#also the thing in the infirmary room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artytaeh · 4 months ago

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as promised, here's a treat for my mattheo riddle girlies ‹3 i hope you like it and feels ?? canon ?? because i honestly think that this is sooo matt coded. anyways! tysm for all the love and support. 🌷

warnings : obvious explicit mentions of sexual content, meant for +18 readers; read at your own risk.

’⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 : 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌.﹙★﹚

﹙★﹚ in one word, mattheo riddle is messy. that's the way that mattheo loves the most: messy, passionate, nasty, almost impulsive. a mess of feelings and urges alone.

despite seeking for his own pleasure, mattheo prides himself as someone who can satisfy both himself and his partner.

WHEN EATING YOU OUT, mattheo doesn't hold back. incapable of sticking to something for a long moment, he's a mess— running his flat tongue between your lips, then kissing your nub with a loud wet sound; mattheo doesn't care at all if the lewd sound of his lips and mouth on you rival your own moans. he's here to ravish you, so take it without complains, yeah?

more often than not, mattheo is one to use both his fingers and mouth. languidly kissing your core, almost messily making out with your clit, mattheo stretches you out with his fingers, scissoring the tight walls before curling upwards— you swear that each time he does this, you can feel him smirking against your sensitive skin.

empty bedroom, broom closet, locker rooms aftee quidditch practice; mattheo riddle doesn't give a flying fuck.

he's loud and vocal, deal with it. what's there to be embarrassed about? let the whole school know how much mattheo loves to drop to his knees for his girl.

honorable mention that no one has the balls to make a clownery comment about it. mattheo sent assholes with broken noses to the infirmary wing for much less.

mattheo isn't one to spread your legs while eating you out. he wouldn't make your legs tired right in the beginning— the slytherin needs them strong, not sore, to keep up with the way he'll manhandle you afterwards.

besides, mattheo is insanely addicted to the feeling of your thighs clenching around his head, making him feel the warm and smooth skin of those inner thighs almost suffocate him, from his place between your legs.

non ironically jokes about that being the most heavenly way to die. mentioned it once during a conversation with his friends— about dying like this. with honor—, his smug expression deeply contrasting with your embarrassed one.

whenever possible, nevermind if he's having you sat on a desk, chair, or standing up against a wall with him on his knees for you— mattheo finds a way to have one hand pleasuring you, in sync with his eager tongue, and the other sneakily on your chest.

his fingers barely give attention to your nipples; he's so not sorry, but there's no way that mattheo can help himself— his hand cups your bare breast, yanking the bothersome bra downwards or pushing it upwards, anything to have his palm on that soft skin that drives him insane.

groaning, with his face buried in your middle, mattheo squeezes your chest with a greedy touch. damn right that all of you belongs to him.

﹙★﹚ : SOME KINKS OF HIS, might include:

⋆ spitting : mattheo has heard and ignored comments that refer to this as something disgusting; he can't help it— to him, this is so hot. definitely has a thing for spitting inside your mouth, whenever you're facing him, underneath his heavy body. would also spit on your core before being inside you, or eating you out. prefers to be the one giving, instead of receiving; even so, mattheo would find it hot if you did so on his cock, before giving him a handjob or using your mouth.

⋆ biting : all i say is, good luck. mattheo riddle can't properly put it into words, however, his love for bodies who look a bit more chubby, where his hands can grab and squeeze, are also enthralling to him because there's a lot of room to bite. thighs? he'll spend a long time there, even if mattheo doesn't have the intention to take it further— he just likes the feeling of your skin inside his mouth, biting into it! neck too, which can be a nuisance sometimes; you never know if mattheo is burying his face on the crook of your neck because he's sleepy or in the mood of creating more bruises there. hard bites. like, the ones that hurt like a bruise after a few days.

⋆ choking : this man loves to have a hand around your neck, as if it is a collar that dictates his ownership over you. his hand there, fingers curling around the skin of your neck that he positively filled with bruises, so easily cups your jaw, keeping your face on his direction, facing him. this same hand is the one that is quick to slap your face a couple of times, hitting your cheek with his fingertips— enough to make it sting for brief seconds, not really bruising your face.

well, the same can't be said about your hips, thighs and ass. mattheo doesn't hold back there.

⋆ anal : would do his best to convince, or at least tempt you into trying it once with you. even so, should you not feel comfortable with it, mattheo would happily hold on to what he can do instead— if your limit are plugs, and you accept to wear it sometimes, mattheo is already over the moon.

hungrily licks over it while using his fingers on you, his wet muscle feeling the skin of your rim and the cold metal of your plug, pressuring his fingers on it. would want to do it in positions that gives him a good vision of the plug inside you, thumbs brushing over the skin of your asscheeks and the toy deep inside your other hole. it drives him crazy.

however! if even plugs aren't something that you'd feel comfortable with or want to try, mattheo accepts that he wasn't able to make the idea tempting for you. and, like a good loser— which doesn't apply to quidditch— mattheo will be more than happy with what he can get. which means, leaving a mess of handprints, finger marks, vicious bites and hickeys on your asscheeks.

⋆ not a rope bunny : even though being tied up or doing so to his partner is something that some people view as, well, something to spice up a relationship— mattheo doesn't perceive it that way at all. even the thought of having you tied up isn't charming to him; if anything, mattheo might pin down your wrists with his hand for a moment, but that's as far as it goes, with restricting touches; because mattheo, too, loves the feeling of your hands on him.

and let me tell you: this man would hate being tied up. what do you mean he can't touch you? mattheo can promise to hold back from thrusting up or switching positions, to be in control— but please don't prevent him from touching you. mattheo would look at you so genuinely sad, that he can't cup your chest or feel the skin of your thighs, much less get your ass squeezed by his greedy, warm hands. :(

⋆ biggest victim of cockwarming : no, not even for a bet. mattheo wouldn't be able to resist the temptation. for starters, why would he entertain the idea of not moving at all? mattheo is all too starved and hungry for you to be still; he might hold on for a few moments just to satisfy your requests, but ultimately, his patience will run out and he'll show you how it's a hundred times better to do something about it.

⋆ ¹overstimulation : believe it or not, mattheo wouldn't purposefully overstimulate his partner. however, when intentional, only happens if mattheo wants to prove a point, usually fueld by jealousy— because whatever guy you were laughing with, couldn't possibly making you tremble and fall apart on his arms like this, right? and yet, mattheo might also be tempted to use this as a punishment for bratty behavior.

⋆ ²edging : rarely ever does this to his partner; mattheo enjoys bringing pleasure to you, not finding satisfaction on depriving you from an orgasm if he's got you so close, so high for his touch alone. rather than torturing you, mattheo finds more enjoyment on the sight of having you coming undone on his fingers, tongue, or cock. coaxes and encourages you to do so as well, having little to no care over clothes, sheets or surfaces getting wet.

HOWEVER, mattheo is one to dealy his own release. mattheo riddle is addicted to the feeling of pleasure given by you; your hands, mouth, the feeling of slipping inside you— mattheo never wants it to end.

strategically finds ways to last longer with you, by switching positions, giving him a few seconds to calm down, if he feels like he's almost there. won't ever leave you unsatisfied; even if he finishes before you, and can't go on, then mattheo is more than happy to make you come in another way.

⋆ experimentalist : mattheo let's you do anything and everything to him— leaving little room to things that he would never be tempted to try out. is there something you want to try? perhaps a new kink in the list? he's all for it, like a puppy trailing right behind you.

so you want to use him like a toy? suit yourself; mattheo is already on the process of stripping out his clothes, moving to lay down on the bed. something more risky? his fingers intertwine with yours, that devilish mind of his already thinking about time, place, and what he'd love to do with you. unironically, mattheo riddle would even let you put a bow on it, if you so much as asked him to do it. there's practically nothing that he shies away from doing with you.

⋆ blood / knife play : listen. if mattheo's kinks were to be explain with an iceberg, this one would be on the bottom of it. mattheo knows how bad this sounds— that the sight of blood can spark some worse assumptions about him, that are already as bad as they can get. even worse if he explains how charming it sounds for him, how it gets him hot and bothered, the idea of carving his initials on that pretty smooth skin of yours.

m.r. two letters, ones that he traces in random trees around school, when he's feeling bored of his friends' conversation. m.r., easy to write, due to previous practice.

it's a terribly territorial, even possessive craving of his; mattheo riddle can't excuse that urge that resonates deeply within him. and if you indulge this fantasy of his, or ask to do the same to him? mattheo wouldn't live for the embarrassment of how hard that would instantly get him.

﹙★﹚: FAVORITE POSITIONS. .ᐟ

⋆ REVERSE COWGIRL is a favorite of his, specifically for the heavenly sight of you, watching you struggle as he relaxes against the mattress. enjoying the show, his eyes darken as he watches you struggle to bounce on his shaft— feeling, admiring each time that your ass harshly meets the skin of his groin, prominent with each movement of your hips. no doubts that mattheo will smack your ass if your rhythm falters even for a second.

⋆ PRONE BONE, as soon as mattheo gets you as comfortable as you can get. fixing a pillow under your hips to make it easier for the two of you— not only getting you to arch your back, presenting your rear to him, but also to improve your comfort before he takes it all on you.

⋆ AGAINST A WALL works all too well for mattheo, as someone who prides himself on his strength and muscles, having a build that allows those obvious lines marking his four pack abs.

( mattheo would die right there and then, if you ever used them. as in, giving up on using any pillows to rub and grind against him instead, letting mattheo feel how wet he gets you over his firm skin. would have the best smoke of his life as he watches you, murmuring praises and encouraging you to use him as a toy. )

(...) ⋆ not just in bed, but in general— mattheo riddle loves displaying how strong he is; how much weight he can take and strength he has. the first he showcases with you on his arms; the latter he wordlessly brags with each dislocated jaw that comes from his doing. so carrying you and lifting you off the floor is a favorite, almost instinctive, action for mattheo.

sometimes he's so into this, that he won't seek for a surface— not even a bloody desk, much less the comfort of a sofa or bed— pinning you against the wall. his hands lower down your body, feeling the curve of your waist, giving a greedy squeeze to your bottom, until his hands settle for the back of your thighs, easily hoisting you up from the floor. it's nothing for mattheo to have you in this position for a while— he's bloody thankful for it. his hands greedily squeeze the skin at hand, pressing himself between your legs, grinding your middle with his bulge.

⋆ not really a position itself, but mattheo goes INSANE for DRY HUMPING. this man loves nasty, messy sex; creaming his pants as you grind on his clothed bulge, feeling you getting wetter and wetter until your underwear becomes a mess on top of him— it gets mattheo every. single. time.

﹙★﹚: PREFERRED PLACES. .ᐟ

the privacy of a bedroom is one that mattheo can't ignore, or deny, given his previous experiences. doesn't really mind if the two of you do it in yours, or his dorm— however, mattheo has a slight preference for his dorm room, because he knows where to find what he needs, which drawer, which nightstand, reaching for it blindly.

HOWEVER, mattheo isn't one to pass an opportunity, and being one to indulge his desire and need over you, passing by as an exhibitionist isn't something that mattheo is scared to do.

⋆ locker rooms, specifically right after practice or a quidditch match. if mattheo had to choose a place, then he wouldn't need to think a lot about this one. as someone who has a lot of pent up energy, there's something about him being all sweaty from giving his all as slytherin's beater, then riding the adrenaline off on — in — you.

⋆ ... bonus points if it happens inside a shower stall, the two of you hidden by a single curtain, moans and groans muffled by the sound of water falling down your bodies.

⋆ empty classrooms, strategically used during key moments of day or nightime, when there's the reassurance that it won't be used anytime soon in the next couple of hours. mostly during meal time, given that even professors would be too busy on the other side of the castle. there's something about bending you over an abandoned desk or getting you sat up on the currently unused professor's desk, for mattheo— he can't exactly say if it's about the thrill of breaking unwritten rules, or the way it somehow challenges their authority.

⋆ broom closets, which mattheo would preferably only use for the sake of a make out, during those days that your routines don't seem to match, for some cruel reason. if he misses you too much, separated due to different classes, different schedules, mattheo will steal you for a few minutes to get much deserved kisses. aching for the feeling of his skin against his again. however, it rarely develops into sex— the most it might get to, is giving him a blowjob or mattheo using his fingers on you; otherwise, broom closets are too tiny, too uncomfortable for more.

which mattheo had to accept, after almost getting caught because in the middle of his enthusiasm, mattheo knocked off a few brooms on the floor.

﹙★﹚ MORE RANDOM HEADCANONS :

if you asked him whether mattheo prefers ass or boobs, he'd say that HE CHOOSES BOTH. now, if you pressured him into choosing just one— mattheo seriously takes long minutes to decide. full on blank stare into nothingness, barely blinking as his mind uses all of his concentration to do the mathematics of which part of your body he prefers. after long minutes of indecision, chooses your ass, almost mourning it, as if mattheo would wake up to never stare at your chest again.

THE TYPE OF SLAP YOUR ASS AT ANY GIVEN CHANCE. mattheo riddle loses his life, but never a joke. mattheo riddle might be yelled at by you, but won't miss the opportunity to indulge that guilty pleasure of landing a smack on your ass.

TALKS YOU THROUGH IT. doesn't shut up for the life of him; vocal, because he wants you to know how good you make him feel, and would love it if you do the same.

would learn HOW TO BE GENTLE now that he's dating, given that mattheo loses himself to the intense feelings of craving and desiring you. you blink, and suddenly mattheo is carrying you to the bed, about to remove your shirt and already on his third hickey.

SO INTO THE IDEA OF BEING SLAPPED. initially, mattheo thinks that he'd be fucking pissed if a girl dared to lay a hand on him — he can sent bigger assholes flying through the astronomy tower, who the hell are you to hit him, chipmunk? — but then. then he gets a slap from you.

dark eyes become wide, staring at a spot on the floor as his face barely moves to the side, feeling the tingle of a slight pain on his cheek. mattheo looks back to you; instead of yelling at you or being pissed at what you did—

he's horny. seriously, mattheo might find reasons to make you angry at him, so that he can marvel at how hot you look while you're furious at him, craving another slap like a bloody giggling teenager.

