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buckets-and-trees · 23 days ago

Text

Camaraderie

Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Meeting up with the impossibly hot guy from the thirsty to fuck dating app didn't turn out to be a one-time thing... Hooking up with Bucky Barnes wasn't healthy, and you couldn't quit the habit, but he's so good at what he does, you can't resist the itch for him when it needs to be scratched.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship, explicit and rough smut, oral (male and female receiving)/deep throating, 69, vaginal fingering, some overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, humiliation, degradation (use of "slut"/"whore"), use of "baby" as a term of endearment, praise, general dirty talk, cum play/marking, taking photos, aftercare

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem, but can absolutely be read as a standalone and/or out of order.

Logistical Notes: My September/final offering for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo 23-24 using the ANTI-HERO and AFTERCARE prompts. I'm also submitting this for @steviebbboi's 200 Follower Celebration (kink prompts: oral sex, overstimulation, mild degradation, dialoge prompts bolded) and @mercurial-chuckles's SMUT-BER fest (prompt: marathon session).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You know you should never text Bucky Barnes.

Daytime you knows he’s horrible for you.

A relationship would go nowhere with him.

You know it. He knows it.

You’ve both been very clear this is only sex.

Dirty, late night hook ups.

The next morning, you’re always resolved that last night was the last time.

But you don’t delete his number.

He gives you space. So much space. There’s no pressure, and that’s one of the reasons you don’t close the door completely.

Sometimes he initiates a conversation, sometimes it’s you. It goes about four to six weeks like clockwork.

And always after midnight.

Tonight it’s you who sent up the bat signal.

YOU: Hey! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?

HIM: Not bad… How’s life for you?

YOU: Also not bad. I moved - pretty close to where you work, actually…

YOU: You working tonight?

HIM: Got a new job actually. Still night shift, but building security downtown.

YOU: Oh, that’s good though, right?

HIM: Better gig, better pay. Still bad hours, but our fun doesn’t have to end…

YOU: Oh?

HIM: Let me come over when I get off and I’ll get you off.

There’s literally nothing romantic about it.

But you’re aching for a good fuck.

And that’s why you agreed to let this man you’ve been hooking up with in the dead of night in a parking lot for the last eight months to show up for a bootycall between two and three am.

Because it was going to be so late, you told him where the spare key was, told him to let himself in, to come to your bed, and to wake you up when he got there.

The forbidden thrill of that arrangement gave you a bit of a second wind, but when you’d tucked yourself back in bed and done a bit of doom-scrolling, your eyes had eventually drooped and you’d dropped into sleep.

You stir a little bit as you are nudged onto your back, but it’s when Bucky starts in on aggressively groping your breasts, having immediately pushed up the silk camisole you put on, that you groan and come to.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness. Bucky's silhouette looms over you, his calloused hands cold against your skin as he roughly kneads your tender flesh. A shiver runs through you, desire pooling low in your belly.

"Missed these tits," he growls, voice husky with desire.

You arch into his touch, your body responding even as your mind struggles to catch up. Bucky wastes no time, his hot mouth latching onto a nipple. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively flying to Bucky's hair. He bites down, just hard enough to make you whimper, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck, Bucky," you moan, already breathless.

He releases your breast with a wet pop, moving to give the other the same treatment. He sucks hard, teeth grazing your sensitive peak, and you whimper. His other hand slides down your body, groping at your pussy over your silk shorts.

“You put these on special for me, yeah?” he probes, and you nod. “Such a whore, though,” he continues. So desperate to let me use you that you told a fucking stranger how to get into your house so he could ruin you.”

His words make you clench around nothing, desperate for him to ruin you just like you know he can. Bucky chuckles darkly when you mewl as he grinds the heel of his palm over your clothed clit.

"Such a needy little slut," he murmurs approvingly. "Bet you've been thinking about my cock all night."

"Took you long enough to get here," you whine.

He doesn't respond, just crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. His stubble scratches your chin, sending tingles down your spine. You clutch onto his bulky arms. His mouth is minty - either gum or mouthwash or mints popped at the last minute - but the rest of him just smells like sweat and faint musk. You doubt he even owns cologne. His body and the way he uses yours are why you don’t fight the itch when it flares up for nights like this.

Bucky breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck. He bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, surely leaving a mark. You gasp, arching into him.

"Gonna use you so good," he growls against your skin. "Gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk straight."

"God, yes," you moan, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Bucky hooks his fingers into the waistband of your silk shorts, yanking them down roughly along with your panties. The cool air hits your heated core and you shiver. Bucky's hand slides up your inner thigh, his calloused fingers teasing your sensitive skin.

"Already so wet for me," he growls approvingly as he cups your sex. "Such a dirty girl."

You whimper as he slides two thick fingers inside you without warning, pumping them slowly. His thumb circles your clit, building the pressure steadily. Your hips buck against his hand, chasing more friction.

"Please," you gasp, clutching at his muscular shoulders.

"Please what?" Bucky asks, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside you that makes you lose all shreds of dignity around him.

"Please give me your fat cock, Bucky!” you beg.

He chuckles again. “I bet you’re such a good girl in the day where everyone else can see you, but you crave this - you crave the depraved things I do to you in the dark. That’s why you’re so fast to beg for me already.”

You moan, and your body trembles with anticipation as Bucky's other hand roams over your chest, then grips your neck, rough and possessive.

He squeezes slightly, and you whimper. “Please,” you croak out.

He withdraws for a moment, but you bite back any sounds of protest as you hear the rustling of fabric, clang of a belt, and the pull of a zipper as he quickly sheds his clothes.

He sits back on his heels, looking down at you as you squirm, holding his thick, hard cock. You lick your lips at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation. Bucky strokes himself a few times with the hand that had been in your cunt moments before, spreading your wetness along his length.

