch.
He hummed his assent and let you go without a fuss; his pitch-black eyes told you he'd wait for you to come back to him, that he knew you'd come back to him, that you'd better not disappoint him by thinking this was a chance to do something stupid.
Like running away from him and the life he had planned for you.
You closed the car door and began to walk, alone, accompanied by no one but the quietness of the night. But despite the illusion of freedom, you knew you were still shackled, tied to the man who had robbed you of the life you were supposed to live, bound by his will to possess you in every way imaginable. Yet you marched on, inhaling deeply and appreciating the solitude that you knew would not last.
kinks. masked man, fear play, dubcon 18+ smut ahead
synopsis. your friends drag you, a chronic homebody, to come to a corn maze. you think you're so cool and morbid and edgy for calling bullshit on the cheesy jumpscares and cheap decor. a particular scarer takes offense to this.
>> next fic: lack of boundaries pt iii
the gravel parking lot makes crunching noises as you and your friends climb out of the car, your breath puffing in light gusts due to the chill in the night air. the corn maze looms not far ahead of you. tall stalks rustling against each other in the breeze, forming walls that reach at least twelve feet high. bright floodlights mark the entrance, among the scrawny teenage attendants and the people lining up to buy tickets.
you can hear the muffled screams echo faintly from somewhere inside.
you huff, not intrigued by your first impression of the maze. you'd rather be at home, warm and cozy in your bed while eating snacks and watching a movie, but your friends had insisted - “come on, it'll be fun! where's your halloween spirit?”
against your better judgment, you had caved.
the closer you trek to the entrance, the more your annoyance grows. it's all so predictable and juvenile. despite the staggering height of the cornstalks, they're flimsy and see through, propped up only with weak wooden planks. the fake webs strung up at the entrance have gnats that flew too close to the overhead lights stuck in them. as for the costumed workers... a few of them have wandered out of the maze to adjust their masks and take a break. one's smoking a cigarette a few meters away, and another downs a bottle of water before ducking back into the maze.
peak professionalism.
shaking your head, you turn back to your friends. "is this seriously what people are going on about? a couple of losers in rubber masks jumping out at you? please."
your friends groan at your disinterest, and one of them elbows you. “don't jinx it. you're gonna eat your words when you piss yourself at the first scare.”
"i doubt it." you look back at the maze. one of the lights are flickering and then goes dim. you doubt that was intentional, just the results of a low budget. “this is all bullshit.” your friends tune out your grumbles and hand over tickets, a staff in poorly done SFX makeup offering you a lazy "good luck" as you pass under the archway. the light fades the further you venture inside, leaving only thin strings with bulbs tied on them to light your path.
your friends cling to each other as you walk deeper, jumping in surprise anytime there's a scream or a rush of footsteps in the distance. when a scarer lunges from the shadows, the group of them let out shrill shrieks. you just flinch a little from being caught off guard, then roll your eyes and sigh.
...
as the maze winds deeper, twisting in tight turns and long stretches that all look exactly the same, your sentiments continue.
true, your stomach does give a little drop each time someone jumps out at you, telegraphing their movements with rustling stalks and heavy footsteps, but it's not actually getting to you.
it's easier to look unimpressed than admit there's a part of you that is listening closely for every shift in the corn and too-heavy footsteps that don't sound practiced or intentional. you brush it off as a nervous tic.
something starts to feel weird, then. you feel eyes on you from the distance, and the path you're walking through seems be herding slowly. the fog has crept over your shins, and then rises slowly. you can hardly see where you're going anymore.
everything feels quieter, as if your group had been cut off from the others.
you must be tucked into a corner of the maze where the noise can't reach.
fog suddenly rolls in from one of the hidden machines in a huge gust, swallowing up the air until your lungs sting, and you bring your sleeve over your face, coughing. "what the hell," you protest, eyes watering a little from the bit that'd gotten in your eyes.
you lower your arm just in time to see movement through the misty clouds and see a figure running at you through the fog. two costumed workers barrel toward you and your friends with a cleaver in hand, distracting you from the weird feeling you'd felt in your gut just a moment ago.
your friends scream and scatter, bolting ahead in a frenzy of panic, and the two workers opt to chase the bigger crowd, leaving you on your own. you're a little displeased that your friends didn't check that you were following them, especially since it's practically impossible to see anything right now and you have no fucking idea where you are.
with a grumble, you stalk after them, jogging so you don't lag behind too much. you're determined not to be stranded alone in this place, but with how the mist thickens in the air and clouds your vision, you can feel the distance between you and the group increasing.
“guys?” you cough, waving your arms in front of you to try and clear the air. “guys, ugh- slow down!”
weaving through the maze, your focus on catching up with your friends inhibits you from noticing you'd taken a wrong turn. your feet carry you down the passage, your path slipping away from theirs without you realizing it.
a light then fizzles at the end of the path, popping and burning out. then another fizzles. "of course they can't get proper lighting for this place." you mumble to yourself, but your anxiety is starting to return. the air, fogged. feels heavier and cooler. you can hardly see shit.
then you hear a sound.
not the predictable rush of footsteps from a scarer leaping into your path, just the crunch of gravel somewhere behind you, sounding slow and too heavy to be one of your friends. you freeze, goosebumps raising along your skin.it stops when you stop.
you force your feet to keep moving, fast, despite the sounds continuing after you. a drag, as if someone is brushing against the edge of the corn as they move. tracking you. the feeling of being watched makes your skin slick with a cold sweat. encouraging yourself to keep walking with a quick shake of your head, you continue forward down one path.
"i'm fine." you breathe. "they'll be at the next turn. this is just some scheme to get me to admit they're right about this place being not-lame."
step... step... step.
closer this time, definitely.
you take a sharp left, then another. everything is still for a second, the path ahead of you empty. relief floods your chest momentarily; even though you're still separated from your friends, at least some creep isn't on your tail. it was simply some worker trying to mess with you-
and then someone steps in front of you out of nowhere, a huge shadow intercepting your path. a wall of a man, chest rising and falling slow and steady. he's not winded like you are.
he's bigger than the other staff, shouldered and towering. his costume is hand-made rather than one with plastic material found in a costume store.
his mask is featureless except for the deep, soulless eyeholes.
skidding to a halt, your momentum betrays you and you stumble forward. he catches you, massive, gloved hands shooting out to clamp under your arms. your feet kick uselessly in the air as he hoists you up like you weigh nothing with zero warning.
“no… no! put me down!”
he doesn't. he hauls you to the side where the path ends in rough wooden planks nailed into a makeshift wall. your back hits them with a dull thud, the boards rattling under the impact. he pins you there with your toes barely scraping the dirt, his body crowding into yours.
you squirm, kicking and clawing at his wrists, but it's pathetic—childish. at your outburst, his head tilts curiously, leaning in to watch you freeze up and go quiet very quickly.
“still not scared?”
your whole body jolts. the words come out quiet, mocking. by now, you're trembling hard, the only sound you're able to make a pitiful whimper. all your bravado is gone. stripped clean away by this man.
you gasp when he shifts his grip, one broad hand sliding down to catch under the bend of your thigh, the other braced against the boards. he pushes up into you, forcing your legs to curl around his hips. in this position, he has you pinned open, the warmth radiating from his body seeping straight through your clothes.
as he leans closer, the mask scrapes along your jaw. you turn your face away, trembling, until he lifts the corner of it to push his exposed mouth to your throat. his lips are hot and wet as they close over the pulse in your neck. he bites, not hard enough to break skin but to bruise. then he descends with his teeth scraping down to the hollow of your collarbone.
he keeps your legs forced around him while he mouths at your skin. when you squirm, caught off guard, he locks his mouth around your skin and bites - like an animal warning its mate to behave. "w-wait, i... don't- anh!" your whimpers tilt into cries when his teeth nip behind your ear. once he's realized he's located your sweet spot, he focuses his attention there.
your body betrays you, arching up into him, pressing closer instead of pulling away. every instinct to resist twists into a pulse of need in your core.
his hips roll up against yours with no warning. he drags his thick, clothed bulge right up against you, rocking your body higher against the wall. he holds you there, pinned open, feeding you each drag of his body until your head tips back against the planks with a thud.
"wh-what are you... mnh, wh-what..." you gasp, trying to find a way to steady yourself or figure out what's going on and who this man is - but before you can react any more, he tilts your chin back down and steals your mouth.
this is not the kind of kiss you're familiar with. not the sweet little press of lips after a date. he's devouring you. mask shoved up high enough for you to feel his stubble scraping your face as his mouth covers yours. as he pries your mouth open, his tongue slides hot and wet against yours to curl and push in your mouth until your head is spinning.
the shocked, desperate sounds you make just get swallowed, lost in the slurping of spit and your tongues tangling. he laves his tongue disgustingly against yours, then sucks it to get every drop of you in his mouth, rutting up into you eagerly. "mmm... you taste so good," he grunts. "bet your pussy'll suck me in real nice when i put my cock in you. just like this ngh- tongue."
strings of your shared spit slide down your chin and soak the corner of your jaw. his tongue chases them too, licking up the mess before plunging right back between your lips.
your arms finally give up their struggle and snake up around his neck, elbows hooked tight to keep yourself from sliding down - despite him holding you up just fine on his own. still, he doesn't even let you breathe properly. every gasp turns into another mouthful of him. another sloppy push of tongue, another grind of his teeth against your lip, another swallow of shared spit.
all the while, his hips don't stop.
when you finally wrench your lips free, a string of spit snaps between you. you're so lightheaded you could faint, but you can't even get air before his tongue is dragging along your throat. while he distracts you, he tugs down your bottoms, prying you open for the main event. "h-hey! y'know w-we're in public right? why can't we go in a shack or something?" you say squeakily.
" 'cause this is what happens when you run your mouth," he responds, tugging at the soaked strip of lace that used to be covering you. the cold night air hits your bare cunt and makes you shiver. you can hear him rustling around to get his boxers off next. "i won't take any disrespect for what i do. you need a lesson."
you can't see much, just a shift of bulk and the faint gleam of moisture beading at his tip. he lets you feel it soon after, the heavy, fat head grinding against your swollen slit. no clothes to protect you now.
he nudges in slowly, pushing just the tip into your hole and stretching you around him. your protesting splinters into an embarrassingly loud whine, and your walls seize around him instantly, gripping so tight that every inch he pushes in is a struggle. "it's too big! s-slow down please," you moan, even though it feels perfect. you've never felt so full in your life. as your body fails to accommodate his girth, he pushes a little further in, knowing you can take him. "c'mon," he croons. "be a big girl. you can take me just fine. i know it. just a little more."
you nod slightly, and he bottoms out in a rough thrust, the stretch obscene in your tight pussy. the squelching noises coming from your holes are nearly as loud as your screaming as he rolls his hips to make his cock drag deeper, bullying your insides. the veins wrapped around his cock scrape along your puffy walls, adding to your overstimulation and making you clamp down on him tighter.
he hisses at the tight fit, face screwing up. "too much noise," he chastises, grunting with the effort of pulling back just enough to pound back inside you to the hilt, thrusting inside you slow and deep. the movement makes you open your mouth to squeal louder, and to keep you quiet, he seals his mouth over yours again.
while kissing you, he begins pounding up into you, aiming to rut against that spongy, aching spot deep inside. each push in forces your cunt to swallow more. he moans into your mouth, savoring how you're squeezing him. your tight little cunt is better than anything he's ever had. he nips your lip, sucks the spit from your tongue, and fucks you harder, forcing a muffled sob from you.
he adjusts his grip, massive hands sliding down to clamp under the swell of your ass, palms covering you completely, fingers digging hard enough that you know you'll be bruised. and then he lifts you up proper, and spears you back down on his cock all the way. he can hear how loud you get at that, and so he keeps his mouth over yours as he begins bouncing you - up, down, up, down - slamming you onto his cock like a toy.
“thought you were brave,” he murmurs through kisses, teeth catching your bottom lip before releasing it. he keeps fucking up into you, while dragging you back down on him to meet his thrusts. his balls slap into the curve of your ass, and getting soaked at the juices leaking down your thighs. he's so deep inside that his pelvis keeps bumping against your swollen clit. “so much attitude...” he cuts himself off with a groan as your walls clamp around him, “and now you're getting fucked by some loser in a rubber mask.” he repeats your own words from earlier back to you.
he squeezes your ass, fingers spreading you open wider as he yanks you down harder onto him. despite how your walls milk him and suck him back in each time he pulls back, he doesn't slow down, forcing himself inside you. if anything, he bounces you faster, rougher. every slam of his cock pushes slick down your thighs. he growls when the mess slicks his shaft enough that the thrusts get wetter and messier.
of course, his hands have to be busy while he uses you. thick fingers dig into your ass cheeks to keep you split apart and unable to close your legs or force him out of your sweet pussy. he squeezes handfuls, using the fat as grips to fuck you onto him.
his thumb sneaks under the bunched-up hem of your bottoms, pressing against your slick mound. the contact makes you jerk and cry out, but pays you no mind. two fingers trap your clit, tugging the swollen bud gently at first, then harder, pinching rough enough to make your cunt seize on his cock. your face screws up, eyes rolling back and lips parting against his in an expression of pure ecstasy.
your moan dissolves against his tongue as he grinds the pad of his thumb over the trapped bud, rolling it in quick circles that make your cunt splatter with creamy juices.
he plants his feet, drags you down onto him until his cock is lodged impossibly deep, the fat head pressing into the gummy sweet spots you didn't even know you had until now. and then he rocks his hips, scraping himself against that tender spot again and again.
this is worse than the pounding. your body can't escape the pressure - you're forced to take it. his cock swells inside you with every roll, a sign he's close to filling you up. but he wants you to come apart before he does so you learn your lesson. with one last twist of your swollen bud and a roll against your g-spot, you break.
the orgasm rips through you, walls spasming so hard he loses his rhythm, hips stuttering as he reaches climax as well. he slams deep one last time, and spills inside of you in thick, sticky globs. with how deep it is you swear it might be filling up your womb.
after cleaning you up and sending you on the right path next to your friends, you have to hobble over to them, tugging up your collar to hide love bites and swiping the back of your hand on your swollen lips.
"where the hell were you? we were about to send a bunch of people to look for you!"
"...i got a little more than i bargained for."
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Summary: But, your eyes were the most beautiful shade of- Holy fuck no-
Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Gojo likes to use blue when he throws tantrums, Yandere, Gojo is absurd like always, some comedy bc why not, love at first meeting?, Gojo likes DBZ in this, dark tones ish, am I just bad at yandere?
Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Arranged!Marriage!Reader
Gojo! Who is 17, halfway into his first year at jujutsu high and enjoying his life. He likes his school, his friends and heck, even his teacher. Sure, Shoko's smoking habits are going to give him lung cancer from all the second hand smoking he's doing and sure Yaga now takes blood pressure pills because of him, but Satoru is sure that his life has never been better. Of course, the elders in his clan have a knack for sniffing out whenever Gojo is feeling too happy and were particularly skilled in finding ways that would effectively rain, thunder and trample all over that happiness. Surely, it was a curse technique. Weak, but effective as fuck.
Gojo! Who usually resists going back to visit his clans estate, who just about has to be dragged out of jujutsu high, kicking and screaming by Suguru and thrown into a car to visit. He's ignored the past three official summons, and is already on thin ice. It's stupid, he thinks. He's going to be the clan head in a year or so, so why should he be answerable to an old man? Gojo swears he'll replace all the sugar cubes with salt so none of the elders can ever enjoy a cup of tea again. He's done it before, not that Yaga had appreciated being his test subject.
Gojo! Who arrives at the clan house, annoyed and uncaring of formality. People bow left and right, they greet him warmly, but all he does is tuck one hand into his pocket and scoff. He finds himself seated in front of not just the clan head-but every elder there is in the clan. Any other person would be honoured. Gojo is annoyed. He petulantly asks them what the hell they want as he bites into a cookie.
Gojo! Who chokes on his cookie when they bring up an agreement drawn up with another clan- and agreement that binds him to their clan heads daughter. It's iron clad, apparently. Signed off by not just the clan head at the time, but even his parents, who Gojo has never even met. It's the worst news he's received in his life and that's coming from the man who just watched Piccolo sacrifice himself for Gohan last week and cried into Suguru's shoulder about it.
Gojo! Who spends the next three hours, for once in his life, willingly in the presence of these senile old men. He argues, angrily paces around the room, downs about five cups of tea, threatens to ditch the clan entirely, heck, he stress eats all the cookies and forces himself to ask them nicely to not do this. It's when he unleashes blue and the entire roof goes flying- yet the elders and the clan head remain unfazed- Gojo realizes that he truly has no way out of this.
Gojo! Who huffs and leaves, using blue to blow the door out of his way. His anger is visible to everyone, veins almost popping along his neck, eyes murderous. No one dares to approach as he leaves the estate. He goes back to jujutsu high and angrily spars with Suguru. Later, he tells Suguru everything. For once, not even Suguru knows what to say. He would have never agreed to Yaga's request to make Gojo go visit his clan had he known the outcome.
Gojo! Who is told that he has to meet you next week. His schedule is usually filled to the brim, but of fucking course, it's all clear now. It's disturbing really, wanting to attend the premiere of the new dragon Ball z movie didn't classify as a valid reason to skip out on a mission, but meeting a girl for a marriage he doesn't want suddenly gets him an entire day off. He should make those elders suffer and blue all their houses away as payback. Muttering, vengeful and just about ready to through with the pranks he has held back on pulling, Gojo goes to Kyoto. Suguru, despite his earlier sympathy, smiles at him as he sends him off. Gojo can almost hear the teasing that awaits him when he comes back.
Gojo! Who meets your parents first. They bow, greet him kindly. He mutters a hello- and purposefully raises his head a little higher. Like fuck is he bowing his head to them, the only person who got that kind of respect in his life was Yaga. And that man had fucking earned it for putting up with Gojo's nonsense, including the one time he and Suguru had gotten arrested. Ah, good times.
Gojo! Who ignores the offended look that crosses your father's face. He sits down casually, not one ounce of formality found in his demeanour. Still, his soon to be in laws offer him tea and biscuits. He accepts and makes sure to be as impolite as possible. Chewing loudly, setting down the tea cup roughly so that it spills everywhere. Maybe he could get himself rejected and not even have to meet you. Alas, your parents pay no mind to his lack of manners. It's his good looks, Gojo whines to himself. Maybe if he had been born just a little less attractive, he wouldn't be in this position. He wonders if it's too late to give himself a nasty scar. Ah no, he'd look even more attractive.
Gojo! Who purposefully looks at the window on his right as you're brought in. He senses your cursed energy head in his way, hears your clothes rustle as you take a seat in front of him, but doesn't turn towards you just yet. Your father introduces you proudly, so proudly he wonders how a man who is selling his daughter like a cattle can be so shameless. At least Gojo's own parents had the decency to keep at not showing their faces to him after having the nerve to trap him. Sucky parents? Sure. Consistent? Yes.
Gojo! Who orders everyone to leave him and his wife to be alone. It's an absurd request, not to mention inappropriate, but his cursed energy spikes. The elders realize that while they could deal with Gojo using blue while throwing a tantrum- they would not be able to live down the humiliation of him doing it in front of another clan head. They leave, silently seething and resigned.
Gojo! Who hates to admit it- seriously, he really really doesn't want to admit it- but you're actually pretty. He'd built you up in his mind as something like the girl from the exorcist, after all it made hating you a lot more easy for him. But, your eyes were the most beautiful shade of- Holy fuck no-
Gojo! Who scolds himself. He absolutely could not afford to actually like you. It went against everything he stood for- which was usually liking the opposite of what the elders liked. He could not like you. No way. Clearing his throat, he looks at you again, your eyes are lowered, hands clasped formally in front of you.
Gojo! Who tries to look stern, but his eyes keep tracing your face again and again, and he feels like a loser with no restraint. He suddenly has a greater understanding of the guys that gawk at Shoko. He'd never understood it before, viewing her as a witch doctor with a smoking addiction and slightly psychotic vibes when near a dead body- so why would anyone gawk at Shoko at first sight? But then you speak to him, slow, gentle- sweet. And he gets it. He totally gets it. He still doesn't get Shoko, but he gets the urge to gawk.
Gojo! Who had intended to scare you off in this meeting. A few harsh words, a little bit of blue at the furniture and a delicate princes like you would go crying to her daddy about what a monster he is. But the menacing script he had rehearsed looking at the mirror never makes its debut. Instead, he asks you about your hobbies, unable to stop how warm he feels to learn about how you love painting and cooking.
Gojo! Who spends the next two hours just talking to you, who even has lunch with you. He discards his former last ditch plan of feigning a poison induced collapse in order to start a war between your clans. Instead, he delights in telling you about how much he loves Gohan from dragon ball z while he eats dumplings- gleeful to learn that you made them. For him.
Gojo! Who is annoyed to be interrupted by the clan heads insisting that he's spent too much time with you today and it's inappropriate. He almost throws blue out, but now that he's begun to like you fallen totally hopelessly in love with you he thinks he'll hold off on his absolute last resort of using blue and taking out everyone in the near vicinity. After all, you're going to live here for another year or so. 11 months, 12 days, 3 hours, 24 minutes and 17 seconds more, to be exact.
Gojo! Who leaves much more peacefully than he'd entered, who even inclines his head towards your father, thrilled at how you beam at him. He doesn't bother giving the elders in his clan his usual I-hate-you-pricks glare for once. He goes back to Jujutsu high, whistling as he walks past a confused Suguru and Yaga.
Gojo! Who won't shut up about you to Suguru, much to his confusion. It's a startling realisation for Suguru, that Gojo had all but fallen in love with you in one meeting. Infatuation, he thinks to himself. It'll wear off. Of course, he begins to think differently when Gojo starts ignoring other girls and actively starts preparing for the wedding.
Gojo! Who doesn't even mind that the clans want an engagement ceremony. His past self (24 hours ago Gojo) would have defected from Jujutsu society and settled down in America as a farmer or something. Suguru would have said that he'd have no potential for it, but he'd be a hot one and people would have bought vegetables just on the basis of his face (Gojo doesn't know how farmers or farming works guys). Anyways, he's thrilled. The idea of you wearing his ring, a sign that you're claimed by him, makes him hum out of happiness. He drags Suguru to go buy you a ring- the one those stuffy elders will use doesn't mean shit to him.
Gojo! Who surprises the people at the jewellery store when he buys the most expensive diamond there. Suguru briefly debates stealing it but decides against it. He isn't scared to pick a fight with Satoru usually, but somehow he thinks Satoru might actually kill him for wronging you since he's decided that it's your ring.
Gojo! Who is on time and happy to be at the engagement ceremony. Suguru is with him, of course. Apparently, so are his parents. But they blend into the crowd of faces he wants to blue so he doesn't care. His eyes eagerly scan the place for you, huffing that you're still getting ready and not here. He would rather you be excited and impatient to see him too, but Suguru mentions that girls take more time to get ready for guys they like and Gojo brightens up immediately.
Gojo! Who is horrified when his clan elders and your clan elders end up arguing over something trivial. Some agreement his clan wanted more on and your clan couldn't give it. The argument escalates and before you can even show up- your father calls the marriage off. He's slack jawed at how it happens, Suguru watching him in concern.
Gojo! Who lets out such a burst of cursed energy that everyone in the room, including Suguru, pauses. Suguru can at least breathe though, but the rest feels like they are being choked. No one makes a move as they watch him leave the room, expression menacing and fists clenched.
Gojo! Who tones down his cursed energy as he goes to the room you're getting ready in. His expressions softens as he overhears you shyly talking about how you want to look perfect for him. He can't let the elders take you from him. He really can't.
Gojo! Who knocks on the door and enters. The women who had been getting you ready gasp and bow at the sight of him, but he pays them no mind. You look gorgeous, dressed in your pretty kimono. But you're unsure of why he's here. You don't get to ask though, because he gently grabs your hand and tells you to follow him. You obey, unaware that he's no longer your husband to be.
Gojo! Who takes you back to the room the elders had been fighting in. Carefully, he lets his cursed energy radiate to the other side of the room- a warning to both clans to shut the hell up. All are too scared to so much as move a muscle, fearing for their lives as Gojo reminds them of exactly who he is. They do nothing but watch as leads you to the area where you would exchange rings.
Gojo! Who happily slides his chosen ring into your finger. Suguru smiles at his glee, while no one else in the room dares to say a thing. It's your turn, and you look at your father for the ring, completely unaware of the glare Gojo sends his way. Your father complies, scared of his future son in law, but still patting your head as a father should.
Gojo! Who smiles when you put the ring on his finger. The clan elders clap, knowing Gojo might kill them if they don't. They behave with each as though the argument never happened. And when Gojo leaves your side and goes to hand his arms around the shoulders of your father and the head of the Gojo clan, they obey his command to forget that they had ever fought.
Gojo! Who never lets you find out that the marriage was called off and starts preparing for the wedding. 11 months, 10 days, 8 hours, 48 minutes and 45 seconds to go until you're his completely. And he really can't wait.
Yandere Host Club - Darling that Prefers Maid Cafes
How would the Host Club react if they learned that their Darling preferred to go to Maid Cafes over the Host Club? Would it lead to a heated rivalry with the Maid Cafe? xo yandreams
~~~~~
Yandere Host Club that isn't sure how to react the first time that you let it slip at the table that you have a preference for Maid Cafes. While none of them have anything personally against Maid Cafes, similar business after all, they cannot help but be offended. The way all movement and noise stops for a second is damning. They're professionals, they recover quickly and well. Passing off the moment with a cheerfulness and sly wink that they understand they have competition and hope each of their dear guests return to them once the thrill of a Maid Cafe wears off. Passing it all off as a joke and playfully acting like they're heartbroken at losing to another group of people.
Yandere Host Club who are seething on the inside. Those wide smiles are a touch too strained and there's a tenseness in their movements now. A hitch in their voices as they wonder what could be so good about some Maid Cafe when they've prided themselves on being the most popular Host Club. The waiting list they have is 10x as long as the most basic Maid Cafe. Did someone at a Maid Cafe charm you? Is that why their collective Darling has decided that whatever the silly place is offering is greater than their truly exceptional service. What they offer cannot be compared. The collaborations they can acquire would blow whatever trivial thing that a Maid Cafe could offer is laughable.
Yandere Host Club who take a moment before one of their performances to decide what they're going to do about it. It would be poor form if they all decide to launch a not so subtle war against a Maid Cafe. The drama alone would be bad for business, and the reputation of the Host Club could suffer. The short term gain in a popularity rise wouldn't be enough to justify it. No matter what their personal options on the matter are. They'll all just have to work harder and be more engaging to the point where going back to a Maid Cafe would pale in comparison to what they can offer at the Host Club. Popularity alone, they're without equal. So they need to learn what about the Maid Cafe is so appealing that you're choosing it over them. Time is precious after all and they get so little of it with you as it is.
Yandere Host Club who briefly consider the idea of doing some sort of collaboration with the Maid Cafe. It would certainly catch your attention and you might even be persuaded to spend more time with them if they're now working alongside your current favorites. It's a close call, but in the end they decide they won't be able to keep a level head and give the other guests the service and treatment they're known for if the entire time they're biting back cruel words and suppressing the urge to do petty sabotage. The risk isn't worth the reward, and you are the most coveted reward that there is.
Yandere Host Club that decide one of them will need to visit this Maid Cafe. If they're not going to work with them, they need to know what is so great so they can replicate or make it better. To show they can do all a Maid Cafe can and more. Is it the treats that are served? Sure they haven't been able to give you a perfect menu given that there are other guests, but they'd hoped the inclusion of some of your favorites would be enough. Is the games they play? The Host Club can add in new games if that's what you're looking for. It can't be the performance. That's one of the reasons they're so popular is that they give a one of a kind performance and it's the most anticipated part of the time they share with their guests.
Yandere Host Club who even after one of them visits the Maid Cafe and reports back can't figure out what about it you prefer over them. They're just as good, the food equally delicious, and the atmosphere similar. They're not about to become a Maid Cafe themselves, but their services aren't that different are they? It's not like they fall short in comparison when it comes to looks. While not vain, they do take pride in their respective appearances and aren't exactly lacking. So what is it that has you so captivated that you would rather spend your time away from them and with another group? They've made sure you always win a ticket and that you have the best of times when you're with them.
Yandere Host Club that try not take it personally. Some of them are better about this than others. It's easy for one or two of them to take a deep breath and accept that it's nothing they are doing wrong. That you're just exploring new things and you'll come back soon enough. They don't need top improve on themselves when their popularity shows that they're doing just fine as they are. Changing themself wouldn't benefit the Host Club or please you. Others take it much harder. Searching for nebulous faults and become a little consumed with the idea that there's something about them that could have driven you away. That they lacked a special something that caused your eye to wander and for you to drift away from them.
