#and i started thinking of all the reasons i always felt i had to seek joy and whimsy in my life no matter what | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

derekhighwaytf · 20 days ago

Text

Witches and Twinks

MONDAY

The small London restaurant’s dim light flickered against the wine glasses, casting soft Merlot shadows onto George and Adam’s lips, noses, the entirety of their smug, helpless faces. This should have been the perfect pairing. They were both intellects, with high senses of self and a love for information (ie. control), and though they’d talked for nearly an hour at this point, the conversation felt more like a fencing match than the start of a beautiful new friendship—each word a parry, each retort a thrust. Adam, dressed in his sweater and khakis, leaned back in his chair with a faint smile, his tone sharp but measured for every measure George tried to fling upon him.

“As much as people romanticize magic or ‘karma,’ it’s all just bullish storytelling,” Adam said, swirling the last of his drink. “Yes, Shakespeare and Marlowe write about it, but even they understood that human intellect, not divine intervention, drives our fate. Julius Caesar—perfect example. ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.’ The real power lies in reason and intellect.”

George, dressed more casually in his loose-fitting green shirt, met Adam’s judgey gaze with a bewitchingly bemused smile. “Shakespeare also believed in the supernatural,” he countered. “The witches in Macbeth didn’t rely on logic to mess with the characters. Magic, fate, karma—call it what you may, but it holds an inexplicable force over more than just imagination. You’d be surprised how much control you don’t have.”

Adam chuckled, leaning forward slightly, his confidence more than bordering on just arrogance. “Macbeth? The witches merely represent internal fears and ambition every man or woman has in themselves. You can interpret them as mystical, inexplicable forces if you must, but at the end of the day, it’s Lady Macbeth’s persuasion and greed that destroy her husband. Shakespeare knew that intellect was the ultimate weapon. Magic? That’s just an excuse for weak minds like yourself who can’t handle the complexity of the human condition.”

George’s smile twitched as if he found the power not to turn Adam into the jackass he’d been acting like right then and there. “You academics, always trying to boil everything down to logic. I think you’re missing the point of the supernatural entirely. It’s not always about intellect. There are forces beyond understanding, beyond your understanding,—forces that aren’t impressed by your degrees or how many times you’ve read Troilus and Cressida.”

“An underrated work, if I say so myself.” Adam’s smirk deepened. “And yes, the mysterious ‘forces beyond understanding.’ Tell me, how do they rank next to a Ph.D. in Shakespeare? I’d be curious to know.”

George tilted his head and took a swig of his drink, his gaze softening in a way that made Adam’s need to seek scholarly validation seem hollow. “You think Shakespeare would’ve agreed with you?”

“I know he would’ve,” Adam replied, superiority painting his tone. “The entire premise of his greatest works is that humanity’s biggest downfall is ignorance, not the supernatural. He’d side with intellect.”

“Or maybe he’d side with me.” George leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “You don’t think Shakespeare had a little magic in him? Maybe even enough to change a man forever?”

Adam’s smile faltered slightly, a small crack in his polished confidence. “What are you getting at?”

George’s just giggled, something dark and knowing flashing behind them. “I’m saying that not everything in this world is logical, Adam. You’re sitting here, lecturing me about Shakespeare, as if your intellect puts you above magic or fate. But I could change your entire world with just a flick of my hand, and all that book knowledge would evaporate into thin air.”

Adam’s gulped, unsure whether to get up and run or call the waiter. “Magic doesn’t exist,” he scoffed. “This isn’t some fantasy. It’s reality. You want to impress me? Show me something real.”

Without hesitation, George raised his hand, a scarred palm outstretched, and without breaking eye contact, he waved it through the suddenly thickened air with an inexplicable grace. The motion was so sudden, almost imperceptible, but Adam’s reaction was immediate. His breath hitched, his confident posture writhing and wilting as his widened eyes fluttered in confusion. The polished veneer of intellectual superiority melted away as something unfamiliar and overpowering gripped him.

Suddenly, Adam found himself folded over the table, unable to look away from George. The irritation he’d felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a deep, floundering passion—something that made his heart race and his chest tighten. His thoughts scrambled, no longer sharp and clear but clouded, fogged by an overwhelming sense of need.

“I…” Adam stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t understand… what were we—?”

George shushed him, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “You’re not supposed to understand, love. That’s the point.”

Adam’s breath grew shallow, his pulse quickening as his gaze locked onto George, unable to break away. His mind, usually so sharp and critical, was a jumbled mess of scrambled eggs. Everything he knew, everything he prided himself on, suddenly felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered now was George—his voice, his presence, his timeless beauty. George was Adam’s everything now.

“You’re…” Adam’s words trailed off as his hand reached across the table, trembling. “You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met.” He swallowed his own tongue, choking on his own breath. “Will you marry me?”

George’s smile widened, a quiet, knowing victory in his eyes. He leaned back, looking under the table, watching as Adam’s brain couldn’t catch up to his…heart.

“And just like that,” George whispered, “all your intellect can’t stop what you feel now, can it?”

Adam blinked, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and something else, something deeper. “No… I… I can’t stop it.” He swallowed hard, his voice small, vulnerable. “I don’t want to.”

George’s eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Good,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “Now, why don’t we talk about something that really matters back at your place?”

Every part of his intellectual, collected self knew better than to let this menace into his home, but all Adam could do was nod at his newfound love’s commands. And how bad could it be? All’s well that ends well, right?

Adam fumbled with the keys to his flat, his hands trembling with an erotic urgency he’d never known before. A man of his knowledge and tact would never sleep with a man so quickly, but alas, his once methodical mind, the same one that could cite King Lear on a whim, now reeled only with thoughts of George on his bed—George's lustful eyes, George’s sweet cock, George's very presence seemed to fill every emotional crevice of his being. His usual restraint, his prudent superiority, was gone, replaced by a consuming need to be filled by this cunning, enchanting strange.

They stumbled inside, the door locking shut behind them. “I’ve never…” Adam’s voice cracked, and he shook his head, words failing him. “I don’t know why, but I want you, I need you. Now.”

George’s lips curled into a soft smile, almost pitying. “Not yet, love. You’re tired.”

“No, I—” Adam’s horny existence began to protest, but before he could finish, George raised his hand and with a single flick of the wrist, Adam’s body crashed into a wave of heavy and irresistible drowsiness. His knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward onto his bed, the fatigue wrapping itself around him like a thick, suffocating blanket. His eyelids fluttered as the last bit of resistance left him, and in moments, he was fast asleep, still in the preppy clothes that once defined him.

George stepped forward, his eyes brooding as he stood over Adam's sleeping form. His fingers trailed lightly over Adam’s temple, tracing the outline of his brow. “You’ll thank me for this one day,” George murmured, though he knew Adam couldn’t hear.

With that, George’s expression shifted from amusement to something far more dangerous. He moved to the center of the room, kneeling over, and began reciting words in Old English, his voice low and rhythmic, like a conjurer summoning something deep and ancient.

“This man doth dress in shorts of scanty seam,

But two inches, nay more, could his cloth bear.

All trousers, all pants, dare try to redeem,

Will twist and turn, yet still they'll shorten there.”

As the words slipped out from George’s lips, the change began. Adam’s legs, still clad in his conservative khakis, twitched. The fabric shimmered like glitter, rippling unnaturally, as though it had come alive beneath him. Slowly, the pant legs began to pull and pull, retracting themselves upward inch by inch. The sturdy material warped and shrank, tightening suddenly as it rose. In moments, the khakis had transformed entirely into a pair of short, nay, outrageously short gym shorts—barely two inches of inseam, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

The fabric clung to Adam’s shivering thighs, exposing pale skin that had seemingly never seen the light of day. His knees, his nonexistent calves, everything that had been carefully covered up was now on display, with the hem of the shorts barely reaching the tops of his legs. He lay there, still sleeping, completely oblivious to the transformation.

George’s eyes gleamed as he watched his imagination solidify into reality, their bright, synthetic fabric snug against Adam’s skin. “Much better,” he whispered, stepping closer. But alas, he wasn’t done just yet.

“In tanks of muscled shape, his chest laid bare,

Neckline to navel, each nipple shall show.

Armholes so deep, their movement none can spare,

In every stride, his shirt reveals more woe.”

Another shift rippled through Adam’s sleeping body, this time around his torso. The sweater he’d been wearing—the very picture of propriety—began to distort itself, the fibers unraveling at his collar. The neckline dipped lower, and lower, and lower still, until it stopped just above his flat belly button. The sleeves, too, warped, pulling up and away from his twig-like arms until they were nothing but gaping holes that left his ribcage completely exposed. The fabric thinned as the sleeves disappeared, leaving him in a muscle tank so revealing that his nipples couldn’t help but to peek through with every slight motion.

The soft knit of his sweater had become a thin, athletic material, stretched across his chest and shoulders, barely covering anything. His once modest outfit was now reduced to something shamelessly provocative, his entire upper body on display, his pasty white skin brushing against the air with every breath.

George admired his work, his fingers drumming lightly against his thigh as he took in Adam’s new look. “Perfect,” he murmured. And yet, there was still more to be done.

“In high shoe laced, his socks pulled crisp and white,

A chain of gold doth glisten 'round his neck,

Beneath it all, a jock to fit him tight,

No other cloth for him shall fate select.”

Once again, for the final time tonight, the changes swept through Adam’s cold, lifeless body, this time starting at his feet. His Sperry boat shoes dissolved, giving way to a pair of bright white Nike hi-tops, their thick laces tied into the most perfect bows for the treadmill. The socks that appeared around his ankles pulled up snugly, reaching mid-calf, their crisp whiteness almost blending to the cream of his skin.

Next, the thinnest, most douchiest gold chain materialized itself around his bony neck, resting just above his exposed collarbone. The delicate glint of the necklace caught the light, its subtle flash at odds with the rest of his now athletic ensemble. Finally, the transformation moved beneath his shorts. His boxers melted away, replaced by a tight-fitting jockstrap that cupped him in place, offering minimal coverage and the most maximum exposure, almost as if he were a twink stripper on the Miami shore instead of the next youngest professor at Yale.

George stepped back, admiring his handiwork. Adam, once a picture of scholarly decorum, now lay before him clad in nothing but slutty gym shorts, a muscle tank that exposed far more than Adam would ever desire, hi-top sneakers, a thin gold chain, and the most illuminating jockstrap. It was absurd, provocative—and exactly as George had imagined.

For the final touch, George recited the couplet, his voice soft but firm:

“Forever cursed, his garments shall remain,

In shorts, in tanks, he'll live his life in vain.”

With those words, the spell was sealed. No matter what Adam touched, no matter how hard he tried, every article of clothing would morph into this same, revealing outfit. George smiled, satisfied, and took a seat in the armchair across from Adam. He watched him for a moment, sleeping so peacefully despite the irreversible change that had just taken place.

But as the night crept on, George allowed himself to sleep too, a smirk still resting on his lips as he lied next to his creation. Tomorrow, when Adam awoke and his spell of infatuation wore off, George knew that’s when the real fun would begin.

TUESDAY

“AHHHH!” Adam woke up, his heart racing as the morning light shone onto his hungover face. His body felt strange, but his mind was far more disturbed. The events of the previous night seemed fragmented, cloudy—George, the strange pull, the overwhelming desire, none of it made sense. He sat up in his sheets, his eyes darting around the room, his chest heaving.

He looked beside himself and dear God, there he was. George was still asleep, draped casually across the sheets, his face peaceful in the way that seemed entirely at odds with the havoc he’d wreaked. Adam’s stomach turned. I slept with him, Adam thought, his mind spinning like a top. He clenched his fists in the sheets, his face flushed with shame. How had he let this happen? His mind, so methodical and proud, had completely failed him and allowed him to degrade himself for some vampiric twink.

Panic gripped him as he stood from the bed, only to stop mid-step when he realized a breeze he’d never felt before. His legs were bare, his thighs on full display. It was then that he noticed his reflection in the mirror across the room. His mouth fell open in shock. Gone were his conservative khakis and sweater. In their place, he wore nothing but a pair of impossibly short gym shorts, a muscle tank that exposed his chest and nipples, white socks pulled up to his calves, and, what on earth, a jockstrap? He looked at himself again and thought he looked like a child dressing up in his musclehead uncle’s clothes.

He quickly shuffled to his dresser, desperate to change out of this ridiculous, humiliating outfit before George woke up. He rifled through his drawers and pulled out a pair of khakis and a button-down shirt, but as soon as his fingers touched them, they shimmered and twisted, morphing into the same slutty gym shorts and revealing muscle tank that now clung to his body. Adam's eyes widened in horror. He threw the clothes aside and reached for another pair, only for the same thing to happen. Every single item he touched—his jeans, his sweaters, even a pair of pajamas—all transformed into the same jock-bro ensemble.

“What the fuck?” Adam muttered under his breath, the frustration building. His heart pounded as he rifled through his now everchanging closet, grabbing hangers and tossing clothes aside in a frantic attempt to find something—anything—that wouldn’t transform. But everything he touched met the same fate, shrinking and twisting into the cursed, douchebag outfit.

Behind him, he heard a soft laugh.

George finally awoke, sitting up in bed, arms crossed, a lazy smirk plastered on his face. “Having trouble love?”

Adam spun around, his face flushed with fury. “What the hell is this?” He gestured to his outfit, his voice rising. “What did you do to me?”

George laughed again, softer this time, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What’s wrong? What happened to the complexity of the human consciousness or whatever bullshit you were spewing last night?”

“Magic?!” Adam’s voice cracked with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “Is that what you’re blaming this on? You can’t be serious!”

“Oh, but I am, love.” George stood, casually pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Oh, come on. Don’t you like your new look? I think it suits you.” He took a step closer, his smirk growing wider. “And honestly, after all that big talk, I would’ve thought you’d handle a little transformation with more grace.”

Adam clenched his fists, his voice shaking with rage. “This isn’t funny, George! Somehow you’ve made me look like some jock-bro idiot. What the hell am I supposed to do like this? Just tell me what you did!”

But George’s expression darkened. “You still don’t get it, do you?” His voice dropped, the playful tone gone. “You can’t just insult me, mock what I believe, and expect no consequences.” He took another step forward, his brooding eyes locking with Adam’s. “You wanted to prove your intellect was above everything—above magic, above fate. But you’ve proven nothing except how small your mind really is.”

“Small?!” Adam barked. “The only thing small here is you, you psychopathic, egotistical—”

But before Adam could finish, George’s pupils flashed with anger. He raised his hand, the air around him seeming to hum with energy. “Careful what you say next,” George warned. “Or you might not like what comes next.”

Adam’s lips parted, the insult on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitated. His pride warred with his common sense, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You’re nothing but a dumb fucking slut."

Suddenly, quiet filled the room as the words escaped Adam’s quivering lip, but once he got himself collected, George’s voice rang out in outrage, calm, yet oh-so commanding.

“This man shall bear a curse of feet most foul,

With stench of sweat, his socks shall rot and tear.

His pits shall reek, his skin a pungent scowl,

Athlete’s rot shall mar each inch laid bare.”

Adam barely had time to register what George had said before a horrifying sensation crept up from his feet. He looked down, his newly acquired hi-tops feeling unnaturally damp. His socks, once crisp and white, were now soaked with sweat and dirt, clinging to his wretched skin. He wrinkled his nose at the sudden, overwhelming odor that wafted up from his shoes. It was rancid—like rotting toe cheese mixed with mildew and and an ocean’s worth of sweat. His feet itched uncontrollably, the skin burning as if something was crawling beneath it.

At the same time, his armpits began to burn and sting. He reached up instinctively, only to pull his hand back in disgust. His armpits were slick with a salty wetness, and the stench hit him like a punch to the gut—thick, sour, and overwhelming. It was as if he hadn’t showered in weeks, months even. His face flushed with embarrassment as the realization set in: his body reeked. His feet, his armpits—every part of him was drenched in sweat and stench, a walking cloud of filth.

“What the—?” Adam staggered back, staring at George in disbelief. “What did you—?”

But George wasn’t finished. He raised his hand again, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.

“This man shall itch where modesty once laid,

His bush shall grow, his groin a scratching hell.

He’ll fight in vain to stop his hands’ parade,

As arse and crotch demand his touch as well.”

And just like that, a sharp itch exploded itself across Adam’s groin, so intense that he doubled over in shock. His fingers flew to his waistband, instinctively trying to scratch the burning sensation beneath his jockstrap. The itch was so unbearable, spreading across his groin and into his backside, radiating like fire near his hole. No matter how hard he tried to resist, his hands were drawn to the sensation, scratching furiously, desperate for relief.

But there was none. The more he scratched, the worse it got. His fingers dug into the fabric of his shorts, and soon, he was practically clawing at himself, unable to stop. His face flushed red with embarrassment. The itch was maddening, and it didn’t care about decorum or propriety. Weak, he was scratching himself in front of George, his hands running over his crotch and ass, completely helpless against the overwhelming need for relief.

“Stop this,” Adam gasped, his voice shaking as he continued to scratch. “Please, stop.”

But George only smirked, his voice calm as he began the next quatrain.

“Each hour, his body shall release its gas,

With burps and farts to shake the very air.

No matter where he goes, no lad or lass

Will dare endure the odors he’ll declare.”

Before Adam could breath in, his stomach rumbled violently. His eyes widened in horror as his body took over, an enormous belch ripping from his throat, so loud it echoed through the tiny studio. A second later, a foul-smelling fart exploded from him like a cloud, the stink so pungent it nearly knocked him back.

“No—” Adam gasped, but his body betrayed him again. Another belch, followed by another fart and another burp, and yet another fart. The stench filled the room, thick and nauseating. His face turned crimson as he stumbled back, his hands flying to his mouth as if he could stop the sounds from escaping, but it was no use. Every few seconds, another belch, another fart, the air around him quickly becoming unbreathable.