"Don’t worry, baby," Bucky coos. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you need."

With his other hand, he grips your arm and pulls you down so you lay sideways across the mattress. You’ve only ever hooked up in his truck, so the freedom of space adds an element of mystery to what hell do with you, and you love it. He kneels with thighs on either side of your head, looming over you, and then he slaps your face with his cock.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and he hits you with it a couple more times. Bucky grins down at you wickedly, clearly enjoying your shock.

"Open up, slut," he grunts.

You obey eagerly, parting your lips as he guides his cock into your mouth. He doesn't ease into it, instead shoving himself deep until you gag around his length. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Bucky holds your head in place with his thick thighs, his hips pistoning as he fucks your face mercilessly. The wet, obscene sounds of your gagging fill the room, mingling with Bucky's grunts of pleasure.

"That's it, take it all," he groans, pushing even deeper.

You relax your throat as best you can, letting him use your mouth with abandon. He leans forward, pushes your thighs apart, and buries his face in your cunt.

You moan around Bucky's cock as his tongue laps at your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He sucks hard on your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily. The dual sensations of his thick length stretching your throat and his skilled mouth on your pussy are overwhelming.

Bucky's stubble scrapes against your inner thighs as he devours you, his left hand gripping your hip to hold you in place. His flesh hand snakes up to squeeze and pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your body. You whimper and writhe beneath him, struggling to focus on pleasuring his cock as he rapidly brings you to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" Bucky growls against your cunt, the vibrations making you shudder. "Want you to cum all over my face while I fuck that pretty little mouth."

You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss in pleasure. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he batters the back of your throat, but you don't pull away. You live for these moments when Bucky uses you roughly, treating you like you’re worthless, only a set of holes to be used, because you’re so tired of being good, of working hard, of over achieving, of living up to everyone’s expectations. The only thing he wants from you is your body, and it feels better than any guilty pleasure you’ve ever indulged in before.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly and forcefully. Your body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over you, muffled cries vibrating around Bucky's cock. He doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your oversensitive clit as you writhe beneath him.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls back, releasing your hips. He slides his cock from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. Before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up.

"That's one," he growls. "Let's see how many more I can wring out of you before I'm done."

Without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he sets a punishing pace. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room in the dead of night.

"This what you've been craving, sweetheart?" he taunts, pulling his cock out and rubbing the head of his it through your folds. "My cock splitting you open?"

"Yes, yes, Bucky!” you sound like a cliché porn star, but you know he loves it, and you don’t care about letting loose and going mindless and dumb around him. He doesn’t expect anything more from you.

Without warning, he slams back into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You cry out, the stretch bordering on painful. Bucky doesn't give you time to adjust, he never does. He pursues a punishing pace, and now the headboard bangs against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Bucky grunts, his hips snapping against yours. "You always feel so good around me, baby. Such a perfect little cock sleeve."

His vulgar words send a thrill through you. You moan shamelessly, pushing back to meet his brutal thrusts. Bucky's metal hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, while his flesh hand snakes around to rub harsh circles on your clit. The dual stimulation quickly builds the pressure in your core.

"That's it, take it slut," Bucky growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. "You love being used like this, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, beyond shame at this point. "God, yes, Bucky!"

He chuckles darkly, then suddenly pulls out. Before you can protest, he flips you onto your back and hooks your legs over his shoulders. He slides back in with a groan, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper.

"Wanna see your face when you cum on my cock," he pants, leaning down to lick a stripe lewdly up your face.

"Oh fuck, Bucky!" you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. The new angle has him hitting your g-spot with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bucky's eyes are dark with lust as he watches you come undone beneath him. One hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he jackhammers into you.

"That's it, baby," he growls. "C'mon, don't you wanna be good for me?"

You nod frantically, unable to form words as the pressure builds inside you. Bucky's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles that have you seeing stars.

"Cum for me," he commands. "Now."

As if your body is conditioned to obey him, your walls clench around him rhythmically, but Bucky doesn't slow his pace. He fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you're a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes from the intensity.

"That's two," Bucky growls, his hips still snapping against yours. "Think you can give me one more?"

You whimper as he squeezes your throat, starting to restrict your oxygen.

Your head swims as Bucky's hand tightens around your throat, his hips never slowing their relentless pace. The mix of pleasure and oxygen deprivation has you floating, barely aware of anything beyond the stretch of his cock inside you and the pressure of his fingers on your windpipe.

"Answer me," he growls, loosening his grip just enough for you to gasp out a response.

"Y-yes," you croak, your voice hoarse. "Please, Bucky..."

He grins wickedly, releasing your throat entirely. You gulp in air as he hooks his arms under your knees, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hitting spots inside you that make your toes curl.

“Let's see how much more you can take."

Bucky's pace becomes even more brutal, if possible. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, and you hope your neighbors are heavy sleepers. Every nerve of your body is on overdrive, overwrought.

You're trembling, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but Bucky shows no signs of slowing down. His cock pistons in and out of you relentlessly, the obscene wet sounds of your coupling filling the room as he keeps you folded in half. You're vaguely aware that you're babbling, a stream of "please" and "fuck" and "Bucky" falling from your lips.

His hot breath fans across your face as he looms over you, steel-blue eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Look at you," he growls, voice rough with exertion. "So fucking desperate for my cock. You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

You nod frantically, beyond words at this point. Bucky's hand comes down to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you cry out at the added stimulation. Your oversensitive body trembles, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Cum for me again, baby," Bucky commands. "Show me how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

He pinches your clit harshly, and you scream into another orgasm. And still he fucks you as you shake and tremble beneath him. He’s too big and too strong for you to do anything but take it.