RARELY ACTS SUBMISSIVE, yet would let you take control if you wanted to be the one leading this time. however, mattheo has the hardest time to keep his hands to himself, or be the one to set the pace.

⋆ wouldn't tell a soul, but he jerks off the most at the memory of that time you rode him, and while bouncing on his cock, your hand hit his cheek, giving him a slap for trying to hurry the pace. you could swear you saw his pupils dilate.

doesn't mind for QUICKIES, AND HONESTLY LIKES THEM ALL THE SAME. there's something about being hidden by your skirt, and pulling your panties to the side, only to know that he's probably dripping right to that soft fabric, preventing it from lewdly trailing down your thighs. call him a pervert— mattheo is just a man with some territorial issues.

and that's probably why MATTHEO THINKS THAT IT'S SO ATTRACTIVE to still have some clothes on. he's obsessed for the sight of your body, at any given chance, and yet— ripping most of the buttons from your shirt, clothes are pushed and pulled up, down or to the side. your bra is tugged upwards so that his mouth can tease the now bare chest, fingers already on their way to lift your skirt and pull your underwear to the side. mattheo craves the sight of you so desperate for him, the same way that he's desperate for you too, both not wanting to wait any moment longer.

A WHORE FOR TOUCHES ON HIS HAIR AND SCALP. mattheo didn't care much for his hair before, until the curly shape of his dark hair became pretty to his eyes, and wanted to take the chance of such genetics to make himself look handsome. with that said, mattheo riddle wants to leave your bed with a mess of a hair— from tugging, pulling, pushing, having your fingers running through it, or massages, rubs on his scalp. having your nails scratching (not painfully. have mercy?!) on his scalp makes this man whimper.

speaking of things that make mattheo riddle whimper: KISS OR LICK OVER THE SCARS ON HIS CHEST, and you'll see how much of a mess he'll be under your lips. the skin there is so sensible, not to mention how intimate it feels, to have his previous injuries being the center of your attention, pampered and kissed so gently.

GOES INSANE IF YOU TRACE his v-lines with your tongue. literally has to grip something to hold back.

﹙★﹚ ANGRY SEX, is something that once in a while, mattheo would like to have with his partner.

mattheo is amused at the sight of his partner angry at something, whenever it doesn't root from a confrontation with mattheo that got him annoyed as well.

the argument would escalate until he's almost yelling at your face— the moment your noses almost brush together, so close, with anger radiating from both of you— mattheo loses it and shuts you up with a kiss, putting an end to the argument. after this first heated kiss, mattheo pulls away, staring into your eyes for any hint that you are too angry to kiss him, or if you don't want him to touch you / continue what you were doing.

it's hard to insist on keeping up the argument given that between yelling at each other for another ten minutes, or having him roughly thrusting into that spot that makes you see stars— well, usually, you choose the latter.

becomes missionary if the argument continues, nevermind how the pleasure makes his mind dazed with foggy thoughts. it's doggy with his hand on the back of your head, pushing your face to bury on the mattress or the comfort of a pillow, whenever mattheo can't deal with your attitude, or has had enough of the argument. doggy it is, when it's to shut you up.

even if the argument still gnaws an ugly feeling inside yours or his mind, mattheo will pull you closer to him anyways, head over his heart, fingers running through your hair. a silent way to reassure you, and mostly himself, that it'll be okay, and a fight isn't what's going to separate the two of you.

it's a terrible terrible idea to tease mattheo by keeping your underwear on. oh, so you think it's funny to grind on him with those panties of yours? that's so funny, that mattheo will rip them too. during those days that he's too dizzy with need for you, you can anticipate grief over the underwear you're wearing. and mattheo is not apologetic at all— he keeps all of these conquered prizes on the last drawer of his desk. throwing those panties away? no, no. mattheo has a better use for them.

should anyone ever touch them or find out his dirty secret, mattheo might just be tempted to break someone's fingers. what? those are his and your panties! comunism! only between the two of you!

this man has no money left for cigarettes; mattheo will be begging theodore to share them with him, because guess what! he does have to pay for property damages.

which means, giving you money for each damaged underwear from his impatient, greedy hands. sometimes, going out to hogsmeade involves shopping for more underwear— this, while mattheo is just outside the store, smoking a cigarette as he waits for you.

he'd tell his friends that it's because he wouldn't be caught inside a lingerie store. the truth is that you have forbidden mattheo from entering one with you— this man is a tall child. a tall, menacing child.

panties would be flying, his hands would cup bras and say in a way too loud tone that: 'babe! these are your size! trust my hands, i know how your pretty tits feel like.'

worse than that, mattheo would try to speed up the process. such a thing means that he'd have a pair of panties hanging on his index finger —imagine the tiniest piece of cloth, in the most vibrant, awful tone possible— as he yells: 'princess, what about these?' with the stupidest smile because mattheo thinks that he's really funny.

so, yeah. no shopping together for underwear and lingeries. mattheo is on timeout from those.

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #headcanons #smut #smut headcanons #mattheo riddle headcanons #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle smut headcanons #slytherin boys react #hp fandom #Spotify

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v1x3n · 4 months ago

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SHOWER TIME ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it?

Nothing good could ever happen to you.

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that.

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling.

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole.

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you.

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in?

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you.

You dont reply.

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk.

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it?

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't”

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets.

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone.

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you.

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

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fandoms-x-reader · 6 months ago

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Overprotective and Ready to Fight - OM! Brothers

Requested By: @opiopal

Word Count: 2,972

Oneshot

Summary: Fighting a demon who spoke poorly about your love interest and winning.

You weren’t normally an angry person. You tried to be very calm and kind. You were the one who talked others off the ledge, not the one who needed to be talked down. In all of your time in the Devildom, you were sure none of the brothers had a chance to see you get really angry.

But finals were coming up at RAD and you were under a tremendous amount of stress. You had been pouring every ounce of your energy into studying. You had been staying up late and skipping meals which you admitted had started to make you a bit cranky.

Today you had just found out that your teacher was adding an additional part to the final. A part that you hadn’t been studying for at all because you were under the pretense that you wouldn’t need to.

So, now your stress levels were incredibly high and on top of that you had dropped your lunch in the cafeteria so you were hangry. You were on the verge of having a complete mental breakdown and for some reason a popular demon had decided it would be fun to mess with you today.

They came up to you and began saying rude and nasty things about the demon brothers, particularly one of them. Normally, you would stomach the rude comments and move on, making sure to give the demon brothers extra love that night to make up for the terrible things that were said about them.

But as previously stated, you were having a bad day, and the demon just crossed a line. Wrath overtook you with every word they spoke until you completely snapped. You threw one good punch to the demon's jaw and a collective gasp broke out from the students that surrounded you.

Before you knew it, the demon began fighting back, using every advantage they had over you. But, you were so angry you didn’t care. How dare they talk about your demon like that? Who did they think they were?

You fought with everything you had until you felt someone pulling you off the student. You turned to face them and your heart skipped a beat when you saw that it was Diavolo. He didn’t necessarily look angry, but he didn’t look very pleased either.

You turned your attention to the demon you had been fighting only to see they were also being restrained by Barbatos. Barbatos led them away and you turned to look at Diavolo. You knew you probably shouldn’t have snapped and started a fight, but if he heard what that demon was saying, he would understand!

You gave him a small smile before asking, “We don’t have to tell Lucifer about this, right?” Diavolo let out a small sigh. He wished that was true, for your sake. But, unfortunately, if Diavolo didn’t tell him and Lucifer managed to find out on his own, that would be a much worse situation.

So, here you were sitting in the infirmary at RAD. Your small wounds were being treated and you could hear muffled voices on the other side of the door. It was undoubtedly Diavolo telling your seven roommates what had happened.

You winced when you heard the door to the infirmary open and you held your breath as you waited to see which one was coming in to talk to you.

You did what?!

Lucifer was absolutely livid. Not only did you put yourself in danger, but you had embarrassed Diavolo. What could have possibly driven you to such insanity?

He needed to know because the whole situation was absolutely preposterous to him.

He entered the infirmary first, surprised to see how good you looked comparatively. He had passed the other demon as they were taken to a separate room and they looked a lot worse than you did.

He silently admitted he was surprised by your capabilities, especially considering the difference in strength and the fact that you had no magic or weapon.

But, this was no time to compliment you.

You knew better than to speak when Lucifer was wearing his angry face so you remained silent as he approached the bed you were sitting on.

“What were you thinking?” Lucifer asked, his gaze falling to your hands where he noticed how bloody your knuckles looked.

“In my defense, this is technically all because of you,” you stated. Lucifer now looked shocked and furious. Were you really trying to place the blame on him? He hadn’t even been there!

Before he could respond angrily, you continued to say, “They were talking bad about you.”

That caught Lucifer off-guard. Were you telling him that the reason you fought the demon was because they were talking poorly about him? Did you realize he was the most powerful demon of his brothers and perfectly capable of fighting if need be?

Still, Lucifer couldn’t help the pride that began to swell in his heart. You fought on his behalf and won. He found it adorable that you went to such lengths to defend him. But, he couldn’t very well thank you in front of everyone.

So, he went with a neutral response. One that he hoped conveyed his true feelings behind the whole situation without betraying his image of power.

“No more fighting.”

Did Diavolo just say you picked a fight with a demon?

Mammon was beyond surprised at the news. You were just a fragile little human. What were you doing trying to fight demons?

The other demon passed by the group and Mammon’s heart dropped. They looked horribly beat up and if that’s what they looked like, he could only imagine what you looked like.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to make sure you were okay. So, he quickly swung the door to the infirmary open, pausing when he saw you.

You looked mostly fine. A couple of cuts and bruises and some bloody knuckles, but that was it. You practically destroyed the demon and came out looking like you took a small fall. Mammon made a mental note to never make you angry.

The doctor demon moved to wrap your hand and was a bit rough with it. You winced slightly and Mammon stepped in.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Mammon stated as he shooed the doctor away, taking over. He gently grabbed your hand and your eyes met his. “I know ya’ got guts, but isn’t this a little much?” Mammon asked, carefully wrapping your hand.

“They were saying some terrible things about you,” you replied, keeping your eyes on your injured hand. Mammon faltered for a moment at your words. No one had ever cared about him enough to fight for him. “Ya’ fought them because they were talkin’ trash about me?” Mammon asked.

“Well, wouldn’t you fight someone if they weren’t talking bad about me?” you questioned. Fair point. “Yeah, but I’m a demon,” he countered.

Mammon finished wrapping your hand and told you, “Lucifer’s gonna give ya’ a long lecture for this.” Great. Just what you needed.

“But afterwards, do ya’ wanna come over and watch a movie?” Mammon questioned. He wanted to help make you feel better, especially after finding out you were fighting for him. You were his precious human and he wanted to make you feel that way.

Your eyes lit up at the idea and you immediately agreed. This is why you fought that demon - to stand up for the one that always made you feel better.

Levi didn’t typically go to RAD in person. He preferred to take all of his classes from the comfort of his room. But, he had made a special exception today and he was very glad he did.

He heard that something went down between you and another student, but it wasn’t until he was standing in the hallway with his brothers that he found out you had gotten in a fight.

As if on cue, the other demon walked past him and he took note of all of the damage. You did that much to a demon?!

Part of him wanted to make sure you were okay; but, also, Levi had to know how you pulled off such an amazing attack.

He entered the infirmary, a mix of excitement and fear built up inside of him. But, when he saw that you were mostly fine give or take a few bruises and cuts, nothing was left but his excitement.

Out of politeness, Levi still asked, “Are you okay?” But after you reassured him, he moved onto his more pertinent questions.

“How did you manage to beat that demon up so badly?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders before replying, “I was just so mad that I couldn’t stop punching.”

“What did they do to make you so mad?” Levi asked. He genuinely wanted to know what happened to turn you into a badass rage monster.

You gave Levi a small smile before telling him, “They decided to say awful things about you, spreading rumors left and right. I couldn’t stand it.”

Levi let out a startled noise before blushing furiously. You fought someone to defend him? Your coolness level just went up by a million points for him.

Did that mean you liked him enough to think he was worth protecting?!

Levi will pull the security footage of the fight and make it an online sensation. No one would ever pick a fight with you again thanks to him.

Satan knew something bad happened involving you the moment you started fighting. He could feel his sin radiating around him. It took him a moment to figure out it was coming from his pact symbol, but as soon as he did, he was on a mission to find you.

You were seriously angry right now. He could feel it. And he was a bit worried about what it would lead to.

But he was too far to reach you before the fight ended and was left standing in the hall with his brothers while Diavolo explained what happened.

Even though he felt your rage, he was still surprised when he found out you got in a fight; and, even more so when he saw the damage you did.

When Satan entered the infirmary and saw you he couldn’t help but smirk a bit. The demon didn’t stand a chance against you.

You didn’t notice him at first, focused on your knuckles that the doctor was tending to. So, Satan walked up to the bed. He noticed that your eyebrows were still furrowed from residual anger and to Satan it made you look feisty like a kitten. And where others would have been deterred by it, the look drew Satan in.

“You’ve got a lot of anger in you,” Satan teased. “You’re one to talk,” you retorted and Satan let out a small chuckle.

“What made you so mad?” he questioned. You let out a small sigh before replying, “They decided to say some rude things about you.”

Satan’s eyes widened slightly. That’s all it was? Some demon said some rude things about him and it sent you into that much of a rage? Were you that protective of him?

Satan couldn’t help but smile at you. You protected him in your own way and he would make sure to protect you from whatever punishment Lucifer decided to come up with.

But, he made you promise not to start another fight with a demon. Next time, you might not be so lucky and he didn’t want you putting yourself in danger.

You got in a fight? Were you hurt?

Asmo was freaking out right now. What if you bruised your delicate skin? Or worse, cut it?!

His panicking was only worsened when he saw the demon walk by. He nearly fainted at the thought of you looking even half as bad.

He quickly rushed into the infirmary and relaxed a tiny bit when he realized your condition wasn’t even close to being as bad as the other demon’s.