Yandere Host Club who, as close as they are, do have lives of their own outside of work. Just because they have a shared Darling doesn't mean they have to share everything. Some of them go to a variety of Maid Cafes to see if it's just the one that you like, or if it's a legitimate preference over Host Clubs. The ones with cooler heads are able to pick up new tips and tricks from these experiences and add them to their own performances at the Host Club. The ones who are a little less rational about the situation pour more of themselves in to the Host Club in a desperate bid to prove its superiority without ruining their reputation.
Yandere Host Club who are resourceful in their own way. When you come to spend time with them they make sure to keep you engaged. All eyes on them as they rotate who gets to spend time with you. To make you forget about going to the Maid Cafe, they make every moment unforgettable. Offered photo opportunities and shows designed to make them the focus. They may not be able to get rid of the competition easily, but they aren't going to give up. They'll do better, be better. Watch as their reviews soar and the wait times get even longer. They will be better than the best. For you they have to be.
Yandere Host Club that has a frightening intensity to the way they all fixate. They all want the same thing at the end of the day and that's you in their lives in whatever way they can best manage it. They want to have fun and continue their work, but it would be all the better if you were there in the crowd. Laughing and smiling and just spending time with them. That's the dream they all share and if there's one more thing they're in agreement about it's that they want you to give up the Maid Cafe. You don't need anyone else to treat you like that. Not when they're here and so ready to give you everything you deserve.
cw: yandere, captivity, noncon/dubcon implications, dehumanization/pet dynamics, religious themes, sexual power imbalance, curse! reader, fem! reader, degradation, toxic dynamics, SatoSugu, minors do not interact.
a/n: Finally got around to finishing JJK and now all I can think about is SatoSugu. I should not be yearning for a man like this - much less two. Might come back to this later.
Yandere! Cult Leader Geto Suguru - who swallows a kitsune curse, you, just so he can keep a little pet around the house. A divine creature, full of bite and fire, trapped in his little cult and warming his bed.
He adores tugging on your big, fluffy tail, just to watch you bristle. Loves the sound of your claws scratching helplessly against the tatami mats as he drags you back into his lap like a spoiled child with a favorite toy. You snarl. Snap. But your teeth never draw blood - not from him. You know better than to do that. That only makes him smile wider.
Be a good little fox and let him toy with you as he pleases, and maybe he’ll feed you a human or two. Maybe he’ll let you curl beside him on his futon, wrapped in his robes, worshipped like the divine thing you once were.
But he’s never as cruel to you as he is when that man visits.
The one with white hair and frostbitten eyes. Satoru.
Who sneers every time he sees you, and you don’t need your divine intuition to know why. You’re a thorn in his side. A reminder that Suguru’s affections can be given - freely, greedily - to something else. Someone else.
Oh, how Satoru loathes you. And oh, how he degrades himself in Suguru’s presence. All pouty lips and desperate moans, whining for cock like a pretty little whore instead of the strongest. He’ll endure your scent, the sharpness of your claws, your curled lip and flashing fangs, just for a taste of Suguru’s attention. You’ve seen it yourself - how blue eyes go glassy between your thighs, his tongue desperate to please, not you, but the man standing behind you, watching.
Poor little kitsune. Once a deity in your own right, now no more than a cursed pet caught between two terrible men. One who treats you like a doll with teeth, and the other who’d kill you just to watch Suguru mourn.
What an awful fate. Whatever will you do, little Kitsune?
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
a [ ] around a set of words denotes that the characters are speaking in the language of the otherworld
Mr. Gap x female!reader
Warnings: dubcon bordering on noncon, fingering, oral (female receiving), slight coercion, attempted kidnapping, mentions of death and bodily harm, Mr. Gap being an asshole
Word Count: 9.5k
A high pitched giggle echoed in the open space above your head, which was then accompanied by a single word:
[Cute]
In an instant, your head snapped upwards while your heart rate increased the moment you heard that voice, having unfortunately become quite familiar with it during your time spent in this strange ghost world. In the milliseconds you had before you confirmed the owner of the voice, there was a part of you that hoped it wasn't the one you thought it was, that it was some other entity that had chosen to copy him for the sole purpose of causing you grief. Maybe that asshole with the stitches was the one behind it; that'd be something he would do, you felt.
But of course, it wasn't like that.
With your attention now drawn upwards, you saw that the ceiling was gone, replaced with a black void above your head that appeared to go on forever. There was nothing, as though someone had lifted up the ceiling that had been there only moments earlier.
And the culprit of that act was none other than the giant man who was staring down at you.
With a pale face that was larger than your entire body, long white hair that dipped in over the edges of the walls and eyes that were just as black as the void he seemed to exist inside, he stared down at you, his cheeks creased from the wide smile that overtook his face while he giggled again.
[Small Human]
As soon as the word left his lips, a similarly familiar giant hand reached down for you, intending to capture you once again.
Just like every other time, you bolted, narrowly missing the giant fingers that grasped at you as you made your escape. The giant remained undeterred, however, as his hand continued to swipe at you.
[Cute Human. Me Want]
“Fuck off!” you yelled back as you ran down the hallway. Yelling at him in your native language was useless, you knew, but of the ghosts you had come across, this was one of the ones that couldn't be reasoned with regardless of if he knew what you were saying or not.
Plus, you had yet to learn what the ghost language word for “fuck” was.
The skirt of your long white dress was bunched up in your hands as you ran, giving your legs as much freedom as you possibly could as you rushed down the wrecked, gray hallway while the huge faced one pursued you. The ceiling remained a void above you, and you heard the way he giggled while his hand caused air to hit the your back, pushing up against you in small bursts of wind from the force of his attempts to get a grasp on you.
You either needed to outrun him, or you needed to find some sort of space that was too small for him to reach in and grab you.
Seeing as you were already starting to get exhausted, it felt like the second option was what you would need to go with.
Turning a corner after narrowly avoiding another swipe of the giant's hand, you scanned the area of the current room you found yourself in before you spotted the answer to your prayers: a small, square shaped opening that stood at one corner of the room. Maybe it was a vent, or some sort of crawlspace that lead to another area.
Whatever it was, you didn't care. All you knew was that it would fit you and not him.
So you were going in.
With a renewed burst of energy, you rushed across the room towards the small opening, the sounds of your shoes echoing loudly against the floor as you sprinted towards what you were praying would get you out of your current predicament. All you needed to do was get in, you told yourself. He can't get you after that.
The huge faced ghost seemed to realize that as well, as you heard him exclaim again as he renewed his efforts to grab at you.
[Cute! Want!]
He was trying to grab with both hands now, and you felt your heartbeat increase every time you needed to sidestep away whenever they appeared in front of you, narrowly missing them almost every time.
Don't think. Just run. Run and avoid so you can eventually get out of this place.
You were mere feet away, readying yourself to drop to the floor so you could slide in effortlessly –
Except your dress snagged on something.
You lurched forward, landing hard on the stone surface beneath you, but you barely felt it with the adrenaline that was currently pumping through you. Your only concern was to see what had happened as you whipped your head backwards.
Mr. Huge Face had caught you.
Using his thumb and pointer finger, he had managed to grab ahold of the skirt of your dress, keeping you from moving any further. You were then lurched backwards across the floor when he began using it to tug you away from the opening, his second hand coming down on you.
“NO!”
That scream left your lips did nothing as he continued to pull at you.
But the well-placed kick to his thumb was much more effective, because somehow, that managed to be enough to make him lose his grip on your dress.
There wasn't time to think after that. You just moved, your instincts in full control as you scrambled across the floor towards the opening. Every bit of your energy went into pushing your arms and legs forward as the safety you were seeking was so, so close.
You reached the edge, your fingers hooking onto the edge as you began to pull yourself in.
Having recovered from your kick, Mr. Huge Face grabbed your dress again, this time with a firmer grip as he tugged on it again while you launched yourself into the opening. Gravity pulled you down while he pulled you up, and something needed to give in this tug of war you found yourself in.
It ended up being your dress.
With a loud tearing of fabric, you collapsed into the small space, falling only for a moment before you hit the hard surface that sat only a few feet below the opening. Though even with the fall being a rather short one, it didn't mean that you weren't hurting from it, as your head and shoulder took a bit of a banging once you landed, and you were certain that you'd come out bruised.
But you'd gotten away from him.
He knew that as well, because while the aches that were now running through your battered body left your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears, you were able to hear the huge faced ghost say a single word:
[Disappointed]
And just like that, his presence was gone.
At that realization, you allowed yourself a small sigh of relief. Sure, you were hurting from the way you had fallen and your clothes were torn up, but at least you hadn't let that guy take you. With the way he had insisted that he “wanted” you, you were scared as to what he'd do if he actually did manage to take you away.
Although, could it really be any worse than what some of the other ghosts wanted to do to you?
You sighed. That probably wasn't a line of thinking you wanted to linger on for too long. Better not to worry yourself over the horrible things that could happen to you and get yourself worked up. Better to just try and survive as best you could.
And seeing as Mr. Huge Face was now gone, you were safe to exit this vent….. Or whatever this little space was.
With several grunts and groans of pain leaving your mouth as you hit your elbows against the walls in the process of maneuvering yourself into an upright position, you managed to stand up before taking a look at yourself. Your dress was wrecked, as expected. Not only was it covered with dirt and blood, but now a good portion of the skirt was gone, the back of it in tatters as it had been torn away when Mr. Huge Face pulled on it. At least it hadn't been pulled off completely, you told yourself. As much as a the dress was hindrance, walking around in only your underwear was far from ideal. Especially in a place like this.
Luckily for you, getting a new outfit would be a simple matter. All you needed to do was say the word “clothes” in this world's language and she'd appear: the headless but friendly female ghost that you only knew as the Bride who dressed in a long white gown that was even poofier than the one she had given you, and she would happily give you clothes without asking for anything in return.
Though maybe when you saw her again, you might ask for something other than a dress, given the trouble your current one had given you.
Hopefully she wouldn't have any issue accommodating that request.
First things first, though, you needed to get out of….. Whatever this place was.
Now looking around at the cramped area of your surroundings, it didn't seem like it was a vent, as the walls were of the same stone as the rest of the rooms in this place, and when you tapped your foot against the ground beneath your feet, there wasn't any sign that the space went down any further.
As much as you wanted to wonder what exactly the purpose of this spot could be, the easiest explanation was that there was no purpose; it just showed up after one of the many earthquakes this realm experienced, probably. For that same reason, it wasn't a great idea to stay in here any longer. If another earthquake hit and the world shifted again, you didn't want the opening to close and for you to end up sitting in such a small, enclosed space for an undetermined amount of time.
Seeing that the coast was clear, a small grunt of exertion left your lips as you grasped the edge of the entrance to the small space and used it to hoist yourself up. At least the narrow walls helped in giving you something to put your feet against.
In a matter of moments, you were halfway through of the hole, your upper half now in the room while your lower half dangled in that small dark space. Nothing left to do other than to get out, and then you could continue your search for a way out of this place.
That was your plan, anyway.
But when you began to lift up your right leg so you could exit the space fully, something stopped you.
Specifically, the portion of your dress that was still mostly intact caught on something just below you, and you felt the fabric tug against you again as you were forced to come to a stop.
Are you fucking serious?
An annoyed groan left your lips as you paused, reaching down briefly to tug on your skirt. You didn't need this right now. Though really, you didn't need most of what this world had to offer you, but in particular you really didn't need to deal with the inconvenience of having your clothes getting stuck on…. Fuck, what had the skirt gotten stuck on? There shouldn't have been anything down there to make it get caught.
But after several moments of awkwardly tugging on your skirt with one arm while sitting with half of your body laying on the floor and the other half hanging in the weird space in the wall, you were forced to accept that you wouldn't be getting out like this. The smarter decision would be to slide back down into the space, use both hands to get the dress unstuck, and then climb back out while taking extra care not to get stuck again the second time around.
Another sigh left your lips at realizing that.
It's not that bad, you tried telling yourself.
At least this is better than getting chased down by a ghost that wouldn't take “no” for an answer.
There were way too many of those.
Still hurting from the tumble you'd taken, you took a moment to stretch out slightly when you removed your arm out of the space, extending your back and your arms as best you could before you prepared to slink back down so you could free yourself.
It shouldn't be anything complicated.
Except you ran into another unexpected roadblock, because when you tried to go back down, the back of your dress caught on something, this time on some crevice in the ceiling right at the edge of the space.
And just like before when the skirt got stuck, you couldn't move any further.
…… This is not fucking happening.
Your first move was to pull yourself forward so you could try to get the dress unstuck, but you could only pull forward so far for that to be effective. Then you attempted to reach back with your hands to pull at the fabric with your fingers, only for the area of the dress that had been caught to end up being out of your reach. After that, you pulled again, hoping that you could tear yourself free, but even though the dress had felt as fragile as tissue paper when being pulled at by a giant, it was apparently indestructible to the environment around you.
This is not fucking happening.
With however many minutes you spent trying to free yourself, they were all wasted because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get out.
You couldn't move up, you couldn't move down, and you were sitting with your front half in one area and your bottom in another, and if another earthquake hit while you were in this position, you could easily end up getting cut in half when the world shifted again.
Despite your absolute best attempts at maintaining your composure, you couldn't help but panic at that thought, and that panic manifested itself into a wild frenzy as you desperately tried to wrench yourself free of the small space that was starting to feel increasingly claustrophobic.
You didn't want to die here. You didn't want to end up as a ghost missing her lower half and aimlessly wander around by crawling on your hands forever. No, you needed to get out of here and get back home, and in order to do that, you needed to get the fuck out of this goddamn-!
The air around you grew cold, causing a chill to run down your spine and forcing your struggles to come to an abrupt stop.
A presence had just made itself known. One that lurked behind you within the dark space that your lower half was still trapped in. Your entire body went rigid as you tensed up, scared to see just who or what could be behind you.
After gathering up your courage, you glanced beneath your arm.
Just as quickly as your panic had risen, it went away while you let out a sigh once you caught sight of the face that stared at you out of the darkness. With the only part of his body that you could see being his head and his dark hair that covered half of his deathly pale skin, the ghost that stared up at you with an unblinking eye was one that you had become quite familiar during your time spent in this place.
The one you had come to call Mr. Gap.