He clamps a hand down on your throat again, and your vision starts to blur at the edges as this filthy god moves like a machine above you. The lack of oxygen intensifies every sensation - his cock pounding into you relentlessly, his thumb still circling your oversensitive clit, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls out. Your legs fall clumsily to the bed, and Bucky moves so he’s sitting on your chest, straddling just below your breasts, and pinning your arms down to your sides as well. He viciously strokes his cock, grunting for a few more moments, before he groans and shoots his load over your face and chest, ribbons of hot, sticky cum hitting your skin.

You gasp and pant, struggling to catch your breath as Bucky's cum cools on your skin. Your body feels like jelly, utterly spent from the intensity of your multiple orgasms. Bucky sits back on his heels, still straddling your chest, admiring his handiwork.

"Fuck, you look good like this," he growls, voice husky with satisfaction. "All marked up and used."

You whimper, too exhausted to form words. Bucky chuckles darkly, running a finger through the mess on your face and pushing it between your lips. You suck obediently, tasting the salty bitterness of his release.

"Such a good little cumslut," he praises, his other hand trailing down to tweak one of your nipples, making you yip beneath him.

Bucky's weight lifts off you as he shifts to the side, his breathing also heavy.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your combined panting filling the dark room. Then Bucky chuckles low in his throat. "That was better than the truck."

You manage a weak laugh in response, still too overwhelmed to form words. Bucky reaches over and flicks on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. His eyes roam over your body, taking in the full mess he's made of you – the cum on your face and chest, the bruises already forming on your hips and thighs, the way your pussy is still clenching around nothing. He rolls off the bed and roots round in his discarded clothes, then stands once he’s found his phone.

"Hold still," Bucky commands, raising his phone. You hear the click of the camera as he captures your debauched state. "Something for me until next time."

You should protest, should demand he delete the photos. But a part of you thrills at the idea of Bucky having these reminders of you, of looking at them and getting hard thinking about using you again.

He disappears into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm washcloth. To your surprise, he gently cleans you up, wiping away the evidence of your encounter from your skin. It's an unexpectedly tender gesture from someone who was just fucking you senseless.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice hoarse.

Bucky just nods, tossing the washcloth aside when he's done. He starts gathering his clothes, pulling them on efficiently. You watch him silently, knowing there was no version of this where he stayed, and honestly you didn’t want him to. You wanted to sprawl freely in your bed and drift away into the few hours of blissful sleep you could steal before having to get up for work and didn’t want to deal with a morning after.

After hunching over and lacing up his boots, he stands, reaches for your hand and pulls you up and to the edge of the bed. “C’mon, get up,” he urges.

Too tired and bewildered to protest, you amble out of bed and follow as he tugs you along, leading you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, grabs a towel and tosses it over the rod for you. He checks the water temperature, adjusts it slightly, then turns back to you.

He laughs, and you realize your face is broadcasting your confusion. “You’ll sleep better if you shower off the sex and sweat, baby.”

He steals a filthy kiss, licking slowly into your mouth, then ushers you into the shower. “See you next time.”

Next time. The words send a shiver through you, even as your body aches from the intensity of what he’s just done to you.

“I’ll lock the door behind me when I let myself out,” he says.

“Okay,” is all your exhausted mind and body can put together. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he echoes and smirks.

The hot water washes away the smell and grime of the debauchery, soothe your aching limbs, but they don’t wash away the memories of what he did, and you don’t want it to. They go into a collection of how he extracts pleasure from you, and those memories will tide you over for a while on some of the darker nights when you’re feeling particularly horny.

But he’s right.

You won't feel this way in the morning.

But there’ll be another next time, your middle of the night self will win out eventually, you’ll just put it off for a while. Besides, it’s due to be his turn to be he one to break first and put out the feelers for a bootycall.

You won’t say no.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bbboi200celebration #steviebbboiwritingchallenge #smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #aspen wrote something #female reader #babb2023

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whorefordean · 3 months ago

Note

Can you write some Dean Winchester head canons, preferably smutty ones if you’re up to it ☺️

for how often i think about being absolutely annihilated by this man, this took entirely too long to write. my apologies.

anywho... these are all actually factual because i say so!

p.s i apologize for this being so short :/

18+ mdni below the cut

- i stand by the fact that if you don't go on a hunt with dean, this man is sending dick pics or constantly asking you for nudes. usually, you send them just because it's fun, but sometimes you like to tease dean about it.

"but sweetheart, there's no telling how long this case is gonna take," he'll whine over the phone when sam leaves the room for a few hours to go interview a witness or something.

"dean, it's been less than twenty-four hours. i think you'll survive."

"what if i die from blue balls?"

"goodbye, dean."

"wait-" click. dean pouts when you end the call. it doesn't last long though because his phone chimes a few minutes later with a photo from you, followed by a text. "don't die on me."

he one thousand percent sends you a picture a few minutes later of his cum covered hand and cock.

————

-maybe i'm projecting but i think dean gets into the habit of waking you up in the middle of the night because he wakes up horny, like he has a wet dream about you, and bless his heart, he tries so hard to not wake you up. so he starts listing monsters in his head, and analyzes the lyrics to his favorite song. man even tries counting sheep just to distract himself.

but it's no use. so instead, dean starts rubbing your arm softly, cooing your name in an effort to wake you up. you might stir a little, just to get closer to him, but dean hisses when you toss your leg over his waist, brushing against his dick.

he's gripping your thigh tight and then he's biting down lightly on your shoulder, pulling you from your sleep. he almost feels bad for waking you up when you pout at him, but you shift against his cock again, making him groan as all his empathy is flying out the window.

"what's wrong, dean?" you're asking innocently while sitting up, still not having noticed his situation.