But, your knuckles were bloody and you did have some bruises and cuts so he still wasn’t very happy.

“Y/N! Your poor knuckles! And skin! Why did you fight that demon?” Asmo asked frantically, his eyes filled with worry as he scanned over all of your features, surveying the damage.

“I was just trying to stand up for you,” you replied. “Me?!” Asmo asked, even more confused now.

“They were saying some really rude things about you,” you replied honestly. Asmo’s heart swelled at your reasoning. You risked your own body to defend him.

“You’re soo cute,” Asmo stated pulling you into a hug and placing a few kisses on your cheek. He then moved and began placing kisses on each bruise and cut you received, spending extra time on your knuckles.

“As soon as we get a chance, I’m treating you to a spa day. We’ll get the best of everything and get you back to your perfect state in no time. There won’t be a blemish on you,” Amso told you, hugging you once more.

He’ll use his connections to spread terrible rumors about the demon who said those things about Asmo to ensure that they never start another fight with you.

He couldn’t handle the stress of seeing you bloody or bruised again.

Beel was the one who got in fights the most when it came to protecting his family. He was no stranger to it and was unphased by it. But what he didn’t expect was for Diavolo to tell him you got involved in a fight.

You must have had a good reason. You were normally so slow to anger. So whatever the demon said or did must have set you off.

He had seen the demon walk by the group and he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. When Diavolo said you had gotten into a fight, he didn’t expect that it was to this extent. The demon could hardly walk on their own!

Beel entered the infirmary and walked straight up to the bed, grateful that you only had a few minor cuts and bruises.

He carefully took your hand in his when he reached the bed and inspected the damage on your knuckles. He frowned a little before asking, “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” you replied. Beel nodded his head before questioning, “What did they do to make you so mad at them?”

“I didn’t like the things they were saying,” you replied. “Was it about food? I hate it when people talk negatively about food,” Beel stated.

You let out a small laugh before replying, “No, it wasn’t about food. It was about you, Beel.”

Beel’s eyebrows furrowed a bit as he turned his head to the side, trying to understand. What could that demon have said about him that was so bad it made you start a fight?

“I just didn’t like hearing them say bad things about you when you’re so kind,” you added.

Beel immediately engulfed you in a hug. The demon had merely spoken a few unkind words about Beel and it managed to send you into a rage all to protect him.

But you were only a human and fighting demons was dangerous. “Next time, you tell me and I’ll fight them for the both of us,” Beel told you.

You nodded your head and Beel pulled out of the hug to ask, “Do you want to go eat? I bet you worked up an appetite.”

You appreciated the way Beel always made sure you were fed and taken care of.

Wait, were they talking about the same Y/N?

Part of Belphie wanted to bust out laughing at Lucifer and Diavolo’s faces. Surely they never thought you would be capable of starting a fight with a demon when this exchange program started.

However, when the other demon walked by, Belphie became concerned. They looked like they had just fought a war. Belphie’s main focus was now on making sure you were okay.

He quickly entered the room and let out a small breath of relief when he saw that you were okay. But, relief soon turned into confusion as he approached the bed. How did you come out with hardly anything more than some bloody knuckles?

“And I thought Satan was the hothead,” Belphie teased, giving you a small smile. You frowned at him in response before replying, “I had a bad day.”

Belphie let out a small snort at your words. “I don’t think having a bad day is a good enough reason to beat someone to a pulp,” Belphie replied.

You stayed silent, not wanting to give him your reason. “Come on, what’d they do?” Belphie asked curiously.

“They talked bad about you,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. Belphie was surprised, to say the least. You did all this because that demon decided to smack talk? And about him nonetheless.

“My hero,” Belphie joked, and you rolled your eyes. In reality, Belphie was flattered that you cared enough about him to defend him. And he was glad that you didn’t get injured in the fight.

“Well, once Lucifer is done with the ten-hour lecture, I guess I have no choice but to take care of you. Since you fought for me and all,” Belphie stated and you only further pouted at him. His sarcastic nature was getting on your last nerve right now.

Belphie could see his quips weren’t amusing you, so he put his hands up in mock defeat before pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you,” he finally said as you rested your head against his chest. “You’re welcome,” you replied and Belphie couldn’t help but smile.

As soon as Lucifer was done with his scolding, he would make sure to give you lots of cuddles.

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zomb-core · 7 months ago

Text

۫ ꣑ৎ HURT || carl grimes x female reader

summary: you return from a run badly injured and you were certain that carl’s worried appearance was worse than the injury itself. (first time saying "I love you")

(intended lowercase)

warnings: injury, brief mentions/description of gore, slight angst, argument.

slight angst to fluff

you woke up to the sounds of voices, you weren't sure who was speaking but you could tell that they were angry, worried, but angry.

you looked around the room you were in only to notice it was the infirmary, you were confused on how you ended up there, the last thing you remember was being out on a run with glenn and rick. you couldn't recall getting injured or falling unconscious, but then again you couldn't remember much of anything, your head was pounding and your brain was foggy.

you propped yourself up on your elbows to assist yourself in sitting up only to be met with a sharp pain to your left side. you groaned in response and fell back onto the mattress, you could hear the commotion around you quiet once they noticed you were awake. you could see bodies beginning to hover over you but you couldn't make out their faces due to the light shining directly into your eyes.

as disoriented as you were, you were curious as to what kind of injury could've rendered you unconscious. you slowly lifted up the side of your shirt to reveal bandaging that had been wrapped around your torso, a bit of blood seeping through the white surface. that's when it hit you, the events of the run all came flooding back to you at once causing the room to start spinning around you.

you looked over to the group of people surrounding you, squinting as you tried to make out who was in the room with you, but your attempts seemed to be useless. “is glenn okay?”

you heard someone say something in return, what you could only hope was a ‘yes’ before the room went dark around you.

you had been finishing up clearing out a store when you caught a walker sneaking up on glenn while he was focused on a small group in front of him. you had to jump over a few things to get to him, it didn't take long but it did cause you to trip and fall into the walker. luckily you landed on top on it and you were able to quickly dig your blade into it's skull, but due to the amount of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you didn't notice the large piece of glass that had pierced your side until glenn had gasped, turning away from the walkers he had previously been working on killing off. you looked down and saw what had caused his reaction and that's when everything went black.

it didn't take long for you to wake up again, this time being immediately met with the face of your boyfriend hovering over you. “carl?”

you could tell he was glad you were awake but you could also tell he wasn't pleased with you and you were only proven right when he spoke, “what were you thinking? do you know how reckless you were today?”

you slowly sat up to get a better look at him, wincing at the pain that accompanied the movement. “I was helping glenn, he could've gotten bit—”

“glenn can handle himself.”

“and I can't?” you shot back, angered by his remark.

“clearly not!” he said, gesturing to the infirmary bed you were laying in. you could see the anger occupying his expression along with the worry in his eyes and you couldn't help but feel guilty.

“carl…”

“you could've died.” your gaze drifted to the blanket that was draped over your legs as you began to fidget with it. “I can't lose anyone else, y/n.”

your chest tightened at the way his voice trembled, you didn't mean to cause him so much distress. you acted without thinking and as reckless as it was you were okay and so was glenn, but it didn't seem to help ease the frustration and concern carl was filled with.

you caught your lip between your teeth, searching for something to hopefully reason with the boy next to you, but you knew it would be better if you put your stubbornness aside and admit what you did was dangerous, so that's what you did.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to help— I know that doesn't make it any better, but I did what anyone would've done even if it was.. stupid.”

you heard him sigh before he crouched down to level with your face, his hand finding its way to your jaw and tilting your face towards him. you watched as he examined your features, you assumed he was looking for wounds that went unnoticed by denise. once he determined you were okay he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you close to him. you whimpered softly at the jolt of pain you felt but quickly decided it was unimportant and buried your face in the crook of his neck, looping your arms around his torso, “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“I just want you to be more careful.” he spoke, his words accompanied by a shaky breath, “I don't know what I would've done if I lost you.” he pulled away to look you in the eye, using his hand to push your hair away from your face so he could press a kiss to your forehead.

you nodded, thinking about what you'd do if you lost him and wondered if he'd do the same thing. “I will be, promise.” you reassured him, using your hand to cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing soothing motions on his cheekbone. “forgive me?”

he chuckled softly, ducking his head down and nuzzling it in the space between your shoulder and neck, pressing soft kisses against the exposed skin. “you’re hard to stay mad at, you know that?”

you smiled, glad to see he wasn't upset with you anymore. you understood where his concern was coming from, it was nice to have someone care about you that way especially when the world was so evil.

“I love you.”

you pulled back, shocked by his proclamation, “..what?”

“when I saw glenn carry you through those gates with you covered in your own blood..” he paused, haunted by the image of you in that state, “I noticed that I couldn't lose you, that I couldn't live without you.. I once asked maggie how she knew she loved glenn and she told me I would just know, and today, seeing you like that, I knew. I love you, y/n.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat, your eyes brimming with tears while searching his face for any sign of a lie. you could tell your reaction scared him, it was written all over his face, worried he had said the wrong thing, but it quickly changed when you grabbed his face and crashed your lips against his, mumbling how much you loved him and how happy he made you.

“I love you, I love you so much.” you said, resting your forehead against his, both of you wearing a matching smile. “if I would've known almost dying would've made you notice you love me I would've let it happen a long time ago.”

he gave you a fake laugh and gently shoved your face away, “haha, very funny.” you watched as he stood up and walked away, returning shortly with a water bottle in hand which he handed to you before adding onto his previous sentence, “but seriously, if you ever pull some dumb shit like that again I'll be pissed at you forever.”

you took a swig of the water, staring at him with the same geeky smile from moments ago. “as if you could stay mad at me for that long.”

a/n: this was more on the short and sweet side, I have more stories coming I just wanted to upload something so forgive me if this seems like a filler.

masterlist

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dinogoofymutated · 9 months ago

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Hey not sure if your currently taking requests but I just wanted to I soooooo stoked that you write for Remy! I've been starved for years cuz there's like no fan fics for him😭.

anyway I was wondering if you could do like a fic or headcannon where gambit somehow got hurt on a mission and is on bed rest but is also like really horny because you wont have sex with his since hes hurt.

If not that's fine I just thought it up and thought it would be hilarious 😂. Anyway luv your work, keep it up😘

NSFW!Gambit/AFAB!Reader

MMMMMHHHMMMMMM BESTIE UR MIND. ABSOLUTE GENIUS. I hope that you don't mind I did make it NSFW there at the end but the majority is just teasing our favorite gambler. Also, This is for the folks who were also really attracted to that one scene in criminal minds with the bulletproof vest. iykyk.

TWs: teasing, sexual innuendos, explicit smut, Handjobs, Mutual masturbation, PNV sex. Raw sex. (Wrap it bf you tap it yall) Creampie. Reader written with Fem! pronouns.

"Asolutetly not." You're quick to say it. Gambit pouts as the words leave your mouth, still on the infirmary bed with all the wires and doodads still hooked up to him. He's giving you those scoundrel puppy eyes that he knows you usually give in to, but you're not willing to budge this time.

"No, Remy. I will not be-" You take a quick glance around the room, leaning in a little closer as you begin to whisper-yell at him. "-I will not be having sex with you right now!" Remy sighs in a pitiful way leaning against the headboard in your direction. You can’t begin to look him in the eyes right now, instead lightly pushing his face away from your spot, sitting close to his bed on a chair that you had moved from the corner. His pout turns into an amused smile, as he instead takes your hand in his own, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm. You try not to blush at him. You’re supposed to be standing strong, dammit!

"Come on, Chère. S' not like it's gonna make Gambit hurt any worse-” You cut him off by lightly slapping his abdomen. Remy immediately flinches, curling in on himself with a pained groan. You feel a little guilty afterward, flattening your palm to rub the area soothingly.

“Yes, it would. Remy, I could seriously hurt you. You heard beast, any vigorous activity could rip your stitches.” You say, moving to where you can sit on the bed, facing him. You cup the side of his face, gently moving stray locks out of the way. He rolls his eyes, not at you, but at the memory of the talking-to he got when he had woken up in the infirmary.

“Never stopped me before. Since I been with the X-men it’s like everythin’ become a big deal. So what if I rip a few stitches here an’ there?” Remy grumbles. You give him a stern look, before leaning in to kiss his temple. He melts into your touch.

“It is a big deal, Remy. You need to heal. End of discussion.” You say gently. Remy thinks on it for a moment, before giving you a slight smirk.

“And by “end of discussion” you really mean “Until Gambit tempts me into bed”, Right?” He says. You roll your eyes at him before standing. If that’s the attitude he’s going into these next weeks with, you know for a fact he’s going to be insufferable.

You were right. The incoming weeks were almost as much torture to you as they most definitely were to him. Wherever you went in the mansion, Gambit was sure to follow. He’d be in the kitchen while you would be cooking, unable to help due to doctor's orders, but no one ever said that he had to stay out of the kitchen. He’s come up behind you, snaking his arms around your hips as he’d “Give you pointers”. He’d lean close and whisper in your ear, sometimes giving it a nip or two. But one thing about Gambit is that every time you turned him away, or laughed at him and told him to sit down, he’d get pouty.

That was a trend that continued. He’d deliberately go out of his way to tease you, on movie night, in the library, in the showers even. And every time, despite how hot under the collar you might have been, you turned him away. The more bothered you seemed to be however, his pouts turned into smirks. Eventually, you got fed up with it. You were trying to be a good girlfriend and make sure Remy didn’t hurt himself, but if he was going to be a brat about it, you could be a brat too.

You started off a little more subtly than Remy did. Lingering touches here and there, kissing him just long enough to leave him wanting. You’d wear just a tad less clothing around him, or wear slightly lower-cut tops. You were beginning to realize just how easy it was to get him riled up.

One particular day, the tension was thick in the air, having coalesced into something barely breathable. Remy was lying back on the bed on his elbows as you redressed his wound, making sure to spread ointment onto the healing stitches and care for the skin. You frequently found yourself drawn to the sight of his lower abs, the large bruise having begun to yellow as it healed. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't seen his skin in a while, but the sight of him had you breathing a little funny. Remy was also a little quieter than normal, unable to look away from your gentle hands as you took care of him.