George watched, amused, as Adam staggered, his eyes wide with humiliation. He raised his hand one last time, his voice soft and final.

“This man of filth, of shame, of rank decay,

Shall live apart from grace, in filth to stay.”

With that, George turned toward the door, leaving Adam in the haze of his own stench, his body a twisted caricature of everything he once prided himself on. The smell of his own filth lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive, but it was the itching, the relentless belching, and the horrible farts that kept him anchored to the spot. His whole body was a battlefield of sensations he couldn’t control. His intellect, once his greatest weapon, felt utterly useless now.

He staggered toward the bathroom, desperate to scrub away the grime of his new persona. He turned on the shower, hoping the water would wash away the stench and the shame. But as soon as the water hit his body, it did nothing. The sweat, the reek from his armpits and feet, even the itch in his groin—it was all still there, clinging to him like a second skin.

After multiple futile attempts, he stared at his reflection in the fogged mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed from scratching and embarrassment. His once carefully maintained hair was now matted with sweat, and his body, encased in the ridiculous bro-ey outfit, made him look more like a lazy frat boy than a Ph.D. candidate.

Adam threw on a hoodie, hoping it might cover up some of the smell, and pulled the hood over his head, trying to obscure himself. He couldn’t just stay home. He had a meeting with his professor that afternoon—he had to go. He had to maintain some semblance of normalcy, even though nothing about this felt normal.

As he left the apartment, he became acutely aware of the looks he was getting from people on the street. Some wrinkled their noses, others shot him a glance before quickly looking away. His footsteps echoed in his ears, punctuated by the sound of another loud fart escaping him, followed by a huge, gut-shaking belch. The smell followed him like a shadow, and the itch in his groin was impossible to ignore. He scratched absentmindedly, wincing as he did, but the relief only lasted a second before the itch came back with renewed intensity.

The closer he got to campus, the more nervous he became. His body wouldn’t stop betraying him—every few steps, another belch, another fart, another desperate scratch of his groin and butt. He could feel the sweat pooling beneath his shirt, the odor rising with it. He pulled his hood tighter over his head, hoping to disappear into himself, but nothing could hide what was happening to him.

By the time he reached his professor’s office, he was a mess of nerves. He stood outside the door, trying to compose himself. You can do this, he thought, even as his body itched and groaned in protest. But the second he stepped inside, the look on his professor’s face told him everything.

“Adam,” Professor Wilson said, his voice hesitant as he looked up from his desk. His nose wrinkled almost immediately, and Adam saw him discreetly glance toward the window as if considering opening it for fresh air. “Are… are you feeling alright?”

Adam swallowed hard. “I—I’m fine,” he lied, but even as the words left his mouth, another loud belch erupted from his throat, followed by the unmistakable sound of another fart. The air around him was thick with the stench, and he could see the professor’s face go pale with disgust.

Professor Wilson stood abruptly. “Perhaps we should reschedule,” he said, clearly trying to hold back his revulsion. “It seems like you’re not… in the best condition today.”

“I can explain—” Adam started, but even as he spoke, his hands betrayed him again, scratching furiously at his groin and rear, the itch unbearable. He tried to stop, tried to keep himself composed, but his body had other ideas. Another belch, another fart, each more embarrassing than the last. The smell in the room was unbearable, and Professor Wilson’s eyes were wide with a mix of pity and horror.

“Adam, I think it’s best if you go home and take care of… whatever this is,” Professor Wilson said, his voice tight with discomfort. “We’ll discuss your dissertation another time.”

Adam’s face burned with shame as he nodded stiffly, his throat too tight to speak. He turned and left the office, another loud fart escaping him as he hurried down the hallway. The students he passed gave him wide-eyed stares, some covering their noses, others whispering and laughing as he stumbled past them. Each new step felt heavier, the weight of the day pressing down on him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the nightmare his life had become.

By the time he could finally make it back to his apartment, he was utterly defeated. His body reeked, the itch in his groin had only gotten worse, and his belly was constantly churning with the pressure of more belches and farts waiting to erupt. He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. The day had been a disaster—there was no way he could continue like this.

As the evening settled in, Adam lay there, his mind racing even as his body continued to betray him. He had to find George. He had to fix this. There was no other option.

He couldn’t live like this—he couldn’t endure the stares, the laughter, the humiliation. His career, his entire life, was at stake. With each itch, each stench, each belch and fart, he felt his old self slipping further away, and he was terrified of what he would become if this continued.

With a heavy sigh, Adam closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would find George and demand that he fix what he’d done. Tomorrow, he would get his life back.

WEDNESDAY

Adam sat desperate against his pillow and his headboard, his phone clutched in his hand, staring down at the screen with a sense of failure. The stench from his armpits, the itching in his groin, the endless belches and farts—everything had become so utterly unbearable. The reflection he caught in the mirror was still that of the cursed gym rat, his outfit vulgar and ridiculous against his scrawny body, the stink so thick it began to cling to the walls of his flat.

He began typing. His fingers trembled slightly as they tapped against the glass, carefully crafting the text to George. His pride screamed against it, but he was out of options. He couldn’t live like this, not anymore.

"Hey George,

I’ve been thinking a lot…and I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I was so out of line, and I didn’t mean to insult you or dismiss what you believe. I get it now—there are things beyond intellect, beyond control, and…beyond me. I was wrong, and you were right. There. I should’ve believed in magic instead of trying to mock it. Please, is there anything I can do to fix this? I don’t want to keep living like this, I just can’t."

He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, his stomach twisting into a knot of hope and dread. Adam tossed the phone onto his bed and laid back, staring at the ceiling as the minutes stretched into hours. Every itch, every foul-smelling fart reminded him of his new reality. He tried to distract himself—cleaning the apartment, watching plays on Youtube, attempting to focus on some new Shakespearean analysis—but nothing worked. The stench hung in the air like a punishment, stuck to him no matter what.

By midday, Adam’s hope had started to wither into nothingness. George wasn’t going to respond. He probably didn’t even care. Maybe this was it—maybe this revolting, humiliating state was his life now. He sighed, dragging his hands through his sweaty hair, glancing toward his phone again. Still nothing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and paced around room, fidgeting with his bro clothes that clung to his now lean body like a cruel joke.

Bzzzz.

Adam rushed to his phone, his heart thudding against his chest as he unlocked the screen. A message from George appeared, and his breath caught.

“Curses can’t be undone, love.”

Adam’s face flushed with frustration. His jaw clenched as he stared at the words. All of that groveling, all of that begging, and this was the response? He typed furiously, his anger bubbling to the surface, but before he could send anything back, another message appeared.

“But I must admit. I didn’t think you would actually say that. Honestly, I really appreciate the apology. Why don’t call it even, huh? Why don’t I give you a gift?”

Adam blinked at the screen, his anger slowly dissipating into confusion. A gift? What kind of twisted gift could George possibly mean? If it was anything like the last, then he could keep it. But before he could protest, another message filled the screen.

“His arms, like oaks, doth stretch from end to end,

With strength to lift the world or crush its weight.

Their power matched with beauty none can fend,

Two mounds so vast as sunset’s final state.”

As Adam read the words, he felt a sudden warmth spread through his arms. Not again, he thought, but then his eyes darted down in alarm as his previously thin, lanky arms twitched, then bulged. He watched, wide-eyed, as his biceps began to swell, the muscles rippling and bubbling beneath his skin. The skin of his arms grew tight, barely able to contain the massive growth. His once scrawny arms were transforming into huge, muscular limbs—so strong, they looked like they could crush stone with a single flick.

He flexed experimentally, his new muscles hardening themselves like marble. His biceps were enormous, so large they cast a shadow on his bony torso. He stared in disbelief at his own body, feeling an unfamiliar surge of power rush through him.

His phone buzzed again, another text:

“His chest, like breasts of Venus round and great,

Two orbs of strength that push against the day.

Each pect’ral it’s own ball upon a beach,

So full, so firm, none dare to turn away.”

Adam’s gaze shifted down towards his chest, and once again, he felt the same warm, tingling sensation spread across his torso as he began to feel an unnerving top heaviness. His pecs swelled, pushing against the straps of his tank top until the neckline stretched even lower than before. His chest ballooned outward, each pec growing into a massive, rounded mound of muscle, firm and solid beneath his skin. His nipples presented so visibly, his chest now so large it jutted forward, casting a shadow over his barren stomach.

The weight of his new pecs made him feel even more powerful, even more in control. He couldn’t stop staring, watching the way his body filled out, how his once-flat chest had been replaced by two enormous mounds of muscle that jiggled involuntary with every breath. They were so big, so round, they almost looked unnatural—but Adam loved it nonetheless.

Another text…

“His stomach, carved like canyons deep and wide,

Each groove a trench, each line a valley low.

His legs, like trunks of ancient oaks abide,

With strength to stand through storm and sun and snow.”

Adam’s abdomen contracted, the sensation rippling through his core. He watched as the muscles on his stomach began to etch themselves into deep, chiseled grooves. His once-flat belly was now an eight-pack, every ridge and line so pronounced it looked like his abs had been carved out of granite. His waist boxed in, accentuating the sheer mass of his chest above and the powerful definition below.

His legs were next. His thighs bulged beneath his gym shorts, the muscles expanding rapidly, filling out with every second. His calves thickened into pillars of strength, his quads growing into enormous slabs of meat that made his legs look like logs. He was massive now, his entire body transformed into something that looked like it had been sculpted by the god Zeus himself.

The final couplet arrived, and as Adam read the words, he felt the last part of the transformation taking hold:

A man’s man, dominant, in every stride,

With looks that none, not man nor beast, can hide.”

As Adam gazed into the mirror, his eyes widened in awe. His reflection had changed entirely. He stood there, towering, his body brimming with strength and raw masculinity, as if he’d eaten raw eggs every day of his life since he was ten. His jawline was sharper, his posture more commanding, and the way he looked—it was undeniable. He was an alpha now. He demanded attention, respect, and desire. The smell, the stink that had once plagued him—it didn’t matter. His overwhelming physicality eclipsed all of it.

Adam grinned, a wave of confidence crashing over him. This was power. This was control. He grabbed a jacket, still feeling the massive stretch of his biceps as he slipped it over his shoulders, and headed out.

At the nearest gay bar, the moment Adam walked in, all eyes were on him. His broad shoulders and massive arms filled out his jacket in ways that left little to the imagination. He could see heads turning, guys sneaking glances at his hulking frame, his thick pecs nearly busting through his shirt. He walked up to the bar, and within seconds, a couple of older men sidled up to him, their eyes wide with interest.

One of them, a trucker looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and the crustiest mustache, leaned in, his voice low. “You’re looking good, boy. Smell like man too. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

Adam wrinkled his nose slightly. The man was old, rotund, and ugly. He could do better, much better. “No thanks, ..sir,” Adam replied coldly, his voice deeper and more commanding than he remembered. The man’s face fell slightly, but Adam didn’t care. He was too busy reveling in the attention, in the way every guy in the bar seemed to be watching him, wanting his body.

As the night wore on, more and more guys approached, trying their luck with him. But none of them were good enough for Adam. He was an alpha now—he could have anyone he wanted, and the more he held out, the more they wanted.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, he would go see George again. If George can do this for him. There’s no telling what else he could get out of the witchy twink.

THURSDAY

Adam took the tube immediately once he awoke and stood in front of George’s door, the weight of his muscular new form making him feel absolutely invincible. His inflated biceps and thick chest on the reflective glass of the door fed his ever growing ego, but deep down, he couldn’t help but shake this nagging doubt. George had done this to him—made him into a walking Marvel superhero, sculpted from stone, pure lust, and raw, unadulterated power. But was it enough? No, Adam wanted more. Needed more.

He knocked, his hairy knuckles bristling past the door handle. The first time he’d sought George, he’d dismissed the supernatural as nonsense. Now, with the power of George’s magic coursing through his sculpted body, Adam was ready to claim yet another piece of it. But this time, he knew he had to play his cards just a tad bit differently.

The door creaked open, and there stood George, his face shifting from surprise to a soft, almost suspicious smile. “Adam,” George purred. “Back so soon?”

Adam leaned against the doorframe, his massive arms bulging as he flexed them just enough to show off the strength George had given him. “Missed me?”

George raised an eyebrow, but his gaze lingered on Adam’s tits, those enormous pecs straining against the thin straps of his bro-ish muscle tank. There was a flicker of something in George’s eyes—desire, interest, maybe even a sliver of actual emotion, something he hadn’t felt in centuries. Adam noticed, and he played into it, taking a step closer, his voice low and smooth.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Adam said, his hand grazing George’s arm. “About I’ve been thinking about just how much I owe you for this body, for… everything.”

George tilted his head, still guarded. “And what exactly do you want this time, Adam?”

“I don’t want anything,” Adam replied, his lips curling into a seductive smile. “Just you.”

He moved closer, his muscular frame dwarfing George’s, his presence overwhelming in the cramped air of the doorway. George hesitated for a moment, but Adam’s hand slipped to the nape of George’s neck, pulling him in with surprising gentleness. Their lips met, slowly melding together, turning into something hotter, far more dangerous. Adam’s thinly veiled cock rubbed against George’s abs as his walls came crumbling down, and for the first time, Adam felt the subtle shift in power—he had George, really had him.

The day blurred into heated moments, their bodies tangled in sheets and sweat. Adam was relentless, his new body a weapon of seduction, and George, for all his magic, succumbed to the raw physicality of it. They moved together with an intensity that neither had expected, sucking, fucking, and by the time they lay spent, George was quiet, staring at Adam with something akin to affection.

Adam, however, was already thinking ahead. He turned to George, still catching his breath. “You’ve got power, George. Magic.”

George giggled with a flush. “You’re just saying that.”

But Adam turned cold. “I want more of it.”

George’s face darkened. “What exactly are you asking for, Adam?”

Adam grinned, his arrogance returning now that the heat of the moment had passed. “Whatever gift you think I deserve. You’ve given me all this, how can I doubt your judgment, my sweet baby. My love. I’ll leave it up to you. Surprise me.”

George’s expression shifted from curiosity to something more guarded, his eyes narrowing as he watched Adam’s smug face. “Anything I want, huh?”

Adam shrugged, confidence oozing from every pore. “I trust you.”

George sat up, his fingers trailing along Adam’s broad chest as if considering his next move. For a long moment, he said nothing, then with a quiet, deceptive murmur, he recited:

"A man so well endowed, his length shall grow,

Eight inches, thick as snake in fabric’s cage,

His buttocks firm, a perch for all to show,

A bubble round to seat him firm with age."

Adam’s goosebumped body tingled immediately, the familiar warmth of transformation spreading through his lower regions. He let out a low, grunty moan as the sensation deepened, his cock thickening and lengthening under his teeny tiny shorts. Diameter growing as his ass tightened, the muscles swelling into perfect, round bubbles that pushed him slightly upward in the bed. He grinned, looking down at himself, clearly satisfied with George’s work.

“That’s more like it,” Adam murmured, his hands roaming over his newly enhanced assets. The heft of his cock felt incredible, and his ass, firm and plump, made him sit taller, more confidently. “I can’t wait to use this out in SoHo.” He turned to George, expecting more praise, more lust, but George’s face remained unreadable.

Then, George’s voice darkened, and he continued the sonnet.

"But this thick snake shall rise and never fall,

In constant stand, no peace, no quiet still.

His rounded arse shall breathe and stretch at call,

Each muscle loose, no seat can meet its will."

Adam’s smile faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. The change happened so quickly—his cock, now a monstrous length, hardened immediately, pushing insistently against the fabric of his gym shorts. It throbbed, always erect, always at attention, with no sense of relief. He shifted uncomfortably as his ass, once firm and perfect, started to feel strangely loose towards the center. It twitched and clenched on its own, the muscles stretching and relaxing without his control, as if it was becoming an underground tunnel.

“Wait, what the—?” Adam stammered, sitting up, his hand moving to adjust his cock, but it wouldn’t soften. His asshole kept opening with a subtle, almost breathing sensation that made him feel unstable, as if he could fit a tube station in there.

George smirked, watching the realization dawn on Adam’s face. “Not quite what you expected, is it?”

Adam’s panic grew as he tried to stand, but the constant, unrelenting erection made every step uncomfortable. His ass moved with a will of its own, making it impossible for him to walk without awkwardly adjusting himself.

“Stop this,” Adam demanded, his voice sharp with fear. “Fix it!”

But George continued, his voice soft, but with a cutting edge:

"For every man he sees and thinks of thus,

A need shall spark, his body shall obey.

Two seconds more, his lips will ask with trust,

And if they say ‘yes,’ he cannot turn away."

Adam’s eyes widened in horror as the words sank in. The change was immediate. His mind, sharp and calculating, suddenly snapped. The second he looked at George, an overwhelming desire flooded him. He took a step forward, his voice trembling.

“George, I—” He swallowed, trying to fight the words that wanted to spill out, but they escaped anyway. “I want you… I need you. Please, let’s do it again.”

George’s smirk faded into something almost pitying as he stepped back, shaking his head. “No.”

Adam blinked, the refusal shocking him, but the need remained. His body trembled with desire, the thought of George sending his blood rushing. He reached out, desperate. “Please, I can’t—”

But George stood firm. “This is what you wanted, Adam. You wanted the magic. Now you’ve got it.”

Adam’s desperation turned into panic, the uncontrollable lust gnawing at him as he realized what had happened. “Please, you have to stop this! I can’t live like this!”

George’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “If you never see me again, I can never curse you again. Plain and simple.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the curse pressing down on him. He had no choice. He nodded stiffly, his voice shaking. “Fine.”