"fuck, sweetheart," he grunts in your ear. you look so confused but so pretty as dean stares up at you. before you can breathe he's shoving his lips onto yours and pulling you to sit on his lap. you moan when you feel his cock rubbing against your clothed pussy.

"fuck, dean, again?" you question, choking on a moan. it's the third time this week that he's woken you up like this.

"it's a wasted dream if it's not about me being buried deep inside you," he smirks proudly.

————

- dean finds out that you like listening to audio porn (in badjhur we trust) so he records some for you. finds out what your favorite tags are somehow and incorporates those into it. (the tongue clicks 🫣)

- dean is so used to slapping your ass at home that he will do it constantly in public. he doesn’t even smirk about it like he does at home. just stares at you with wide im sorry eyes while you glare at him with that so help me god look.

- dean is a munch. will spend all day buried between your thighs just because he can. you’re begging him to stop. whining bc it’s too much and he’s just all heavy breathing as he stares up at you. sweetheart please, i missed you. he’ll give the same excuse every time, even though he’s only been gone for maybe an hour to do a beer run.

- dean is soooo into face sitting. he’s definitely the type that will force you to actually sit because he does take personal offense if you hover.

- he's so into free use. you can't tell me different. getting to use and play with his sweetheart whenever he wants? say less.

- also he loves to cum inside you and make you cockwarm him after so none of it leaks out

-oh my god. he burns you a cd called "sexy time with my sweetheart." and now he refuses to listen to any of the songs on it outside of the bedroom because he's conditioned to get hard when he hears them.

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanons #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader smut #spn #supernatural smut

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kitasgloves · 3 months ago

Note

I saw requests were open(hopefully if i read it right, English isn’t my first language 😭) but i was reading one of your Chuuya drabbles where you said he was aggressively sweet with you because he found you so cute and i wanted to know if you could write about him with a golden retriever gf/type of reader?

Like their just so cute that they just give Chuuya cute aggression or something(and an accidental corruption kink, whoops)

I got you covered, anon <3

— ♬ NSFW

I would like to imagine how protective NAKAHARA CHUUYA would be with a golden retriever type of s/o. He wants to preserve your sunshine and selfishly keep it to himself. Your mannerisms, habits, and personality make his insides melt. He finds everything you do super fucking cute that he can't stand it. Eventually, he develops this cute aggression with you.

The gravity manipulator enjoys pulling you into bone-crushing hugs, hoisting you into his arms, and spinning you around so he can hear your adorable laugh. When you two are alone together he'd randomly grab your face and litter kisses all over it until it's obnoxious, he finds your glare cute when he squeezes your cheeks until they turn red. Chuuya would grab your jaw with his hand and pinch your cheeks to make your lips form into a pout before leaning close to kiss you hard. He loves to run his tongue over your lips before slipping them inside your mouth. God, he's a lip-biter too. You'd whine and whimper when he leaves your bottom lip swollen and red from his biting.

I could not stress enough how this mf is a biter. He'd bite your exposed skin. Sinking his teeth on your flesh is his way of showing his affection. Chuuya would bite the nape of your neck, your shoulders, your tummy, your inner thighs, etc. He feels so proud when he sees you covered in red bite marks. Sometimes you'd scold him when he's getting excessive, and for the most part, he feels guilty and would offer to lick the fresh bite marks as an apology.

You would get so bubbly that it's infectious. Chuuya could be having a shitty day but once he sees you coming up to him like an adorable puppy, his bad mood just vanishes. He loves to spoil you too with gifts whether it would be food or clothes. Oh! And if you're into dressing up, Chuuya would be so supportive of it (he's a fashion icon fr). When he sees you dressed up in bright-colored clothes he just gushes, blushes, and clutches his chest because holy fuck you're so adorable :(( ! (he wants to fucking bite you).

You're so kind and pure-hearted too that he almost feels guilty for being your not-so-green-flag boyfriend. Your naivety just adds to your charm that Chuuya finds it impossible to resist you. Unbeknownst to you, every little thing you do is driving him to the edge. The fact you're enabling him to squeeze you and bite you gives him the impression that you're enabling his sweetly aggressive behavior.

"Oh fuck, babydoll—"

Chuuya growls when he feels you clenching around him. Tonight was supposed to be an adorable cuddle session while watching rom-coms, but your boyfriend was pushed to the edge when he found you wearing those cute fluffy pajamas and nuzzling against his chest like a cute cat. He just had to shove you down on the bed, pull your ass up, and pull your pajama's down.

"Chu-ah! Chuuya! Pl-please slow down!"

You were pleading with your boyfriend but he doesn't obey you. Chuuya grunts as he greedily slides his cock inside and out of you, your warm and tight walls fueling his carnal desire. The pace of his hips slapping against your ass becomes unbearable when you were unable to form any coherent words, every breath was knocked out of your lungs with every brutal thrust, and with every brutal kiss of his cock against your cervix. You were practically crossed-eyed and drooling against the pillow. And Chuuya finds it so fucking adorable that he wants to corrupt you more.

"Flip over, darling"

Suddenly, you're on your back and he pulls out. You gasped and stared at Chuuya towering over you. He stares at you sharply as he goes to bite your thighs, you cutely whine and try to swat his head away while he chuckles. He lines his dick against your cunt again, he pushes in viciously that it sends your head rolling back. The mafioso snatches your jaw and brings your face close to his as he starts up a languid pace and hits you in the most perfect spots.

"You're so fucking cute, [Name]. Fuck! Just-hah-look at your cute little pussy squeezing my cock. You're just begging to get ruined by me, aren't you?"

"Nghh—no, Chuuya I—oh shit!"

Your boyfriend immediately gives you one ferocious thrust and goes still when he sees your eyes rolling back. He lightly slaps your cheek to bring back your attention.