Once you finished, you lingered by his side, a hand pressed against his chest. You look up to find him already watching you, but neither of you says anything. You purse your lips, debating on whether or not you’re doing what you think you’re about to do. Remy tilts his head at you questioningly. He opens his mouth to speak but fails to do so as your hand trails down to his waistband. He takes a shocked breath through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he’s looking at you again through a lustful haze.

“Thought you said-”

“Shut up.” You sigh, cutting him off. Remy smirks at you, biting his lip. You roll your eyes, caressing the crotch of his pants a few times before you begin to slip them off of him.

“Don’t get too excited.” You whisper, but really it sounds more like a needy sigh. “Just a handy, okay?” Gambit huffs a laugh at you, but doesn’t tease. He's practically bucking his hips into your hand when you finally take hold of his cock, stroking him to hardness. You can’t seem to look away from the sight, watching as his abdomen clenches with every stroke from base to tip. You twist your hand on the upstroke, listening as Remy lets out a curse and a sudden moan just as you thumb his head, collecting his abundant precum as you use it to stroke back down again.

“You’re really pent up, huh?” You ask in a heated whisper. Remy’s head is tilted back in pleasure, and he huffs in amusement as he cracks an eye open at you. His hand slides up your thigh, Your legs being pressed against each other tightly to find some friction. You gasp as he suddenly slides two of his fingers up the inside seam of your pants, and you can practically feel yourself get wetter at the touch.

“Looks like I’m not the only one.” Remy hums. You can’t seem to pull away from him as he continues to stroke you. The air is hardly breathable, and the burning in your chest and your core starts to become too hot to ignore.

“Fuck it.” You say. Remy is confused when you let go of him, only to break into a wide smile when he realizes you were beginning to strip. The shirt is first to go, before your bra, and then your jeans and underwear. Remy wolf-whistles at the sight, and you wave him off, embarrassed.

“Couldn’t stay away from the temptation of Remy LeBeau, Now could you Chère?” Remy muses. He’s such a goof. You try to hide your smile as you carefully straddle his legs, making sure to avoid his sore spots. One of his hands holds onto your upper thigh, the other making its way to your center. He strokes you languidly with his fingers before circling your slit and pushing two inside. You suck in a breath, careful to set your hands on his shoulders without putting any weight onto them.

“Looks like this pretty pussy missed me as much as I missed you,” Remy says breathlessly. His eyes flicker from your cunt up to your bare breasts, and then to your flushed face. You feel like you’re falling apart too quickly, already climbing that high as he fingers you with those hands you love so much.

“Remy,” You call for him breathlessly. “ m’ not gonna last too long.” Remy can't help himself any longer, and pulls you closer to catch you in a passionate kiss. He drags his teeth across your bottom lip, letting go of the plush skin. He doesn't withdraw his fingers until your thighs begin to shake and you start to clench down on him. You whine as he does so, barely holding your composure. Remy takes your hand off of his cock, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before gently dragging your hips further into his lap. Your mind is hazy, but you know to be careful as he lines himself up.

“If we're going to do this, we're taking it my speed, okay?” You say. Remy nods, barely taking in the information. He was ready to be inside you. After weeks of nothing- all he could think about was you. Your giggles, your smiles. Your body. The way you taste on his tongue. The feeling of your thighs clenching around his head. Remy would do anything you asked of him at this moment.

You take it slow as you lower yourself down on his cock. The stretch of him feels delicious against your inner walls. Remy leans in, kissing and sucking on your breasts as you take your time. He bottoms out with a wet sound, his hands resting against your upper thighs.

Remy curses as you begin to move, bouncing on his cock somewhat slowly. Even in the haze of your lust, you're worried about hurting him. Remy, on the other hand, doesn't share the same sentiment. His hands clench around your thighs, and when he can't seem to take the slow speed anymore, he slams you down onto him.

You gasp at the action, and apologies spill from his lips as he tilts you forward, knocking your balance so you're forced to lean onto him as he controls the pace, eagerly thrusting into your heat.

“Remy-” Your protests are cut off with a kiss as your favorite scoundrel begins to take exactly what he wants. His grunts and moans beneath you send another trickle of warmth inside of you. To be honest, seeing him take control like this was hot- almost hot enough for you to forgive the fact that he was certainly overexerting himself- but it was hard to be mad at him when he's fucking you so good.

One thing about Remy is that he's a talker in bed. If anything, you were surprised he was as “quiet” as he had been the majority of the time. But once he started to get closer to his peak, Remy began to ramble.

"You think you're smart? -Ah! Teasing me like that.. mmh… expecting me to just take it?" You're not really paying attention to his words, nodding in response while only thinking about his steady grip on your thighs and ass and the peak you're reaching so quickly. Remy squeezes you harder, almost harshly as he begins to take you faster. His hips begin to stutter, thrusts starting to do him in one by one.

Remy lets out a loud groan as he reaches his peak, burying himself deeply inside you and thumbing your clit. He continues to thrust as he helps you reach that white-hot peak of pleasure, pressing kisses to your temple as you ride it out on top of him. By the time you're both fully finished, you're panting for air. You're fully collapsed onto Remy's chest, Remy being absolutely boneless as he rests against the headboard.

“You’re such an idiot.” You say when you finally have enough sense. Remy just chuckles, continuing to press kisses to every part of your face and neck he can reach. You sigh happily as he does so, pressing some of your own kisses to his shoulder.

When you finally peel yourself off of his chest, the first thing you check in on is his bandages. You scowl when you see that they've been soaked through with sweat, but more concerning is the spot of red that has started to form. You look up at Remy with narrowed eyes, and he quickly looks down as well, before looking back up at you and simply shrugging with a gleeful smile.

“Casualty of love, Chère.”

#Sorry I actually lied by accident #But hurray! He came right on time ;)#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau smut #remy lebeau imagine #remy lebeau headcannons #x men remy lebeau #gambit smut #gambit imagine #x men gambit #x men headcannons

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maiko-san · 11 months ago

Text

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 4 )

<<< Part 3

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : None (?)

Plot : Every time you enter the Playcare you feel eyes watching you everywhere you go. You feel stressed and start to become sick.

Recently, you feel uneasy and something tells you that you were being watched. Every time you go to work, you feel eyes on you.

It scares you.

Nobody likes the feel of being watched.

It made you stressed out.

You tried to get rid of these feelings by distracting yourself with work. You tried to keep yourself busy to a point you overwork yourself with all those papers or taking care of the Smiling Critters.

To a point it made your body ache and have a migraine from overthinking.

Not only that, Catnap has been acting quite differently too and his visit has become less and less each day. Not only that—

The lovely and sweet cat is avoiding you!

You finally asked the feline, what's the matter but only received—

"It's nothing...."

Nothing....nothing? Obviously there's something wrong!

Multiple questions began to swarm into your brain like a raging tsunami, did you do something wrong? It must be you, right? Yes, no? Maybe?

You had a slight feeling it has something to do with the higher ups.....

Did they tell Catnap to...avoid you? It has to be it, right? Why they do such a thing?

The stress starts to eat you the more you think about it.

Dogday and the other smiling critters saw that you've been stressed lately to a point it started to affect your health. It made them worried, especially Dogday. As a leader, it was his responsibility to care for everyone's wellbeing, including you.

"Angel, You look nervous lately. Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, hey. Dogday....."

Dogday knew something was wrong. He comes closer to you and touches your shoulder.

You slightly flinch under his touch which made the canine even more worried.

"Angel, please tell me. Is something bothering you?"

"......"

"As a leader, it's my duty to help everyone in need. I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you"

"....."

Dogday holds your hands gently and holds them in his large ones.

You take a deep breath before telling him what's been bothering you, you know it will be useless to ignore the canine. He is stubborn and won't stop until you tell him what's wrong.

"I feel like something bad is going to happen. I don't know when. It might happen now, Sooner? Tomorrow?"

"......"

"I really hate this feeling, Dogday.....I-I can't get rid of it and no matter how many times I tried to forget it by distracting myself with work, I just.....couldn't— Not only that, Catnap has been ignoring me and started to avoid me! I— ugh, m-my head"

You suddenly drop to your knees causing Dogday to panic and he begins to whine worriedly.

Dogday's heart clenched the way you spoke. You feel scared, anxious and nervous. The canine pulls you into an embrace, in hope that it will help you calm down.

"Let's get you to the infirmary..."

Dogday makes sure that the school doctor treats you and gives you medication.

"Mrs. (L/n), I think it would be better if you take a week off from work"

"A week?!"

"Angel, it's for your own good"

"But—"

"No buts, end of conversation!"

The doctor said sternly you were causing you to snap your mouth shut.

The doctor also recommended you to rest someplace quiet and away from the city and your workplace.

It seems you have to go to your foster parents house, they always welcome you with open arms if you need anything.

"Alright...I'll take the day off..."

But still....that gut wrenching feelings still resides in you....

For today, you need to rest in the infirmary room until you are discharged.

Dogday leaves you to rest before proceeding to make his way back to his stage but before that, he wants to find Catnap first.

Dogday knows that Catnap is great at hiding, but it won't stop him since he has his canine sense helping him.

He sniffs around to find the feline until he sees the cat, snoozing around his stage like he always does.

"Catnap. I need to speak to you..."

"...Speak"

"(Y/n) is sick, have you not noticed?"

"...I know..."

"Then why did you help her with your red smoke? To make her sleep and at ease?"

"....."

Catnap looks away from the dog, Catnap knew that you were sick. It hurts him to see you like that.

He wants to help and comfort you, he really does but...

He had received an order he has to obey. His had to choose between two individuals that he adores. One he worships and the other he loves. Yet, he chose the one he worships, the one that saves his life.

Catnap knew that Dogday will help you and he trusts the dog with you in his care.

Other than that, using the red smoke on you will make everything much worse and potentially kill you in your sleep.

He doesn't want that to happen to someone who cares for him and loves him.

"Why?"

"Red smoke use...on stress person...bad could hurt and... possibly.........kill..."

"O-oh..."

Dogday rubs his arm before turning away, but before he leaves.

"Please, pay her a visit, Catnap. If you do, it makes her less worried and she would be happy to see you again"

"Also, She won't come to work for a week...."

Dogday leaves Catnap's stage, leaving Catnap alone to think about his decision to see you.

A/N : Another chapter finished 😁 . Also, a fair warning for all of you. The future chapters will become darker as it progresses since I want to stick to the plot of the game.

Also, the mascots have their own stages to perform for the orphans!

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime catnap #smiling critter #smiling critter dogday #smiling critters x reader #smiling critters catnap #dogday x reader #catnap x reader

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yuwuta · 10 months ago

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YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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whois-miki · 1 year ago

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—- # ‘get out of my office, Luke.’

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

warning - cussing, percy third wheeling, argument

others - situationship, not dating, percy : 🧍🏼, this is all over the place,

Luke tries to find out what Percy is good at to find his godly parent

While y/n is trying to mind her own business in the infirmary, a not so subtle, Luke pays her a visit.

a/n - sTOP, why do i relate to Percy so much 😭 ✋🏻

also gonna post a poll soon if this does well <3

“why are we even going here, it’s not like i’m the son of Apollo.”

Percy complained when Luke dragged him over to the infirmary.

“thats where your wrong buddy. some Apollo kids are really bad archers and really good medics.” he says as he opens the infirmary door to reveal a teenage girl tending to a camper.

The girl’s head quickly snapped to look at them with a kind look on her face before it was quickly washed away when her eyes set on the older boy.

“what do you want, Castellan?” she said clearly annoyed, at the sight of this Luke smirked knowing that he was getting on her nerve already without even saying anything.

“what? i can’t see my favorite nurse?” he said dramatically and put a hand over his heart like he was hurt.

“isn’t that the kid who killed the minotaur?” the patient groaned in pain as she looked at the younger blond boy. “rest, you can’t do anything until you recover, hun.” The nurse said to the young girl who was still in awe of Percy ( the patient is like 10 )

The nurse quickly muttered a sleeping spell and looked back at the two boys who were still in the same position.

“how can I help you?”

“well, sweet girl, I need to find out if Percy is the son of Apollo.”

She groaned at the nickname and then studied Percy. she quickly mumbled a no and then turned her back to the crate of medicine, that needed to get restocked. “what do you mean, ‘no’ ?” Luke shot annoyance bubbling up inside of him

“i mean, no, Luke. I’ve seen him at archery. he has no aim.” she explained. “Well, not all Apollo kids are good at archery.” she scoffs a bit and then fired back, “but most are, and i’m not letting him experiment in my office just to try to find what he’s good at.”

Percy looked at Luke and then at the girl and said, “she’s right, now let’s go.” he said as a not so subtle plead for help to get away from the awkwardness.

both of the older counselors ignored the blond boy and resumed their argument. “why can’t you just let him do something!” Luke hissed,

“I said no, dumbass, and if he’s anything like you he might just kill a patient.”

“oh thanks a lot, fuck face.” he grumbled

“I mean it, get out of my office, Luke.” she demanded, Luke sighed angrily before lightly pushing Percy out of the door.

once they were outside. Percy turned to Luke and asked, “who was that?” “Y/n L/n, meanest Apollo kid you’ll meet.” “how do you two know each other?”

“we’re friends.” as Luke said this Percy look at him confused. “what? then why were you arguing?”

“its kinda our thing, i guess.”

“that can’t be healthy.”

“yeah, but i love ‘er. she’s great.” Percy then looked at him like he was crazy and quickly muttered an ok without giving another thought.

Luke smirked a bit and then thought of something and ran back into the infirmary room, slightly kissing her on the cheek playfully and running out after she yelled with a flustered face.

“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE, LUKE.”

a/n :

sorry this is shit <3 love you all!!