He was one of the first ghosts you had come across when you wound up in this realm, staring at you through the crack of a door while he spoke words that you didn't understand at the time; all you had been able to tell was that he had been asking you for something as he held out his hand expectantly. You had shaken your head to tell him 'no', at which he scowled and vanished from sight.
It was a good thing you had refused him; after meeting the silver haired ghost and learning more of this realm's language, you realized what Mr. Gap had been asking you for:
Your heart.
Because of that, you thought him to be a spirit that was malicious. The way he kept requesting for you to hand over vital body parts certainly seemed that way and you were inclined to avoid him.
At least at first.
Despite your initial dislike of the ghost, Mr. Gap had managed to grow on you as he had proven himself to be useful more than once. Whatever it was that allowed him to travel about this place freely through the small, dark spaces that littered the many rooms, he was able to do the same for you, whisking you away from danger and into an area that was safer. Or relatively safer, at least.
He'd even helped you get away from Mr. Huge Face before your latest encounter with the large ghost. Of course, he hadn't done it for free and had demanded something from you, at that time being some of your hair, but as long as he wasn't asking for a piece of your body that would leave you dead if he ripped it out or off of you, you were fine with him having whatever he wanted. Outside of appearing out of nowhere to help you when you were in a tight spot, you often found him peering at you curiously through holes in the wall, drains and boxes that had their lids left slightly ajar, always in darkness and never fully manifesting himself before you.
Maybe there wasn't anything else that could appear. Maybe his face and hands were all he had.
….. Could that be why he kept asking for parts of you? So he could rebuild himself? Kinda weird to start with the heart if that was the case, you felt, but it could also explain why he kept asking even when you told him 'no' over and over again.
Ah well. Your musings about what he wanted with your body parts could wait. Now that he was here, you might as well see if he could help you.
[Hello] you said.
[Hello] Mr. Gap replied in kind. He hadn't yet acknowledged the situation you were in as he kept his gaze on your face.
[Me Cannot Move] you told him. [You Help Me?]
Mr. Gap stared at you for a moment, glancing down at what must have been whatever the skirt of your dress had caught on. Then he spoke again.
[Give Heart?] he asked.
Even though it felt expected at this point, your expression turned into a scowl at that.
[Not Give] you answered firmly.
His lips turned downwards into a pout.
[Disappointed] he said.
“Sure, fine, whatever. Be disappointed. But help me out of this already,” you snapped.
Switching to your native language was useless, of course. He couldn't understand what you were saying, even if he could tell that you were annoyed with him. That feeling appeared to be mutual, as his pout had yet to leave his face.
[Give Leg?] Mr. Gap asked.
[Not Give] you again answered firmly.
His pout deepened into a scowl, and you had a bad feeling that he wasn't going to do anything for you unless you gave him something.
“Look, I don't have much of anything to give you,” you groaned out, slipping back to your native tongue as you were already feeling thoroughly exasperated with him.
[Not Understand Your Language] he told you.
“I know, I know!” you replied before attempting to pull your composure back together.
[Me Give Hair?] you asked him, hoping that would be acceptable again.
[Not Want Hair]
Fucking asshole
“Fine, be that way,” you grumbled as you began struggling to free yourself once again.
Mr. Gap almost sounded exasperated himself as he began to say [Not Understand Your-]
[NOT WANT YOUR HELP!] you shouted in response, promptly shutting him up. If he wasn't going to help you without demanding some part of you that you couldn't live without, then you'd get out of this without him. It wasn't like you were completely helpless; you'd managed to get away from Mr. Huge Face without anyone helping you this time around.
Though honestly, it was a little surprising that Mr. Gap hadn't shown up when you had run to this spot earlier. It was the sort of area that you would have expected to see him in – maybe even expected him to save you like he did when Mr. Huge Face had gone after you before.
Looks like that had been a one-time thing.
You continued to struggle fruitlessly, the only bits of progress feeling like they were being made whenever you heard more tearing of fabric. But even with the way the gown was no doubt growing more and more trashed the longer you pulled at it, it didn't feel like you were any closer to escaping. Mr. Gap's presence wasn't any help, either. Not only was he not offering you any assistance, but the way he stared at you was starting to get on your nerves. It was one thing to struggle in an embarrassing situation on your own – it was another thing completely to struggle with an audience.
You were getting to the point that you were inclined to pull yourself out of the whole dress completely in order to climb out of the hole in the wall. The dress was wrecked anyway, it was better to leave it. As long as you called out to the Bride, the friendly spirit who had given you the garment in the first place, she would come to you with the gift of yet more clothes.
Unless she'd be mad over what had happened to it.
…. No. She wouldn't do that. She was nice. And understanding.
Not at all like the ghost who was continuing to watch you squirm uselessly like a trapped animal.
The reminder of the ghost's continued presence made you irritated again as you wondered why the hell was Mr. Gap even still here. You figured that he would've have left once you yelled at him, or even before that when you made it clear you weren't giving him what he wanted. Yet there he was, his pale face still hovering slightly beneath you, still watching with an indiscernable expression on his face.
He knew you weren't willing to give him anything other than your hair, so why was he bothering to wait? You'd never get so desperate for escape that you'd give up anything that he really wanted.
Eventually, his continued presence got you irritated to the point that you stopped in your squirming in order to look back down at him.
[Why You Here?] you asked sternly.
He didn't answer at first, and you were tempted to reach down and try to smack him in the face. Or maybe kicking him would be the better option if he was going to keep annoying you like this. He ended up speaking again before you got to that point, however.
[Me Help You] said Mr. Gap.
You frowned as you immediately said [Not Give Heart]
[Not Want Heart] he answered.
…. That was surprising.
[What You Want?] you then asked cautiously.
His expression remained level as he said [You Give ------]
…….. Huh?
[Me Give What?] you asked.
[You Give ------]
Despite Mr. Gap repeating it, it wasn't any good. You had no clue what the fuck he'd just asked of you. The word at the end wasn't one you had heard any of the ghosts use before, and with it being completely new, you were nervous; was this his attempt at getting something vital of yours again? Obviously not your heart or any of your limbs, but maybe it was something else you needed? Maybe your brain? You hadn't learned the word for that yet, so that could always be the case.
But he also knew that you weren't going to give him anything that would mortally injure you, and even though he often acted like an asshole, he wasn't malicious. After the help he'd given to you those other times, would he really use this chance to trick you into letting him kill you?
It didn't feel right. Not for him.
[You Give ------] Mr. Gap demanded again.
[……. Me Not Know] you answered. You were trying to figure out how to ask what he was talking about when his expression turned into a scowl once again.
[Disappointed] he said.
And then that pale face in the darkness vanished, his presence going with him.
If him leaving wasn't bad enough, you thought you felt the walls and floor tremble slightly, like an earthquake was about to hit.
Thus your panic made a reappearance.
“Wait! Wait wait wait!” you called out desperately.
Surprisingly, he reappeared, this time looking smug as he stared at you. Even though you were desperate, you couldn't help but note in your mind that he knew he was your only option in getting out. As much as that expression of his incensed you, you weren't left with a choice. You were well and truly stuck, and it didn't seem likely that any other ghost would come around to help you. The only thing you could do was to trust that whatever he was asking you to give him wouldn't end up killing you.
With a deep breath in, you sighed before you spoke again.
[Me Give ------]The unfamiliar word tumbled out of your lips clumsily, but even if your pronunciation was off, at least he would know what you meant by that.
He definitely did, as his smug smile widened into a grin when he heard you say that.
Please don't tell me I just said he could rip out my intestines or something
Mr. Gap vanished then, but while you could no longer see his face, you could still feel his presence behind you.
You'd figure out soon enough if you had just made the worst mistake of your life or not.
You stayed still, your upper half still resting helplessly on the floor while you anxiously waited for him to take whatever he had asked for.
Just don't let it be too bad, you begged in your head. Please.
You weren't sure what you were expecting him to do. Grab you in some way, yes. Yet the way you felt his hands brush against your thighs took you off-guard and you jumped slightly. What was he after down there? Your skin? A few different scenes from different horror movies of varying quality came to mind, all involving women getting their skin ripped off. You began to tremble again. You'd survive if it was a portion of your skin, but not all of it. But when he'd taken your hair, he hadn't ripped all of it out of your scalp, so maybe it would be the same thing here.
You let out another sigh as you attempted to calm yourself down, but even though what little remained of the torn skirt had prevented most of the skin on skin contact, the chill from his flesh left you shivering more.
The ones that had a physical form were always so cold, you thought to yourself.
Whether or not Mr. Gap noted the difference in your body temperatures as well, you couldn't tell. You heard his voice murmuring something, but it was yet another word that you hadn't yet heard before and therefore didn't know what he was saying.
Hearing him whisper like that and the fact that he was standing – hovering? – behind your vulnerable lower half had you feeling embarrassed, and you turned your head to look back at him. Or try to, since you couldn't see him. But you knew he could hear you as you chose to speak to him.
[What You-]
Your words were cut off when you felt Mr. Gap grasped at the tattered skirt and pull it up until it was bunched around your waist, leaving the only thing that was still covering the area between your legs being your panties.
……. What
“What are you doing?!” you exclaimed as you twisted your head back and forth, trying to look at him, only barely having the wherewithal to add in [Get Away!]
You swore you heard him chuckle before he said [You Give ------]
“But what does that-!?”
You were cut off yet again when you felt two of his fingers pushing against your folds through your underwear before he began to rub them up and down, his touch rough and seemingly out of practice, but clearly determined.
And you…. You were in shock.
When you had first entered this place, you had often found yourself asking if everything was real, if what you were experiencing wasn't just a really, really vivid nightmare that you were having a hard time waking up from because rationalizing it like that made more sense at the time. You'd stopped doing that a while ago, realizing that spending too much time wondering about if everything was real or not had the potential of getting you killed. The fact of the matter was, by this point, you'd gotten used to everything this world had been throwing at you.
But with this absolute curve ball of a situation, you were once again wondering if this was reality or if you had managed to hit your head really badly when you jumped down to escape Mr. Huge Face, because what the fuck was this?
Why the hell was a ghost feeling you up like this?
The thing that shocked you out of your current stupor was when a tingle ran up your spine as he continued to rub against your pussy and you realized: it was starting to feel good. You felt it in the way your cunt was beginning to slick and how a moan threatened to escape from your lips.
It was yet another layer of shock and embarrassment; how was it this easy for you to be affected by him?
Those fingers then brushed against your clothed clit and more noises threatened to leave you.
The clap that sounded when you slapped your hand over your mouth to contain your moan echoed in the room, but even if there was some chance that Mr. Gap had managed to not notice that reaction of yours – there wasn't – there was no way he could miss the way he was affecting you as you felt your panties begin to grow wet.
The bastard actually chuckled at you.
You were pushed into protest again when one of his fingertips slipped beneath the slick fabric of your underwear, lightly caressing your fold directly.
[Wait!] you yelled, pulling your hand away from your mouth as you began to thrash about, [Me Not Want!]
[You Give ------] Mr. Gap told you firmly.
[Not Give!] you yelled.
[Give]
He then pressed the finger on your cunt into you, narrowly breaching your entrance. Not fully in, but enough that when you felt his nail scrape against your walls it caused another jolt of pleasure to run up your spine. Clenching your hands into fists, you pressed your forehead against the cold surface you were laying on top of. There was no point in fighting, clearly. There also didn't seem much point in trying to hide how much this was affecting you.
At this point the most you could hope for was that none of the other beings in this world would come across this scene. Because somehow, in a world that was brimming with spirits that wanted to hurt you, being caught getting finger-fucked was somehow worse than being maimed or killed.
A whine left your throat as Mr. Gap shoved another finger into your pussy, his touch growing more confident the longer he kept at it.
Fuck.
The squelching of his fingers in your soaked cunt was getting too loud, and the barrenness of the room wasn't helping in that as the echo caused the sound to be even louder than it should have been. That in turn only served to leave you feeling even more humiliated with yourself as you were forced to listen to the sound of your own arousal that Mr. Gap had so effortlessly drawn out of you.
You didn't want this. You didn't want this but –
Your train of thought came to an abrupt stop as you were caught off-guard when he pulled his fingers away from your pussy, and you let out a yelp when you felt his fingertips hook themselves into the waistband of your panties and pull at them. Mr. Gap then proceeded to glide the fabric down your legs until he had slid them over your shoes and took them off completely. Cold air now hit your heated flesh, causing a noticeable tremble in your legs.
Then, with a strength that you weren't expecting from him, Mr. Gap forced your thighs open with his hands, leaving your most intimate place exposed and vulnerable. You were horrified once again when you felt the way he leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the chill gusts of air caused by his breath as they hit the soft folds of your pussy.
You thought the fingering had been bad enough, but now with the way his face was directly between your legs like that – just how far was this going to go?
When you felt his tongue lap against your slit, you instantly clamped your hand back over your mouth. Not that you were able to fully contain the pathetically wanton noise that escaped your lips, as the mortifying sound echoed as well. Your face and your ears were burning while his tongue ran up your pussy over and over again, his saliva slowly coating your flesh.
“S-stop,” you weakly protested against your palm, even though you knew that it wasn't going to do any good. Mr. Gap was clearly dead set on doing this, as evidenced by how tight his grip on your thighs were.
You weren't getting out of this until he chose to let you go.
Up and down, again and again, you felt his tongue run over your pussy, gathering up your growing wetness while adding to it with his own. When that wasn't enough for him, he began to press his tongue in deeper, pushing it between your slick folds. You let out a whine while your legs trembled again, the burn in your muscles growing more noticeable by the second while Mr. Gap continued to hold you open for him.
It hurt, but it also felt good.
It was humiliating, but you found yourself starting to not care about that very much.
You didn't want this, but the longer it went on, the less you wanted to fight it.
It felt like it'd been a while since you this way, probably because of all of the near-death experiences you'd had after arriving here. Was it so bad to enjoy yourself when you were finally given the chance to do so? A voice in your head told you that it wasn't.
….. Your mind was becoming warped by this place. Why else would any inner voice of yours make such a claim?
But seeing as you weren't getting out of this until Mr. Gap decided he was done, there wasn't anything else you could do other than endure it.
That was the excuse you needed to cling to.
However long he spent lapping at your cunt, it was long enough that your thighs were becoming soaked as your juices dripped down your legs, clinging to your flesh as well as his hands as he continued to hold you open. You didn't want to think about how drenched you were down there, or of the way your pussy was clenching every time the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit.