Without another word, he fled the apartment, the constant throbbing in his pants making every step unbearable, as if he were walking with a third leg. His ass twitched, loose and awkward, making him shift with every movement. He tried to keep his eyes down, avoid seeing anyone, avoid thinking about anyone. But as he neared his flat, he saw him—the old, fat man from the bar, the one with the crusty mustache he’d brushed off so easily the night before.

Adam’s eyes locked onto him, and the thought, just two seconds, crossed his mind. The change was instant.

“Hey,” Adam called out, already relieving his itchy erection, his voice unabashed from shame. “You wanna fuck me?”

The man’s eyes widened, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I do. Let’s go boy”

Before Adam could stop himself, he moved closer, his body betraying him. They ended up in Adam’s flat, the humiliation sinking deeper as he stripped down, his body moving on its own, giving in to the fat man’s cock. Every moment was pleasure, the curse forcing him to enjoy it all. As the man’s fingers roamed into his hole, Adam’s cock stood painfully erect, his ass twitching and clenching, unable to resist the pleasure.

By the time it was over, Adam lay in bed, the old man’s snores filling the room. He stared at the ceiling, the weight of his actions crushing him. He hated it. He hated the curse, hated George, hated himself. But as he thought back to the encounter, a sickening sense of satisfaction settled in his chest.

Maybe this was who he was now. He’d become the horny, bro-ish slut he’d always railed against.

But hey, at least he still had his wits about him.

“You wanna go again,” he asked the sleeping bear.

He awoke. “Fuck yeah I do.”

FRIDAY

Adam groaned, his body still humming from the night before, shifting slightly in his bed, the weight of his smelly, bulging muscles pressing against the mattress in ways that felt less and less alien. The stench of sweat and sex clung to the sheets like a cruel reminder, but what gave him the most relief was that the old mustached bear, the fat man who had taken him, or he’d taken in, last night, was gone, leaving Adam with what few shreds of dignity he had left. For but a brief moment, Adam felt a glimmer of his old smart self, something buried deep beneath the layers of this cursed, grotesque transformation.

He brought himself up slowly, running a hand through his cum-soaked, dampened hair, trying to ignore the disgusting aire of musk that followed him everywhere. The night’s events replayed slowly in his mind, and each moment sent waves of heat rolling through him. He was disgusted with himself, yet somehow also satisfied. As much as he wanted to shake off the craziness of last night, something darker tugged within him—or instead, someone. Someone he couldn't control.

George.

The mere thought of him, that witchy smile, made Adam's heart pump and race. He tried to resist it, clenching his fists as he paced around his tiny studio. No. He wouldn’t give in. Not again. But the more he fought it, the stronger the curse became. His cock twitched in his shorts, eternally hardening more and more, his mind clouded with an overwhelming desire as he let out a massive burp. It was George. He needed George. He needed to see him, fuck him, even if it meant more and more of these horrible, disfiguring changes.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Adam was out the door, heading toward George’s place. His brain screamed at him to turn back, to stop this madness, but his feet kept moving, each step heavier with the weight of inevitability. He arrived at George’s door, his heart pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked.

The door creaked open, and there stood George, the same knowing smile curling on his lips, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Back so soon?” George asked, voice dripping with mockery.

Adam swallowed, his throat tight. His body screamed with need, the throbbing in his pants unbearable. “I… I need to fuck you,” he stammered, the words barely making it out. His muscles tensed, his breath shallow. “Please, George. I just want to stick my-”

“No.” George’s tone was sharp, cold. “I warned you, Adam.”

Adam froze, his heart sinking. Panic flooded his chest. “No, wait, I… I—” He turned to flee, the humiliation too much to bear, but George’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You’re not going anywhere,” George said softly, a cruel edge to his voice. With a flick of his hand, Adam’s body locked in place, muscles freezing as though they were held by invisible chains. Adam’s eyes widened in fear as George circled him like a predator, his gaze sweeping up and down Adam’s massive form.

“You could’ve been so wonderful, Adam,” George whispered, his fingers trailing across Adam’s rigid biceps. “If only you weren’t so obsessed with being better than everyone else.” George stopped in front of him, his eyes gleaming. “But don’t worry. I’m going to fix that.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, his giant mind racing with panic. He tried to move, to speak, but nothing worked. He was trapped, helpless, his body at George’s mercy. And then, George began to recite.

“This man, with wit so sharp, shall find it dull,

His tongue to fail at words with length and grace.

In single beats, his speech doth make him full,

No thought can break the barrier of his face.”

Adam’s head buzzed as George’s words sank into his soul. He tried to protest, to say something, anything, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out were simple, one-syllable words, clumsy and slow like the dumbass he used to make fun of, the one he was about to become. “Wh-what… you… do…?” he stammered, struggling through each word. His brain felt like it was being squeezed, cell by cell, every attempt to say something even somewhat intelligent or complex was met with a foggy, impenetrable wall.

“No… more…” he managed, but even that felt like a battle. His tongue stumbled within his mouth, his speech slurring as the magic took further hold. Adam’s face twisted in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even think of a word longer than one syllable. His mind was trapped in this humiliating simplicity, a far cry from the sharp intellect he once wielded.

George smiled, watching the struggle unfold with sadistic delight. “You’re already looking more like yourself, love.” He continued, his voice low and melodic.

“A jaw so slack, it barely knows its place,

His mouth hangs wide, flies wander through the door.

With 'duh' his mind reflects upon his face,

A smile so dumb, he trusts each word, what's more.”

As the next words spread themselves throughout the air and landed onto Adam’s face, he felt his jaw slacken into a relaxed position, the muscles in his face going completely limp. His mouth hung open, agape, his lips parting into a dumb, vacant expression. He could feel the cold air tickling his teeth as a small, stupid smile crept onto his face. He tried to close his mouth, to tighten his jaw, but it wouldn’t obey him. No matter how hard he tried, it remained slack, open, like a door left ajar.

Flies buzzed around, and before he knew it, one flitted into his mouth. He barely registered it, too dazed, too numb to even care. His face felt frozen in that idiotic grin, his eyes glazed over. Worse yet, every word George said sounded so… true. Every part of him wanted to believe whatever George told him, his gullibility sinking deep into his bones.

Adam’s mind screamed at him to resist, to hold onto what was left of his pride, but that part of him was fading fast. His lips, still curled in a stupid smile, parted again. “Uh… yeah, right…” he muttered, barely able to form coherent thoughts. His voice sounded thick and dopey, like it belonged to someone else, someone who couldn’t even spell Shakespear.

George’s voice softened, almost tender. “See, isn’t that easier? No more thinking, no more overcomplicating things. Just smile, and trust whatever I, or anyone tells you.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, but his mind couldn’t focus. His thoughts were slipping away, replaced by something far simpler, far more primal.

“His thoughts now cloud with only two desires,

To lift, to bed, these things alone will stay.

His mind a fog, of neither will it tire,

And all else fades, in gym and bed to play.”

With those words, haze descended over Adam’s mind. Thoughts, once sharp and filled with wit, were now muddled, clouded with only two overpowering urges. He wanted to work out. He wanted to fuck. Everything else—his career, his pride, his intellect—faded into the background, meaningless, never to be seen again.

Images of bench presses flashed into his shrinking mind, the sensation of cold iron in his sweaty hands, the strain of his muscles as they bulged and flexed. And then there was sex—hot, mindless sex. His cock throbbed in his shorts, and the desire, the absolute need for physical release overwhelmed him, drowning out any other thought. Working out, fucking, working out, fucking, again and again and again. That was all that mattered now. Nothing else made sense, not like he could comprehend it anyways.

Adam tried to resist, to push through the fog, but alas, it was no use. His mind was too far gone, too consumed by primal urges. He let out a resonant, needy groan, his thoughts too disorganized to form any coherent plan of escape.

George watched with satisfaction as Adam’s transformation neared its end. With a triumphant smile, he delivered the final couplet.

“And now this man goes by initials who,

With knowledge slight, no higher than eight-two.”

As George’s last words took their hold, Adam felt the last remnants of his old self slip away, the final pieces of his mind shattering like glass into a distant oblivion. He wasn’t Adam anymore. He was… AJ. His name was AJ, always had been. That dumb, jockish grin became permanent across his face as his old life rewrote itself. His memories, once filled with scholarships, academic debates, tragedies and comedies, were now replaced by scenes of the gym, of flexing in front of the mirror, of fucking nameless faces in dark, sweaty backrooms.

His chest swelled with pride at the thought of lifting those heavy weights, of feeling the burn in his muscles as he pushed himself harder and harder. His thoughts were no longer burdened by complicated ideas or big words. They were simple, direct. Lift. Fuck. Repeat. That was it.

AJ blinked, his slack jaw hanging open as he stood there in front of George, his once bright mind now dim, sluggish, and focused only on the most basic of desires. His body reeked of fart and musk, his mind a tangled mess of lust and primal urges. His life as Adam, the intellectual, was gone. All that remained was AJ, a dumb, slutty, smelly jock.

George stepped back, admiring his handiwork as AJ smiled dumbly at him, his eyes empty, his brain no longer capable of critical thought. “You look perfect, AJ,” George said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

AJ’s grin widened, his thick tongue lolling slightly as he scratched at his crotch. “Th-thanks… bro,” he slurred, his voice deep and stupid.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” George murmured, tilting AJ’s chin up so their eyes met.

AJ’s smile grew even wider, his lips twitching as he struggled to form words. “Yeah, bro,” he said, his voice slow and thick. “I’m… real good.”

George couldn’t help but laugh. AJ was exactly what he had imagined—empty-headed, obedient, and driven by nothing more than his primal instincts. “You won’t be needing any of those big words anymore, will you, AJ?” George asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

AJ shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly as if even that small movement required a great deal of effort. “Nuh-uh,” he mumbled. “Big words are… uh… too hard.”

“Exactly,” George said, patting AJ’s cheek lightly. “And from now on, you’re going to live a very simple life. No more worrying about being better than anyone else. No more trying to prove how smart you are. You’ll be much happier this way. Just working out, fucking, and doing whatever you’re told.”

AJ nodded slowly, his thick muscles pulling and rippling beneath his skin as he flexed unconsciously. “Yeah, bro,” he agreed, his voice, like his mind, slow. “I like… liftin’... an’ fuckin’...”

“Now, AJ,” George said with command, “I think it’s time you head to the gym. You wouldn’t want to miss leg day, would you?”

AJ’s eyes widened slightly, the thought of working out sending a thrill of excitement through his body. “Leg day,” he repeated. “Yeah, bro. I gotta… lift.”

George smirked, watching diligently at his Frankenstein creation as AJ’s single-minded focus shifted completely to the gym. “That’s right, big guy. Go on, hit the weights, and make sure everyone sees how big and strong you are.”

AJ beamed, his dim-witted grin stretching even wider. “Gotta pump some iron.” And as AJ disappeared into the distance, George sighed, knowing the man who’d once scoffed at him, at the very idea of magic and fate was now living proof of it’s power, his entire existence rewritten by just a few simple words. George smirked, satisfied once again, and waited for the next asshole to match with him on Hinge.

AJ, meanwhile, wandered toward the gym, his thoughts a jumbled mess of anticipation and primal urges. He could feel the weight of his bulging muscles with every step, the tightness of his tank top stretching across his massive chest. The constant itch in his groin had him adjusting his shorts every few seconds, a fart always ready in the chamber, and his cock already hard at the thought of the next guy he’d meet, or the next weight he’d lift. He grinned stupidly, flexing his biceps as he prepared for the first set. “Let’s go, bro,” he muttered to himself, his voice thick with excitement. “Time to get swole.”

And with that, AJ’s transformation was complete. The man he had once been—Adam, the intellectual, the scholar—was gone, replaced by a farting, burping, simple-minded, horny, muscle-obsessed jock who lived only for the gym, for sex, and for any task any man asked for.

“Life’s good, bruh.”

#male transformation #mental change #tf story #gay tf #muscle tf #broification #iq loss #fart kink #dumber #himbo tf #himbofication

404 notes · View notes

sakur4ii · 3 months ago

Text

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

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

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

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

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

#x men x you #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x men x reader #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #magneto x reader #gender neutral reader #polyamory

448 notes · View notes

anantaru · 2 years ago

Text

— rejecting his cuddles

rejecting his cuddles feat. al-haitham, cyno, diluc, scaramouche x gn! reader

a/n: i spontaneously wrote this after coming home from a night out while craving fluff and cute things

genre: fluff, we're a lil bad for messing with them but who cares, right

— al-haitham

"no thanks!"

you couldn't possibly reject his attempt to cuddle you right now, or could you?

at first, al-haitham‘s smile will slowly drop, not at the reason you might think because he actually is sure this has a deeper meaning, right?

jokes aside, actually he had you figured out from the start but wanted to see how far you would go, putting on the best fake facade one could pull off, it's almost as if he was a natural at deceiving people.

"no.. thanks?" al-haitham was quite impressed on how you managed to reject him this smoothly, it even hurt a little if he was being honest.

He wasn't stupid though, he was aware you were clearly messing with him, his little angel could be a little brat sometimes, that's what he cherished and loved about you as well.

maybe.. he should just try again, right?

with that in mind, al-haitham opened his arms again to advance towards your body to close the distance only for you to wiggle yourself away before he could catch up to you.

"no thanks, i‘m good!"

okay, maybe you were quite cruel today, you honestly didn‘t think much of it and wanted to tease your boyfriend, it was mostly him who would triumph over you so it was natural for some payback here and there.

curiosity got the best of you and that‘s why you were pushing your little scheme a bit further than you actually anticipated to do in the first place, seeking a reaction from your boyfriend.

the second rejection was a literal whiplash right into his face, but then it went clear as day to him, the solution to all of this warmly greeting him.

"okay."

if you could play such game, he surely could do so as well, he deducted that if he was to ignore you now, your fake facade would fall within seconds.

how else were you supposed to keep playing this with him not giving you any attention anymore?

al-haitham was about to get up from his seat as you quickly grabbed his wrist, holding him down.

"okay i was joking don‘t go!"

the slight worry on your face was hilarious to him, how he knew you like the back of his hand was almost scary. In his eyes there wasn‘t anything easier than figuring you out.

"you should stop messing with me before i‘m thinking of a way to get back at you."

— cyno

the general mahamatra had a busy life, cyno was on duty every day and once he got home after a long night, the least you could do is hug him!

today you felt like you should play a little trick on him, just for a quick giggle in your relationship. Contrary to popular belief, cyno was actually an overly humorous person, even though his jokes mostly didn‘t land as he intended them to.

with that you heard the front door open with cyno following suit. You decided to greet him as always and walked towards your boyfriend as he tiredly smiled into your direction, already opening his arms.

"how was your day?"

normally you would‘ve hugged him first and then ask him a question, but today you stood right in front of him without drawing yourself into his embrace.

"it was good, come here." once cyno noticed you weren‘t moving an inch, he thought he should be the one to just hug you instead, yet after attempting to do just that …

"no thanks."

there was an awkward silence followed by cyno looking at you in slight disbelief and irritation. His eyes were low lidded and his expression tired, he really just wanted a hug!

"okay, i understand and respect it, but i don't agree with it."

typical cyno, now that you think back at it you don't really know how you expected him to respond to you. He was a gentleman at heart and immensely respected you.

yet though he didn‘t let it on, this was truly the worst thing that happened to him, yet he obviously doesn‘t want to force you either.

with a flash of guilt throwing itself at you like a fierce force, you quickly stopped him with a big hug from behind, resting your head on his back with your arms tightly shut around him.

"i‘m just messing with you, i‘m sorry."

ending your little sentence with a tiny giggle to soothe the mood, cyno turned around to face you at last, looping his arms around your body in return.

"hah, funny."

— diluc

in any other case diluc wouldn't think too much of it, but the way you were denying his physical affection did throw him off in an unnatural amount.

"no thank you, i'm satiated."

"satiated?" the word blurted out of his mouth in an irritated way, he became confused and unable to recall what the most alarming aspect of this situation was right now.

the fact you didn't want his cuddles, which you once stated were the absolute best, or the fact that you stated you were quote on quote, satiated.

satiated by who?

the urge to throw himself into your embrace was always there, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Diluc was patient with you and so were you with him.

yet he would lie if he didn't feel worried about this, the poor guy having not a single chance of noticing that you were clearly messing with him out of sheer boredom.

as a matter of fact, you didn't intend to go this far, nor did you think diluc would grow this anxious now, making up your mind you decided to end your little play after all as he spoke again.

"is something wrong? if i did something you must speak to me."

noticing how he shifted his eyes around the room, the guilt consumed you from within with your hands quickly grabbing his waist to draw him towards your warm body.

"I'm so sorry, i was trying to mess with you don't worry please."

with a momentary silence and his body frozen, he sighed in relief upon snuggling close to you, feeling the fastened beat of his heart, or was it yours?

"hmpf, maybe i shouldn't hug you for a while."

your eyes widened at his overly cheeky, teasing wording, your lips carved into a pout as you searched for his face, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"it was kaeya's idea, not mine!"

— scaramouche

it wasn't often for scaramouche to search for a hug, not that he didn't want to hug you but he still wasn't completely accustomed to it, to trust a person again and simply relax under their touch.

one might say you were cruel for even thinking of pranking him, because who knows how he would react?

you, will now, know, this sliding second, when he suddenly came back from a long boring day, wiggling himself out of his shoes before he came walking towards you.

it became a slight habit of yours to hug whenever one of you would meet the other so scaramouche didn't think too much of it, he was actually looking quite forward to cuddle with you, so when he finally reached his desired destination, you backed away.

"lets not."

his brow raised almost immediately with his eyes lightly scrunched together in irritation, "lets not .. what?"

his voice had an annoying edge, the one you knew far too well. Sometimes scaramouche involuntarily spoke like that, he didn't even mean to come off as rude but it was a natural thing laced in his tone.