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo x reader #luke x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo show #percy jackon and the olympians #argument #percy : 🧍🏼#wish i was y/n 😔✋🏻#no because this actually happened to me once ( i was percy 😔 )

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choerypetal · 10 months ago

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Little Accidents / Paul Atreides

Summary: Paul's obliviousness was soon shattered when frequent visits to the nursing room revealed the true essence of love at first sight.

Ps: This is a short fluff I had in mind, but I hope you enjoy and also english isn't my first language so bare with minimal errors, (once upload i always make sure to update now my works, if there is any errors) Enjoy! XOXO

As the heir of the Atreides' House, Paul effortlessly following in his father's esteemed footsteps. He possesses an acute sense of ownership, ensuring he's well aware of everything under his purview. Whether it's news of your battle injuries or workplace mishaps, Paul is always the first to know, abandoning any prior engagements to rush to your aid. While you're being tended to, his concern is palpable; his eyes scan for any signs of harm as he utters all while using the voice. ‘Where?’ This gesture of worry has become familiar, a reassurance you've grown accustomed to, especially when your visits to the infirmary often serve as an excuse to steal moments with him. ‘Dropped a weapon on my foot,’ you explain with a hint of ruefulness, ‘guess my impatience got the better of me, inadvertently knocking out one of the armories. Pity.’

Indeed, quite a pity. Paul couldn't help but notice your composure, devoid of any telltale signs of injury. It either seemed that the nurse had efficiently tended to you before his arrival—a stroke of luck, perhaps. However, Paul wasn't fooled; this wasn't the first time you'd urgently summoned him to the infirmary. Today, he harbored suspicions that you might finally reveal the true reason behind your frequent visits. “If you'd prefer I refrain from using the Voice," he remarked, a hint of seriousness in his tone, "you'll need to be more forthcoming than simply labeling it an accident, my dear."

However, you eventually reassured the head nurse, explaining that it was merely a minor issue requiring attention. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of nerves and affection as Paul insisted on tending to your wounds himself, rather than delegating the task to anyone else. As the room cleared, leaving just the two of you alone, Paul attempted to devise a plausible excuse while discreetly observing your work. This added another layer of challenge for him, yet he remained determined to keep a watchful eye on you. “Now tell,” A pregnant pause was felt soon as he sat next to you. “How I am suppose to know, that there is probably more reason than just a visit at the nursery?”

You find yourself drawn in by his innocence, but observing Paul working alongside his father and their associates, it becomes evident that innocence was not his defining trait anymore. In fact, there's a possibility he understands more than he lets on. Maybe he's even willing to engage in the game you're playing. You nonchalantly dismiss any concerns, offering the excuse that you're just adding a bit of spice to the situation. However, Paul's reaction suggests that perhaps it's not the right moment to discuss such matters, especially anything related to the Spice itself.

Paul tilted his head, almost taking offense at your attempt at humor. Despite his awareness of your desire to spend more time alone with him, he understood that convincing him to stay a little longer each time wasn't as simple as it seemed. Even if his attempts at pampering you, like tending to invisible wounds that morphed into cuddle sessions, were charming, he recognized that your discussions about the 'Spice' were more about politics than relaxation. Poor thing– that was all he knew about out. This realization led to a soft chuckle from you, followed by an apology for bringing up the topic. However, Paul dismissed your apology, urging you not to discuss such matters, especially around him, as he couldn't help but wonder why you frequented the nursing room more often than before. “Now tell me, or I might just become as impatient as you’ll be when demanding kisses..”

His voice trailed off, almost seductive when Paul was right about to expose this little game of yours. Instantly you could feel his lip curve slightly into a smirk as he saw your expression, your eyes winding in shock, trying your very best to obliged. That you were the one who meant to shock Paul out of his work for some time but, perhaps you were indeed right about your wonders. That in fact, Paul knew that the exact reasons why you obliged yourself to the nursing room more often than ever. Only to find out, it was to spend more time with him. But Paul being himself, being the type of guy that he is, did not to confess his wrong at first or to be completely oblivious. After all– he is the duke’s son.

"So, let me get this straight," Paul Atreides began, his tone tinged with a mixture of disbelief and introspection. "I, Paul Atreides, am so easily ensnared by your little charade? It's rather disheartening, truth be told." There was a hint of a pout on his lips as he contemplated your adeptness at expressing your desires, though he couldn't entirely fault you for it. With the constant demands of dealing with the Harkonnens and managing CHOAM affairs, finding time for you had become more challenging than he and you had anticipated.

Unlike his parents, whose marriage was purely political, Paul had chosen a different path, one where your presence held a significance beyond mere political alliances. For him, building a future within the confines of the Atreides' House with you by his side was a deeply personal and cherished desire. Material wealth could wait; what mattered most was the connection he shared with you. With a sigh, he reached out to gently caress your cheek, a silent acknowledgment of your correctness all along. Perhaps it was time to prioritize his own happiness, even if it meant putting paperwork aside momentarily. "Maybe you're onto something," he admitted, his voice softening. "Perhaps you’re right, perhaps it's time for me to take a break from the endless bureaucracy and spend some quality time together. After all, even I need to unwind–."

Paul's words carried a weight of remorse rarely heard, especially within the esteemed Atreides family. As he neared the end of his sentence, you leaned in swiftly, feeling the soft brush of his lips against yours in a lingering kiss. The longing shared between you both was palpable, though circumstances often made indulgence impractical, intensifying the desire even more. When Paul finally pulled away, he gently nibbled at your lower lip, a playful chuckle escaping him at the sudden surge of hunger between the two of you. There was an undeniable yearning to touch, caress, and love you. "Perhaps I'll request a day off," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of promise. “Perhaps you will.” You both end up chuckling as he cups your face, his eyes gazing from your eyes to your lips. Paul confessed once more,

“And perhaps, we don't always have to use the excuse of happy accidents, so I can exile from paperwork every now and then.”

#timothée chalamet #dune x reader #dune part two #dune imagine #paul atreides imagine #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #duke leto atreides #jessica atreides #lady jessica #dune part 2 #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #timothee x reader #timothee chamalet #timothee x you #feyd rautha x reader

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xoxochb · 3 months ago

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— here comes the sun ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: just headcannons pairing: riordanverse boys x daughter of apollo

percy jackson loves how good you are with your bow and arrow. he sucks majorly at archery so when you found this out you did everything in your power to teach him to be just as good as you were. this took four months. but! the good thing was that he learned eventually. it took this long solely because every time you were explaining something his eyes would trail down to your lips and he’d zone out and one thing leads to another now he’s kissing you and now you’re kissing back and now you’re not even in the archery field anymore— it’s a whole thing. during the fourth month you got sick of his nonsense and forced him to finally listen to your words and he ended up finally learning basic archery (he later earned a reward for his obedience). besides your great archer skills you’re also skilled at painting. like usual, percy loves to fool around. you’ll have your canvas out and paint sprawled along your pallet but this dumbass takes a finger of paint a spreads it over your face. you both end up covered in paint and your work long forgotten. you made a mental note never to let him paint with you again, but knowing percy and his gorgeous sea green eyes you had no choice but to let him join you again. though you do warn him not to play around with your paint or he’d wake up blue (he probably wouldn’t mind this though)

jason grace is utterly obsessed with your singing voice— most to all nights this is the only thing that can soothe him to sleep. but not even just during the evening, it’s basically mostly throughout the day when you’re singing to him. sometimes you even play a variety of musical instruments to add onto the factor (he ended up learning how to play piano thanks to you). and!! another thing he loves about you is your poetry, especially when the poems are about him, those make his knees go all weak and his cheeks flush pink and he’s such a school girl, it’s ridiculous. but he loves your poems regardless if they’re about him or not, he likes listening to your sweet-like-honey voice and your extremely high vocabulary (gods, he loves your high vocab). along with your love for poems you also share a love for reading, often you’ll find old books to read together, whether it’s together, or separately then you talk about them later, he adores talking about nerdy books together. and since writing is something dear to you and your siblings you wrote your own novel some day with the help of your boyfriend (he’s your number one supporter), including a sweet dedication to him as a thank you and an I love you

leo valdez takes advantage of your healing abilities. every hour he shows up in the infirmary with a new injury whether it’s a small cut or something serious. after a while you started to realize he was purposely hurting himself so he could see you during your work. you scolded him for this and told him you’d much more appreciate his visits if he wasn’t hurt all the time. so after you told him this he started spending less time with his trinkets and getting hurt and more time bothering you in the infirmary (additionally bothering your patients). you’ve found, though, it’s not so easy to care for your patients when your boyfriend has permanently attached himself to you, you eventually had to restrict him from seeing you during your working hours. but do you think this would stop him? no it did not. every day he would wait for you outside as you work, your siblings scold him and tell you to take care of him so that resulted in you getting kicked out of the infirmary too. though with this new free time and all your siblings busy you were able to get the cabin all to yourselves!!

luke castellan is pretty sure every room you walk into instantly brightens up with beams of sunshine (not even figuratively, he really does believe this). your aura is enough the blind the regular man— but lucky for luke he is no regular man, he’s your boyfriend. unfortunately, this does have its downsides, which includes you waking up at the literal ass crack of dawn watching as the sun rises. slowly and carefully you slip yourself from his arms to sit on the porch of cabin eleven as you watch the sky switch from a dark purple/black hue to various colors including orange, pink, or yellow (sometimes all three if your dad is feeling generous enough). over time, though, luke realizes you aren’t in his arms anymore— the first time this happened he was confused and searched frantically for you, but eventually he gets used to you waking up early. on some mornings he will sit outside with you (he loves the way your irises get all bright and yellow at this time of day), he likes how everything is quiet and tranquil and this is one of the only times he’s able to spend alone time with you. he savors these moments over anything else in his life

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 5 months ago

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Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Previous Chapter: Part 3 | Next Chapter: Part 5

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out, Smut

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

“Sir, UA has such a strict and well-planned curriculum. What could possibly have been “neglected” by the faculty and staff?”

Aizawa smirks at Ida as if the young Engine hero has made a particularly funny joke. He looks out at the class and takes a deep breath before his next statement:

“This afternoon Recovery Girl and Midnight will be joining us as we discuss a crucial topic. We are going to walk you through an Intro to our Sex Ed curriculum.”

The class is silent. Then, a hiss rises from the back right of the classroom.

“Yesssss. Yesss! Finally! You’re finally granting permission for us to appreciate all of the gorgeous ladies in our class! It’s my time to shine - ” Mineta’s unhinged chattering is silenced when Mr. Aizawa easily wraps him in his capture gear.

“Does anyone else have an inappropriate comment to share?” The teacher asks lazily. The class says nothing. Mineta whimpers pathetically beneath the layers of binding cloth and Erase rHead ignores him.

There’s a bright knock at the classroom entrance. Before anyone can answer, the large door flies open to reveal UA staff members Midnight and Recovery Girl. As usual, Midnight is sparkling with energy, smiling devilishly at the class as she glides into the room. Recovery Girl has less flare as she steps into the classroom – her movements are quiet and stiff. The wrinkles on her face tell stories of a lifetime of hero work.

“Hello, Class.” The school nurse says as she stands before them all. “I’m so sorry we didn’t get to this conversation at the beginning of the year. There’s just been so much chaos and injury lately surrounding UA, we weren’t able to prioritize the Sex Ed curriculum the way we normally do.” She beams at them, looking pleased to be out of the infirmary for once.

Midnight sweeps her arms out dramatically. “Your changing hormones are no doubt running rampant! We’re here to tame you little demons. Let me dominate this conversation and teach you the true meaning of pleasure.”

Mineta groans audibly from within his binding cocoon, and a look of disgust flashes across Mr. Aizawa’s face.

“Settle down, Midnight.” He turns to address the class at large. “As part of the curriculum we will have monthly Sex Ed & Health seminars run by Midnight, Recover Girl and me. During these sessions we will discuss the basics surrounding reproduction, consent, and safety. We will also split into small groups where you can feel more comfortable to ask potentially embarrassing questions.”

“To kick things off for today, we’re not going to give you the classic “your bodies are changing” lecture you get in middle school. Instead, we’re going to set some ground rules for living in a shared dorm space with classmates your age.” Mr. Aizawa shifts on his feet and looks over at Recover Girl, prompting her to take over.

The elderly hero shuffles up to the front of the class and grins up at them through thick coke bottle glasses. “Here’s the deal, kids. We realize that you all live on the campus and that your scholarly lives overlap with your home lives in a new and unique way. This is a unique situation, and we ask that you do your best to prioritize your studies and your health at all times. If you find yourselves struggling with your mental or physical health, we ask that you speak to one of us and we can create a plan together to help you get on track.”

“Additionally, we’re expecting you to be respectful of each other’s personal space. You all share a dorm, so between class and dorm life you will be together 24/7. This can be fun since you’re fairly friendly with each other, but eventually there will likely be conflict and disputes. Please come to us for help mediating any tough living situations, we are more than happy to step in and help you sort through challenging relationships.”

“And speaking of challenging relationships…” Midnight cuts in, tossing her thick purple hair over her shoulder as she squares up to the class. “Let’s talk about dating.”

At this point, most of the class’s faces are bright red. The room’s vibe has shifted from curious to uncomfortable and awkward.

“Most of you are 16 now, and understandably you may start to take notice of your classmates in new ways. You may want to explore relationships beyond friendship.” Midnight winks at your class meaningfully. “You are all independent young adults and we can’t control how you feel about one another. But unfortunately, we will be enforcing a strict no dating policy this year.”

“What!?” Mina and Toru cry out in unison. Midnight’s mouth quirks into a sad smile and she looks over at the girls. “Sorry, ladies. We have never had a dorm program before, so there is still much to figure out. Obviously we aren’t going to monitor you all 24/7. But we are going to trust that you are all being appropriate in the dorms and respectful of each other. And that means no dating and no physical relationships between students.” You feel your ears burning at those words, you wish you could look over to see Shoto’s reaction. Thankfully, you’re sure that he’s got his typical stoic look plastered on his face.

“Rest assured, there will be plenty of time in your life for dating and exploring your sexuality with consenting partners. But for now – you are all students first. Focus on making this year at UA count. Learn all you can and grow into strong, supple young heroes.”