Mr. Gap noticed that, as he pulled his tongue away to speak, his cool breath hitting your cunt again and making you shiver.
[Enjoyable?] he asked.
That question went unanswered due to how you had your teeth biting down on your lower lip and your forehead resting on the surface of the floor in front of you, your body burning up as you continued to try and pretend that this wasn't affecting you as much as it actually was.
Mr. Gap let out a grunt of annoyance before saying [Disappointed]
That was followed by a harsh pinch to your clit which immediately forced you to yelp.
Loudly.
Based on the way he chuckled after, he was pleased by that.
“P-pervert,” you muttered, keeping your face pressed against the floor. And even though you knew he didn't know what exactly you had said, he must have understood on some level, as tongue pressed back in, this time focusing on your clit, lapping over it gently compared to the harsh action from moments ago.
A full body shudder went through you while you whimpered.
Of course he noticed, and he pulled away from your cunt again to ask [Enjoyable?]
You didn't mean to answer; you were trying to keep as quiet as possible, even though you knew there was no point to that by now.
But the pathetic and even needy sounding whine you made seemed to answer his question well enough, and again he chuckled at you.
Then he let you go.
Your eyes snapped open as surprise hit you. His hands had left your thighs and you no longer felt his breath on your cunt.
Was…. Was that it? Was he going to end it there and let you go? Was he not actually going to let you finish? Was this another way of irritating you? You weren't sure if you should have been upset or not, or if you should be worried over the fact that being upset over it was even a consideration in your mind.
Because evidently, he wasn't done with you just yet.
You suddenly felt his stringy black hair brushing against your inner thighs while his chill breath returned, now blowing directly on your clit. His hands were back, too. One to hold open your leg while the other went to your folds. You felt his nose pressing against your skin as he leaned in to place his lips over your clit.
Ah.
He'd only been readjusting his position.
When Mr. Gap began to suck on your clit while pressing his digits back into your cunt, you couldn't be bothered to try and hold your moans in. Even though the way you were leaning on the hard edge of the floor where it met the opening of the hole was starting to hurt as it pressed into your stomach, you didn't care. You were too far gone. After all the shit you'd dealt with since coming here, you might as well enjoy yourself, right?
Who would be around to judge you for it?
Moans and whines spilled from your mouth in earnest now as he gave your clit attention, alternating between sucking and lapping at it with his tongue. In the meantime he continued to fuck you with his fingers, having an easier time doing so than when he'd first started. He slipped a third one in as well, adding to the stretch of your walls that had you losing your mind.
You didn't think you were going to last much longer than this.
The lower half of your body was trembling hard as you felt a pressure building up inside of you. You were clenching your walls around his digits while using your limited mobility to press against his face as best as you were able, now actively chasing your climax.
So close. You were so close –
Mr. Gap pulled away. The son of a bitch actually removed his fingers and moved away from your pussy.
And you let out a noise of pure frustration while you slammed your fist against the floor. The pain that followed after such a stupid action went ignored by you as all you wanted was to grab him by his hair and force his mouth back on you.
With the way your heart was beating so loudly in your ears, you almost missed what he had said to you.
[Give ------?] he asked.
Even in the middle of the haze of pleasure and irritation you were currently in, your mind was able to work well enough to realize now what that word meant.
“Orgasm,” more than likely.
And here you would have thought that ghosts would have no need for sex, much less have a word relating to it.
All reservations were thrown to the wind as you answered with only one word.
[Give]
You could hear the way his lips stretched into a grin before you even finished giving your answer.
Not that you had any time to comprehend it as in an instant, he was back on you, his lips around your clit like you wanted. And when he started sucking again, you pressed your forehead back on the surface of the floor, your hands grabbing at the edges of the opening as you sought purchase.
Almost. Almost…..
It was the feeling of all three fingers being shoved into your cunt combined with a correctly timed lick of your clit that pushed you over, and the whine you let out was even more needy and loud than every single noise you had made before. Your walls were squeezing his fingers, pressing down around them while your juices gushed out of your pussy. Not that Mr. Gap was letting them go to waste, as he continued lick you through your orgasm, his mouth moving up so he could eagerly lap at your entrance. His actions served to prolong your climax, even getting to the point that it seemed like too much as you felt your poor body shudder and shake with overexertion.
The bastard knew; you heard the sounds of his snickering over your needy whines.
Mr. Gap didn't stop until he had wrung you out thoroughly.
And by the time that finally happened, you felt almost boneless as you continued to lay in that embarrassing position.
Only then did he let go.
Your lower half slid down slightly into the small space, as you were too exhausted at first to hold yourself up. Your overheated front half was still laying on the floor and you were still breathing hard out of your mouth while sweat ran down your skin.
Mind in shambles, you were only vaguely aware of the slight tugging at the skirt of your dress, followed by a more prominent tug on the fabric on your back that had been stretched out this entire time, with it finally giving away with a slight snap as it fell back down to your heated skin. The way you began to slide fully back down into the hole brought you back to awareness, and you slammed your palms against the wall on either side of you to bring that to a stop.
Using more effort than you should have, you pulled yourself up and out. Your chest, then your stomach and waist. And once you managed to brace a knee against the edge of the opening, you were able to give yourself the final push you needed to exit the space completely, crawling out over the floor until you were fully free.
Then you collapsed again, letting out an exhausted sigh as you still felt tremors running through your body.
What was that?
With a groan, you placed the back of your palm across your forehead, feeling the heat that was still coursing through you as you slowly began to calm down from your high. Of all the things you had come to expect from this place, to have something like that happen was one of the last things you expected.
…. Actually, no. With some of the other entities that roamed this place, you could see things going that badly if they were able to do what they wanted with you.
You just hadn't expected that from Mr. Gap.
A flash of white in the area you had just exited caught your attention out of your peripheral vision, and after a few more moments of laying sprawled out on the floor, you pushed on your arms to force yourself up into a sitting position.
Mr. Gap was staring at you, as you figured he would. Although this time he seemed more pleased with himself than usual.
[Orgasm Enjoyable?]
You didn't answer, but your face was burning again while you stared him down. He was gloating. The smug look on his face couldn't mean anything else.
[Me Have Fun] he said. His tone then became more mocking as he asked [You Have Fun?]
[Not Fun] you answered sternly.
The bastard actually sneered at you when you told him that as yet another word you didn't recognize spilled from his lips. If you were to make a guess as to what that one meant, it probably meant “liar”. If that was what he'd said, you hated that he was right. Because as much as you didn't want that – didn't mean to ask for it, some primitive part of your brain couldn't help but enjoy what had happened.
Your hands clenched into fists again as you stewed in your frustration. He could call you a liar all he wanted; you wouldn't ever admit to the truth of the matter.
Not that he seemed to care anymore, as he was looking down within the space that still held him, his attention seemingly on something else. Something that was possibly bad as he looked to you with another grin on his face.
What was it now?
Your question was answered quickly as his hand then appeared again, holding up something for you to see:
Your underwear.
You tensed, your mouth pressing into a thin line while the embarrassment that had faded some came back in full force. You'd forgotten that he'd pulled them off of you, everything that he'd done thoroughly melting your brain during the time he'd been finger fucking you. Now that you weren't lost in the throes of pleasure, you were aware enough to feel humiliation again.
Holding your hand out, you told him [Give]
Mr. Gap chuckled at you.
And then vanished.
“What the hell?!” you yelled as you crawled forward towards the dark space. Unlike before when you'd called out into the darkness, he didn't reappear, and it felt as though he was truly gone this time as there wasn't any trace of his presence returning.
Your heart was angrily beating in your chest as you thought to yourself on how this son of a bitch had really stolen your underwear after coercing you into letting him take advantage of you.
And there wasn't a single thing you could do about it.
About him.
An angry huff left your mouth before you turned your attention elsewhere; mainly, yourself. You were in a wretched state, your skin dirty and covered in scrapes and bruises, not to mention the sticky feeling between your legs. The dress you were wearing was also in an even more sorry state than it was before: not only was it no longer the shade of white it had been when it was given to you, but it was torn in multiple places now, both at the back and the front where the edge of the floor had seemed to do some damage to the area covering your stomach. It wasn't quite torn, but it didn't feel like the garment would last much longer before it began falling apart completely.
While there was nothing to do at the moment about how dirty you felt, at least the matter of the dress had an easy solution.
Taking in a deep breath, you spoke the word that would get you the help you wanted most in that moment.
[Clothes] you said.
In an instant, a figure was standing in front of you. The Bride, wearing her floor-length wedding dress and a veil that hung in place over where her missing head would have been. Despite her head being completely gone, you felt her gaze on your form, invisible eyes looking down at your sorry state as you were still sitting on the floor.
[You Say Clothes?] she asked you.
You nodded.
Getting a new set of clothes wasn't difficult, as the Bride was, as always, eager to help you out. She was even fine with you asking for something different than the gown she had given you previously, instead producing a white raincoat that you were more than happy to take in place of another dress with a long skirt that could be grabbed at.
[Thank You] you told her as you took the raincoat, preparing to remove the gown so you could change into it.
A chill that ran up your legs made you pause.
….. Your underwear. And the image of Mr. Gap holding them up before he vanished.
Fucking bastard
[Something Not Right?] the Bride asked, the confusion she felt at the way you had stopped so suddenly.
The heat entered your cheeks yet again. Asking for this felt embarrassing. But you didn't want to walk around with nothing covering you underneath. Not if you could help it, at least.
[Me Need…..]
Your voice trailed off. Agh…. How are you even supposed to ask for something that specific? Did she even have what you needed?
[Me Need….. Other Clothes?] you asked as you pointed to the area beneath your skirt, hopeful that you wouldn't need to attempt to elaborate further.
The Bride remained silent for a moment before she spoke again.
[I See]Just as she had with the raincoat, the Bride vanished and then returned with something new in her hands: a clean pair of panties.
You never thought you'd feel relief at the sight of clean underwear.
Looking up at her as you accepted her offering, you told her “you deserve the world.”
She didn't understand, but she seemed happy for you as you began to pull on the pieces of your new outfit.
Things were quiet in the other world. Aside from the sound of your footsteps on the floor and the slight noise your raincoat made as it swished about your legs, there was nothing else to be heard in that moment. Not that you were allowing your guard to drop because of that. All it would take for things to change would be the sound of a giggle above your head, or the revving of a chainsaw in the distance, or the sick feeling that would enter your soul while world around you began to grow red. All sorts of dangers still presented themselves in this world, and you wouldn't survive if you weren't ready to react at the first sign of them. Being alert was the only reason why you were still alive.
…. Well….. Being alert and also being lucky. Though the luck part came in largely due to the friendlier entities you had come across here. Like the crawling ghost, and the one who was only a severed head. And the Bride.
…… And then there was Mr. Gap.
Your hands clenched into fists as you walked, the memories of that recent encounter refusing to leave the forefront of your mind. To call what had happened mortifying would be an understatement. You'd been vulnerable, and he had taken advantage of that fact, fully knowing that you wouldn't have known what he was asking for, tricking you into agreeing into something that you would never have done if you knew what the word he used had been beforehand.
You should be angry at him.
You were angry at him, and you still wanted to get at least one good hit to his face before you got back to your world.
But at the same time, there was a small voice at the back of your head that told you it could've been worse. If he had still been like how he was when you first met him, he probably would've taken advantage of that opportunity to tear out something vital of yours. Despite his repeated demands of you, his requests had become less unreasonable over time. That meant something, didn't it? That at the very least, he was no longer interested in hurting or killing you.
Plus, eternity is a long time to be angry with someone
You shook your head as soon as that thought entered your mind. You weren't staying here. You were finding the elevator that lead out of this place, and then you were going home where you would no longer need to worry about creeps with umbrellas chasing after you or giants who wanted to keep you like you were a pet.
You let out a tired sigh as you walked, only briefly glancing up towards a window in the hall that had been largely boarded up before you returned your attention to the path in front of you. As much as you hated this place, there would be people you would miss once you were gone. Like the Nurse. Or the Hairdresser. Or the Bride. The Bride especially out of those three. Even though she seemed to have a limited variety, it was nice to simply say the word “clothes” and have someone appear out of nowhere to hand them over to you for free.
….. Appear out of nowhere?
You came to a sudden halt as a thought came to mind.
You could've just called for the Bride when you were stuck and she probably would've helped you out of that spot. There wasn't any danger in the room at that time and if it was the two of you working together, getting out would have been easy to do.
The agreement you'd been tricked into accepting with Mr. Gap wouldn't have needed to happen at all if you had just thought of calling on her sooner.
For what must have been the dozenth time within the hour, your hands clenched into fists and you felt the now familiar sensation of heat in your cheeks rising again as your embarrassment and frustration grew, this time directed at yourself. You knew how she worked, you knew she came when you called – why the fuck hadn't you thought of that before? Why were you always so stupid when you were panicking?
And then, at the beginning of what would have been a barrage of internal insults towards yourself, you noticed it before it those thoughts could go any further:
A sudden presence within your vicinity.
Specifically within the window next to you.
You whipped your head to the side, looking through the rotted, broken boards and finding a familiar face in the darkness. Of Mr. Gap, who was now at eye level and staring back at you.
All while wearing a knowing smirk on his face, like he could tell exactly what you were thinking.
You saw the flash of white teeth in his grin before he said [You Give Cute Sound. Me Like]
In response you jumped forward and reached for him, wanting to grab him by his messy hair and yank him out of the window.
Mr. Gap vanished before you could touch him, leaving you blindly reaching into the darkness.
“Fucking asshole,” was all you could spit out as you pulled your arm back out. You then proceeded to stomp your way down the hall, your movements fueled by irritation and the ever present sense of embarrassment that had only grown worse with his taunt. You weren't going to let him get away with that. You were going to get back at him.
Though how exactly you were going to get even with a ghost who couldn't exist outside of dark, enclosed spaces and who could disappear in an instant remained to be seen, but still. You'd keep an eye out for the opportunity, and when it presented itself, you'd take it.
Mr. Gap didn't get to toy with you like that without consequences. Not if you had anything to say about it.
As you walked towards the end of the hall, you felt his presence reappear. Whether or not it was in that window or in some other space that you weren't yet aware of, you didn't know. But you knew Mr. Gap was back again when you heard his voice echo against the empty walls of the hall.
[Cute]
You didn't bother to look around or even respond back, but you felt the heat that had been in your cheeks rise up to your ears as you continued walking forward.