"i don't want a hug, thank you for the kind offer though."

the dazed look of bewilderment on his face was adorable, you felt bad for even finding it cute in the first place as scaramouche continued to tilt his head to the side, rambling in a low murmur.

"i don't buy it, you're the one who can't get enough of my hugs so what are you planning this time?"

his arms crossed around his body, a smirk of his brought out a sense of mischief he was way too good at, a fleeting thought of innocent fun.

in that moment he closed the distance to you almost completely, his eyes piercing daggers into your soul when he spoke once again.

"can you hug me now or what, i don't have all day for this."

the click of his tongue was all it took you to understand that he had figured you out yet again. in all honesty, you didn't know what you expected in the first place.

with a giggle announcing itself out of your throat, you quickly gathered him in your arms, nuzzling him into your warm chest.

scaramouche returned your call and embraced you back with his arms tightly clamped around your body, the pressure applied behind it made it difficult for you to breathe, he was practically clamping onto you.

in that moment you noticed how his breathing was erratic and uneven as well, as if for one tiny second, he really did think he had done something to pain you, something to lose you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche x reader #diluc x reader #genshin fluff #cyno x reader #genshin impact fluff #cyno x you #diluc x you #genshin impact x you #scaramouche x you #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader

9K notes · View notes

pedge-page · 11 months ago

Text

Mother Who Provides

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: based off this lovely ask for sub Joel wanting to breastfeed and get jerked off, and hella Mommy kink!

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, breastfeeding, lactation, praise, love biting, assisted m masturbation, male orgasm, cum eating, little belly stuffing because this bitch just loves his Mommy's milk sm

18 + ONLY

- - - -

The first time Joel watched you breastfeed your newborn baby had him feeling all kinds of—different inside. You weren’t totally aware of it at first, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Every time you got up to go feed the little one, he was always within the same room, or meandering in the hall pretending to carry the laundry, or just finding an excuse to sit across from you and watch.

He thought it was just an awe—here’s the woman of his dreams who just single handedly grew a whole human being in her belly, then pushed it out all by herself after 13 hours of labor, and now is nurturing his child from her own body. You were like a miracle who just kept giving.

His cock getting hard was just the excitement of how amazing women were. That’s it.

But you had started to notice other things that were strange in his behavior. One time you had gotten up at 3am to feed the baby, Joel still asleep by your side. When you had finished and crawled back in to bed, reaching out for the warm security of his body, he wasn’t there. You groggily waddled down to the kitchen to find your husband chugging a gallon of whole milk like a fish out of water. His eyes fell upon you, the way you yawned, dressed in a dissheveled night gown and asked if he’s ok, unaware that you were rubbing your sore breasts in your palm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, predatory eyes wide as he stares at your chest, ready to pounce on you like a wolf.

You knew pretty well right then what his little “problem” was.

From then on, you intentionally were seeking him out in tighter shirts so he could see your bouncing swollen breasts more clearly, leaning over in front of him more often, or just straight up asking if he could give you a tits massage. Complaining about how “sore” they felt, or not wanting your milk to go to waste since the baby couldn’t drink it all even after having an entire freezer full.

You feint a sigh. “Maybe I should donate it…”

“NO!” He shouts a little louder than he intended. “I mean… uh.” He coughs, unable to think of a reasonable excuse.

“Yeah? Who else is going to drink it, Joel?” You taunt. Joel was a tough man, but admitting things that he wanted was difficult to force out of him.

“I—I mean we—we could—“ he shook his head and went to sit on the couch. “Sorry, I mean. That’s a great idea. You should do that. Be nice for other moms.”

Joel wrings his hands together and looks away, clearing his throat.

You stride over to him and straddle his hips, his pupils going big with shock. You sit up on your knees with him caged under you, your breasts level with his nose as you rub your fingers through his brown curly hair. “Is that what you want?”

You can see the way his eyes are trained forward, looking at the swollen nipples poking through your tank top. He swallows heavily and licks his lips, hands resting on your waist, fighting the urge to bite.

“No…” he whispers softly.

“No? Is there someone else who should get Mommy’s milk?” You tease.

He closes his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Speak, baby boy.”

“M-Me,” he says, head tilted up to you as he nuzzles the scruff of his cheek into your chest. You cup his head to firmly press his face harder, his nose gliding along the cleavage as he inhales your scent sharply. His hands creep up along your sides before grasping the droopy fat of the underside of your breasts, making you gasp.

You don’t even need to sit down on him fully to feel the tent poking your clit as you hover over him. He squeezes your tits roughly before wrapping his teeth around a nipple and tugging gently, releasing it with a satisfying bounce back in to place. The result was a slight damp spot around the peak where a drip of your milk seeped out.

And Joel Miller fucking whimpers for the first time in his life.

You hum in delight. “Can you ask Mommy nicely?”

He doesn’t hesitate: “Please, can I have Mommy’s milk?”

Holy fuck, you’re a sucker for your man.

Now a half hour later, Joel is still greedily suckling at your tit as if being starved his whole life. You’re sitting on the couch while cradling Joel’s head in your lap, having him lying down on his back in the perfect position for the milk in your breasts to just flow right into his hungry mouth.

His eyes are closed, jaw working open as his lips suction tightly, gulping your sweetness. You stroke the greying hairs on his cheek, feeling the way he hums contently vibrate against your skin.

He feels safe like this, in such a vulnerable position. The idea of protecting you, being on guard, defensive, all of that stress melts away while being swaddled by you. He can let go of worry, of anxiety, taking deep breaths and feeding soothingly under the gently, nurturing embrace of his beautiful, life-giving wife.

You had palmed his hard-on the entire time, not releasing it quite yet until you were satisfied with how full his tummy had grown. You could even hear the little sloshes of bubbles in his stomach as it filled with new nutrients. He’d let out a tiny whimper, milk caught in his throat when you’d squeeze around his base possessively before returning to your palming. His precum smears along his thigh and shorts.

“You’re so hungry, baby,” you coo, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “This whole time you just wanted a taste of Mama’s milk, hmm?”

He nods absentmindedly, refusing to let go of your golden titty.

Unsatisfied with his response, you grip his hair and yank his head down, his lips detaching and falling away from your breast. He lets out a needy whine and stares at you. “Y-yes Mommy. Wanted your milk. Please can I have some more?”

You giggle and nod. His tongue darks out to lick the little drips that had trickles down before attaching back to your nipple and suckling happily.

You pull his throbbing length out though the hole in his boxers. “Gimme a little spit,” you command softly.

Joel sits his head up, cheeks full of milk. You put your hand out in front of his lips as he release the creamy substance into your palm. Your newly silkened hand finds its way back to wrap around his base before stroking him.

“Ohhhhh f-fuck Mommy!” he groans, eyes closed and leaning back against your thigh. But the sensation was too good, hips bucking up that he had to force his chin back up to continue watching. Your fingers expertly curled around his mushroom tip with each pass, the assistance of the milk acting as a lubricant. He licked his upper lick, his leg twitching with how hot it felt. You lean forward a bit and push your tit closer to his lips again. His eyes dart to you, tongue sticking out to capture your nipple again before resuming his impatient guzzling.

“Naughty, boy, getting all hard when drinking from Mommy’s tit.” You swirl his slit with the tip of your nail, his steady flow of precut oozing out and mixing with the milk. You feel his throat flex with each stutter, his mind reeling in and out of sanity, fists balled at his sides to avoid taking control. Joel’s lips were a sin everywhere else on your body, and this moment was no different. They were full, pouty, and his lower lip juts out enough to be able to easily catch your nipple and hold on with each insatiable gulp.

“Maybe I should bottle it up and let you bring it to work with you. Can share your special bottle with the other boys,” you laugh.

Joel growls angrily, browns crunched as he bites your nipple possessive.

You hiss out in pain, fisting his curls once again. “Ow! Bite me again and you’re done,” you warn. His face relaxes, eyes staring up at you with sorrow as you resume your pace pumping his shaft.

“Ah-m srorry—Momm-ee,” he mumbles against the fat of your breasts, soothing over his bite mark with his warm wet tongue.

You sigh deeply. The weight on your chest is almost fully lifted now that Joel has swallowed so much of the milk that had built up.

Your baby was just so little right now, there was only so much he could fill in his tiny body, leaving you aching, heavy, and swollen all day and night. But your full grown 5’11 200 pound hunk of a husband? He could drink for HOURS and drain you completely so that fresh milk can replenish your system just for your baby.

“Maybe we should make your feeding a regular thing too. Would you like that?” You hum. You increase the speed of your hand, now jerking his cock violently.

“Ahh—ah! Ye-oh fuck, fuck Mommy—yes, yes I want it!”

“Yeah? You wanna be full of Momma’s milk all the time? Bet you wanna cum too. Taking such good care of me, I think you deserve a reward.”

He swallows another big load before his panting forces him away, creamy liquid spilling over his cheeks. “Ah—ugh-ugh oh fuck, fuck yeah! Wanna cum, wanna cum on Mommy’s hand, please! Please, keep tuggin’ my dick just like that, Fuck! FUCK yes Mommy!”

His mouth falls open, breath caught in his throat as you feel his hips raising off the couch slightly. You take the opportunity to lean forward and shove as much of your tits in his mouth as you can, suffocating him. His eyes roll back as the first of his cum spews up into the air, followed up big spurts rapidly shooting as you violently work his cock.

“Shhhh, that’s it, that’s my good boy, keep cumming all over Mommy’s hand, such a good boy. Don’t forget keep drinking your special milk. Mommy made it just for you.” You bite your lip at the idea of motherhood just falling so easily over you.

His whole body shutters, moaning and sucking around your breasts, unsure what to do with himself as he keeps cumming in your hand. His dick pulses the last of his spent, dribbling globs of sticky, thick semen all over your fingers and his full stomach. He quivers from the overstimulation, suppressing a burp.

You remove your hand, caressing the heft of his bulging stomach just as he takes a deep breath through his nose, calming his breathing. He opens his eyes to see you licking the glorious mess of his cum off of your palm, each finger dipping in to your sinful mouth and sucking his spend clean.

“Fuuucckkkk, that’s hot. Eatin my cream when I drink yours.” His eyes are positively drunk off of you. He babbles quickly: “Wanna keep ya milkin’ every year. Kids or not. These tits are mine. Keep me stuffed full of ya sweet cream, Momma. Never need to buy dairy again. Just drink it straight from the tap.”

You grab his hands down by his side and bring them up to your tits, guiding him to rub your sore breasts gently. “Gotta work them up to get more in you.”

Joel doesn’t argue, taking over the movement and squeezing your breast like icing bag, bringing your nipple back down to his lips as he milks more of your love into his mouth.

- - - -

Permanent taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg

#pedro pascal smut #sub!Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou smut #the last of us smut #sub!joel kingdom #sub!joel #lactating kink #pregnancy kink #mommy kink

2K notes · View notes

taurasiluvr · 4 months ago

Text

I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU WITH ANYONE BUT ME / NOBODY GETS ME LIKE YOU / HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LET YOU GO? / ONLY LIKE MYSELF WHEN I'M WITH YOU / NOBODY GETS ME, YOU DO──BELLINGHAM⁵

how you can help palestine

★ been thinking about fwb!jude, blame ev for the filth you're all about to read.

⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, minors dni. friends with benefits, smut with plot, p in v, unprotected sex, cheating (on r's bf), nothing too insane

⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; i am sooooo down bad for jude, he's my husband. also why do 80% of my fics have to do with cheating ummmm

⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 5.5k

you didn't really know how this arrangement had began, all you knew was that it was very much due to jude's very evident commitment issues.

okay, maybe commitment issues were a stretch. you'd seen how he treated his friends and family with unwavering loyalty. but when it came to relationships, there was always a barrier, an unspoken rule that he couldn't let anyone get too close. or maybe he just didn't want to ─ you weren't too sure.

it all started innocently enough.

you and jude had been friends for a while, always hanging out with the same group, always finding yourselves paired off in conversations or at the same end of the couch during movie nights. there was a comfort in your friendship, a kind of ease that made everything feel natural and genuine.

one night, after a particularly intense game and a few too many drinks, you found yourselves alone in his apartment. the air was thick with a tension that had been building for months. one thing led to another, and suddenly you were waking up in his bed, sheets tangled around your legs and his arm draped over your waist.

the next morning, you both agreed it was a one-time thing, a slip-up that wouldn't happen again.

but it did. over and over, until it wasn't just an accident anymore. it became an unspoken arrangement, a way for both of you to satisfy needs without the complications of a real relationship.

you knew it wasn't ideal. you knew that every time you woke up in his bed, you were getting a little more attached, a little more hopeful that maybe he would see you as more than just a friend with benefits. but you also knew that jude had his walls up for a reason, and trying to tear them down could end up ruining everything.

so, you kept going. you played your role, took what you could get, and tried not to think about what it meant for the future.

because as long as you had him in some way, it was better than not having him at all.

seeing him with other women was the worst part of it all. now you knew you didn't really have any rational reason to be mad because he wasn't your boyfriend ─ he was just... well, it was complicated.

you hated the gut-wrenching feeling when you saw him talking to a beautiful girl at a party, his charming smile lighting up his face in a way that made your heart ache. tt was a reminder that while you had a piece of him, it wasn’t enough to keep him from seeking out others.

you tried to mask your feelings, laughing along with your friends and pretending not to notice when he slipped away with someone new. But inside, you were screaming. the rational part of you understood that you had no claim over him, no right to be jealous. yet, the emotional part couldn't help but feel a sting of betrayal every time.

⠀ ── ⠀

one night, it got to be too much. you saw him at a club, his arm around a girl's waist as he whispered something into her ear, making her giggle. your stomach churned, and before you knew it, you were outside, gulping in the cool night air to calm the nausea.

when you had come back inside, your initial hurt turned into bitterness. now you usually weren't so petty ─ but if jude was allowed to go and flirt with other people, why couldn't you?

you sat down at the bar, finding some solace with the alcohol you were drinking. you knew your bait had worked when you felt someone eyeing you in your peripheral, a small smile on your face.

"hello,"

he had a slight accent, his voice was gruff and sent a shiver down your spine. you turned to face him, taking in his rugged features and confident demeanor. he was attractive, no doubt, and the way he looked at you made you feel a flicker of excitement.

"hi," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

he leaned against the bar, his gaze never leaving yours. "can i buy you a drink?"

you nodded, pushing aside the guilt that tugged at your conscience. "sure, why not?"

as you sipped the cocktail he ordered for you, you couldn't help but steal glances across the room, where jude was still engrossed in conversation with the girl. the sight fueled your determination to go through with this. if jude could have his fun, so could you.

"so, what brings you here tonight?" the man asked, his eyes glinting with interest.

you shrugged, taking another sip. "my friends told me i needed to get out, they say i've been stuck in the office for too long."

he chuckled, a low sound that made your skin tingle. "i get that. they're some good friends."

the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself relaxing in his company. he was charming and attentive, qualities that made you feel desired in a way jude never fully did. but even as you laughed at his jokes and flirted back, a part of you remained painfully aware that this was all a distraction, a way to numb the hurt.

as the night wore on, he moved closer, his hand resting on your lower back. you allowed it, leaning into the touch, craving the comfort it provided. but just as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, you caught sight of jude watching you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

your heart skipped a beat, a mix of triumph and regret flooding through you. you had his attention now, but at what cost? you broke away from jude's gaze, your attention fully on the man next to you.

however, before you knew it ─ you two were interrupted.

"y/n," jude's voice seemed steady but as you turned to face him, his expression nothing short of intense. his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"jude," you replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. the man next to you shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension.

jude's jaw tightened as he glanced at the guy beside you, then back at you. "it's getting late, let's get outta here."

"that's funny, i was just about to ask her that." the man spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice before he cleared his throat, noting that his commentary was certainly not needed.

you blinked up at him, your lips curving into a sarcastic smile. "why don't you go ask the girl who's been keeping you busy all night?"

"that's what this is about?" jude let out a huff, his gaze boring into yours. "jealousy?"

"oh, you shouldn't be talking." you shot back, your voice tinged with bitterness. "you’ve been parading around with other women all night. don’t act like you’re innocent."

jude's eyes flashed with anger. "i wasn’t doing anything different than what we've been doing all along. you knew what this was from the start."

"yeah, i did," you snapped. "but it doesn't make it any easier to watch you with someone else."

the man next to you awkwardly excused himself, sensing the argument escalating. jude barely noticed as he took a step closer to you, his frustration palpable. "so, what? you decided to flirt with some random guy to get back at me? i don't like pettiness, you know that."

you crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground. "no, not everything is about you. maybe you just don't do it for me anymore, have you thought about that? you're not everyone's ideal man, jude."

jude stared back at you, trying to process what you just said. "oh really?" he let out a laugh but it was void of the usual amusement. were you really trying to come for his ego now?

"really," you responded, standing your ground.

"so i don't do it for you anymore, is that right?" jude glared back at you as he walked closer, his tall frame towering over you. "what's it, exactly? cause i know you're not coming for my bedroom skills."

"bingo," you answered with a smirk, grabbing the drink from the table as you took a sip. "you're exactly right."

he let out a soft chuckle as his gaze darkened. "really that guy could fuck you like i do? nobody could fuck you like i do."

you felt excitement in his words, knowing you were hitting him where it hurts. and you'd hoped it'll pay off at the end of the night. "you really think you're that good?"

"i know it,"

"cocky, jude. very cocky," you purred, stepping closer to him.

the heat between you was palpable, the air thick with unresolved tension. you could feel the intensity of his gaze as it roamed over your face, down your body, and back up to meet your eyes.