Recovery Girl chimes in, a sweet smile on her face. “Despite our zero tolerance policy surrounding dating and physical relationships between students, we will be educating you on the finer points of consent, protection and building healthy relationships in our monthly seminars.”

Mr. Aizawa releases his hold on Mineta and drags himself back to the front of the classroom alongside his fellow educators. “Please remember – you are all minors. We want to reinforce that relationships with adults are strictly forbidden. If any adult approaches you inappropriately at an internship, at an agency or in public we implore you to report it to us so we can deal with it and keep you safe. Many people around Japan know who you are due to the televised broadcast of the sport’s festival. I’m not saying this to scare you – but I want you to be aware that your faces are fairly well known and not every fan that approaches you has good intentions.” He rearranges his binding scarf around his shoulders before looking back out at his class.

“Are there any questions?” Mr. Aizawa scans the room with interest. You turn your head to see if anyone is raising their hand. To your surprise, Shoto’s arm is in the air.

“Yes, Todoroki.” Midnight calls on him, pointing at him with her wildly inappropriate tiny leather whip. “What’s your question?”

“I don’t understand.” Shoto says in his typical flat tone. “You’re going to teach us about sex but you don’t want us to have it?”

And just like that, the tension in the room breaks. The entire class is laughing out loud.

“I’m serious.” Shoto says blankly, not understanding the giggles surrounding him. “Shouldn’t we be executing practical examples of the knowledge we’re learning? Isn’t that how our training works?” Shoto’s brow is creased a bit in obvious frustration, but this just makes everyone laugh even harder. Even Bakugo is joining in at this point.

“Why Icy Hot – you tryin’ to get laid!?” Katsuki cackles out, adding to the chaos.

“Quiet.” Mr. Aizawa’s quirk activates, his hair rising up into the air intimidatingly. The laughter fades quickly. The teacher decides to take mercy on Shoto. “We’re going to give you knowledge and background on these subjects so that if you do eventually want to have a physical relationship after graduation, you’ll be able to do it safely.”

“Think of it this way.” Midnight says, putting a finger to her chin as she talks it through. “We’ll be teaching you Sex Ed theory. Later on in life you can use what you’ve learned and practically apply that theory.”

Shoto still seems a little miffed, but finds this answer acceptable.

“Any other questions?” Recovery Girl prompts.

Mina raises her bright pink hand. “Are the other years allowed to date? Or is it just our year?”

“That’s a good question.” Recovery Girl says encouragingly. “As of right now, dating and relationships are off limits for all course levels. However, we have made a few exceptions for members of the senior class who have recently turned 18 and are in good standing with their grades and internships.”

“Isn’t the age of consent in Japan 16?” Kaminari raises his hand but doesn’t wait to be called on. “Most of us here are 16 – why can’t we date?”

“This is what we have decided on as a faculty. You will abide by these rules.” Mr. Aizawa says firmly, causing Kaminari to shrink back into his chair. “Any other questions?”

No one else raises their hand. “Thanks for the time everyone. You all know where to find me!” Recovery Girl waves kindly at everyone as she makes her exit.

Midnight cocks her hip and waves her leather whip around one final time, signaling an end to their awkward discussion. “Thanks for listening, class! I’m excited to take this journey of physical maturation with you all.” And with that, she leaves as well.

Mr. Aizawa looks out at them all, clearly exhausted. He lifts his arm and reveals a small clicker in his hand. He hits the combination of buttons that open up their hero costume closet. “Alright, everyone – get changed and meet at the gym for combat training. It’s going to be a long afternoon.”

-----------------------------------------

Combat training is exhausting as per usual. It’s so intense that you don’t have the headspace to really mull over all that Aizawa, Midnight and Recover Girl have told you. One big question does eat away at your nerves, though – given the class wide dating ban, will Shoto want things between the two of you to end?

During the training class, Shoto doesn’t even glance your way. You ignore him in kind, focusing all your energy on your sparring matches with Tsu and Ochaco. The whole afternoon is intense, your body quickly becoming sore from all the movement. When the bell rings to signal the end of classes, you’re immensely grateful. You troop to the locker room with the other girls and indulge in a long, hot shower.

You have a quick dinner in Class A’s dorm with the rest of your class, scarfing down some leftovers as you complete some homework at one of the many kitchen tables. Shoto sits down next to you with his own meal and textbooks.

He makes a show of setting up his homework – opening his textbooks slowly and laying out all of his pens on the table between the two of you. As he sets out a pencil, he purposefully flicks it so that it rolls into your bowl of soup. You look up at him in surprise and he flashes you a gentle smile, moving his hand to grab the rogue writing implement. He touches his pinkie to yours for a few seconds as he scoops up the pencil. The light touch sends electricity up your arm and you quickly pull it away.

You know that Shoto did it purposefully by the way he smirks at your reaction. You work quietly next to each other for the next hour, studying in parallel. It feels strangely intimate and strange – it’s almost like in studying next to each other, you’re flaunting your secret for all to see. Part of you keeps waiting for Shoto to turn to you and ask to review the day’s earlier Sex Ed discussion, but he keeps his head down in his work.

After an hour or so he packs up his books and gets ready to leave. Before he does so, he glances around to ensure that everyone else is occupied before he reaches towards you and draws a small star in the corner of your notebook page. A moment later, he’s gone – marching back to his dorm room with his stack of books and writing instruments.

You stare down at the tiny star, a smile pulling at your lips. You’re not sure exactly what Shoto intended the star to mean. But you’re sure as hell that if Shoto was breaking off your little hookup arrangement, he wouldn’t take the time to scribble a sweet doodle in the margins of your notebook. Maybe you should just text him and ask what he wants to do – what he thinks? You shake your head to clear it before diving back into your English homework.

-----------------------------------------

A few hours later, you end your evening in Mina’s room.

You and Mina are huddled on the floor around Toru, who is drawing out a battle plan on a small white board.

“Alright.” Toru says, concentrating. “Here’s a list of all the supplies we would need to throw a totally-rad-top-secret-awesome party. And here are all of the variables we will need to figure out in order to pull it off in secret – distracting Mr. Vlad King is going to be our biggest challenge. Ugh, and then there’s Monoma. We’re gonna need to keep him from blowing up our spot again this time.”

Mina grabs the dry erase marker from Toru’s hand and quickly crosses Monoma off of the list. “He won’t be a problem this time around.”

You give Mina a questioning look. She waves you off. “We’ll get to that in a minute. Let’s focus on party supplies first. We will need to pick up soft drinks, chips and snacks. We can ask someone to grab paper goods like cups, plates, napkins, etcetera…ooo we should ask Sato to make some sweets!”

“Do you really think the whole class is going to be up for this? They’re all still way pissed about the curfew rule.” You ask skeptically.

“I’ve started asking around on the down low.” Toru chimes in, drawing some hearts stars in the corners of the white board. “So far everyone is pretty interested. I think the class needs a break to blow off some steam. Our course load has been so crazy lately, it’s been a while since we were last able to have some fun as a group.”

“Who did you ask?” You’re curious.

“Despite some initial hesitance, Ochaco and Tsu are in. They convinced YaMomo to come as well. I think she even said she’d bring some tea or something. Midoriya is all in, too – he’s going to work on getting the class rep to be cool with everything. Shoto and Tokoyami said they’d show up if it happened, but they weren’t too keen on helping with the planning process. Sero and Kirishima said they can help us with any heavy lifting. That’s it so far – I’m going to keep spreading the word tomorrow.” She notes all of the people who have expressed interest down on her white board.

“What about Minetta?” Mina asks, making a clear yuck face. “Like, I know he’s a member of our class. But lately he’s been extra gross.”

“Ugh…yeah we kinda have to invite him, don’t we?” You say, thinking back to a time earlier in the month when Minetta tried to smack your ass in the cafeteria. “He’s the worst.”

You’re distracted when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. It’s Shoto. You turn to read your phone so that the others can’t easily see the screen.

Shoto: Hey Y/N. I have been thinking a lot about the Sex Ed class today. I’m concerned that by continuing together we’re breaking the rules.

Y/N: Yeah, I was thinking the same.

Shoto: To be honest, I don’t really care about the rules. I think we should do it anyway.

You smile and warmth bubbles up your chest.

Y/N: I’m in if you’re in.

Shoto: I'm in 💯.

You set the phone down, trying to ensure you’re not smiling an unnatural amount.

It buzzes a second time. You flip it over, expecting another text from Shoto. Instead, you’re surprised to find a message from Honenuki.

Honenuki: Hey Y/N! Check out this song, it’s been a favorite of mine lately.

You click on the link and it immediately takes you to a YouTube video for an old 1960s song. “Some Kind of Wonderful” by the Drifters. You hastily click pause before the song can buffer and start playing.

Y/N: Can’t wait to check it out!! Here’s one I’ve been listening to.

You shoot back a Spotify link to the latest Sabrina Carpenter song and put your phone back on the ground.

Honenuki: Sweet, I’ll take a listen!

“Oooo who’s texting you, Y/N!?” Toru puts down the white board so you can all get a clear view of it. She reaches for your phone but you snatch it away before she can grab it.

“No one crazy. Just Honenuki from earlier.”

You now have Toru and Mina’s full attention. “Whaaaaat!?” They both cry out, scrambling over each other to get closer to you.

“What did he say!?”

“Did he ask you out?”

“Is he confessing?”

“OMG does he want you to sneak out of our dorm and over to Class B’s so he can make sweet love to you!?”

This last comment from Mina brings you all to silence. And then you break into a fit of giggles.

“No, guys, its not like that! He’s just nice!”

“Ok, ok. We believe you.” Toru waves Mina’s comment off with invisible hands. “And its not like any of us can pursue a fated romance anyway. Not with the new “rules” that have been announced by Mr. Aizawa, Recovery Girl and Miss Midnight earlier today.

Mina rolls her eyes. “Yeah what the hell was that about? It really feels like these extra Sex Ed classes came out of nowhere.”

“Hmmm.” Toru caps her dry erase marker and presses it to her unseen lips. “I wonder if something happened to trigger this response from the teachers. Do you think people in one of the first year classes are actually dating?”

Your stomach drops.

Mina gasps. “Oh my GOD! Do you think someone we know has been having sex!?” She shrieks out, and you and Toru shush her.

“Absolutely not!” Toru flails her arms around for good measure.

“There’s no way.” You say with a shaky laugh. You try to keep your face from flushing. A thought hits you. “And even if people were…doing sexual stuff…how would the teachers know?”

“Maybe someone got caught!” Mina declares, her antennae twitching thoughtfully. “Think about it…maybe a couple was sneaking around in the dorms and one of the teachers caught them banging on campus during a faculty patrol.”

“That would be so scandalous!” Toru yelps.

Your mind is whirring at 100 miles per hour. Did your teachers find out about your little rendezvous with Shoto Todoroki!? The timing seems so suspicious. You try to think back to the past 24 hours – had you left any clues? Had you been too loud? Your mind is in free-fall as you recall the way that Mr. Aizawa had knocked on Shoto’s dorm room door while the two of you were wrapped up in a compromising embrace.

You take a few calming breaths and try to snap yourself out of it. Really…even through Mr. Aizawa had knocked on Shoto’s locked door, how could he have possibly known what you and Shoto were up to on the other side of it? These new school policies had to be totally unrelated and a coincidence. Besides – it wasn’t a crime to be in another classmate’s room. Even if Mr. Aizawa had heard your voice from within Shoto’s dorm, there wasn’t any evidence that you and the youngest Todoroki were up to anything nefarious.

“Ok we are definitely going to investigate this whole situation further.” Mina grabs a hot pink post-it note and sharpie off her desk and returns to the floor. She peels off the top note and writes on it with big block letters: “Who’s Hooking Up At UA?” she sticks the post-it to the wall beside her desk alongside a few other notes listing out projects like “Master Ultimate Move” and “Ace Next Math Test.”

“This has become a mission of utmost importance. The UA tea must be spilled.” She says wisely.

You feign interest and nod in agreement as Toru lets out an affirmative “mhmm!”

At this exact moment, you wonder if you should tell your friends everything about you and Shoto and your steamy hookups. If you tell them now, you’re sure that they will help you figure out if Mr. Aizawa and the staff know that you’ve been intimately engaging with Todoroki. Mina and Toru are absolute masters of gossip and know exactly which strings to pull to get intel. They’re going to make amazing heroes one day, especially Toru with her insane stealth skills.

But no. It feels safer to keep it to yourself. Everything that’s happened – specifically Mr. Aizawa and Endeavor knocking on the door while you’re half naked and moaning in Shoto’s arms – is so totally embarrassing. You can’t bare the thought of explaining the whole situation to your two friends. Would they laugh? What if someone were to overhear? You think to all of the heroes in training with hearing and stealth-based quirks running around the school. Privacy was so hard to come by, it was so easy for it to be compromised. Now the boundaries that Mr. Aizawa had spoken about earlier this morning are stating to make sense to you. You’re all living in such close quarters and respecting each other’s privacy and personal space really should be paramount.

The real question on your mind is this – if you and Shoto continue to smooch in secret, how will you avoid getting caught? The entire student body is likely on high alert, looking for any potential transgressions surrounding the no dating rule.

“I wonder how the other classes are feeling about all these new rules?” You muse.

“We’ll know soon enough.” Mina says, checking her phone. “Actually, we’ll know in 2 minutes.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, nervous at her tone. Toru uncaps her dry erase marker and scribbles down a few more notes on the white board.

There’s an unexpected knock on the door that causes you and Toru to jump.

“The key to all of our plans has arrived.” Mina hops to her feet and scampers across the small dorm room. “Ladies, I present to you our secret weapon.”

She opens the door and reveals the last person you’d expect to be in the Class A dorm – Nieto Monoma.

Monoma stands in the doorway, tall and annoyingly handsome. He’s smiling genuinely and you’re surprised to see him looking so…normal. Typically when he’s within speaking distance of any Class A students he’s a loose cannon.

He smiles down at you and Toru, eyes flickering over to the white board. Toru reflexively moves to cover the plans with her arms, but being invisible it doesn’t do much to deter Monoma’s gaze.