The chuckle that rang against the hall after was just another added insult to injury.
sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry please forgive me please forgive me please forgive me.
here is my offering of forgiveness.
noncon, minor character death, mind altering, idk how you didn't die when it was HIS turn, supernatural logic
.
Five years ago, you found yourself on a stranded island of rock and grass, the ocean surrounding you as far as the eye could see, and a lone lighthouse.
You don't remember how you got there, or most of what even happened there. What flashes in your mind, however, is the terror you felt when a man wrapped in bandages stood before you, staring down an eerie hue of pink in his iris, the black slit of his pupil dilating. His white hair blew gently in the wind, the dark skies making him all the brighter, despite his black attire.
Then, you were swept up by a man with indigo hair, his fringe brushing over yellow eyes. The fear that consumed you was swallowed away, your body relaxing in his hold as he whisked you away to the other side of the small island.
A rumbling came from behind you, the ground shaking like an earthquake and the waves of the ocean getting agitated. A light rain hit your cheek, and before you could turn around, the man's hand was on your chin, guiding you back to look at him.
He held up a lantern with a blue fire, his voice calm, "It's best you don't look back. Worry not, I'll send you home."
The nurses at the hospital say you were found unconscious on the shore of the beach, luckily the tide was out or else you may have been washed away. The therapy after didn't really help, no one seemed to believe you, but you were sure of one thing: that man saved your life that day.
.
You've spent the last few days at the docks of your town, asking anglers, shipmen, anyone who knows the water about the lone lighthouse.
Not many knew what you were talking about, most knowing you as the woman who washed up on sure with a concussion - you did not have a concussion, they just needed an excuse for your delusion.
It wasn't until you came across an old man, missing one eye and with a strong, Gaelic accent that you felt actually seen.
"A blue flame and a man in bandages, huh? Sounds like yer met the Ratnik Fae and his prisoner," he had told you, gutting a large fish. You flinched when some of the insides flicked your way, the older man chuckling at your disgust.
You cleared your throat and shuffled back a bit, "Could you please tell me more about them? I'd like to give the man, ah, the Fae, a gift."
"I'll give yer this information for free; getting involved with the Fae is not smart. Yer should be satisfied that yer were sent home without debt." He then stabs his knife into the fish, turning on the tap beside the bench and washing the guts off his hands before using the tea towel hanging off his belt to dry them, "Anything else yer wanna know and it'll cost yer a drink."
He chucks his head to the pub across the boardwalk, smiling like he just scored big. Given the circumstances, you don't really have a choice, so you resign and nod.
The man slaps your shoulder, the lingering smell of fish making your nose crinkle. He shouts towards his little boat, "Sandars! Finish gutting this fish, will yer?"
A much younger, much less harsh looking man emerges from below the deck. Compared to the older man, he could be considered a boy, with no experience of the harsh reality life has to give. "R-Right!" He takes over, nodding to you in greeting before taking over the man's task.
Once you were settled, you quickly realised the drink he wanted was an entire bottle of middle-shelf whiskey. It was still pricey on the wallet, thankfully he didn't go top shelf, though you kept to your water to save what little was left of your money.
After he downed his first glass in one gulp, he sighed blissfully and nursed his second. You awkwardly sipped at your water, thinking now he was ready to keep talking, "So... you called him a Ratnik Fae?"
His one eye rolled up to meet your gaze, a flat line on his lips while he muttered, "Don't say I didn't warn yer. Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins is part of the Ratnik, he was the only Fae amongst humans."
You interrupted quickly, "I don't know what the Ratnik are."
The judgement on his face was enough to make your shoulders shrink, "Goodness, girl! You've been here for at least five years and yer don't even know that much of our history? The Ratnik are an ancient group that protected the villages here from the Wild Hunt."
You nod eagerly, hoping he'd continue explaining these new terms.
He catches onto your clueless look, downing his second glass before pouring a third, "Let's begin with the man in bandages, Rächer of Solnari, also known as Rerir. Rerir, along with four other renowned people of this continent, abandoned their own kind for immeasurable power. He became one of the Five Sinners, and created the Wild Hunt to steal the power of the three moons."
Now 'the three moons' you have heard of. One of the larger churches here has a sign paying respects to the Eternal Moon, the Iridescent Moon and, the Frost Moon. They were more like celestial sisters than actual moons, though it paves way to the belief of another sky, one only seen once you've reached the potential to see 'truth'. It's a good money making trap for tourists, though the devoted groups here do everything they can to stop that scheme and prevent the bad name.
"Rerir and his hunt spread terror and death to every corner of the country," he continued, happy that you didn't seem too lost with the story, "It wasn't until he went up against Flins, - who also had outside help, but that story is for another day and another bottle, - that Rerir was finally stopped. Using the moon's reflection, Flins was able to shatter Rerir's body across the land and time, keeping the strongest component within his lantern; the heart."
"And time?" You questioned, somehow that being the questionable subject of this story, "How can someone be scattered through time? And why isn't he dead if he was exploded?"
The old man rolls his eyes, dropping the empty glass on the table to pour more, cup number 4, "He didn't explode. And how would I know? The moons' powers are far beyond a mortal's understanding, especially an eejit like myself. Can't even be sure that yer were in the same timeline when you met them. But I tell yer what," he shakes his bottle and smiles, you notice a chipped gold tooth amongst a row of missing or surprisingly white ones, "As part of the payment, I'll take yer out to find that little island of yers."
You perk up at this, eyes wide with excitement, "Really? You believe me?"
"Sure," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair, "Not many folks 'round here have any sense of adventure these days. Folklore and mystery 'ave always been what makes this country great." He's forgone the cup for the bottle now, slurring, "Go get that gift of thanks and come back on Frid'y. S'pose to be overcast, good time to find fae."
"Thank you so much!" You grin, standing from your seat. You finish your water and head to leave, "I'll see you Friday!"
Before you can reach the door, he abruptly calls out to you with a loud shout, "Apparently, he likes coin collecting!"
Coin collecting, got it. You think you can manage that.
...
Friday rolls around and you think you have a decent gift. There's some common, every day coins from gold to silver, assuming he hasn't been to the mainland in goodness knows how long. You also spent about $70 on a unique, $2 coin with an Olympic Lantern on it, the flame reminding you of his lantern.
The man never said what time, but you figured 9am was a good way to start your day at the docks. It wasn't until you arrived did you think that maybe he was nursing a hangover, but that thought didn't last long when you heard his accented voice shouting to Sandars. You see the boy rush from around the dock, heading down the stairs of the boat.
His boat was an older looking thing, with chipped wood for a deck and dented metal around the hull. There was a tall pole with a wrapped up flag, a motor on the back, one room on top with the wheel and fancy buttons needed, an open hatch before that where Sandars and the man are currently rummaging.
There's no door to knock on so you stand as close to the edge as you dare and yell, "Knock knock!"
Sandars is the one to stop, presumably the only one who hears you. He stops at the top of the stairs and turns back, "Mr. O'Bradain, that woman is here."
"Eh?" he stops what he's doing and comes up to greet you, eyes narrowing in on your form, "I was expecting yer earlier."
"Ah, well," you lightly shake the shoulder tote you brought with you, "I made lunch for us so..."
His attitude does a complete 180, now all smiles and welcoming, "Well, why didn't yer start with that? Quick, get on! There's no time to waste."
You take his offered hand, only to regret it when he yanks you over and you almost lose your step. He kicks the hatch closed and walks into the only undercover area on the boat. You're left alone with the red haired boy, he looks even younger up close, maybe 19 at most. He holds his hand out for you to shake, "I'm Sandars. Mr. O'Bradain never said your name."
You laugh and shake it, "I never told him. I'm (Y/n). Thank you for helping me today."
"I'm really excited, if I'm being honest," he tells you, his freckled cheeks lighting up in a flush, "I've only really read about your experience through the news, but once I did I knew it had to be real. When I was younger, I got lost in a cave by the ocean and something 'inhuman' helped me find my way. No one believes me, saying I got lucky, but it's good to know there are others out there with similar experiences."
There's a rising exhilaration inside you after talking to Sandars, both of you matching each other's energy for adventure. It's only cut when Mr. O'Bradain exits the room, "Stop squawking and get to lifting the ropes. Yer not here to chat, that goes for you too, missy!"
.
Dark skies and calm waters, the two juxtapose each other, a spectral concern growing in the pit of your stomach. "Uhm, Mr. O'Bradain..." You approach him, the man happily eating one of the sandwiches you made.
He groans and speaks with his mouth full, "Drop the 'Mr.' thing, I tell that kid Sandars not to use it but he never learns."
"Right, sorry, O'Bradain, sir," another huff from him, "Are we safe out here with the weather like this? I didn't see any other little boats leaving the docks."
O'Bradain bites off the corner he was holding and then throws the crust over board, "Not really. Dangerous weather is good for getting away with murder, though."
"Excuse me?"
Sandars rushes in, fretting, "He's joking! Don't worry, Miss (Y/n), if it gets too dangerous then we'll be sure to turn around."
The old man laughs at the distress he's created, even going as far as slapping his knee. You wish you had the audacity to slap him. Once he finds it in himself to calm down, he wipes a tear from his eye and chuckles, "It's not the safest weather, but when hunting fae and creatures alike, yer need to walk on the wild side. No being is going to show themselves to yer in broad daylight. Ye'r also goin to experience some weird phenomenon."
"Like waves in the opposite direction of the water's current?" Sandars asks, head turning to the back of the boat.
O'Bradain shrugs, "Pretty specific but yes."
"I don't think that came to mind for no reason," you say back, warily as you spy what Sandars was looking at.
In the horizon, on the direction you came from, there's a large wave beginning to form. You clench your hands to stop from the trembling, though it only does so much to stave your fear.
Hurriedly, O'Bradain lurches from his relaxed position, "That ain't good. Tie down everything loose and get inside the cabin!"
It was the order you needed, both you and Sandars jumping into action immediately as the old man rushed into the cabin and started the engine. The boat kicks off and you're rushing through the calm water, away from the oncoming disaster. You tie your tote into a knot at the top and secure it over your chest when you get a moment, then you're back into other wrapping boxes under tarp or throwing everything into the hatch.
You and Sandars meet up in the cabin, grabbing onto a bar along the roof to keep steady. You glance back and gulp, the wave not so far away now, "It's getting close."
"We're not going to outrun it," the old man confesses, "Least not the aftershock, we just need to not be under it when it crashes."
Thankfully, O'Bradain is a skilled boat driver, though you're not sure how much is skill and how much is pure luck. The wave crashes down before it reaches your little vessel, creating even more waves that come barreling towards you. The cold water hits your bare legs, your shorts and shirt getting soaked from another overlapping it. Your main concern is staying upright, holding tighter as the boat is rocked to one side, you almost believe you're going to turn over.
Whatever the old man does though helps, spinning the wheel aggressively until he going with the motion, in the end countering the effect. You're thrown to the other side, slightly forwards this time and into the desk with all the buttons. A bruise will make this journey a miracle, a broken bone lucky, you were more worried about the rising percent chance of death being the outcome.
What neither one of you expected was for a wave to come out of nowhere from the side, knocking all three of you into the windows of the cabin, the two men hitting you and making you lose your grip. The next wave from behind topples you, rolling into the roof and the room filling with water. Your tastebuds explode with salt, your orientation shifted so you don't know which way is up. You flail, being thrown again, until you register you're outside and can take a breath. With eyes blurred from the sea, you barely make out that your body is being thrown across the deck, your fingers clawing for anything to take hold of.
You feel the metal rim railing of the edge of the boat, curling your fingers around it... and slipping right off into the roiling waters.
Thunder has started above you, you can hear it as you breach the water for a second, taking a breath before you're submerged again. Over and over you fight to survive, every breath shorter than the last, water pushing through your fingers as you still, aimlessly, try to find anything to save you. It's not until something hits you in the head does your body stop from shock, so you close your eyes and pray that the worst of it will end soon.
Sandars doesn't break your ribs when he begins CPR, the one push being enough to make you cough and choke out the water in your lungs. Your body is screaming from exhaustion, the boy helping you up as you try to sit. Miraculously, you made it to a rocky shore, some of the items from the boat washed up along side you.
There's no boat, though. You look back and forth before asking, "Where's the old man?"
With his help, you stand and look up the rocky cliff, your breath immediately snatched. "Sandars," you tug on his sleeve, pointing to the top of the building you see, "There it is, that's the lighthouse!"
It's missing paint, rusted on the railings, and you can only see part of it from this far below. The sky is the same grey, the light drizzle of rain hitting your face.
You slide your hand to his, pulling him forward, "If we're here, then surely O'Bradain washed up with us. If he's not on the sure, he could be at the lighthouse."
Sandars pulls you back for a second, causing you to stop and turn around to face him. His face goes even more pale, sickly looking, "Miss, if we've made it to the lighthouse, then doesn't that mean we could face off against 'him', too?"
Rerir. That's right, you didn't get the time to think about how you were going to get your saviours attention, being thrown overboard and washed up on shore. Over the years, you've thought about it, coming to the conclusion that you would slowly get closer and hope your hero would reveal himself first before you touched land. If he didn't, maybe you could throw your gift to the beach, or even try another day. You planned on asking the old man for his thoughts once you reached the island.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
You smile to Sandars, "We'll keep low, quiet, and see if we can find O'Bradain or that fae first. They won't be expecting us so we have the upper hand." Or the worst one, you think, because if Flins doesn't know you're here than how can he protect you again? How shit, for you to come all this way to thank him, only to get into trouble once more.
Sandars seems to understand that there's not much else you can do, so you both take the dirt path made from flattened grass up the steep hill. Once closer to the top, you crouch and survey the area. The land is uneven, with patches of grass all over and rock becoming more prominent closer to the other side. In front of the lighthouse is a cobblestone patch with tall lanterns lit with a pale blue, not as intense as the lamp Flins holds. There's light in the lighthouse, assuming someone is inside.
Along with the desolate area, you don't see the bandaged man anywhere. So, you stand and pull Sandars with you, tugging him along, "Come on, let's get to the lighthouse-"
As you're speaking, a gush of unnatural wind blows by you, your arm slightly jerking and your eyes squinting shut. When you open them again, pure dread envelops your bones, seeping out into your muscle as you stare at the one person you were trying to avoid.