"confident," he corrected, his voice low and husky. "there's a difference."

you raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "is that right?"

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "you know it is. and i'll can prove it to you."

a shiver ran down your spine at the closeness of his body, the warmth of his breath on your skin. you set your drink down and placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch.

"prove it, then," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

jude's eyes darkened further, a predatory gleam in them as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "i will, make you remember who fucks you the best."

you licked your lips, your breath hitching as his thumb traced your lower lip. "i'm counting on it,"

with a growl, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hand tightening around your waist as he deepened the kiss. you melted into him, all the anger and frustration from earlier dissipating in the heat of the moment. his lips were demanding, his touch possessive, as if he was claiming you all over again.

your hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more. jude responded by lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the exit. the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the electricity sparking between your bodies.

as he pushed open the door to his car and placed you inside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. something real. but you knew that was wishful thinking.

jude climbed in after you as he started the car and drove toward his place. the journey was a blur of heated kisses and whispered promises, both of you unable to keep your hands off each other.

and by the time you reached his apartment, the anticipation was nearly unbearable. he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him before setting you down and pinning you against the wall, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck.

"still think that guy could compare to me?" he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your body.

you moaned softly, arching into his touch. "no," you admitted breathlessly.

he smiled against your neck, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head. "good. cause you’re mine, and i’m going to show you just how much you mean to me."

he carried you toward the bed, placing you down gently before hovering over you, his eyes burning with desire. you could feel the tension in the air, the electricity between you crackling with intensity.

jude's hands moved with a possessive urgency, trailing over your skin as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. your breath hitched as he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

his hands were deft and skilled, knowing exactly how to make you gasp and shiver under his touch. clothes were discarded in a frenzy, the need to feel each other skin-to-skin overwhelming, leaving you naked. when he finally pushed into you, it felt like coming home, a perfect fit that made you both moan in unison.

"all mine," he whispered against your lips, his thrusts steady and deep. "don't ever forget that."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back as you matched his rhythm, losing yourself in the sensation. the way he moved, the way he touched you, it was like he was trying to prove a point with every thrust. and maybe he was. maybe this was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him, how much he needed you.

he pulled your hips upward, sitting up as he fucked into you like a starved man. his grip on your hips was firm, almost bruising, as he pulled you closer, thrusting deeper with each movement.

the intensity of his gaze bore into you, a mix of lust and possessiveness that made your heart race. your body arched off the bed, meeting him halfway, every sensation amplified by the sheer need radiating between you.

"god, you're so perfect," he groaned, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. the combination of pleasure and the raw intensity in his voice made you shiver, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

you were completely at his mercy, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher. his pace quickened, a desperate edge to his movements as if he couldn't get enough of you. you could feel the tension coiling in your core, your breaths coming in short gasps as you neared the edge.

"cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

the command was all it took. your body tensed, the pleasure cresting in a powerful wave that crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. jude's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched you, his own control slipping as he followed you over the edge, his release spilling into you with a groan.

for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the aftermath of your shared intensity leaving you both spent and sated. jude collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his hold gentle now, almost tender.

"mine," he murmured again, his lips brushing your temple. "always."

you nestled against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "always," you echoed, the word a promise and a reminder of the connection that bound you together, for better or worse.

after that night, sex was how you fixed every little dispute you had. sure it wasn't healthy but sure as hell worked, he made sure you forgot all about why you were angry in the first place. yeah, he was cocky but it was for a reason.

⠀ ── ⠀

you still yearned for more.

you knew that was wishful thinking, jude was too focused on his career to even think about girls. you were the only one that he kept and you didn't know why, but you couldn't deny that it made you feel special, even if it wasn't in the way you truly wanted.

you were his escape, his relief from the pressures of his demanding life, and while you cherished the moments you had together, you couldn't shake the longing for something deeper, something more meaningful.

you often found yourself lying awake at night, replaying your conversations and encounters, searching for any sign that he might feel the same way. but jude was a closed book, his intentions unclear. it was both frustrating and intoxicating, leaving you constantly on edge, hoping for more but never quite sure if it would ever come.

one evening, after another intense round of making up, you lay in his arms, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths. jude's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, a touch of tenderness that made your heart ache.

"jude," you began hesitantly, unsure if you should voice the thoughts that had been plaguing you. "do you ever think about what this... what we could be if things were different?"

he stiffened slightly, his hand pausing its movements. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "i mean, if you weren't so focused on football, do you think we could be more than just... this?"

jude was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost distant. "i don't know. my career is everything to me. it's what i've worked for my whole life."

"i get that," you said softly, turning to look at him. "but it doesn't mean you can't have something more, someone who supports you and is there for you."

he sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of regret and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "if... if things were different, sure. but not right now, i don't have time for all that right now."

all that, he called it, as if your feelings and the possibility of a deeper relationship were just another burden on his already full plate. the sting of his words was sharp, but you tried to keep your voice steady.

"all that," you repeated, a bitter smile tugging at your lips.

jude's expression softened, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "y/n, it's not that i don't want it. it's just... i can't handle more than i already have. my career, the constant travel, the pressure — it's overwhelming."

you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again to meet his gaze. "i get it, it's okay."

having some of him is better than have none of him, you kept reminding yourself as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. you lay there for a while, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you, the knowledge that you would always come second to his career. but in those quiet moments, it was hard to focus on the negative. there was something so peaceful about being in his arms, so right, that made it difficult to let go.

days turned into weeks, and the cycle continued. you took what you could get, savoring the good moments and enduring the difficult ones. your friends started to notice the change in you, the way your mood would swing based on your interactions with jude. they would offer concerned looks and ask if everything was okay, but you always brushed them off with a smile and a nonchalant "i'm fine."

deep down, you knew they were right to worry. the emotional toll of your arrangement with jude was starting to wear on you, and you were constantly on edge, wondering when the next blow would come. you tried to distract yourself with work and hobbies, but nothing seemed to fill the void that jude left when he wasn't around.

⠀ ── ⠀

THREE MONTHS LATER

⠀ ── ⠀

it's crazy how much could change within 3 months. after a while, you stopped talking to jude and he understood why ─ you were hurting and you needed time. you found a boyfriend and of course jude wasn't too happy about that, but he couldn't really do anything about it.

you met your boyfriend at a friend’s birthday party. he was charming, attentive, and most importantly, he was ready for a relationship. things moved quickly, and soon enough, you found yourself in a stable, happy relationship. he treated you with the care you had longed for, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were moving forward.

it didn't stop you from missing jude. the excitement you got from the way his presence made your heart race, was something you couldn’t easily forget. despite your boyfriend's kindness and the stability he offered, there was a lingering sense of something unfulfilled, a part of you that still yearned for the intensity you once had with jude.

one evening, as you and your boyfriend were having dinner at your favorite restaurant, your phone buzzed with a message. you glanced at it, your heart skipping a beat when you saw jude's name.

jude: miss you.

you quickly turned your phone face down, trying to focus on the conversation with ben, but the message stayed with you, echoing in your mind. you couldn’t deny that a part of you missed him too, missed the thrill and the connection you shared.

⠀ ── ⠀

the euros had came and your friends had bought tickets to go see england in the quarterfinals versus switzerland, they eventually convinced you to come. the thought of seeing jude on the pitch, representing his country, filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

on the day of the match, the stadium was buzzing with energy. you and your friends found your seats, the sea of england fans creating a vibrant atmosphere. as the players took to the field, your eyes were immediately drawn to jude. he looked focused, determined, and undeniably handsome in his england kit.

the match was intense, with both teams fighting hard for a place in the semifinals. you cheered along with the crowd, your emotions swinging with every close call and near miss. seeing jude play with such passion and skill reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place.

when the final whistle blew, signaling england's victory, the celebration in the stadium was electric. you watched as jude and his teammates hugged, their faces alight with joy. you couldn't take your eyes off him, feeling a deep sense of connection despite the physical distance between you.

after the match, your friends had gotten invited to the celebratory party due to their connections to the english players. you knew you'd eventually be seeing jude and you just had to trust yourself to not fall in his trap once again.

well, you were wrong.

your legs tightened around jude's waist as he pushed the door of his hotel room open, his lips never leaving yours. he closed the door with his foot, pushing you against it when it closed.

you moaned against his lips as his hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. his kisses were demanding, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held you close as if afraid you might slip away.

"jude," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "we shouldn’t be doing this."

"i know," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck. "can’t help it. i need you, y/n. how can i celebrate without you?"

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and any resolve you had left melted away. you had tried to move on, to build a new life with your boyfriend, but being in jude's arms again felt like coming home.

"just this once," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "just this once," he agreed, though you both knew it was a lie.

with a growl, he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your hips as he carried you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body pressing against yours as he deepened the kiss. you could feel the heat between you growing, the familiar ache of desire spreading through you.

"god, i’ve missed this," he groaned, his hands sliding under your shirt. "missed you."

"me too," you admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers brushed against your skin.

clothes were quickly discarded until you were in left in your bra and underwear, the urgency between you leaving little room for hesitation. jude's touch was both familiar and electrifying, every caress reminding you of the connection you had tried so hard to forget. he moved with a confidence that made your heart race, his hands and lips worshipping your body as if making up for lost time.

"mine," he murmured against your ear, his voice rough with emotion. "no one else can make you feel like this."

"yes," you gasped, arching into his touch. "i’m yours, jude. always."

his eyes darkened with possessiveness, a primal satisfaction evident in his gaze. "i’ll never let you go again," he promised, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor.

his hands found your hips as he pushed you into the mattress, you let out another moan at his roughness. something your boyfriend never managed to do, you were never satisfied with the sexual part of your relationship.

he began rubbing his finger against your clothed core, his ego skyrocketing at the wetness that was already soaking through your panties. "look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride. "so wet for me."

you whimpered in response, your hips bucking against his hand. "jude, please," you begged, the need in your voice unmistakable.

"please what?" he teased, his fingers slipping under the fabric to stroke you directly. "tell me what you want, y/n."

"i want you," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "i need you inside me, jude. now."

"oh yeah?" his voice was hoarse as he gazed down at you, taking in your form. he stopped his movements as he licked his lips, "does he fuck you like i do? tell me."

jude was teasing and you hated it. you also loved it, loved the way he made you work for it.

"no," you admitted breathlessly, your hips moving in a desperate attempt to find some friction. "no one fucks me like you do, jude. only you."

a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "that's what i thought," he murmured, his fingers resuming their torturous movements. "you're mine, y/n. always have been, always will be."

"please," you begged, your voice breaking with need. "i need you, jude. please."

"aw, poor baby. bet you haven't cum in a while, right? he looks like he doesn't know how to fuck, right?" jude mocked as he leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "he's a damn loser. let me show you how a real man fucks, yeah?"

"please," you repeated as you nodded, too lost in the pleasure to think clearly.

he chuckled softly, clearly relishing the power he held over you. "since you asked so nicely," he said, positioning himself at your entrance. with a single, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, drawing a loud moan from your lips.

the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain. jude moved with a possessiveness that left you breathless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

his hands found your hips as he began fucking into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust. each movement was deliberate and intense, a reminder of the connection you shared and the passion that had never truly faded.

"god, you feel so good," he groaned, his grip tightening as he quickened his pace. "so tight, fuck. like you were made for me."

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. "only you, jude. no one else."

the words seemed to drive him wild, his thrusts becoming even more frantic as he pushed you both closer to the edge. the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies, each moan and gasp a testament to the intensity of the moment.

"can't get enough of you," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "i need you, y/n. always."

"always," you echoed, your own voice trembling with the force of your feelings. "i'm all yours, jude."

the coil of pleasure inside you tightened with each thrust, building to a crescendo that left you breathless and desperate for release. jude's movements became almost frenzied, his own need evident as he chased his climax.

"cum for me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "wanna feel you come around me."

the words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. you cried out his name, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

jude followed moments later, his own release hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, as if he was reclaiming all over again. for a long moment, you both lay there, tangled together and utterly spent.

finally, he shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. you nestled against him, savoring the warmth and closeness. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a tender gesture that made your heart ache with longing.

"break up with him," he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"jude..." you moved your head so you could face him, a frown curving your lips. "it's not that easy,"

"you just cheated on him and all it took were a couple drinks." he replied nonchalantly, his voice tinged with annoyance. "obviously he doesn't fuck you well, cause you felt this the moment i touched you."

"it's not just about that," you protested, your voice a mixture of guilt and frustration. "he's a good guy. he treats me well, and i do care about him."

"but you don't love him," jude shot back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "not the way you love me."

the truth in his words stung, and you knew he was right. but breaking up with your boyfriend wasn't just about ending a relationship; it meant facing the reality of your feelings for jude and the complicated situation you found yourselves in.

"i don't want to hurt him," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"but you can't keep pretending." he spoke, his gaze never leaving yours. "look, i know... i was selfish."

was, as in past tense. you noted.

"i wasn't thinking about what you wanted and... i knew i wasn't fulfilling your emotional needs. i didn't know what i had til you left," jude continued, his voice sincere. "god, nobody does it like you. i've looked but nobody feels like you and it's deeper than just sex it's..."

he paused, feeling vulnerable as he sighed. where was he even going with this?

"it's everything," jude finally said, his voice softening. "it's the way you make me feel, the way you understand me without me having to say a word. it's the way you laugh, the way you support me, the way you just... get me."

you felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making you believe every word. it was everything you had wanted to hear, but the reality of your situation made it hard to fully embrace it.

"jude, i need you to understand that this isn't just about you and me," you said gently, trying to convey the complexity of your feelings. "i do care about ben, and breaking up with him is going to hurt him. i can't just ignore that."

"i know," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek. "and i'm not asking you to ignore it. i'm asking you to be honest with yourself and with him. you deserve to be happy, and so does he. even if it means going through some pain first."

you sighed, knowing he was right. it was a difficult decision, but staying in a relationship where your heart wasn't fully invested was unfair to both you and ben.

"okay," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "i'll talk to him. but jude, i need you to promise me something."

"anything," he replied, his eyes full of determination.

"i need you to be all in," you said, your voice steady despite the emotion in your chest. "if we're going to do this, i need to know that you're committed, that this isn't just about the thrill or the sex. i need to know that you're ready for something real."

jude's eyes softened, and he nodded, his hand gently squeezing yours. "i promise, y/n. i'm all in. i want this to work, more than anything. and i'll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that."

with those words, a sense of resolve settled over you. it wouldn't be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time, you felt like you were moving in the right direction.

as you lay back in his arms, feeling the warmth and security of his embrace, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter. one where you were finally choosing to follow your heart, no matter where it led.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham blurb #england nt #england national team #real madrid #bellingham #jb5

544 notes · View notes

domnamewoman · 1 year ago

Text

MK1 Characters Reaction: How They Act When They Get Clingy

Characters: Liu Kang, Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Kitana, Mileena, Tanya, Sub-Zero, Scorpion, Smoke, Reptile, Baraka, Shang Tsung, Rain

Warnings: GN!Reader

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

“Did you call upon me?” Liu Kang asked as he sat next to you on the couch, before positioning himself with his head resting in your lap.

You look from your phone screen down at him. “No, I didn’t call you,” you responded, baffled at where he got such an idea. “I’ve actually just been enjoying my own company for a little while. Nice and quiet.”

“You must have called me in my head then,” Liu Kang said, making no moves to get up.

You rolled your eyes as he made himself more comfortable in your lap. “That’s a very convenient excuse for you to use just to cuddle me.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, knowing he’d been caught. “Since I’m here now, I might as well stay for a bit, don’t you think?”

“I suppose you can stay lying here,” you sighed as you began running your fingers through his hair.

Liu Kang closed his eyes, “I could stay here for eons.”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Eons is a very long time, don’t you think you’d get bored of me at some point?”

“Never, I always want to be around you,” Liu Kang admitted, staring up at you lovingly.

“Y/N,” huffed Raiden as he walked into your office to see you still typing away on your computer.

You briefly looked up at him, taking note of the pout present on his face. “What’s wrong Raiden?”

“You said you would be done working over an hour ago,” Raiden sighed as he walked up behind you.

“My boss emailed me saying they wanted some documents earlier than expected, so I had to take care of it.”

“Not anymore,” Raiden said as he started massaging your shoulders, “Take a break.”

You shook your head. “Raiden I can’t just stop working because you are too clingy to be left alone.”

“Yes, you can,” Raiden reasoned as he leaned his head against your shoulder and tightly wrapped his arms around you. “I will stay here until you stop. You know I will.”

You let out a sigh knowing that he was right. “You can be so stubborn sometimes. Fine, just let me send this last document and I’ll be done.”

Raiden placed a kiss on your cheek, “And then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”

“There you are, I thought you’d gone out without telling me.” Kung Lao said as he sat next to you on the bed.

“I’ve been here for over an hour. You’re not very good at seeking if you have been looking for me that long.”

“I missed you, it was lonely downstairs,” Kung Lao whispered in your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden affection. “I was just in the bedroom, it’s not like I was in a different Realm.”

“I know,” he hummed, nuzzling into your neck, “it felt that way though.”

You continued to look at him in confusion as he made himself comfortable. “Either you’ve done something, or you’re about to.”

“No,” he chuckled, resting a hand against your thigh, “I just wanted to spend a bit of time with you. Is that such a crime as your boyfriend?”

You shook your head, “It’s just very unlike you to be this clingy around me.”

“People change Y/N, this is the new me.”

“Don’t just sit there,” Johnny said as he danced around the living room, swaying his hips, “come and dance with me.”

You shook your head as you remained seated on the couch, “you know I’m no good at dancing. Why don’t you show me how it’s done, and I’ll watch you from here.”