"You're going to cum on my cock like the adorable doll that you are. And you're going to take my cum because you deserve it, understand?"

Chuuya sounded like he was threatening you with the way he was snarling and staring darkly at you. He was squeezing your jaw so aggressively that it was beginning to hurt.

"Do you fucking understand me?"

"Yes!"

"Good"

With that, Chuuya grabs your legs and hooks them over his shoulders. Your heart drops, and you gaze worryingly at your boyfriend when he begins to hover over you, slowly folding you in half. He fiercely pins your wrists in place, smirking devilishly down at you while you're panicking.

"No! Chuuya, wait! Don't—"

Chuuya cuts you off when he mercilessly thrusts forward, stealing a pornographic moan out of you. Tears gradually formed in your lashline as you helplessly watched your boyfriend fuck you in a mating press. The position was sending his cock deeper inside you as you allowed him to further bully your cervix. The pleasure was so mindblowing that it made you go limp. Chuuya laughs as he sees his adorable lover getting pounded senseless. Your eyes were literally at the back of your skull, your jaw was slack and drool was seeping out of the corner of your lips.

"Shit! Well, aren't you adorable—fuck, you're tightening around me again! Yeah, that's right, cum on my cock. Come on, come on, come on—"

Chuuya watches hungrily as your intense orgasm sends you convulsing and breathless under him. He hears you whimpering his name when you creamed around his cock. He stops as he lets your release properly pass through. To see you properly fucked out by him makes him impatient though, so he decides to continue pounding into you the second your orgasm passes. It didn't take long for you to get overstimulated.

"Gonna cum next, babydoll. Hah—shit, take all my cum. It's all yours, it's all fucking yours—"

The gravity manipulator was unable to hold back his release. He yells out a raspy moan as he went still and shoves his cock in you before flooding your walls with his seed. He hears you whimper with delight as he feeds your cunt with his thick cum. Chuuya doesn't pull away after, he leans down to give you a fervent kiss on the lips and bites your bottom lip in the process.

You felt tired and full of Chuuya's cum as you lay motionless in the bed. Your boyfriend felt more satisfied than guilty to see you in a fucked out mess. When your eyes begin to flutter close, he starts the aftercare. Eventually, you were cleaned and pulled close to Chuuya before falling asleep.

phew! time for me to touch grass now

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #— ♬ signed by; kitasgloves #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bsd chuuya #bsd chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you

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rafeslutsblog · 11 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ CONTENT ⊹ 18+, rafe x brattyfem!reader, silent treatment, smut (on his boat), p in v, creampie, degrading — m.list

slightly inspired by this tiktok edit of him saying “don’t shake your head”

first fic im sorry this sucks ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎აㅤ

Once again, you’re giving your boyfriend the silent treatment. You’ve lost count on how many times you have done this. You can’t help it, he has a habit of getting on your nerves whenever you’re having a bad day. Even when he tries to make amends by taking you out on his boat, your frustration doesn’t go away.

You were sitting in the cockpit while he opened another water. “Seriously? Keeping your mouth shut?” His tongue flicked out, touching the corner of his mouth, and his eyes met yours. You inhaled and a heavy sigh escaped your lips. “I’m just tired today.”

“And so you ignore me?” He replied in a slightly irritated tone. “You know how much I hate when you do this.”

He glared at you, his eyes narrowing as they roved over you. Despite the bright sun shining down on the two of you, the only thing you could really feel was his gaze. "Come on," he spoke, his voice sharp and impatient. "Say something. I'm done with your bullshit."

You shaked your head, “Don’t shake your head at me.” His jaw clenched and the way he tilted his head, gave away how tensed up he was too. Before you can begin to respond, he’s already sitting beside you with his hands at the nape of your neck turning your head to face him, “If you don’t start talking, then I’ll make you.” He said sternly.

The waves are quiet and calm. You bite your lip slightly, “Christ,” he muttered under his breath. You feel his hands go and spread your thighs apart easily. “Rafe-“ You began but he shoved two fingers in your mouth to the back of your throat. His warm breath fanning your face as spit pooled from your mouth.

“Oh so now you want to talk?” His sneered mockingly at you as you stared at his piercing blue eyes, “No, I don’t think so.” Your eyes watered as you gagged on his fingers, face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You tried to pull away, but this only leaded to him shoving his fingers deeper and deeper into your throat.

He grabbed a fistful of your shorts, yanking them down to your knees. With one swift move, he slid his hand to your crotch, cupping your wet pussy through your panties. "Fucking knew it, already so wet for me?"

You try to speak but get cut off, “I'm sorry, what was that?" He asked, his voice cold and harsh. His fingers kept working their magic inside your mouth, teasing and tormenting your sensitive flesh. You tried to speak again, but all that came out was a muffled sound. Your heart pounded inside your chest from the arousal you were beginning to feel. Even his presence alone was enough to make your breath quicken.

You could never resist rafes touch, and he knew that.

As your heart raced, rafe finally pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving it feeling cold and empty. He quickly moved his hand downward pushing your underwear aside, rubbing his slick fingers against your swollen clit and into your wet pussy.

The corner of his lips curled up a little. You squirmed in pleasure as his finger entered you, pushing deeper and probing your wet folds. A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the sound of his fingers rubbing against your swollen clit.

"There we go,” rafe said, his voice husky with desire. "You're so fucking tight around my fingers. Let me hear you moan." And with that, he thrust his finger deeper inside you, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips. “Oh, God," you moaned, your head spinning with pleasure.

Rafe groaned as you clutched his wrist, your nails digging lightly into his skin. Your body arched into his touch, craving more. "Oh fuck," you gasped, feeling his fingers penetrate you even further. He let out a small laugh under his breath, “You like having your pussy stuffed with my fingers, don't you?" You moaned in response, not being able to form words.