The tall, white-haired man stood proudly, his pink and gold trimmed capes flapping idly to the side. He's so much taller than you remember, especially now that you're standing right before him. In his hand, the red of his hair, is the head of the boy who helped you on your adventure. His expression has the beginning of fear, widened eyes and slack jaw, tears streaming off his chin and part of his spine stuck out from the neck as blood dripped to the dirt. You suppose it didn't hit until you turned to look over your shoulder, his headless corpse finally adhering to gravity and collapsing. You yank your hand out of his grip and stumble back, tears already running down your cheeks.
The man breathes in like it's the first time in years, an elongated sigh leaving him as he examines the head, "Today must be my lucky day. I didn't think you'd be back, little shade."
In an instant, Sandars' head is engulfed in pink flames, the fire running over the ground until it reaches his body and sets the corpse ablaze. You're horrified to see it rise, the part where his head should be now an imitation made from fire, his eyes hollow and his mouth stretched into an uncanny scream.
You can't help but bawl as he takes a zombified step, your own feet scrambling to get away. But, before you can turn, clawed, pink hands shoot up from the ground and grab your wrists and ankles, holding you into place. "Where do you think you're going, little shade? You have something of mine, and I want it back," he tells you, voice almost entertained by your pathetic attempt of escape.
Just like last time, there's a blue flame in your vision before you're in his arms again. The hands are broken at the wrists, dissipating into the ground while you're taken out of that man's reach. Yellow eyes stare down at you, his pale hand harsh on your chin as he speaks lowly, "You shouldn't have returned."
"I didn't think it would be like this," you admit, guiltily looking to the undead creature that was once your companion. You think about O'Bradain and what may have become of him, "There was another with me, an older man with one eye."
"He didn't wash up here," he tells you, sitting you on the ground and protectively standing in front of you. He holds his lantern to the side, the light blazing outward like a warning, and despite all rationale, it only makes your soaked body feel cold. "If he's lucky, the currents would have taken him far away from here."
There's an agitated growl from the bandaged man, so you peak around your saviour to see him running his fingers through his long hair, "Don't act all insipid, Fae. We both know I'm not the only one waiting for this reunion."
"Rerir," Flins' voice is dangerous, poised as the calm before the storm, "I feel it, too. The part of you that's inside her, but the only way to get it out is to kill her, and are you really wanting to end this gift so quickly?"
The air is stagnant, the wind not enough to blow through the tense atmosphere. Eventually, Rerir huffs out a laugh, his stance no longer threatening, "How your morals deteriorates, Fae. Careful, you may find yourself as unsound of mind as I."
To that, Flins waves his lantern, speaking in a language you're sure isn't human. Sandars shrieks an ungodly, high pitched sound and his ashes are blown away from the island, far into the salty waters until he is no more.
.
You're half convinced none of this is real, that when you hit your head in the water you were knocked unconscious. Flins had helped you to the lighthouse, setting you down by the furnace with a blanket around your shoulders and a hot drink in your hands to warm you up.
Sitting on a chair that was much too small for him, Rerir eyed you as you trembled, smirking whenever you shot your gaze away in fear of prolonged eye contact. Flins had assured you it was safe, that he wouldn't try anything, but you still felt surreal being so near the main culprit of your nightmares.
Your body jolts when he unexpectedly speaks, "Was he your lover?"
"Pardon?" You question back, mind hardly comprehending that you were even having a conversation with such a monster of a man.
He shifts, legs spreading as he leans forward on his elbows, "The boy you arrived with, was he your lover?"
You swallow thickly, shaking your head and murmuring over your mug, "No. I only met him today."
"Then why are you so upset?"
Your eyebrows furrow, mouth tilted to a scowl, "Why wouldn't I be? You killed an innocent person."
"I see," he hums in thoughts, examining you, "Humans have become so sensitive."
You don’t dignify him with a response, letting the room fall into silence. He seemed content with that, the sound of a grandfather clock ticking and the wind howling being the only aesthetic.
Soon enough, Flins descends the stairs and informs you, “I have made up your room for the night. There is also a fresh towel and change of clothes for you on the bed.”
Sleeping anywhere near Rerir makes you uncomfortable, but you won’t think about that right now. You smile at him, “Thank you so much, I really appreciate your hospitality. Actually, I brought you something.”
You pull your tote over, thankful the content didn’t fall into the ocean during the storm. Your phone and wallet were soaked, you’re not even sure what in there is salvageable, however you’re glad the zip lock bags stood strong.
Flins accepts them with a curious look, pulling apart the top and reaching in to fish out some coins. You feel your cheeks reddening as you think about how silly it feels now, giving a grown man a bunch of change. Still, you explain it, “I was told you might be into coin collecting, at least from the stories passed down about you. That’s what our modern money looks like now, and there’s a commemorative coin made during the Olympics.”
He takes each coin sincerely, holding it up and examining every detail. The way the light reflects off the metal, the different textured engravings, the art of people he didn’t know and the animals he hasn’t seen in centuries. “I love it, thank you. I’ve always been enticed by humans and their traditions, no matter the region, you can always find coins,” he smiles at you, placing the bag gently on a table to look at later. Now, he sits beside you, looking over your bruised arms and legs, as well as the swell beneath your hairline, “You didn’t need to come all this way to give me a gift, it’s far too dangerous”
“And what’s more, you didn’t bring me anything,” Rerir chimes in, almost seeming hurt by your lack of consideration.
You have nothing to say to a killer, so you keep your eyes on Flins, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I felt like I was going crazy, that the fuzzy memories I had were somehow implanted within me. Not to mention how grateful I feel to you, you saved my life.”
He averts his eyes at the end, his smile now bittersweet, “Please, I didn’t do it for any reward. Protecting humans is like second nature to me.”
Rerir still invited himself into your private conversation, “So weak and pathetic. Humans are more like live stock and pets, or fodder to be used and replaced in battle.”
Flins smirks, his outward distaste for the man not as obvious as your own, “You seem to forget that you’re human, too.”
“‘Was’ human. After so many centuries, I don’t feel quite human, anymore…” his one eye lingers on your trembling form, like a predator playing with its meal, enjoying the way you try and ignore his presence.
You’re distracted by Flins’ hand reaching out for you, himself standing up, “Perhaps now is a good time for a shower? You’ll get sick if you stay in those clothes any longer.” Once standing, he noticed how hard you’re gripping his hand, the fear evident. He tightens his hold on you, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
His warmth is enough to sedate your paranoia, for the time being, at least.
He stands guard while you’re in the bathroom and vulnerable, even answering you with a gentle, “I’m here,” when you tentatively call his name, scared of being alone. He tucks you into bed and holds your hand when you request he stays by your side, a little childish but can you blame yourself, considering who else is in the building?
You sleepily ask why you’re even staying the night, why he can’t just send you home like before? You feel bad for asking him to, not knowing if it’s a burden for him to even use such magic, though it wasn’t your plan to be stranded. Then again, you hardly had a plan at all, blinded by the unknown and meeting your saviour again.
He smiles softly at you, his other hand caressing your head, petting the stray hairs away from your face, “It may not feel it right now but, you went through some significant trauma today. I’d feel terrible if I sent you home with that on your mind.”
Of course. All the adrenaline, the shock, the horror had yet to sink in. You think about the old man, who was rough around the edges and simultaneously a little careless, though kind enough to help you and believe you when you came to him looking for answers. You think about where he might be, if his body is floating in the ocean or if he somehow survived. You think about the boy who shared your excitement for myths and adventure, how you bonded quickly, only to watch him die that very same day. The image of his bodiless head, the collapse of his headless body-
A small, blue flame appears from the tip of Flins’ finger, drifting to a halt beside your bed. It’s dull and calming, rather than annoying you with light, you feel relaxed and can hardly keep your eyes open. He squeezes your hand, “Let’s not think about it tonight. Please, get some rest.”
It’s all too easy to oblige.
.
Things are worse the next day, once you've had time to sit with everything. Flins and Rerir were outside, exchanging blows, training with each other while you sat inside. You were at the table, looking over the neatly organised coin that Flins had been admiring earlier.
You more so blanked out, letting your mind wander in the quiet. Behind you, the kitchen tap was slowly dripping, every drop reminding you of the Sandars' blood hitting the dirt.
What the fuck were you thinking?
Getting hit by a speeding truck would be less of a blow then the realisation of what you've done. You've left your home to find some mythical beings that may or may not exist - SPOILER!!! They do.
Of course they do, you've believed it since you met them, you've felt compelled to return at any cost. Five years is a long wait, and now that you're here and had your moment of relief, you're feeling the impact.
Sandars also liked to look out for any evidence of the unknown, and he was just as keen as you were to find the lighthouse. So, his death could have happened at any point, really.
Gods, what is wrong with you.
The silence is disturbed suddenly, your body jolting as Rerir appears beside you, seemingly from thin air, "Stop feeling so guilty, there's nothing you can do about it now."
You shift away from him in the chair, more to show your uncomfortable with him around then actually trying to distance yourself. You play with your fingers together, "You can tell what I'm thinking?"
He moves to grab a cloth from under the sink, wetting it with cool water to dab at his neck, "The piece of me inside of you, it provides a connection between us. More time here and perhaps you'll feel something from me, too." With an unsettling smile, he looks at you, "Perhaps you'll understand the desire behind bloodlust."
With a cringe, you avert your eyes and retort, "I don't plan on staying for very long." You don't even want to know what 'piece inside of you' means, or anything behind this mystery.
"And pray tell, how do you plan on leaving, little shade? Relying on that fae, again?"
"He's done it before," you mumble, he's obviously trying to rile you up.
He huffs a laugh, "How selfish you are. A few measely coins and you think that's enough compensation for such power?”
You’re torn between snapping at him and staying quiet out of fear, only saved when Flins walks in, his collar and capes removed and his pale skin glistening with sweat. He places a gentle palm on your head, “Do not listen to him. He’s just upset because you like me more.”
To that, Rerir lets out a harsh laugh, “Fear is the best way to subdue any creature. Leave your leash too long and you may find them slipping from your sight.”
“Right, yes, of course,” Flins dismisses him. He takes out two glasses and fills them with water, placing one in front of you, “Please drink. Humans are so fragile and you’ve been under a lot of stress. Water is very important.”
You don’t blame him for being overbearing sometimes. Within the 24 hours you’ve been here, he’s made sure you’ve eaten a balanced breakfast, kept your water intake up, and rest when your anxiety starts to rocket. To an immortal creature, you’re probably akin to a pet.
As you drink, he sits beside you and nurses his own, his smile taking on a sadder tone, “I know you want to go home, little one, but unfortunately my power is… a little low right now. I’d also like to keep a longer eye on you.”
You’re not sure how magic works so you aren’t even going to pretend to know. You do, however, shift your eyes to the villain in the room, “I don’t want to be near him any longer.”
“I promise he won’t do anything,” he takes your hand in his, squeezing the nerves away, “Do you know of his and my story?”
You recall what you can of the old man’s tale, “I’ve heard that you two were in a long battle, ultimately ending up in a place of limbo to protect everyone. I was also told that his body was scattered across the land, which I don’t really understand.”
Flins nods along, sure to cut in before Rerir can say anything, “That’s perfectly fine. There are many ways to collapse someone’s power and physical form. In this case, Rerir’s body was collected into a sort of essence, scattering and even fusing with objects. Take my lantern, for example-“ he brings it into being, the blue flame flickering gently, “- here holds his heart, yet no heart can be seen.”
It’s a lot to try and figure out, but in the end you find it best to accept it the way it is. Still, you question him, “How is he… inside me though?”
Rerir hums behind you, closer now that your hairs stand up on end and you lean forward a little over the table. He decides he’s been silent long enough, “Little shade, such language is better suited for the bedroom, don’t you think?”
Your face goes red and this time you do have the courage to sputter at him, “What are you saying?! It’s exactly the term you’ve been using this whole time.”
He shrugs and runs a clawed finger over your shoulders, his towering figure casting a shadow over you, “Can you blame me? It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a woman.”
“You don’t need to give her a new fear,” Flins grabs the seat of your chair and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms protectively around you and bringing you into his chest, “Honestly, we’re not sure how you’ve come into contact with it. You could have eaten it, breathed it, or been born with it for all we know.”
Not a pleasant thought to think that you may have ingested his body as some point in your life. You suppose there’s no going around it, you’ll have to suck it up somehow until there’s enough magic to send you back. It goes without saying that you will not be leaving Flins’ side until you’re gone.
.
Crying is becoming normal now, Flins tells you it’s a good thing and part of the ‘healing’ process.
“People are going to notice I’m missing,” you say one night, in the middle of an indecisive boardgame. Flins leans back casually with the rule book, countering any new rule Rerir thinks should be added, mostly for his own favour. It’s a funny scene on the floor; a lost human wrapped in a blanket, a fae rolling tiny dice across the board, a broken man whose height sitting matches yours standing, tapping his little figure to make it hop each square.
Flins hums at your stress, smacking Rerir’s hand away when he tries to move his figure an extra step, “Time warps differently here. Who knows, perhaps you may go back only a moment after you left?”
“Or return a few centuries into the future, after everyone you know and love perishes,” Rerir has to add on, chucking his finger under your chin, more to be annoying and get a reaction out of you then anything.
You're beginning to question how serious these two are with your release back home. One excuse after another, being treated like some silly girl for not knowing, and when you ask too many questions there's a response for that too:
"You must feel exhausted, go take a bath and hop into bed."
And you DO feel exhausted. Your mind is foggy, your body gets sluggish, it's almost like you're not built for this kind of realm. These two beings of supernatural descent are able to withstand whatever atmosphere is placed here, you however, are only struggling more and more each day.
It hurts.
You lay panting and cramped on your mattress, Flins on one side feeling your sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, frowning, "You've lasted a lot longer than I would've thought. No doubt due to the piece of Rerir."
Rerir is on the other side, sitting by you and dragging a large, cool hand underneath your shirt, his size enough to encompass your stomach, "Whatever shall we do with you, little shade?"
There's no energy to struggle, to feel the fear he imposes, you can hardly keep your eyes open. Only one solution comes to mind, a sore excuse of a croak forming from your lips, "... Home."
"Mm... That may not help with how bad it's gotten, even if I wanted to send you back," Flins admits, taking a seat and smoothing back your hair from your forehead. Empty eyes meet yours, a small smile forming on his pale lips, "I do have another idea, however."