“You always say no, it’s time to say yes,” Johnny said as he suddenly pulled you up and placed his hands on your hips.

“You can’t make me dance against my will, Johnny.”

“Watch me,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “just stay nice and close to me.”

You rolled your eyes as Johnny worked you two into a two-step. “Do you really want me to dance, or is this just an excuse?”

“An excuse for what?” Johnny questioned innocently. “All I am doing is dancing with you. Whatever you think is going on here is just all in your head.”

“Sure,” you said as you nodded skeptically. “So you’re going to deny the fact that you just want to be clingy?”

“Me? Clingy? I would never be such a thing.”

“Are you sure Liu Kang got the time correct?” You ask as you look around, seeing no one in sight.

Kenshi told you that Liu Kang caught wind of a shady meet-up happening and wanted you both to spy on the dealings.

“Uh… yeah. He said they would be meeting here around this time.” Kenshi said, not meeting your eyes.

“We’ve been waiting for almost an hour though,” you sigh, honestly you were getting kind of bored.

“You know how evil-doers are, never showing up on time…”

Something was off about the way Kenshi was acting. Now that you think about it, if something was happening here, why would Liu Kang only send you two? “Kenshi… is there really a mission?”

“Fine… There is no mission,” Kenshi sighs as he looks down, “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. The guys are always around.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You didn’t have to do all of this if you wanted to be clingy, you could’ve just asked me out on a date.” You stand up and hold out your hand to your boyfriend, “Come on, you owe me an “all you can eat” at Madam Bo’s for waiting here so long.”

“All you can eat… Madam Bo’s prices are kind of…” Kenshi stops himself as he sees your expression, “Of course, anything for my love. Let’s go.”

“You don’t seem to have a fever,” you say as you hold the back of your hand to Kitana’s forehead.

“Are you sure”–cough–”I definitely feel hot and clammy,” Kitana says as she pulls the blanket up to her chin.

“Hmm, okay then, let me go get the royal physician,” You say as you stand from the bed, heading towards the door.

“Uh no no,” Kitana reaches out to stop you, “I don’t need the physician.”

“Kitana, you might have something serious. I don’t know anything about medicine, clearly since I couldn’t even detect your fever, so I can’t help you.” You try to reason with her, worried about her condition.

“I don’t think it’s anything serious, just a little cold. Nothing some cuddles can’t fix,” Kitana suggests, smiling at you.

“How are cuddles going to help? You need medicine, some soup at the very least,” You turn to go to the kitchen, “Wait here, I will go make you something.”

“I’m not really sick,” Kitana admits as she gets out of bed and walks over to you, “I just wanted to cuddle.”

You embrace your pouting girlfriend, kissing her on the forehead. “You know, I think I feel that fever now. I believe a healthy dose of cuddles should clear it right up.”

“Wow, you look amazing,” Mileena said in awe as you came into the room, giving her a twirl to show off your outfit. “You are definitely staying by my side the entire night.”

You shook your head, “This is your first event as Empress. You have to mingle with the people and not stay glued to my side all night long, promise?”

“I can’t make any promises when you look this stunning.”

You playfully bop her nose, “Mileena, if you are going to cling to me all night, I will stay home. You can’t waste this opportunity to make a good impression on the people.”

“You might help me impress,” her eyes raked over you, “especially with how good you look.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine, but you aren’t allowed to be clingy. I’m not your priority tonight, I’m just supporting you.”

“You are always my priority,” Mileena whispered in your ear, “besides, I can cling to you and mingle with the people. I’m good at being subtle.”

“You have never been subtle in all the time I’ve known you.”

“Well,” Mileena said, guiding you to the door, “there’s a first time for everything.”

“I knew I smelled food,” Tanya said as she entered the kitchen and found you leaning over the stove, preparing dinner.

“Go away, I know what you’re doing. I don’t need your help or advice.” You said as you pushed her away when she came up behind you.

“We can cook together, it’s romantic,” Tanya persuaded.

You shook your head, knowing your girlfriend. “We don’t cook together, you always take over. I know you’re the better cook, but I want to do this for you for once.”

“Fine, I’ll be quiet,” Tanya compromised, “Just let me stay here and watch you.”

You looked at her skeptically, “You really want to watch? Fine, if you want to be clingy then I guess I’ll let you stay.”

“Yes, I want to be clingy,” Tanya smiled as she quickly pecked your lips. “I know I said I would be quiet, but that pot is bubbling almost to the point of being unsalvageable.”

You whip around to see the pot almost spilled over. “See, this is your fault for being so clingy,” You sigh as you lower the heat.

“Mhmm, sure it is.”

“Then what you want to do is grab their arm and bring it over your shoulder like this,” Bi-Han demonstrated, “After that, you can use the momentum to throw them on the ground.”

“Mhm, and why are you teaching me basic throws again?” You questioned. When Bi-Han said he wanted to do some sparing practice, this wasn’t what you had in mind.

“So you can learn them, of course.”

“Bi-Han, I’m one of the Lin Kuei’s top fighters. I know how to do basic throws.”

“Really, then show me,” Bi-Han said as he charged at you.

You quickly side-stepped him and grabbed his arm, leaning down and throwing him over your shoulder, executing the move flawlessly.

“I guess you do know them,” He grunted from the ground.

You squat down next to him, sighing, “What is really going on here, Bi-Han?”

He sat up, resting one arm on his bent knee and looking down dejectedly. “I wanted to have some extra time with you but I couldn’t pull you away from your duties unless it was for training.”

“Oh my, is the great Grandmaster being clingy?” You taunt. “Come on then. I think I need to work on my ground moves,” You said before tackling him.

“Shouldn’t we have arrived by now?” You ask Kuai Liang. You two were walking to a new restaurant, where you would be meeting Tomas and Bi-Han for dinner.

“It’s just a little further up the road.” Kuai Liang reassured.

“Hmm, didn’t Bi-Han say that it wasn’t far from the house? We’ve been walking for a while now.”

“He’s not that great with directions,” Kuai Liang dismissed, “Anyway, isn’t this nice? Look at the full moon, it’s a beautiful night.”

“Yes it is,” you said looking at the sky, “But I don’t want us to be late, maybe I should call?”

“There’s no need for that,” he insisted as he grabbed your hand, holding it as you two walked.

You nod, dropping the issue. It was a beautiful night and you enjoyed the romantic atmosphere surrounding you and your boyfriend as you walked together. That is until you spot a familiar-looking merchant’s cart. “Wait a minute, we pasted this cart before. Have we been walking in circles?”

You look at your boyfriend, who is conveniently not meeting your gaze. You stop walking and stand in front of him. “Maybe…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I wanted a little alone time with you before meeting them at the restaurant.”

“I can’t believe this,” you chuckle, playfully hitting his chest. “If your clinginess has made me miss out on the steamed buns you’re in trouble. You know Bi-Han always tries to eat all of them.”

“Are you really going out?” Tomas asked as he saw you dressed up and collecting your things to leave. “I thought we could spend the evening in and watch a movie.”

You shook your head, “Sorry baby, I’m meeting Kung Lao and Raiden at Madam Bo’s for dinner. We have had this planned for weeks, it’s the one day we are all free.”

“This is my last day free this week before I’ll be busy again.”

“I know, but we spent all day together yesterday. I’m surprised you aren’t tired of me. All of your free time is spent with me.”

“I like it that way,” Tomas pouted as he followed you around the room, “What if you invite them here instead?”

“Madam Bo has a new dish she is dying to have us try.”

“Oh… alright.”

You look up to see the dejected look on your boyfriend’s face. You couldn’t stand to see him upset.

“I suppose you could tag along. The boys wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes, that’s great. Just give me one moment,” Tomas said happily, kissing your cheek before rushing off to get ready.

“Are you sure you have time for this?” You ask Syzoth as you two walk through the farmer’s market picking out vegetables.

“Of course I do,” Syzoth reassures moving in close behind you as you look at tomatoes, “I never get to go shopping with you.”

“That’s because you’re busy being the Empress’s Mercenary,” You smile at him over your shoulder, “Which is why I’m surprised you’re free right now.”

“I know r-”

“Syzoth,” Syzoth was interrupted by someone calling his name. You both look over to see Tanya. “There you are, the Empress has been looking for you.”

You turn and raise your eyebrow at your boyfriend, “Syzoth… I thought you said you had the morning off?”

“I’ll be there in one moment,” Syzoth addresses Tanya before looking back at you sheepishly. “Uh… I kind of skipped work this morning when you told me you were headed to the market.”

“Syzoth,” You say exasperatedly, “Why would you do that?”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you. I’m always working and I… I miss you.”

You sigh, pulling your clingy boyfriend in for a kiss. “Okay, go see the Empress. I’ll make sure I stay up late tonight so we can spend some time together when you get home.” You promised.

“You really don't have to come with me," You said as you walked with Baraka. Liu Kang sent you on a simple mission and Baraka insisted on going with you.

"It doesn't hurt to have backup," Baraka reasoned.

"Yes, but I'm pretty sure I can handle this one on my own."

"I do not doubt your fighting skills. But there is always the possibility of something unexpected happening. You can not predict everything." Baraka said as he walked closer to you.

You couldn't argue with that logic. But… "You've never offered to go with anyone else on a solo mission."

"Well…" Baraka trailed off at a loss for words.

"Did you just want to spend time with me?" You ask, smiling widely at him.

“What is wrong with that,” Baraka stated, not at all ashamed, “It is not a crime for me to want to spend time with my lover.”

“No, it's not,” You agreed as you bumped your shoulder into him, “It just makes you clingy.”

Shang Tsung stared at you in annoyance. “Do you plan on turning a page anytime soon?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “You can’t rush a reader. I’m immersing and absorbing every detail of this story.”

“You’re doing this on purpose to tease me.”

You shook your head, smiling to yourself. He was right. “I’m not doing anything on purpose. I’m simply reading a book. It’s a good story, you would enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy your attention more,” Shang Tsung mumbled.

You let out a chuckle, “I never knew you could be so clingy.”

“I’m not clingy. It’s just that you have never taken this long to read a book.”

You smile as you close your book and set it down. “No, I haven’t, but it was fun seeing how far I can push you.”

“Stop pushing and come over here,” Shang Tsung replied as he opened his arms waiting for you to fall into them.

“Do you need some help?” Zeffeero poked his head in and asked for the fifth time in under an hour.

“No Zeffeero, I’m still okay,” you roll your eyes. You were rearranging your office and Zeffeero just couldn’t seem to let you be.

“Are you sure? That desk looks heavy, I’ll take it,” He said as he walked in and replaced your hands with his, “Where do you want it?”

“Up against that wall,” You point, finally giving up and letting him help. You watch as he moves the desk where you told him to.

“Is there anything else you need?” Zeffeero asks eagerly.

“No, I got it. I’m just going to put the books in these two boxes on the bookshelf.” You told him.

“I’ll help you.” He said as he started taking the books out.

You cross your arms over your chest as you look at him, “What’s up with you? Why are you being clingy all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He walks up to you and kisses your cheek, “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

3K notes · View notes

yxxdel · 2 months ago

Text

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑

ft. multi characters

summary: the title said it all hehe

a/n: randomly listened to this song again, and wanted to write a little drabble but huh.. 850 wc. anyways, hope y’all enjoy. also i won't update a lot bc college started again and im dying

song— versace on the floor, bruno mars (my man fr)

He always loved to spoil you, without any reason, whether it was jewelry or clothes.

But the thing he bought you all the time were dresses. Black, white, red— you had an entire collection in your wardrobe.

Seeing you in fancy dresses turned him on mostly every time. So you weren’t surprised when he brought you yesterday a gorgeous Versace dress.

It was a long dark green dress with a slit on the side, and an open back.

You felt beautiful as you checked yourself in the mirror, biting your lips in admiration.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your body with adoration and lust. He felt his pants tightening just by this sight as he stood up and walked behind you.

You smiled at him through the mirror, feeling him wrapping his arms around you.

“You like it ?”

He muttered, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I love it. Thank you, honey.”

His lips curled into a small smile, his hand grabbing your hips as he made your bodies rock slowly side to side.

“I’m glad you like it, because I think she was made for you.”

He kissed your bare shoulder, his lips trailing gently towards your sensitive spot behind your ear.

You chuckled, his action tickling you as you closed your eyes.

There was faint music in the background, from the speakers. You tended to put on music when you got ready.

His eyes closed as well, adoring the feeling of your warm body against his.

Your bodies kept moving side to side slowly; the moment could be so romantic if he wasn’t dreaming of ripping the dress off you.

He smirked when he recognized the music that was playing, opening his eyes as his hands wandered on your body.

“Do you know the title of that song, love ?”

Your eyes opened with slight confusion as he turned you around, grabbing the straps of the dress, leaning in to kiss your shoulder once again.

“Versace on the floor.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, smirking.

“Oh, is it now ?”

You said, and he nodded as he started to kiss your neck, painfully slow.

“What a coincidence, huh ?”

He smiled against you as he slowly pulled down the dress.

You swallowed hard with anticipation, feeling the dress falling to your feet. You didn’t bother to wear a bra, so you were now only in panties in front of him.

His eyes explored your body from head to toes, gulping as he clenched his jaw. If he didn’t hold back, he could just have come by the sight of your bare body.

He grabbed you by the waist gently, pulling you closer to him.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He whispered in a deep voice before pressing his lips against yours.

Surprisingly, the kiss wasn’t rough but gentle and held all the love he felt for you.

His lips moved softly against yours, frowning slightly from the sudden warm sensation rushing through his body as he deepened the kiss when he felt your tongue seeking enter into his mouth.

His tongue slipped in your mouth with a long groan, cupping your face with one hand and grabbing the back of your neck with the other one.

The lewd sounds your mouth made and the little noises you let out made him even more turned on as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up.

Automatically wrapping your legs around his waist, you smiled against him as he brought you to the bed. You bit his lower lip, before he put you on the bed gently.

“Naughty girl.”

He purred, attacking your neck again. Nibbling and sucking your skin, you grabbed his hair as he started to grind himself against your clothed cunt.

“I have a little problem down there, care to help me ?”

He whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t help but whimper as your hands slowly fell to his pants.

You felt how hard he was, and you swallowed hard again. Slipping your hand into his pants, he groaned loudly as you didn’t warn him and touched his cock immediately.

“E-eager, are you ?”

He sounded like he could cum right now , and you smirked, starting to stroke him slowly.

“You’re the needy one, baby.”

You teased, fastening your pace and hearing his quickened breathing. His lips hovered over your body until he arrived in front of your chest, and started to suck on your nipple.

You both moaned at the same time, his tongue teasing you before he stood up suddenly.

He took off his shirt and pulled down his pants quickly. Leaving him naked before his body was above yours again.

“Tell me if it’s too much, ok? I don’t know if I can hold back when you look at me with those eyes.”

He murmured, before kissing you, your head deepening into the mattress from how hard his lips were on you.

Then you felt his tip at your entrance, and you smiled— because you knew how long and thick he was, and yet it was never too much.

This is…. NANAMI, geto, gojo, HIGURUMA (jjk) LEVI, jean (aot) SAE, kaiser, NOEL (bllk) GIYUU, tengen, muzan (kny) AIZAWA (mha) SANJI , shanks, law (op) DI leon (re) renji, BYAKUYA (bleach) DAISUKE (he’s so underrated bc the hype of the millionaire detective died w/ the covid)

240 notes · View notes

cy-cyborg · 1 year ago

Text

Tips for writing and drawing amputee characters: Stump Scarring

This was something I had originally intended to mention in this post but felt it deserved its own separate post.

A lot of people, when drawing and designing amputee characters, draw their characters with these big, gnarly looking scars all over the stump. I get why people do this, but in reality, most amputees have stumps that look more like this:

The only scarring that is inherent to amputation (meaning most amputees have) is a very thin line right at the tip of the stump that comes from where the stump was sewn shut. After 5-10 years though, these thin incision scars will fade to be nearly invisible in most folks other than the indent it usually leaves in the skin.

Of course, there are exceptions! My own legs are covered in heavy scarring like the pictures below.

but typically, you only see this in amputees who lost their limb in ways that required them to also need skin grafts, such as from a burn (fire or acid), gangrene, some types of rapid-onset sepsis, or particularly brutal animal attacks.

For context, I used scars from meningococcal as reference here.

I think this is another reason a lot of people, particularly in 2D comics and animation, cover their amputee character's stumps, because they think all amputees have scars like the ones in the second image and I'll be honest, that's a lot to draw when you're drawing it over and over again, but unless your amputee also needed skin grafts bcuase of their injury/illness, their stumps will look more like the first images.

Fun fact: on particularly pale skin, scars can change colour depending on temperature. scars have less circulation and the blood vessels are closer to the skin, which means if you don't have a lot of melanin, your scars can turn a grey-ish purple colour like so:

This information is brought to you by an especially pasty white person in the southern hemisphere (where it's winter atm) who's scars haven't seen the sun since june lmao.

A quick final note: If you look up "burn scars" or any other similar type of large scarring on google a lot of what you get are fresh scars, so they're going to look different than the ones here. On pale skin, large scars like the ones above start out very dark red and will fade to look more like the images here. The same is true for dark skin, typically fresh scars will be much darker in colouration and will fade to be closer to the natural skin tone with time, though on both, they will always be very visible. Some types of scarring on darker skin tones can cause the skin to become lighter, but they don't usually turn entirely light pink like I've seen some folks draw. This is why it's so important to look up references of the type of scar your character has AND how that looks on their skin tone.

And as always, listen to POC and seek out the recourses specifically made by them, especially if you're drawing characters with darker skin tones. Their lived experience will always beat my "what I found through internet research and from talking to friends"

2K notes · View notes

55sturn · 8 months ago

Text

✮ OH, BABYDOLL.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis: in which a night of drunken celebration between matt and his best friend turns into something more, something they both yearned for.

warnings: swearing, alcoholic consumption, making out, use of y/n, slightly suggestive (?) touching, pet name [doll], drunk confessions.