He flexed his jaw, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. Subconsciously you licked your own, he stirred beside you and took out his fingers. He grabbed both your knees and laid you back on the soft cushion.

Looking down at you, he cupped the side of your face roughly. His other hand moved between your legs, spreading them apart once more. "You're so fucking beautiful," he breathed, “You look even better with my cock in you too.” He tapped the side of your face with his hand.

The anticipation was killing you as he stared deeply into your eyes, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

Your eyes darted as he started removing his pants. “Rafe, I’m sorry. I won’t ignore you again-but people might see," you managed to stutter out between breaths. "I don’t give a shit," he interrupted, his eyes darkening with lust. With that, he continued to unbuckle himself, his cock already hard and throbbing against his pants.

You gasped as he finally pushed inside of you, filling you up completely. He always stretched you past your limit. His hips almost immediately slammed against yours in a rhythm that made you moan out loud.

“Bought you clothes, brought you out here on this boat, got you lunch,” He groaned, pounding into you. “And you had to give me the silent treatment, huh?” He growled, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hips driving relentlessly into yours.

You moaned loudly, your body shaking under his as you gave in to the pleasure he was giving you. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that," you panted, your head rolling back more.

His eyes flashed with satisfaction as you apologized, your voice barely audible over the sound of your moans. “You’re sorry?” His fingers dig into her hips as he thrusts deeper into her, “But you’re always sorry isn’t that right? Fucking slut-“

His thrusts grew harder and more relentless as he took you on the boat's cockpit. You cried out his name in a mix of pleasure and pain, your body arching into him. "I'm really sorry, I was just-.." Your words trail off to a moan and you clung onto him, wrapping your hands around his biceps.

His pace picked up, and he started slamming into you with unrestrained force. You moaned loudly, practically screaming. Your walls clenching around him as he pounded into you.

You couldn’t be more thankful that no other boats were around. You wouldn’t know what to do if someone (or people) happened to see you getting dicked down by rafe cameron. Maybe at that point you wouldn’t care.

The pleasure was almost unbearable, and you were barely holding on. His hips pistoned against yours, driving his cock deeper into your core.

His hips stilled suddenly, causing you to gasp around his cock. He stared down at you, his eyes burning into yours. "Why did you stop?" you asked, surprise evident in your voice. His curtain bangs shifted onto his face as he’s panting.

"Oh, you want me to keep going?" He mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The grin on his face was wicked as he stared down at her. You feel yourself getting embarrassed, “Keep going..” you murmured.

"Can't hear you, use your words f’me.” He repeated.

Then, he punctuated his words with a hard thrust that buried his cock deep inside you once more before stopping again. You moaned and called out his name as he pushed deeper into you. You felt every inch of his length inside you, and you wanted more. "Please, keep going, rafe," you pleaded, arching your back in an invitation for him to take you even deeper.

“Keep begging," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes locked onto yours as he fought against the urge to lose control and just fuck you senseless right then and there.

“Please fuck me," you moaned, spreading your legs wider for him. Your body is aching for his touch, and your swollen pussy is ready to take him as deep as possible. "Fuck me, rafe," you lightly groan out, your voice trembling with desire. He always knows how to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

That was all it took. His thrusts became harder and faster, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. His body moving him forward as his elbows found purchase on either sides of your head, pinning you beneath him.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the cockpit as rafe fucked you harder, his hips pounding into yours. Your moans and gasps filled the air, intertwining with his rough breathing as he took you to the edge.

He chuckles, watching your fucked out face and as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging his huge cock. “Such a bratty little whore f’me.” He grunted, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction. “Fuck, yeah.”

You feel him pulsing inside you, you moan and beg for more, not wanting this pleasure to ever end. "More…" You whimpered, "Give me more."

Hearing your plea, rafes eyes glazed all over your face and body. His thrusts intensify further, his body practically shuddering with the effort to give you what you crave.

“See? Now you’re finally using that pretty mouth of yours." His voice raw with desire. “A little slutty pussy like this needs to be throughly fucked every day.” He laughed pounding into you, he reached down and began to rub your clit in rapid circles. The sensation is overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure rolling throughout your body.

“Rafe, oh god, I'm so close…!” You moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy as he continues to thrust and rub. Feeling the intensity of your response, rafe moaned in approval. He circled your clit faster and harder, drawing out cries of pure bliss from your lips.

"Almost there," he muttered through gritted teeth. His hips keep slamming into yours, causing sparks of pleasure to shoot through your entire body. "So fucking close," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire.

Your moans grow louder, echoing on the boat as you feel the impending climax. "I'm cumming! Oh god, don't stop!" Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a quivering sensation throughout your body. Your pussy gripped tightly around him, pulling him down into you, milking his cock with every thrust. Your legs tremble and your body shivers, wracked with pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you. "Fuck, I’m cumming!”

Once you cum, rafes eyes rolled to the back of his head, a mix of lust and satisfaction etched on his face. With a low groan, he releases his seed into you, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. "Shit.." he drags out the word, his body trembling.

You lay there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath after the intense orgasm. You're twitching and aching all over, both from the pleasure you've just experienced and the fullness of your boyfriend still inside of you.

His pace slows down, his thrusts growing shallower, softer, as he catches his breath and began to come back down from the high.

“Mm..rafe,” you groaned softly, barely above a whisper. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down closer to you.

He gazed down at you with loving eyes, his hair falling onto his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "That’s what happens when you ignore me," he murmured, a charming smile playing on his lips. His fingers run through your hair, pushing it back gently before he captures your lips in a kiss again.