“Hello ladies.” He says in that slippery tone of his. You’ve never seen Nieto in casual wear before. Tonight he’s wearing soft black sweatpants along with a grey band logo crewneck. When he’s acting like a normal human being, his face is actually quite attractive. His long blonde bangs fall gracefully across wide grey eyes in a graceful aristocratic way that reminds you a bit of Shoto. “I heard we’re going to get into some trouble together tonight.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” You turn and glare at Mina, shooting her your best “WTF” expression.

“Mina! We can’t trust him – he ratted us out last time!” Toru says angrily, still unsuccessfully attempting to keep the whiteboard of plans out of site.

Monoma’s face creases into a frown. “Yeah…about that…”

Mina shushes him and beckons him into the small dorm room. She checks to make sure no one is out in the hall before closing the door soundly and turning the lock. She means business.

Monoma joins the three of you on the floor around the white board. In his dark attire, he looks very out of place among Mina’s hot pink room decor. Mina waits for everyone to get situated before speaking.

“Monoma is sorry. He reached out to me last week to formally apologize to us for tattling on our last party.” Mina says, straightforward and to the point. “He wants in on our next big bash.”

“What’s with this sudden change of heart?” You ask skeptically, crossing your arms as you survey Monoma’s face. He looks embarrassed, maybe even guilty as he meets your eyes.

“Well, you see - ” Monoma starts to speak, but Mina cuts him off with a quick wave of her hand.

“Let me do the talking, blondie.” She shuts him up. “Girls, this time around Monoma can’t rat us out – not now that we have leverage.” She grins at you and Toru. “There’s something that Nieto here desperately wants. Something that only the three of us can provide at this time. And in exchange for that thing, Monoma is going to keep Mr. Vlad King out of our hair.”

“He can do that?” Toru says doubtfully.

“He can.” Mina says confidently, turning to the blonde intruder with a grin. “Okay, now you can apologize to them, Monoma.”

The Class B menace shifts uncomfortably on the floor, eyes slightly downcast. “Look, I know it was shitty of me to report you guys last time. I shouldn’t have - ”

“Yes it was shitty! We have a stupid curfew now because of you!” Toru bursts out, clearly pissed that her time is being wasted listening to Monoma.

“I know and I’m sorry!” He actually looks sincere. You wonder what the “leverage” Mina mentioned could be to make him act like a regular human being capable of remorse. “I was jealous of your class and the party and I didn’t think things through before I went to Mr. King. After I told him I…well, I regretted it immediately.” He hangs his head in shame and his regret actually feels sincere. His long blonde bangs cover his eyes and he stares at the ground, waiting for you all to speak.

“We would have invited Class B had we known you were interested. But we were under the, ugh, impression that some of you hated us so we didn’t even think to reach out about the party.” You say, feeling a tiny bit sympathetic at the way Monoma’s head is miserably flopped over. “Honestly we didn’t think our whole plan through last time, which is why it was so easy for the whole thing to fall apart.”

There’s a pause. Toru chimes in “Yeah, we definitely could have thought our plans through more. But your hatred for our class contributed to the disaster.”

“I don’t hate your class.” Monoma says slowly, feeling out his words. “I’m just…jealous of all the attention you guys get from the media and from the teachers. I thought that was pretty obvious. We’ve all worked so hard to get here; I thought that once I got to UA it would be an even playing field. But so often it feels like Class A gets preferential treatment.”

“I can see how you would feel that way.” Toru says stiffly, still unwilling to trust Monoma. “That’s a reasonable feeling. But you could have just tried to get to know us instead of acting like such an asshole all the time! We don’t want Class A to always be in the spotlight the way it is. Surely you see that.”

Monoma sighs. “For the past year I’ve really let my insecurities rule the way I act towards other people. And it’s made me an absolute dick. Look, guys, I’m legitimately sorry and I really want to help you make this party thing work. I’d understand if you don’t trust me and if you don’t want me involved. But please give me a second chance.”

You look at him distrustfully. “You’re saying all the right things, pretty boy. But what I really want to know – what’s this supposed “leverage” that we have over you here? How can we guarantee you’re not trying to lull us into a false sense of security so that you can eventually betray us?”

Mina grins. “Do you want to tell them, Monoma? Or should I?”

Nieto blushes, patches of scarlet bloom on his pale cheeks. “W-well…Mina said she could do something for me. Something I haven’t had the courage to try to do on my own - ”

“Spit it out.” Toru says, clearly reveling in his discomfort. “We don’t have all day.”

“R-right.” Monoma takes a deep breath, trying to regain his usual swagger. “There are two things that I want. The last time I reported your little scheme was because I was jealous I wasn’t invited. So obviously this time around I’d like Class B to be part of the party. And the second thing I’d like – a chance at a kiss.”

“You sound crazy.” You smirk at him. But you glance over at Mina and she nods at him, encouraging him to continue.

“So I figured as a more formal apology I could help you all pull off this party. I can distract Mr. Vlad King and make sure you don’t get caught. And in exchange, you could invite my class and give me a turn at Spin the Bottle.”

This is a lot to digest. You’ve never heard Monoma speak so rationally before, and you still fear it’s some kind of elaborate ruse. Also…he’s interested in your game of Spin the Bottle!? Weird.

“So who do you want to kiss?” Toru asks, a giggle bubbling up. “…Kendo!?”

Monoma looks away, embarrassed.

“Nope, that’s not it.” You say, grinning at Monoma’s obvious embarrassment. “If you don’t tell us, we have no shot at making it happen for you.”

“It’s Hitoshi Shinso.” Mina says knowingly, crossing her arms. “You want us to rig spin the bottle so that you’ll be able to kiss Shinso.”

You and Toru gasp and Monoma’s cheeks get red again. He covers his face with his hands, hiding himself from sight.

“Shinso!?” You and Toru cry out in shock. Monoma looks up at you all, his eyes wide. He’s got that unhinged look that you’ve come to expect from him during training exercises.

“Of course it’s Shinso!” Monoma bursts out – he’s back to his usual self. “He’s a goddamn wonder! He’s the only member of your class that truly deserves the prestige that Class A seems to exude!”

“Dial it back, dude.” Mina admonishes, and Monoma comes back to himself.

“Listen. At this point, you guys have been around me in our joint training sessions enough times to know that I can be…challenging as a classmate and as a friend. Shinso doesn’t treat me like I’m some kind of burden or freak. Over the past semester, he’s become one of my closest friends. He’s kind and thoughtful and brave. Jeez, I have such a massive crush on him, I’m not even sure what to do at this point.”

He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment but continues on. “I overheard you all talking about your crazy ‘spin the bottle’ plan last month and its been stuck in my brain ever since. It would be the perfect way for me to organically be affectionate with Shinso. I don’t have the courage to confess my feelings to him on my own, and I thought that maybe… well maybe if the two of us kissed, then I could finally know how he feels about me. I could see if we’re more than friends.”

“Anyway I really shouldn’t have ratted you out to the teachers, that wasn’t cool. You have my sincere apologies.”

“What’s in it for us, Phantom Thief?” You cross your arms.

“Monoma is going to help keep Mr. Vlad King off of our trail. He and Class B are going to cause a diversion that will keep any teachers away from our party for a few golden hours. And a few members of Class B want to come to the party, of course.”

“How long have you been working through this Mina?” Toru asks in awe.

“Monoma and I started chatting about it after he ruined out last party. I went to confront him about being such an asshole, and he actually apologized immediately.”

“Now how are we going to guarantee a kiss between Shinso and Monoma?” You wonder aloud to your friends.

Mina gives her trademark toothy grin. “Leave that to me.”

You survey him, still untrusting. “We’ll think about it. But first, I want some intel.” He looks up at you curiously – he clearly wasn’t expecting this.

“So what does Class B think about the whole Sex Ed thing and these new rules? Where do you think this is all stemming from? Tell us what you know.”

“Hm.” He smirks at the three of you. “Alright.” Monoma launches into a detailed description of his day. It sounds extremely similar to your own experience - Midnight and Recovery Girl had joined Class B for a similar talk during their morning courses. Class B was just as shocked by the Sex Ed discussions and the new dating rules as Class A. According to Monoma, there are a handful of couples within the class that have been dating for a while. He wonders aloud if maybe the new dating rules are specifically targeted at them.

“People in Class B are hooking up!?” Toru gasps at the tea. “Who!?”

Apparently Shihai Kuroiro and Kinoko Komori have been dating for quite a few months, and Kosei Tsuburaba and Sen Kalibara have some kind of sexual tension situation going on where they might be dating in secret but no one is truly sure. Oh and Setsuna dated Rin for a while, but they broke up and it was a whole dramatic thing. I think she’s started going out with Reiko now.”

You are shocked at the amount of dating drama Monoma is describing amongst Class B’s members. You instantly feel relieved, realizing that the dating ban can’t possible be about you and Shoto. It’s clearly a response to Class B’s previously uninhibited horniness.

“So are they all stopping now that the dating ban has been put into place?” Mina asks, clearly loving all of the intel.

“I think for the most part everyone is just going to continue on with whatever they’re doing. Everyone will just be a little more careful in front of the teachers and staff.” Monoma says thoughtfully. “I’m sure these rules are more about Class B than Class A – I don’t think I’ve heard anything about dating in your class?”

“Nope.” Mina provides helpfully. “No relationships that we know of at least. There’s definitely tension between certain members of our class. And we’re absolutely going to see if we can play on that tension with our Spin the Bottle pairings.”

“Mina, we can’t control who kisses who in Spin the Bottle. That’s the whole point of the game – the unpredictability of it all!” Toru says in shock.

“Oh so you’re saying you don’t want to kiss Ojiro?” Mina smirks at your friend.

“I’m not saying that.” Toru amends. “But there’s no way for us to pull the strings with this game. We’re at the mercy of the bottle!”

“Like I said earlier…leave that to me.” Mina winks.

When he’s acting like a normal person, Monoma isn’t actually all that bad. He’s actually pretty genius when it comes to strategy. Toru passes her white board over to him and he assesses your plan so far.

“What do you think?” Toru asks. Your current plan to distract Mr. Vlad King relies on a series of continuously unhinged prank calls that will divert him to different parts of the campus over the course of two hours. It’s not a great plan, but it’s the best you all have come up with in the past half hour.

“It’s a start, but I have a much better plan.” He reaches out his hand for the dry erase marker. Toru hands it over easily. He uses the palm of his hand to erase out a corner of free space. He draws two squares and marks the “Class A” and “Class B.” He then sketches out another rectangular shape to represent the faculty and staff living quarters. “We’ll need to intercept Mr. King in between the faculty building and the student dorm buildings. I can run up to Mr. King and tell him that I have an urgent issue that I need his help with. I’ll lead him away from the dorm buildings and towards the combat training facilities.”

“What will you tell him?” Mina asks, leaning forward on her elbows.

“I’m going to say that a student from Class A went to do some solo training at night and ended up getting himself into trouble. Then I’ll point him in that direction before returning to the Class B dorms.”

“What student from Class A will be the diversion?” You wonder aloud.

Monoma’s smile sparkles in the light of Mina’s fairy lights. “Minoru Mineta.”

-----------------------------------------

The week goes by faster than you anticipated. You get pulled back into the whirlwind of UA life – classes, tests, training, studying. It’s all so much and sometimes you feel like you can barely breathe. You’re so busy you barely have time to grab a private moment with Shoto.

Late on Wednesday night, you’re lounging in the common area with Mina, Ochaco and Tsu studying for an upcoming English exam. You’re starting to get sleepy when you receive a text:

Shoto: Hey Y/N. Up for a quick study session?

You smile, knowing that he probably means he wants to hookup. You feel pretty prepared for the upcoming test and are caught up on all of your homework…so why not?

Y/N: Absolutely. Meet in my room in 10?

Shoto: See you then.

You make some lame excuse to your friends about needing beauty rest and hustle your way to your bedroom, tossing your book bag on the floor as you make sure everything is clean and tidy. Everything is in its place and your bed is made for once. You breathe a sigh of relief – Shoto is just so put together. It would be a little embarrassing for him to see your room in a messy state.

It’s been a few days since your last tryst with Shoto and between classwork and training those days feel like they’ve passed as months. Your body is exhausted from training but you feel jittery and horny at the thought of all the things Shoto will do to you when he arrives.

A moment later, there’s a knock. You wrench open your door with nervous, bubbling energy. You pull Shoto into your room and lock the door behind him soundly.

“You weren’t followed, right?” You whisper breathlessly as you loop your arms around his neck and move to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“This isn’t a spy movie, Y/N.” He winces as you kiss him, and you grimace as you notice a delicate bruise blooming on the side of his face from a rough training class. You step away to take him in – aside from the slight bruise on his face, he looks relatively unharmed. He’s wearing a pair of navy blue sweatpants paired with a plain grey t-shirt. The short sleeves of the shirt really show off his toned hero-in-training arms. His muscles bulge gently around the stack of books he’s cradling in his arms.

“What are the books for?” You ask curiously.

He looks at you, confused. “I thought we were studying.”

Oh. You face palm. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Shoto is so goddamn literal. You do like that about him – he tends to be mercifully straightforward and his motivations are easy to understand. He’s not cryptic like the other boys in your class - Kaminari who hides his nervousness behind flirtation or Bakugo whose true feelings are constantly masked behind aggression and death threats. No, Shoto is all softness and direct communication. You need to remember that.

“Shoto, I thought you wanted to do another kind of studying.” You waggle your eyebrows and wonder if he’ll catch on to your innuendo. He doesn’t.

“So you don’t want to prepare for the English test on Monday?” He asks, confusion coloring his voice. “I thought I was pretty clear that I wanted to study from the way I texted you.”

You facepalm.

“No, Shoto, I want to make out.” You state plainly.

“Oh. Oh!” Shoto tosses his books to the ground and grabs you by the waist, wrapping his arms around you as he dips to briefly connect your lips. He breaks the kiss and looks down at you, smiling softly. “We can make out.”