THIRD PERSON POV

everyone has someone in their life that they’ll never really get over, whether it be an ex friend, or an ex lover, there’s always going to be lingering feelings for that person. for matt, it was his best friend.

at first he figured that he was only attracted to her physically and sexually because he was pent up. so the day he noticed that he kept checking her out, he sent a text to an ex hookup and got the job done. but the next day, he was backing to wanting her in such an animalistic and carnal way that it was hard to be around without all the blood rushing from his head to somewhere else.

but the longer his attraction went on, the more confused he ended up. he searched for her in every room, after every joke he told in hopes that he’d find her laughing. he began immediately seeking her the moment he’d step into the house after a rough day.

he realized it became something more when he found himself driving to her apartment complex without prior announcement the moment he received good news about his yesterday’s problem project.

he realized it became something more when he crafted journals for his own personal brand based off the journal she carried with her everywhere.

and he realized that he’s never really wanted anyone the way he’s wanted her, and once that was revealed to him, he tried to move on. he dated girls far and few in between, and none of them never really ignited the flame that lay dormant in the pit of his stomach the way y/n did. other girls never stirred up the butterflies that lay peaceful in his chest every time he was away from her.

he realized that he was fucked. he loved you and there no changing that.

so when he began noticing that she seemed so different after starting her new assistant job, he begged her to quit. it changed her into a dull shell of the lively, bright, and happy person she was. he really believed that it had caused her to lose that sparkle in her personality that made her everything he loved, and honestly he loved her regardless, he just missed her bubbly personality. he had noticed that even her eyes seemed dull.

when you called him later in the day, muttering something along the lines of “i didn’t think the day would come but it did and i don’t have to get up at nearly five in the morning tomorrow!” he couldn’t fully make out the words because of how jumbled you become whenever you’re excited.

“doll, you’re getting all jumbled again, can you repeat that?” he hummed, the pet name you knew all too well that still managed to have the tips of your ears turning pink and hot slipping from his lips, sounding sickeningly sweet. he started calling you doll not too long after you guys met, every time he picked you up when he asked to hangout, you’d come out singing babydoll by dominic fike because it was a song you were obsessed with, but the real reason behind was the night you guys met at some party, you were wearing a cropped raglan style baby tee that read babydoll in the iconic bratz font. the sleeves and collar were bright pink, and the text matched.

he felt that calling you “babydoll” made him sound a bit too much like a boyfriend, so from then on, he coined that nickname “doll”, and it stirred up a sweet and delicate feeling in your chest but it also caused your head to fall fuzzy to the utmost dangerous thoughts about your best friend.

but honestly, you were entranced with the sentimental feeling that bloomed in your chest every time he spoke the nickname.

“i said,” you start, dragging out the “a” as you turn on to his street, “that the day where i quit my job has finally come! so i’m outside because we’re gonna go to some bar or club and celebrate. that’s why i told you to get ready earlier and order an uber.”

“holy shit i cant believe you actually did it!”

“same now get the fuck out here!” you giggled, ending the call and climbing out of your car, waiting against the driver’s door as matt stepped outside, making quick strides over to you, and pulling you into a hug as the uber he ordered came into view.

the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, not wanting to talk about too much with a stranger in the car, knowing very well it could fall on the wrong ears when another passenger climbs into that very seat.

you were beginning to question whether or not getting drunk with matt was a good idea, you had been harbouring so many things directed toward him for the last little while, and you were about to combust. you knew that if you had even the tiniest bit of liquid courage in you, your deepest secrets would come tumbling out like word vomit.

as if matt could sense your worry, he placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as if to say “you’re okay.” and in all honesty, you were both convinced you each had a sixth sense when it came to one another, you could easily read matt and figure out what he was feeling or thinking after a split second of looking at him, and vice versa. your internal spiral was cut short as yours and matt’s favourite club came into view.

you both quickly thanked your uber, giving him a perfect rating before making your way into the club.

“what are we drinking first, doll?” matt hums, however his words fell on vacant ears, you couldn’t stop yourself from zoning out on the way he looked tonight, his shoulders look broad and defined beneath the dark muscle tee he wore, and the pants he paired his shirt with were your favourite pair of anything he owned. they were his black carhartt carpenter pants, paired with his notorious key ring attached to the belt loop, and his white airforces. matt noticed the way you were watching him, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence flow through his veins.

“huh?” you sputter, finally meeting his eyes with your face turning a deep pink, but you were glad the strobe lights in the club were red.

“what are we drinking first?”

“i need a shot of tequila and a vodka redbull.”

“make that two shots, a vodka redbull for her, and i’ll just have a jack and coke.” matt calls to the bartender, having to raise his voice over the loud music and chatter surrounding the bar. once again, as you wait for your drinks, you finding yourself falling into deep concentration, unable to tear your eyes from matt as he leans against the bar. matt turns to hand you your shot, only to find you roughly feeding half of your bottom lip between your teeth, your stare vacant but determined.

“doll, you’re gonna split your lip, stop doing that.” he murmurs, loud enough for only you to hear as he presses his thumb against your lip, pulling it from your teeth, slowly becoming hypnotized by the way it recoils back into its natural pout.

“sorry, the realization of everything is settling in you know?”

“that’s why we’re gonna take our shots, chug our drinks, order more shots, and then dance.”

“matthew sturniolo? offering to dance before anyone else? did i trip and fall into an alternate universe?”

“shut up.” he laughs, downing his shot after clinking his glass against yours, and once again you’re entranced by him, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs slowly as he swallows, finding it incredibly attractive how he hardly makes a face after the shot is gone. before he can meet your stare, you down your shot, followed by your drink, getting rid of both quite quickly, and ordering two more shots for you and matt.

about an hour passes, and you’re both quite tipsy as you dance and scream along to the music, laughing at the moves you both pull out, not caring if anyone sees or judges. but you’re about to tap matt on the shoulder to tell him you’re going to order another, when babydoll comes on. you’re shocked to say the least, it’s not really a clubbing song but you’re thanking whatever being above compelled the dj to play it. matt watches you dance along to your favourite song with a dazed grin, his eyes beginning to become hooded as the alcohol takes over his body.

as you’re singing along, you make eye contact with him and it feels as id the entire world stops, like time was standing still as you slowly gravitate toward him. you’re watching him with through rose coloured glasses as his hands fall to your hips, pulling you flush against him with your hands on his shoulders, and rocking your bodies back and forth. the heat emanating from his palms against your hips and lower back makes your head spin in the best way as you lean in close, your lips ghosting over his as you mumble the words,

“oh babydoll, i cant move on.”

the words almost act as if they’re an unspoken confession, because matt’s nodding along to your words, understanding the underlying meaning behind them. and matt humming the next line, his lips pressing just the slightest bit more against yours, and you’re understanding everything he’s implying.

what started out as an innocent celebration between you two, has now become a flustered mess, your lips are so close, and yet neither of you are ready to cross that line as the next song begins playing, and it’s a raunchy and filthy song, making the moment all the more erotic.

“i need to kiss you, matt.” you whisper against his lips, the torture of having them so close yet so far was causing your head to spin, and you couldn’t wait anymore. and as if to tease you more, matt’s tongue darts between his lips, wetting them, the tip of it brushing ever so slightly against yours. and he couldn’t help smirk as your eyes flutter shut at the smallest amount of contact. and all your self will goes out the window as you hook your fingers around his silver chain, tugging his lips completely against yours, your mouths moving in sync as you reach the moment you’ve been craving since you met matt.

the kiss is sloppy, warm, and extremely hot. it was a mess of clashing teeth, spit swapping, and tangled tongues. matt’s the first to pull away, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth ever so gently, loving the way it bounces back. he loves everything about your lips, the fullness, the shape, and god their shade of pink drives him crazy.

“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted that, doll.” his whispers, his voice think with want and fulfillment as he stares down at you, his left hand moving from your hip to your jaw, his thumb resting against your lip as you smile at him.

“i think i have an idea because i’ve wanted it just as long, matty.”

the two of you don’t break too far apart for the rest of the night, allowing yourselves to sit comfortably in the purgatory of staying the same or indulging in something more that you’ve turned your friendship into. you’re sure to regret letting yourself give so easily into wrecking your friendship with him in the morning, but right now, you couldn’t be bothered, especially not after finally kissing him because right now, all you want to do is keep kissing him. the way his lips fit against yours has almost become addictive, loving the way his lips taste slightly like your lip glass with remnants of coke and rum.

you weren’t sure how you were going to navigate the new change, but what did know was that you were going to be utterly fucked when you wake up tomorrow and remember that you made out with matt.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @florcult @flynnriderishot @33sturniolo @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo oneshots

449 notes · View notes

charmercharm3r · 1 year ago

Note

okay but after reading that 9th member boxing, i need to hear more instances where the boys see her practically naked. like idk at the the gym(again), practice, around the dorm, etc. like maybe she’s getting more comfortable with showing skin but only around the boys so it still catches them off guard cause of how new it still is to all of them

a lil blurb cus I thought this was cute

Masterlist

prev: one, next: three

☆ﾟ

You were just so tired, dehydrated, and felt sticky from sweating for the past god knows how many hours at dance practice. It was just you in the practice room for a while until Hyunjin convinced you that it was time to head home. He was surprised you were even still at the company, considering it was supposed to be a rest day for the group.

The two of you headed home together, him having to almost hold you up most of the way because it felt like your limbs were going to give out any second. “You can have the shower first, you’re kinda stinky,” he teased as he led you through the threshold.

“Gee, thanks! You’re so kind.” Hyunjin smirked at the sarcasm, nudging your shoulder before departing to his room.

Living in the dorm with him, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung was usually rather quiet when 3racha were gone. Hyunjin enjoyed his alone time, as did Jisung when he was home, though when everyone was back at the same time, there was no such thing as peace or personal space.

The only thing you were glad for was finally having your own room, how the company managed to find a 5 bedroom apartment, you had no idea, but you weren’t complaining in the slightest. Room not too small, just enough space for a bed, desk, and closet, you were comfortable.

Tossing your bag down and grabbing a clean towel, you headed to the bathroom before the rest of the members could come home.

There was a new bottle in the shower, brown and expensive looking. “Jinnie, did you get a new hair product?” You called out, picking it up to inspect.

“Yeah, I heard it was really good. Try a little if you want,” he yelled back from his room. Calling back a, "sure, thanks," you shut the door and started your shower.

There was so much on your find, you don't know how long you spent under the water. It took some time before you even undressed, looking at yourself in the mirror and examining what body part you thought might stand out for the public to talk about for the next come back. There was always something wrong, nothing you did ever felt good enough.

Sometimes your thighs were too big, sometimes your arms weren't toned enough. Oh no, you're wearing a crop top? Someone cover her up, she's seeking validation! God forbid you wear anything other than long sleeves because elbows are just too sexy. As if she doesn't get enough spotlight already being in an all male group, gotta have a part in the song a second longer than the rest because you have to be the center of attention!

Another few minutes to let the water soak down to your bones, you took your time shampooing, soaping, everything in between and taking mental notes of things you needed to improve upon. One wrong step and it's over, not just for you, but your entire group, as well. If you were to be the reason they got dragged down-

No, that's the shower thoughts talking. Probably time to get out, anyways. Changbin will have a fit if he doesn't get some warm water for himself.

So consumed in your own head, you weren't thinking when you threw on just your bra and underwear and opened the bathroom door. Dirty clothes in one hand, rubbing the towel into your hair, the trek to your bedroom through the house felt so long up until you got through the door.

The dorm was quiet, the others must still be out. Hyunjin won't show his face until dinner time, if you were fast you could grab a snack from the kitchen. Yeah, it won't take longer than a minute. Make it quick-

You padded out of your bedroom and made it a step into the living room before stopping dead in your tracks, eight pairs of eyes looking at you big with mouths dropped so wide it could catch flies.

The other members were sitting in various places surrounding the couch and coffee table. Chan scratched at his ear and darted his eyes back and forth, unsure of whether or not to look. Minho didn't seemed like he cared too much, while Jisung and Seungmin obviously raked their gaze from your head to your toes. The other four focused on different areas, but you ran away as quickly as you came with a trail of beat red embarrassment to follow.

As soon as the door slammed shut you threw your pajamas on and paced back for forth for a bit.

You should just act like nothing happened. They probably don't care. No, they definitely don't care. They're just body parts and everyone has them. But they were your body parts. For as long as you'd known them, you'd been so careful.

It's fine- they're not prudes, they're young adults that watch more porn than you ever could in your life time. They're just boys. Your boys. Your best friends. Yeah, they won't care. It's fine. You're fine. You're-

"Y/N'ie?"

A knock on your door had you stutter in your steps. When you didn't respond, the voice spoke again, "there's food here if you wanna join."

It took you another second to process what had just happened. The floor creaked on the other side and you panicked again, "Felix?"

The footsteps backtracked and stopped outside your door again, "yeah?"

"What kind of food?" He giggled lightly to himself.

"Come eat with us and you'll find out."

Slowly you came to the door, torn on hiding in your room for the next few hours or facing the eight people that caused your massive embarrassment in the first place. It felt so stupid to even feel such a way around those who you'd already been through hell and back with, the same people you've lived with and known for years and have seen you at your worst.

Felix's weight leaning against the other side of the door made him stumble forward when you finally opened it. Setting aside his momentary hiccup, he smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder to bring into a quick hug. You let him drape over you as you made your way back into the living room where everyone else was waiting.

Quiet as you sat down between Minho and Jeongin- Felix across the coffee table, quiet as you grabbed a pair of chopstick, quiet as you began to eat. The eight of them watched you chew, chew, swallow, not moving a muscle as though they were walking on eggshells as not to scare you off.

Now you felt stupid. This was stupid. Just body parts. They're just body parts.

"Stop staring at me, virgins. Eat before it gets cold." Minho at your side dug in first, then the rest followed suit as you all enjoyed the meal together.

You could feel Jeongin taking quick peaks at you as you ate. He jolted a little when you nudged his shoulder to get him to talk. A light blush flooded his cheeks and ears, putting another piece onto your plate as he leaned in to whisper, "you looked really pretty."

"Don't spread gossip, Yang Jeongin. Share it with the table," Jisung teased and drew the attention of the rest of the members.

"Look, he's flustered. What'd you say to Y/N'ie?" Hyunjin joined in and ruffled the younger's hair.

"Nothing! It's none of your business-"

"He called me pretty," you played along and pinched Jeongin's cheek, making him swat you and Hyunjin away with a few curses under his breath. Giggling and picking up your chopsticks again, you brought some food to your mouth, "you wanna kiss me sooo bad."

All of them spoke at once, "yes."

"Wait, what?" Quiet again. What is it with them and perfectly timed silence?

When you faced Minho, he was particularly unashamed in the way he eyed your lips as you slowly chewed your food. You looked at them around the table, "ew. Bitchless. All of you," and stole a large portion of food to take back to your room.

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffi t@fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchandler @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

2K notes · View notes

chuluoyi · 10 months ago

Text

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 11

✩°｡ ⋆ transcendent truth

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, drama, heavy angst, zen'in naoya <- hard warning! character death, mentions and descriptions of blood and major injury, profanities, violence, read with discretion!

notes: sorry for the long wait! :( i was on leave, work stuff were piling up, got sidetracked by gojo, and living my life and i have a lot to write for this so... oh and does naoya get to live, you ask? well, well... you may see his fate in this chapter :))

series masterlist | next. the most twisted curse

A week ago October 26

"My father has died."

You gazed in sheer horror at Maki's words, as she stood at your doorstep. Everything in your mind blanked out as you struggled to grasp the meaning behind her jarring words.

You could only utter an almost inaudible "Huh?"

Yet Zen'in Maki didn't seem like a daughter mourning the loss of her father. She looked like she had just won a war with how she stood tall, all with her scars and burns. And yet―

"Oh, and my sister too," she quickly added, looking away, and you could finally see the trace of grief in her voice. "Naoya has destroyed everything."

Somehow it was still hard for you to imagine that the whole Zen'in clan was now in tatters. You blinked, stuttering. "He did? How did he―"

Maki told you everything. It had started from a heated argument instigated by Naoya to demand his claim, but since Ogi wouldn't entertain him, things escalated into a gruesome fight that ended with his head rolling off.

Over the span of one night, he massacred several other clansmen, along with Maki's sister, Mai. Now, the Zen'in clan was without a head and forced into submission by him.

"Sena, I'm telling you this because he'll go after Fushiguro next," Maki's voice was firm and unwavering, and it made you almost recoil. "Having my father gone isn't so bad―I have had enough of him, but Naoya is still on his delusional rampage."

"Megumi won't come back to that place," you firmly stated. "Naoya can have it all by this point, why is he still looking for him?"

"He's now beyond reason. He will seek him out himself if he doesn't come."

After Maki left you with that warning, you were still reeling. This was such an abrupt change of situation, and you knew you had expected facing Naoya in the end, but you thought you'd have more time to think.

Now one thing was clear: Megumi was in danger. A grave one.

October 28

Days with Megumi felt like light rain shower to Hana.

Domestic and cozy. She knew she was here just to cure his sister, yet the friendship that had blossomed between them felt just right.

"Please look after Tsumiki for me," Megumi said plainly, getting ready to leave the hospital. "I'm heading out for a mission."

She gave him a heartfelt smile. "Oh yes, as always, of course."

"Thank you."

Watching him go past the door, Hana smiled until the door sealed shut. Then she turned to the sleeping Tsumiki. She looked as peaceful as always, and the curse mark on her forehead had started to unravel too. Good, she did a great job then. It was taking a while, but Tsumiki was slowly and surely on the path of recovery.