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kquil · 1 year ago

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POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 4

04 : DISAPPEAR

SUM. : you find out the truth about the boys' relationship

REQUEST. : this might be a dumb question but are the marauders also all in a poly relationship with each other? if so, i'd love one where the reader finally has that realisation and gets all blushy and starts to consider if they'd ever want to include her —@thepunisherfrankcastle

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; only slight fluff ; mostly angst ; im so sorry ; reader finds out the truth ; but not really in the best way ; major misunderstanding trope ; sirius isn't a bad person! ; poly relationship revealed ; yay? ; distance ; walking away trope-ish ; james is precious ; remus trying to make the hard decisions ; our boys need a hug ; wolfstar ; starchaser ; angst angst angst ; im sorry im sorry im sorry!

LENGTH : 5.2k

← PREV. : 03 | GROCERIES

Hearing James giggling fills your chest with warmth and is so contagious that you have to bite your lip so as not to join him. He sees your resistance and moves his hand, making you freeze up and stop all movement. His index finger curls under your chin to lift your gaze as his thumb settles on your bottom lip and slowly draws it out from the press of your upper teeth.

“I can’t be the only one laughing, angel,” on his face is an innocent smile but you know he’s devilish — the raging fire he lights up inside you with the smooth delivery of his simple statement is evidence enough that he’s up to no good.

His light grasp offers barely any resistance when you lift your chin away, “that’s because I’m not ticklish like you,”

“Hey now,” he warns firmly but you can see the mutual playfulness reflecting clearly in his hazel eyes, it was like staring into clear honey, “you’re the one who’s colouring in my tattoo like a toddler,”

“I was bored,” you defend a little too quickly, getting huffy and exaggerating a pitiful pout. It was… a sight, James admits in his head; you look adorable like this and he wants to frame the image in his memory forever, “and besides, you agreed to it,”

“Yeah, so don’t tease me about being ticklish,” his hand reaches up to play with a strand of your hair before he leans down to press a kiss onto your forehead, where you feel his mischievous smile lift up the corner of his lips, “instead, tell me how much you love to hear my laugh,”

There’s no way you’ll ever admit that. Not to his face, at least…

“Woah, comfy are we?~” came the familiar teasing voice of Sirius, who walks into the room and almost has his eyes bulging out at the sight of you and James, “you lucky bastard, Prongs,” Sirius clicks his tongue but there’s no malice in his eyes or tone, “shirtless, all relaxed and cool, leaning back into the sofa with our doll on your lap and colouring in your tats,” your cheeks heat up under your skin when a shameless expression takes over James’s face and he sends a wink over at his fellow tattooist.

“I guess I saved the universe in a past life,” James chuckles, receiving an eye roll in return.

“And you, princess,” Sirius whistles playfully and leans down to kiss the crown of your head, “how lucky you are to have such well-sculpted muscles and a handsome face entertaining you,” the heat on your cheeks continue to blossom, “I don’t know who I’m more jealous of,”

That was the first time you were hinted at Sirius’s dichotomy. Between the wink he sends James and the satisfied grin the glasses-wearing brunette returns, you felt a slight shaking in your heart that you couldn’t quite place.

It didn’t feel bad… but it didn’t feel good either…

After the first homemade lunch you made for them, you’ve gotten into the habit of regularly visiting the boys at the shop with boxed lunches whenever time nears noon. They often insisted that the first surprise lunch was enough thanks.

“It’s really okay for you not to do this, dove,” Remus voices, slowly trailing off as he leans forward to wipe a stray crumb off the side of James’ mouth with his thumb, only to lick the crumb he wiped off without batting an eye. James pays him no mind either and continues savouring your cooking; he was always the one person who devoured your food as if he was a starved man being fed for the first time.

“But–” you quickly protest, trying to dismiss the small gesture between the two, “but I enjoy cooking for you,”

“And we’re very grateful,” Sirius smiles warmly at you and takes your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles, “but your company is enough,” ever the flatterer and flirt, you resist the butterflies in your stomach from his gesture and words.

“And we feel guilty that you have to buy and cook all this food,” Remus adds but you assure them one more time.

“I promise I’ll stop if it ever gets too hard or burdensome but, for now, please let me do it…” the boys look at each other and smile following a unanimous sigh of defeat. You weren’t aware of the effect your soft pleas and pretty eyes had on them. Of course, they couldn’t say ‘no’ and agreed, satisfied with your pledge for the meantime.

“Ugh! These cookies are amazing!” James praises, completely oblivious to the interaction you had with Remus and Sirius. He looks up and the three of you have to suppress your laughter at his childish appearance, crumbs surrounding his mouth as his cheeks puffed out from the food he still had to chew.

“Swallow your food first, James,” Remus reminds, which James quickly does before addressing you again.

“Can you please teach me?” James leans forward in earnest and you swear there are stars in his eyes, “please teach me how to make them so I can have them all the time. I’m an expert at making fruit tarts now but Moony and Padfoot are sick and tired of me making just fruit tarts,”

You were flattered but…“I want them to stay special though,” you pout softly, “I want to be the only person who bakes them for you,”

Before James could answer, Sirius breaks out into peels of laughter, “you don’t have to worry about that, doll,” he winks at you and side-eyes James with a smirk, “James sucks ass in the kitchen, especially when it comes to baking,” James shouts in protest but is swamped by the laughter shared between you, Remus and Sirius. Nevertheless, you finally agreed to teach him just so he stops pouting… even if he looked cute doing so.