"Finally," Rerir stands, not wasting a moment to remove his bandages. You watch as layer by layer, his coverings fall down, revealing the raw skin underneath. It's a deep purple, some parts black, scarred and 'healed' in odd grooves over the muscle. He removes his shirt next, crawling back over to you to grasp your hand and trail your fingers over the destroyed tissue, the feeling almost rubbery and yet somewhat smooth to the touch. He gasps, exhaling a second later and letting his eyes roll to the back of his head, "Hurts so good."
Flins takes your face in his hands, turning your attention back to him. You're confused, lips trembling as he leans down so that his own are above yours, "Don't worry about him, I won't let him break you." The kiss is soft, slow, sweet. It alleviates the worst of the discomfort, you feel the energy of his body flow into you, and the way his tongue licks over your bottom lips gives you enough energy to raise your other hand to his wrist, motioning for him to move away. He only does when he wants to, pulling back to gaze into your wider-looking eyes, "There we go. Intimacy is the best remedy."
Rerir has taken to kissing your fingertips, biting on nail and flesh to make you jolt, gaining Flins' attention, "Don't drag this out any longer, Fae. It's time to relish in our greed."
"I'm afraid I must agree," Flins sits back now, beginning to remove his own clothes, fingers over the buttons of his collar. His face is sympathetic, smile sweet and endearing yet eyes full of desire, "You really shouldn't have come back."
“Is this really the only way?” You beg, breathlessly, your eyes succumbing to the tears as they ran in rivulets down your cheeks.
Rerir manoeuvres you so that he’s behind you, leaning you into a sitting position between his legs. Your head doesn’t even reach his chin, his large hands easily taking up most of your inner thighs as he spreads your legs apart, “It’s the only way we want it, little shade.”
Your nightie is easily slipped off, leaving you embarrassingly bare in front of the two men. Flins is left in his unbuttoned pants, a wet patch forming at the top of his underwear from how aroused he’s been. He smiles politely to you, “We decided it would be best if I went first. As you can probably tell by his stature, Rerir is well endowed.” His words are punctuated by the grinding of hips behind you, a prominent rod rubbing against your arse and into the small of your back.
One of his hands on your thighs moves to drag a long, girth finger along your labia, “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you once I’m in. Gonna breed you real good.”
You scrunch your eyes shut at the way he tantalises your clit, small circles turning to figure eights, to possibly letters and numbers and any motion to have you keening for the next jolt of pleasure from being moved in just the right way. Then, his index and ring finger spread you open, massaging the sides as his middle digit prods and presses at your hole until he can slip right in.
A gasp is forced from between your lips, pussy clenching at the intrusion of such a large thing. You wonder if before he became immortal, when he was a regular human, if he was as large of a creature as he is today. One finger is more than you’ve dallied in for quite a while, more than the small toys you try when you’re not too tired from researching about their world. It’s been weeks since you’ve done anything, and now you’re in the arms of someone larger than anything I. Your wildest dreams.
Not to forget the fae, a being you couldn’t imagine ever encountering before your incident. When you open your eyes next, he’s completely naked, pale skin scarred from torso to toe in battles of centuries past. He also has his long cock in hand, slightly darker, more greyish in colour with a pinkening tip and pre cum pearling over the flushed head.
“Such a good girl,” Flins sighs, adoringly, watching intently between your panting face and the way Rerir swirls and pumps your insides. He places his palm on the lower part of your stomach, pushing gently and rubbing up in down in the tender spot, delighted to see you hold back a moan, “Taking his finger so well. I promise, you’ll feel much better in no time.”
Faster than his ministrations, a low growl deep in his chest, Rerir pulls out of you and spread your pussy lips as far apart as they’ll go, inviting his foe in, “Now, fae. She’s more than ready.”
“‘M not…” you squeal, shifting in his hold as you try and pull your knees together.
He gives a slap to your thigh, though it may have been light for him, it makes you cry out as a massive, red hand print blooms on your stinging skin. He bends down enough to nip at your ear, “Quiet. The only sound you should be making now is the crying from being bounced on his cock. Do you understand?” When you thin your lips together, determined not to speak, he thrusts his middle finger back in and hooks it up, yanking your body in the palm of his hand as you clench and cry from the force, “Answer me, little shade.”
You pull against his forearm, hoping to alleviate the pressure, “I-I understand! I understand!!”
"Quit being so mean, now," Flins shifts so your thighs are over his, licking his lips at the wet droplets flicking from your core when Rerir yanks his fingers out of you. He pulls you close enough to nudge himself inside you, "Let me know if you feel any different, okay?"
It's almost instantaneous, the rush of elemental energy being absorbed through your flesh. The sick, lethargic feeling is pushed away to make room for a new vigour and lust. His cock slipped in snugly, pushing deep into your hole until it kissed your cervix. Your torso arched into Rerir as you're squished between them, skin grating against skin with every rut, only moving as minimal as possible to stay as close to you as he can.
"She's already looking a little better," Rerir grunt, collecting your hair into his fist so he can pull your head back. He uses his other hand, the one still sticky with your essence, to pry your teeth apart and order you to, "Suck."
His gruff voice was already intimidating enough but, the pull on your hair had you complying in fear of the extra pain. Along with your wet slurping, the smacking between you and Flins was starting to get sloppy with your arousal, too.
"Mm," he hums to himself as his fingers prod at your cheeks and over your tongue, "'M not gonna fit in there. Not tonight."
Flins sucks and bites at your neck, his hips stuttering every so often when the stimulation gets a bit much for his sensitive cock, "Why must you scare her? Let's make her first time with us enjoyable."
Rerir just rolled his eyes. pulling his fingers out, your lips immediately being taken hostage by the fae. As your mouth and pussy get thrusted into, Rerir's drooling fingers spread at the apex of your folds and feel around until he finds your erected clit, throbbing and jolting. Your own eyes roll back, tongue sticking out for Flins to suck and lick, the pleasure all too enticing for your hungry body.
Not only does it feel good, the energy being supplied to you makes you feel almost invincible! Your flesh tingles and despite the fog of lust in your brain, you've never been clearer in this realm. Was getting fucked all it took to make you aware how beautiful this dreary place is?
Tightening, spasming, twitching and moaning; your orgasm hits like a speeding truck. Squashed between two gorgeous men, your hole being pumped full of the fae's cum which only produced a whole new euphoric feeling of bliss, you had no doubts this was where you belong. Lucky you, lucky you.
There's plentiful of his ejaculate inside you, leaking out in globs of a somewhat translucent white when he finally brings himself to pull his half-hard cock out of your puffy pussy. You're hardly aware when the roles change, your back laid flat on the mattress while Flins sits beside your head, brushing back the hair from your face and kissing your forehead.
Then, there's a heavy weight being dropped onto your stomach. Eyes opening reveal that it's Rerir's large member, you're almost sure it's long enough to reach your ribs with his hips pressed flushed against you. "I don't think," you begin, breath coming out in puffs, trying to explain logic to these supernatural beings.
"You really don't," Rerir agrees, sliding back now to rub his hot head against your drenched cunt, gathering the slick and cum to lube himself up, "And soon, you won't be able to, either."
It's too clear, ironically, what he means when he begins to push himself inside you. The pressure is different, you want to say painful but more so tolerable, your stomach mounding over his length as he aims to show everyone what he can do to your poor body.
He holds his palm over the bottom of your stomach, shallowly pumping the tip over the nerves inside you, the pressure of his hand making the feeling ten times more intense. You quiver and throw your head back, legs opening wider and toes flexing in delight. "Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it? You love having my cock inside you."
Flins smiles at your expressions, wiping the tears in your eyes away with his thumb. He nibbles on your swollen lips, kissing you over and over again in praise, "So good, so good for us. The best human."
The elemental energy is overflowing now, the tips of your fingers and toes buzzing in a sort of numbness. Surely you'd be good to stay here forever if you needed to, with how good you were feeling now, you were sure it won't be an issue to take on the effects of this world.
It really does feel like he's going to protrude from your throat, the massive man pulling you closer and lifting your legs so that your bottom half was raised into the air. He pushes down into you, over you, consuming you in any way he can until you're a crying mess.
"Too much... too much...!" You cry, shaking your head, almost screaming when Flins flicks at your nub of nerves.
Rerir gives a hearty laugh, pulling back a substantial amount before pushing solidly into you with one stroke, repeating the process casually, "You liar, look at you taking me in, you're handling it just fine."
"See, he's not so scary like this, is he?" Flins smiles, holding you by the sides of your head from behind. He's leaning down, body laying so he can have his face close to yours, "Won't you open your eyes and look at him? He acts all tough but he looks beautiful when he cums."
There's no judgement in your mind, no ability to refuse, you just do as he says. And fuck, he's right. The scars and darker parts of his flesh show the remains of a man who can take on anything, including death itself. His dark, pink coloured irises narrow in on you, sucking you into the black hole of his gaze as he fucks deep into your gut.
It's when you feel his cum do you fall into an orgasm of your own. It's thick, distending your already misshapen stomach, spurting out of any opening it can find between the lines of his cock and your pussy. You've never felt so full, you've never felt so alive.
And yet, as the mattress soaks in the fluids of sex, your body falls into a relaxation of its own, much like being satisfied with a nice meal. The pain is gone, the exhaustion is replaced with a pleasant tiredness, the icky feeling of sweat and cum is nothing compared to the bliss of being properly bred.
"So much nicer now, hm?" Flins can't help but give you another kiss, his pale fingers trailing down your torso and in the slick of your sex. He pulls them away with a well pleased sigh, "I'll get the shower running, be careful with her."
Rerir doesn't quip back, merely turns his back on the man and collects your limp body into his arms. You're such a small, little thing compared to him, your height insignificant and even if you weighed the same as the moon, he doubts he'd have trouble holding you like he is now; not when you feel so right in his embrace.
"Such a pitiful existence, little shade," his words aren't meant in an unkind way, no bite or malice, just sheer fact. He smiles, your bleary eyes nowhere near focused on him, "Well, humans do have their uses from time to time."
...
The energy you get from them is not forever. You wanted to believe they were lying when they said that, that eventually you'll need to lay with them again... and again... and again.
You sit outside, the drizzle of rain momentarily stopped so you took the opportunity to make a nice drink and enjoy the cool wind of the sea. You did your best to ignore the discomfort in your bones, the need to have them help you if you wanted to survive in this realm.
You're never going home.
It's a fact that brings you to tears at least once a day. There's no retribution for poor Sandars, or reassurance of the old man's safety, and there's no use pleading on being sent back to your world.
Flins has admitted that keeping you around feels like a sin, his purpose to protect humanity is being waned by his love for you. He still wants to protect your kind, but how can he justify that when you're being held prisoner with the one who wants to destroy it?
"We could find a way to change her," Rerir had claimed it was a joke, laughing when he got scolded by the both of you. However, the way his heavy gaze lingered on your self had you thinking otherwise. And the way Flins had paused in dusting his coin collection didn't help, either.
For now, you are safe as a human. Or rather, you're safe to be a human. You're not one hundred percent sure Rerir won't snap one night and kill you and take back his piece inside you.
"The rain is coming in fast," Flins appears besides you, though you're able to hide the startlement. He looks to you, holding out his hand to help you stand, "Come inside, I don't want you sick."
You refuse his help, moving to stand on your own, knowing if you didn't comply that he would force you to, anyway. You stay standing beside him, looking to the clouds and oncoming rain, "You can come with me," you tell him, trying not to cry again, lest he start cooing over you. You shake your head of the tears, "I'll stay with you, we can live together away from him."
It wasn't the best outcome, your hero no longer that in your eyes, though you'd choose him if it meant some of your freedom back. He chuckles and ruffles your hair, "Come on, inside."
Of course, it's not that simple.
As you pass through the door, Rerir gives a low whistle, "How low of you, little shade." He pushes off the flat of the wall and walks past you, stopping to give you his promise, "I'd find a way out to hunt you. I have all of eternity to do so."
For once in a while, you smile, as cynical as it may be," Well, I don't."
Eventually, you'll die. They may be immortal but, you have a clock ticking on your life. It's the one thing you have that you can hold over their heads.
Rerir scowls, holding back his distaste as you saunter onward. Flins shuts the door behind him, "We'll figure it out, don't think about it for now."
Easier said than done, the both of them know that. Regardless, they'll find something when the time is right. You're their precious human, no mortal law will take you away, even if it means pleading with Ronova herself.
Y/N fell in love with him in high school, married him after graduation, and moved in with him whenever she decided to go to college. But something about him was odd. Disappearing at night, being gone for days on end, answering suspicious unknown phone calls, being overly clingy... He's not cheating, right? Or was something worse going on?
• • • AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD, TUMBLR, QUOTEV
𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍 ( dark reverse harem x villainess! reader )
Y/N wanted her arranged husband dead. Who could blame her? After she was forced to marry the Grand Duke, she knew that she'd live a miserable life, especially if it meant being tethered to him til the end of her days. So she started to make a plan. A sinister plan to kill him, his close friends, and topple his empire of fame to the ground. If she wasn't allowed to have rights, why should they? But it was easier said than done... because unbeknownst to her, three men would do anything to appease her.
• • • AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD
𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 ( yandere! emperor x female! reader )
Emperor Cadmus Dimitriou. Whether people knew him by his title as emperor of Kiaba, or his cutthroat win in the war three years ago, they all knew that a man like him was destined for greatness. But Y/N? She was destined for the constant spray of blood, the roaring of the crowd, and the thud of bodies dropping. It wasn't like Gladiators had a choice. However, that all changed when she was bought for a cheap price by a cruel man who wanted to test her fame. And Emperor Cadmus wouldn't take no for an answer.
• • • NOT YET RELEASED (WILL BE SOON)
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 ( yandere! vampire x male! reader )
The Devil stopped at the doorstep of Y/N's church with a charming smile. Business, he said, that was why he came by to visit. His touch left Y/N's skin in flames, his gaze made his stomach twist, and his voice made his head spin. This man, Linus Ambrose Wittherson, had to be Lucifer himself.
Everyone inside Fulminare Academy had secrets; the professors, the students, the scrappy dogs outside. Y/N was no different. However, she never thought those secrets would lead to her demise. Mysterious men were out for her head, or more specifically, the knowledge inside it. May curiosity kill these wicked cats.
• • • AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD & QUOTEV
𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐓 ( yandere! serial killer x male! reader )
Y/N knew there was something wrong with him but he couldn't help it. He was 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. Who wouldn't be hooked onto someone like Micah Ariti? A transfer student from Greece who was perfect in every way; his athleticism, his creativity, his 'no-bullshit' type of personality. Even if he knew then about who he really was, he was already addicted. He would never let him go.