It caused her spirits to deflate a bit, knowing that after this arrangement, she would have to part ways with Megumi, as there were no ties binding them together.

It was times like this that she envied you.

Tidying the hospital room and changing the wilted flowers with fresh ones, Hana easily considered this her comfort space. Everything was curated to how she liked it. She thought she would be having a slow day today, until a frenzied knock on the door startled her.

She couldn't fathom who the visitor could be until she warily opened the door and saw you.

. . .

You had anticipated Megumi to be the one opening the door, until it wasn't.

"Can I help you?" the girl in front of you asked hesitantly, seemingly puzzled. Your breath caught, as you realized that this was most likely Kurusu Hana the curse breaker―also the witness to your divorce.

"Is Megumi here?" you asked calmly, trying to even your heartbeats. No. You couldn't be petty against this woman. Your business was with Megumi, you couldn't get her in the crossfire―

But all that thoughts flew over your head when she retorted, "Why are you trying to find him?"

"I have to talk to him," you responded, still trying to be calm. Okay, no, she couldn't possibly be anything more than divorce witness. Megumi wasn't the type to―

Once again, your thoughts blanked when she replied, "He's out. Maybe I can leave your message to me and I'll inform him later?"

Something about her tone didn't sit that well with you. It was as if she was trying to show you that she was the one in charge... of what, exactly?

You had come to inform Megumi about Naoya's doing. It was as simple as that. Even though you knew that he most probably wouldn't give two shits regarding Zen'in anymore, you just had to make sure.

But seeing another woman in the doorstep, knowing that he spent most of his time with her now that you weren't around... yeah, you couldn't deny that it hurt you.

"Then, please give him this."

You handed the brown envelop to Hana with your jaw held high. Maybe Megumi was right after all, you had a talent to become an actress as your voice didn't even waver. "I've signed the divorce papers. Please let him know to proceed as he sees fit."

Hana appeared taken aback, evident from her widened eyes, but you continued. "Oh, and I've moved out of the apartment too. He can come back. Please tell him that I'm also grateful that he let me stay for this long."

"That's―"

"And one last thing... This is important, and please don't forget to tell him this."

You stared at Kurusu Hana squarely in the eyes, not even flinching as she blinked at you in total silence. "Don't let him come to Zen'in compound on October 31."

She frowned. "What do you mean? October 31? What's happening―"

"That's not for you to know," you interjected with precision, steel in your voice. "Just don’t let him go there, please."

Hana remained silent for a few moments before asking, "Are you... really going through with the divorce?"

"I don't appreciate you delving into our affairs," you spat in response. By now, you truly struggled to contain your own emotions—the hurt, the realization, the mere fact that she was here at all. "Just tell him what I just told you. You're an outsider. And since you've volunteered to inform him when he gets back later, then just do it."

And Hana seemed a bit offended by your snappy tone, but she chose to keep her mouth shut.

You bowed your head a little. "Well, then. Thank you. Have a good day."

As you spun around and stomped away from Tsumiki's room, that was when you finally let your facade crack. Biting your lower lip in frustration, your eyes watered once again.

How could he... get so cozy with her not long after you, just like that? Hana was talking as if she owned the place. It irked you, but above all, you felt so hurt that you wondered if what you were doing now was worth it at all.

But yes. You reassured yourself of the fact, because even if you weren't doing this for Megumi, then you definitely were still doing this for your own sake.

Zen'in Naoya was on your hitlist, and you were determined to see it through, even if it was the last thing you'd do.

When Megumi got back to the hospital later that afternoon, he had noticed how strange Hana was.

"Did something happen?" he inquired with a frown.

"Oh, no... not really," she winced, seemingly uncomfortable with the question, but she quickly covered her strange expression with a smile. "Anyway, how was your mission?"

If he were to be honest, he would prefer if Hana didn't get too friendly with him, despite everything. Maybe it was his quiet nature, or whatever, but he liked to be left alone.

"It went alright."

It was when he glanced at the table that he noticed it. The divorce papers he had left in your desk at the headquarters were there, and his initial reaction was the sinking feeling in his heart.

"Why are these here?" he snapped almost instantly, asking Hana for clarification. "Has Sena come here?"

"Oh? Oh, yeah..." it was evident that she was flustered, but she quickly blinked her surprise away. "She dropped by to give these for you."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Oh yeah... she said... she has moved out of the apartment."

That, he didn't expect. You had moved out? Where? Where did you go?

It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and the feeling of betrayal was still there, gnawing at his soul. And yet, to see you really agreeing with the divorce he pulled out of impulse and and moving out of his place made it all feel undeniably real.

Deep in his hearts, he knew that he had been bantering back-and-forth with himself. Heck, ever since that horrid reveal about this marriage, he felt like he lost a sense of himself. He shouldn't, but it was hard not to.

He was about to return to his place―with futile hope to find you, perhaps, when his phone rang in his pocket. Yuji was calling him.

"Hello, Itadori? Uh, yeah... sure..."

He was called back to the headquarters for a follow-up mission. Megumi mildly cursed under his breath after ending the call.

"Are you going again?" Hana questioned in a hurry, and it made him turn to her.

"Yeah, I must go―"

"Whatever you do, don't get near Zen'in's family home."

He raised an eyebrow at her sudden statement. "Why?"

She stuttered. "Just... don't. I've heard... there are just some things happening there. It'd do you better to stay away from them."

When Megumi reflected on this moment a few days later, he would realize that her behavior had been quite strange. However, in the heat of the moment, he didn't dwell on it much as his main focus shifted to his sudden mission.

October 31

His mission had taken him three days to sort out, with him and Itadori staking out at the site, and by the time he was finished, Megumi was at his wits end.

He was exhausted and only just now was he able to really go back to his apartment the first time ever since he left you here.

His place was so empty it felt jarring. The fact that the two of you used to live here not too long ago was bittersweet, especially when he saw the little pots of cactus he planted across the living room had all withered.

Megumi entered almost reluctantly, as with each step, the sting of pain in his chest intensified. He really did love you. And more often than not he found himself thinking why everything had to go this way.

Everything was left neat and tidy. You must have cleaned the place before you left. Megumi traversed through the living and dining areas before finding himself in what was initially his bedroom—the one you both had shared for the past two months.

No creases on the bedsheet, no more of your clothes hanging or cosmetics on the table. What remained was… a folded paper?

He had never jerked so fast in his life—he immediately unfolded it and could barely read.

Dear Megumi, How are you? Are you doing well?Ah, you must be still mad at me. I can’t really fault you for that though. If I were you, I wouldn’t take being played by someone who claims to love you lightly too. I know how you feel, or at least, tried to . . .

Was this the right thing? Despite making this decision yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you were wholeheartedly sure.

“Hara Sena— do you really wish to die?!”

All you know was blind rage when you saw Zen’in Naoya’s face.

He cackled, almost wheezing, while mocking you entirely. Your anger simmered, steadily rising, reaching a boiling point with certainty and intensity.

“Ah, this is too funny!” he wiped a tear out of his eyes, his cackles receded into huffs of barks. “Who are you to think that you can stand a chance against me? Me?”

You didn’t entertain his question. “How can you be so shameless about everything you have done?”

He burst into unhinged laughter once again.

“What’s there to shame? I can say that I’m proud while at it—”

"You murdered your own kin!" you cut, looking at him almost in disbelief, clenching your fists to keep them from trembling. "And yet... you stand there so proud. It's delusional."

"What I did―heh, I'd even go as far as saying that it's my greatest achievement yet. It’s beyond your comprehension, sadly.” Naoya threw his hands and sneered. “I wouldn't expect bastards like you or Fushiguro to understand.”

You scoffed. Talking to a wall never works, huh.

"What is sad is that you would go this far for... what? A clan of ruins?” you taunted, a derisive smile on your face. “Who is even left here? This is no achievement. You're just crazy.”

For a second, you could see that that smug grin falter, twitched even, before he hardened it with a manic grin.

“Say that again, woman—”

“You can pretend all you want, and glorify your delusional self while at it, but it won't matter.” You didn’t flinch, despite how intense the pounding of your heart was. “Today, you will lose, Zen'in Naoya.”

And that sealed your fate. Today is the day it ends.

I tried to, but I’m also hurt, you know?

Megumi sprinted, bolting out of his apartment with pure terror. He had to, for the chance to find you was slipping with each second. After reading that letter, he realized just how messed up everything was.

I have thought many, many times about when you were going to find out the truth. I know the worst is that you wouldn’t believe me, but I really thought we could part in better terms than this.

What you did hurt him too, that’s true, and it was hard for him to forgive you. He couldn't ignore that reality.

Because I trusted you. I trusted you wholeheartedly when you said that you would stay with me. I thought that, maybe, even if we can no longer be together, at the very least you wouldn’t just go and leave me with a little to say for myself. Because that’s what I’d do if our positions were reversed.

But you trusted him. Until the end, until the moment you decided to sign the papers and moved out.

Something within him plummeted and shattered. He had really lost sight of the bigger things. Halfway through, he naively thought it had ended with him going away.

No, it hasn’t ended. He had overlooked one monumental aspect.

But I’m not you. And ultimately, I’m still in the wrong, and it’s hard to explain myself because I know it. No matter how much I try to justify myself, it’s still not enough. Because when I first started out, it was indeed my intention to use you.

Now, it didn’t matter that much. Not when he realized what you were about to do.

But, Megumi, there’s one truth in our relationship—even when there are many lies in it. That truth transcends all, and it’s this: I love you. I really do. Even now as I’m writing this, I still do.

Each breath he took, it scorched his lungs. Megumi thought he had known what heartbreak was like. But no, he didn’t really. Not until now.

In the short time we were together, I was the happiest. I love living with you. I love going through the day with you. Thank you for letting me know what love feels like.

Damn it. If something were to happen to you now, after this—

And I wish you the best. It hurts me to know, but if it's Kurusu Hana, then I only hope that this time, it's your own choice. This might be the last you're going to hear from me. I'm going to settle my debt with Zen'in Naoya. If you ever read this... one thing I ask from you is that don't find me. Let this be where it ends. With me.

"Idiot, you're an idiot!" he harshly grunted under his breath. How was it that you had asked him not to find you when he knew what you were doing?

Now it all made sense. October 31. The duel. Zen'in family home. Hana's warning. You were the one who told her that.

His chest constricted, the muscles in his legs had started to ache, and he was losing breath. But he pressed on. Megumi had to get to you, before it was too late.

Your innate technique wasn't made for front lines.

Despite your father's pride―which you had long considered misplaced―your family's innate technique, in your and Naoya's eyes, were quite unhelpful, or useless even.

You couldn't even feel your lower body as you laid there on the hard ground, gurgling and tasting your own blood in your mouth.

"Now you see?" Naoya curled his lip in satisfaction, looking down on you with that disdainful eyes of his, once again believing he was far superior than you. "You have no chance against me, Sena. If Fushiguro can't, what makes you think you might have a shot, huh?"

True, he didn't even have a single scratch in his body. You stood no chance against him. Did you know that?

As a matter of fact, you did.

"What a pitiful sight you are," he uttered, firmly planting his feet on your chest, and a broken whimper escaped you. "Just die already."

When will this end? You had to wait out, or else— or else, you were doing all of this for nothing.

"This is the exact expression that whore you call a mother had too," Naoya suddenly retorted, prompting you to open your eyes in response.

Your mother. In her last moments, was she in this much pain too, because of him?

The thought made your rage boil once again. You gritted your teeth together. "You... b-bastard—!"

"Hah? What?" He dug his heels in your broken ribs and you whimpered, spitting out blood.

You didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to withstand this pain. Everything in your body was broken at this point. You are quite literally dying.

You thought you had accepted this. You figured that since you had nothing left, dying wouldn't be that bad, surely.

"Hmph, boring." Suddenly he kicked you and you rolled several ways from him, wincing in absolute agony. Naoya turned his back on you, walking away with deliberate loud steps.

He gestured at the cloth of his hakama. "You're going to dirty my clothes. Since you're going to die anyway, I'll be here to watch you."

Mad. Truly mad. You couldn't think of any other word aside of that to describe the Zen'in spawn. He was the craziest of all people you had ever met, had ever imagined you could encounter in this shitty life.

"I'm curious though, why are you here? Fushiguro would never ask you." Naoya regarded your form with narrowed eyes. "Is this love? Are you afraid that he'd die by my hand that you willingly went in his stead?"

"N-no..." you immediately replied in disdain. "You... h-have—"

"You are not making sense," he shrugged, shoulders shaking with laughter. "Ah, that's why. Love is the most useless of all. That love got you dying now, hmm?"

There was no need to entertain him. You unclenched your fist slowly, your fingers twisting in weird angle after Naoya broke them—but you readied yourself.

Just a little bit longer...

"If only from the very beginning, if you would just agree to be my wife instead of making a fool out of me—"

A bit... just a little bit more...

"—then perhaps, you'd be living the honored life as my wife—" he kept continuing with a stream of words that didn't quite register in your mind. Nevertheless, you remained fixated on the movement of your fingers.

"But you just had to go and drag that washed-up bastard to my doorstep, conspiring with that senile man and Gojo, and where does it get you now—"

Now.

"And your most moronic act is coming here, thinking that—hrrgk!"

Suddenly Naoya toppled over, clutching his throat, his breath coming in gasps. "W-what—"

A cruel smile curled on your lips, seeing the frightened look on his face. "I'm... telling you... you're going to... die today, Zen'in Naoya."

"W-what— did you do to me—!" Naoya squared on you with fury shining in his eyes. "You— wench!"

You kept your silence, closing your eyes. You felt tired. It was so tempting to go to sleep.

"Whore! You—bitch—urrgk!"

As the air slowly left his lungs, Naoya finally gained clarity. Your fingers. A hand sign...?

You had waited for this moment. For the very second he no longer pinned you and you had the freedom of the use of your hands.

It struck him like a bolt of lightning. Hara clan's cursed technique.

Manipulation of air density.

You were slowly choking him to death.

. . . It was somewhat of an irony, that you depended on your cursed technique in the end. For you who had always considered and known that your clan was a second-rate, believing that you hated yourself for being born with this cursed technique and made your mother suffer, you never really took pride in possessing this.

And yet today, you bet it all on this talent of yours. To finally make things right again.

You tuned out the rest of Naoya's last words. You only opened your eyes when you heard him thud to the ground, all pallid and blue.

A weight in your chest dissipated. You did it. You had avenged your mother, and perhaps, if the Gods were finally kind to you, after this you might be able to see her too...?

Regardless, now you could rest in peace, content with leaving everything behind.

And yet, despite thinking so, you couldn't help but to turn back to those days with Megumi, doing mundane things normal people did. Eating together, going on dates, his smile, laugh— you would never get to see him again, and that fact brought a tear to your eyes.

The only boy you ever loved. In this life, and in any potential other lives, you would undoubtedly wish to meet him again too.

The only consolation you had now was that, by doing this, you had also fulfilled your end of the binding vow with Gojo.

"How unfortunate, and now you're dragging Megumi into this? What's it in for me and him?"

This is it. You have no other way and even this is also your last resort. To save your mother and yourself, you must drag an innocent soul into this complicated mess. Fushiguro Megumi is going to take a part in your game of survival, and you will make sure that he won't be just a mere sacrificial pawn.

"I believe the Zen'in has been bothering you quite a lot too, all these years," you met Gojo's eyes calmly, hiding your fear. "If you can install Fushiguro Megumi in Zen'in clan, wouldn't that be easier?"

"Well, well, you seem to know your way around here, yeah?" Gojo threw you a tight smile, visibly amused. "I'm not going to be a hypocrite and say that I don't want to do away with them, but Megumi? Do you realize what you're implying?"

"What if I told you that I can definitely remove Zen'in Naoya from the equation?"

"How?"

"From what I've heard, only a handful of the clansmen favor him."

"It's not going to be that easy, Sena-chan. You're going to put his life in danger."

"That's what I'm proposing to you. I will not let them harm him."

Gojo let out a scoff. "Two conditions for one in return? Aren't you getting desperate? Are you sure it won't be easier if you just resign yourself to a life with the Zen'ins?"

"No." You bit your lip. "My mother would rather die than seeing me being married off to that misogynist, and my father would continue locking her up if I refuse this marriage with the Zen'ins."

After pondering for a while, Gojo agreed with your proposition. To make sure that you'd be staying true to your convictions and he'd get Megumi instated as a part of Zen'in clan, he pulled you into an unbreakable vow.

"In exchange of Fushiguro Megumi becoming a part of Zen'in clan, Hara Sena would remove Zen'in Naoya from the succession war, and at the same time, ensure his safety."

next : the most twisted curse

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut @dcvilxswish @lees-chaotic-brain @tojirin @bluebreadenthusiast @pandabooster @cole-silas @becsmarvel @giuli-in-earth @fuckimgenderfluid @haitanisrarity @kimura-uzuri @bicchaan @lunavixia @stevenknightmarc @rory-cakes @sushisimp @sad-darksoul @iluv-ace @squidalapobre @hopeladybug @beyondmyownlittleworld @mrsyangsikmoa @kasumitenbaz @nothisispatrick300 @angrydaughter @lili-of-the-dream @kiki17483 @abcdenhb @l1n0m3 @darling006 @traacy-lin @akaashisbbgirl @luckily-gray @llearlert @desihopelessromantic @minazkidayi @extrology467 @en40p @zaamwa @rohanna19 @looeeevv @rzcnlb @celestedonut @hopeluna

some of you can't be tagged bc of the settings! :(

#jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x oc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #arranged marriage au #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #fushiguro megumi angst #series: unholy matrimony

525 notes · View notes