You roll your eyes playfully and reach up to cup his lovely face. “We can definitely study together later though.” You lean in and touch his lips with your own. He groans into your mouth, eager.

“I was looking for an excuse to hangout with you.” He admits in between kisses. “This is really nice, but I like spending time with you outside of physical intimacy. You know that, right?”

You smile into his lips. “I like that you’re so straightforward Shoto. But now I feel bad – do you want to actually study? I don’t want you to get a bad grade because of me.”

“No, I don’t really care about studying anymore.” He tightens his grip on your hips and turns you so that your back is against the door. He moves to kiss across your jawline, down your neck. His hands drift up to the hem of your shirt and he moves to pull it easily over your head.

“Holy fuck.” You breathe out as he presses you back into the solid wood door. His movements are gentle, but firm as he keeps you in place. He kisses down the expanse of your clavicle, letting his tongue roam smoothly across the tops of your breasts. He shifts to get down on his knees so that he can move his mouth across your stomach, kissing and licking the exposed skin there. He stops for a moment to take his phone out of his pocket and lay it on your desk before diving back into spreading kisses across your skin. Wherever his lips touch, he leaves a trail of goose bumps in his wake. He reaches up, up, up with his fingers so that he can wander the stretch of your bra–clad tits. He takes his time, smoothing fingertips over the cotton cups of your bra until he finds the places where your nipples lay underneath. He pinches lightly on the fabric and it’s enough to make you moan.

“Shh.” He whispers against your stomach, quieting you. It feels incredible, to have your body worshiped this way by Shoto. Each of his movements is so purposeful, so tender. You never want it to end.

“You promise you’re not going to fail English class due to my seductiony ways?” You ask weakly as he continues to kiss towards your belly button. Shoto laughs softly, a happy sound.

“I swear that pleasuring you isn’t going to ruin my grades. At least not yet. Can I take off your bra?” He asks quietly, bright eyes gazing up at you questioningly.

“Um, duh. Yeah you can take it off.” You say, wanting him to keep going. This pulls a grin out of Shoto’s typically serious face. The small bruise on his cheek crinkles along his smile lines. His hands slide up your body and around to your back. He fiddles with the clip to your bra for a few moments before managing to undo the clasp. He slides the straps down your shoulders, and slowly pulls the cotton fabric away from your body to reveal your perky breasts. The room is chillier than you thought, and your nipples harden as they are exposed to the crisp air conditioning. Shoto looks up at you with a look of awe.

“Incredible.” He breathes, before leaning up to take a nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around your pert bud, eliciting another moan from your sweet mouth. He doesn’t bother to shush you this time, instead moving to knead at your other breast with his sure fingers while he uses his lips to suck on your nipple. He continues this for a while – using his mouth on both of your breasts and ensuring each gets equal attention. You bite your lip and try to keep quiet, running your fingers through his two toned hair and nodding encouragingly when he does something you like.

By the time he gets to his feet so he can kiss you on the mouth once more, you’re absolutely soaking wet. There’s a spark between your legs that you’re having a hard time ignoring. You need him in the absolute worst way.

“Sit in my desk chair.” You whine, pushing lightly at his chest so you can get away from the door.

“Hmm?” He says, clearly not listening. His eyes are hazy with desire as he looks at you.

“The chair.” You point. “Sit down.” He doesn’t ask any questions or argue, he walks over to the chair and takes a seat.

“Thank God.” You say as you walk over to him, tossing a leg over his lap so you can straddle him. You brace your hands on either side of Shoto, gripping the back of the chair as you make yourself comfortable. You lean down and capture his lips in a scorching kiss as you sit down, cowgirl style, on his lap. He’s so deliciously hard beneath you, and you’re thankfully both wearing sweatpants so the friction between you is buttery and smooth as you find the perfect angle to grind your pussy against him.

“Y’N.” Shoto groans out in surprise, there’s no way he could have anticipated this. He literally thought you two were going to study tonight. You grin and move your hips fluidly, grinding against his fat cock again. You’d do anything to satisfy the need that’s building up in your core.

“Shoto…Shoto put your hands on my - ” You don’t even need to finish your sentence, Shoto hears you loud and clear. He reaches for your breasts and plays with your nipples as you dry hump him on your desk chair.

“Ah! Yes!” You manage to say between gritted teeth. “Shoto, I think I’m gonna…”

He presses his lips to your own, essentially shutting you up as you bounce on his lap, grinding your way to an orgasm. He slides his hands down to your hips and helps guide your movements, shifting a bit beneath you. The new position presses the tip of his hard cock against your clit the next time your hips roll. Its wonderful and delightful and just the thing that pushes you over the edge. The orgasm hits you in a wave and you break away from Shoto’s lips so you can gasp in pleasure as you ride it out. Shoto is smiling at you, so open and genuine. He’s enjoying watching you get off – it shows on his face and in the way his cock twitches against you beneath a few layers of clothing.

When you finally come down from your high, you pull him into a hug and slump against his shoulder.

“Fuuuuck, Shoto.” You whisper, your breath slowing down. “That felt so good.” He brings his hand up slowly and traces an icy finger down your sweaty back. You feel your muscles relax beneath his touch.

“You’re incredible, Y/N. Thank you for that.” He says, voice tinged with something akin to awe.

You stifle a laugh. “You’re thanking me for cumming?”

“Thank you for being comfortable enough with me to do that. It means a lot.”

“Shoto, you are literally the sweetest.” You press a kiss to his soft cheek before slowly removing yourself from his lap. “Dang, between this morning’s practice and what we did just now…I am sore.” You find your shirt on the floor and throw it back on over your bare chest. You scoop up your bra from the floor and toss it in the hamper.

“Maybe I can help.” Shoto stands up from the chair and strolls over to your bed, hoisting himself up onto the tall mattress before beckoning you to join him.

“You’ve already helped me so much tonight.” You say, fluttering your lashes up at him until he blushes.

“Just get up here.” He pulls you up onto the mattress and into his lap so that your back is against his chest. You can feel he’s still a bit hard beneath your butt, but he seems to be ignoring his boner in favor of taking care of you. A true gentleman – Kirishima would be impressed.

“Where are you sore?” He asks, resting a hand on your waist.

“My lower back.” You point to the spot. Shoto lifts up your shirt and covers the sore muscles with his strong left hand. He spreads his fingers wide, covering as much surface area as possible before activating his quirk. His left hand slowly warms up like a hot compress. You feel his palm grow steadily warmer and you feel instant relief flood through your back, making you sleepy and comfortable.

“Shoto, this is heaven.” You praise, leaning your head back against his chest and letting your eyelids drop. He kisses the top of your head.

“Good. I just want to make you feel good Y/N.” He lets you relax into his hand and doze for a bit. You’re comfortable and happy and feeling very cared for. The silence is comfortable, but after a few minutes Shoto starts to hum an old 90s song and the rhythm of it lulls you into a true sleep.

An annoying buzzing sound wakes you. Over on your desk, your phone is buzzing and blinking incessantly – someone is trying really hard to get ahold of you. You ignore it, trying to focus all of your attention on the way that Shoto’s right hand is carding through your hair.

“Mmm.” You hum with pleasure as he drags delicate fingertips through your scalp. Your phone continues to buzz. You’re annoyed and can’t enjoy yourself properly. You reach out and stop Shoto’s hand before it can go any further. “I should really check that.”

You get to your feet and adjust your sweatpants, secretly cursing whoever is trying to get ahold of you. You open up your phone and the screen reads “Mina Ashido: 4 missed calls.” Huh? You quickly hit redial. The phone barely rings once before Mina is squealing into the phone.

“Mr. Aizawa is doing a curfew checks! Make sure you’re in your room!” She all but shouts into the phone.

“What!?”

“It’s only 10:05 and he gave Toru and I detention for being out in the common area past curfew! He said he’s doing bed checks and knocking on doors next. Are you in your room!?”

“OMG!” You hang up on Mina and frantically wave your arms at Shoto.

“Aizawa is doing bed checks! You need to get to your room now!”

Shoto’s eyes widen and he quickly scoops up his English books from the floor. You push him towards the exit in a panic. You wrench the door open and quickly look up and down the hallway – it’s mercifully empty. Mr. Aizawa clearly hasn’t gotten to this floor yet.

“Okay, it’s all clear – go, go, go!” You push Shoto from the room bodily, his eyes still large and overwhelmed as he goes.

“But wait, I didn’t get to kiss you goodbye - ”

“This is life or death Shoto! Get out of here!” You push him in the direction of the staircase and quickly shut your door behind him. You hear his footsteps recede down the hallway and breathe a sigh of relief.

You call Mina back in a hurry. “Hey, sorry I hung up! I was out in the hall and had to make a beeline to my room before Aizawa made an appearance. He hasn’t been up to my dorm yet.”

“Thank goodness I got ahold of you before you got caught after hours! Lucky timing.” Mina sighs. “Now Toru and I need to spend tomorrow evening cleaning the classroom since we ‘broke curfew.’ This is bogus!”

“Wait that sucks.” You look in your mirror and fix your static hair as you chat. Suddenly, you have an idea. “I can come and help you, though. We can discuss our master plan while we clean!”

Mina laughs. “That would make it more fun! You’re such a good friend Y/N. I can always trust you to make things a little brighter.” You feel a knot form in your stomach at these words – Mina still has no idea about you and Todoroki. The magnitude of this secret weighs heavily in your heart. You bite your lip with anxiety. Should you tell her? She majorly saved your butt with that warning call…

“You too, Mina. You’re the best.” You say. You can’t seem to find the words to explain your Shoto situation to her, so you opt not to tell her. Your stomach continues to turn over in guilty knots. You hear hard footsteps coming up the hall, followed by the sound of distant knocking. “Oh my goodness I think Mr. Aizawa just made it to this floor. I’d better go.”

“Bye, girl! Text me!” Mina hangs up, leaving you to finish adjusting your appearance in the mirror. You make yourself presentable, pulling your hair up into a clean ponytail and adjusting your clothes to look less rumpled. A moment later, there’s a hard knock on the door.

You take a deep breath to center yourself and try not to look super ultra guilty when you open the door. Your teacher stands looming in the doorway, his hero costume looking a bit worse for wear. He must have just come back from patrol. He looks world weary and exhausted, the deep shadows under his eyes look worse than usual. His eyes are bloodshot – a typical side effect of his quirk.

“Oh, hi Mr. Aizawa. Is everything alright?” You ask brightly.

He glares down at you, but not unkindly. With his reddened eyes, he just tends to glare.

“Just doing a random check to make sure everyone’s sticking to curfew.” He says, voice gravely. “I’m surprised you weren’t in the common room with Ashido and Hagakure, you’re usually inseparable.”

You blink nervously at this – is he onto you or are you just being paranoid?

“Yeah I wanted to get some quiet reading done tonight. And you know how they are…definitely not quiet.” That’s the dumbest thing you’ve said all day, but for some reason Aizawa buys it.

“Yeah you kids are definitely one of the rowdier classes I’ve had over the years.” His sour look softens into an almost-smile. “Please go to bed at a reasonable time – we have a lot of training this week.”

“Will do!” You chirp out – you can’t believe you’re actually getting away from this situation unscathed.

He moves on to the next room and mutters quietly, almost to himself - “I caught Todoroki out of his dorm, too. We’re going to need to review the definition of “curfew” in homeroom class tomorrow.” He gives you a vague wave and you shut the door quickly, breathless. So Shoto didn’t make it to his room – from the sound of it, he ran right into Aizawa on the stairs.

You reach for your phone to text Shoto about the situation, typing out a quick “You got caught!?” accompanied by some shocked emoji faces. You hit send, and are surprised when you hear a buzzing noise coming from the direction of your bed – in his haste to escape your room, Shoto left his phone on your pillow.

“Aw, crap.” You scoop up the phone in its plain grey case and see your own text flash against the screen. You place it on your nightstand and resolve to discreetly give it to Shoto before class the next morning. Poor Shoto – caught for breaking curfew. You feel bad knowing that you’re the reason he likely has detention with Toru and Mina.

You get ready for bed - pulling on your comfiest pajamas and smoothing moisturizer across the planes of your face. You’re exhausted and still basking in the afterglow of your little hookup with Shoto. It would be so nice if he were here with you right now to cuddle. You wish you could run your fingers through his soft hair and watch him fall asleep in your arms again. Despite his absolute insane skills in combat training, Shoto is such a sweet quiet soul. You want to praise him for his sweetness, and help him realize that there are so many wonderful pieces of him aside from his powerful quirk.

You settle into bed and get comfy amongst your plushies, settling in for a good night’s rest. Your alarm is already scheduled for the next morning, but you double check that it’s set anyway. You take a moment to scroll through Instagram and are startled when Shoto’s phone starts to buzz on your night table. You scoop it up out of habit and read the screen. It’s a text from YaMomo.

Momo: “Hey Shoto, you left your sweatshirt in my dorm room yesterday evening. Come pick it up tomorrow? Good night.”

Um…WTF!?

End of Chapter.

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Previous Chapter: Part 3 | Next Chapter: Part 5

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Author's Note:

OMG wowwww I have been working on this update for a while! I have been writing Part 4 + 5 simultaneously, so you won't need to wait that long for the next update to drop! Part 5 is going to be *even more steamy.* In the next part, our character and her friends throw a big party and the class participates in a high stakes game of ~spin the bottle.~ I think you're all going to really enjoy it (and all of the ensuing drama, ofc!).

Thanks so much for reading and for your continued support on this + other stories! I hope that this was worth the wait. ☺️ Feel free to check out my other spicy works on The Master List pinned to the top of my blog!

❄️🔥THE EXCLUSIVE ICYTHOT TAG LIST🔥❄️

Oh and YEAH!! I started a tag list - if you’re interested in being on my tag list for Shoto's First Kiss chapters, please let me know! This tag list will hence forth be known as the "IcyThots" (get it...like IcyHot but instead we are all Thots for Shoto!? Heehehehe). If you commented enthusiastically on the past chapters I added you to the tag list - let me know if you want to be removed and I will absolutely take you off! I'm still new to this whole thing, so appreciate your patience!

XoXo, Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

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