That Saturday, you were at their apartment, eager to teach James the secrets to your baking creations. Their flat was sizable and still relatively clean, which you verbally praise and are clued into all of their cleaning habits in more detail. It appears that they have a pretty good system going on that keeps things neat; Remus handles the organisation of all items and keeps stock on most things, Sirius proactively keeps all spaces clean and James loves doing laundry. When asked, he said that the main reason was because he liked the smell of clean sheets, which you couldn’t really blame him for. Together, their good habits cumulatively result in a tidy space and you were impressed; not only were they great friends but they functioned well together too. In some ways, you were envious of that.

When you arrived at the apartment, the boys had all of the ingredients you sent over on a list laid out on their kitchen counters, ready to be put together and baked into your famous cookies.

“Do you two want to join us?” you ask with a smile as James helped you into Sirius’ apron, tying up the strings behind you.

“We’re good, darling,” Sirius smiles and offers to tie up your hair as James slips into his apron. You don’t deny his assistance and hand him over your hair tie as Remus observes the scene with a soft smile, leaning against the door frame that leads into the kitchen.

As much as Sirius and Remus disparaged James’ abilities to bake in the kitchen, he, once again, proved them wrong. He did pretty well with following your instructions and getting things done if you discounted the times he got distracted and had to pull you away from the work as well, just to share in the fun. The last time you baked together was a lot of fun and you were just as eager to get back into the kitchen with him in order to experience that joy all over again. Like last time, Sirius and Remus occupied the living room while you and James got to making the cookie dough before eventually baking the cookies. With the timer set, it won’t be too long before you’re happily serving everyone yours and James’ baked cookies with some tea and coffee.

“It’s just down the hall,” James points out, directing you to their bathroom, “it’s the last door on your right,” with a quick word of thanks, you make your way out to relieve yourself while James gets started on clean up duty. You promised not to be too long so he didn’t have to clean all by himself but he just laughed it off and assured you to take all the time you need — ever the sweetheart.

Your mood was light and happy and, like all other times you spent with the boys, it felt as if you were walking on air… that is, until you weren’t. From the corner of your eye, when passing the living room doorway, your heart came to a stuttering stop at the scene you happened upon.

Seated on the sofa was Remus with Sirius’ laid down, his head on the tall brunette’s lap. It would have been a scene you could have easily shrugged off if it weren’t for Remus bending down so that the two could share a loving kiss. One that had Sirius running his fingers through Remus’ light brown hair, who returned the touch by tenderly gripping at Sirius’ thigh with a spare hand. You would have remained frozen there, like some petrified statue, if Sirius didn’t hum pleasantly only to have Remus chuckle against his lips.

Hurrying to the bathroom, you struggle to get the scene out of your head as your heart breaks over and over again until the stinging pain in your chest dulls into a throbbing ache.

If they were in a loving relationship then you were happy for them, truly…you were; they always looked so content and at bliss around each other, you felt stupid for not having put the puzzle pieces together yourself. It was just conflicting as to why they never hesitated to establish some sort of distance with you when they already had one another. They were together romantically and yet they were able to press loving kisses against your temple and wrap their arms around you with their loved one standing close by?...

“There you are,” James chuckles when you finally make it back into the kitchen, “I was starting to get worried that you somehow got lost on your way to the bathroom,” it was a weak attempt but you joined his laughter without offering to explain your whereabouts. Turning back to the sink, James returns to washing the dishes as you wordlessly get to wiping down the surfaces. He doesn’t appear to notice your sudden change in mood or, at least, he doesn’t let on that he knows; soon enough, he’s yapping away again, being his usual goofy self and drawing a smile from you. He almost makes you forget. You could always count on James to be your ray of sunshine; a happy bug who was eager to spread his contagious joy.

Sirius and Remus were a… surprise, although you really should have known better than to not suspect anything. They’re happy though, and you’re happy for them; that’s what matters.

It was hard to gauge whether or not you should confront them about the revelation you had about their relationship. You had to thoroughly think it over…

There had to be a reason behind why Remus and Sirius didn’t want to tell you about their relationship and managed to get James in on it too. It must have been a very good reason. So you can’t fault them and resolve to stay silent on the matter. Their privacy needs to be respected; they’ll tell you when they’re ready, you’re sure of it. For now, you just have to act normal, as if nothing happened. The only problem was that you were left to wonder…

Why haven’t they told you? Is it awkward for them? Maybe they didn’t trust you enough? Did they think you were homophobic?— You’re not! You fully support all types of love in all its forms and would never be prejudicial towards them because they preferred the same gender. Or maybe they did trust you but the right time just never came up? That’s also plausible. They probably just need time…yeah! Time, you can give them that; you’re a very patient person, after all—

“—Dove?”

“H-huh?” you blink rapidly, returning to the present as Remus tilts his head at you curiously.

“Are you okay?” there’s an amused smirk painted across his lips as he eyes you up and down, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” his warm voice is like a comforting hug on an autumn day, one that makes you want to lose all thoughts and melt into his arms.

“Y-yeah!” you chirp as embarrassment begins to creep in, “Sorry about that,” he laughs with you, “I guess I got distracted,” Remus nods, understanding in his eyes as he turns to the clock on the office wall.

“The both of us have been at it for a while,” he hums when reading the time, “I think we deserve a break,”

“Snack run?”

Seeing the delight in your eyes, Remus laughs and presses a kiss to your temple. It takes everything in you not to lean away out of respect for Sirius —you still need to act as normal as possible so you don’t draw attention but it’s getting harder and harder to do so, “snack run,” he confirms, his gaze lingering on your tight-lipped smile. It’s an awkward tilt of your lips and it doesn’t belong on your usually soft and brightly beaming features, Remus thinks to himself. He wants to ruminate on it’s appearance further but files away his thoughts for another day, “let me tidy up here first and I’ll meet you out front,”

Nodding stiffly, you hurry to leave and get to the front of the parlour, where you can safely catch your breath. There, you can recalibrate your thoughts and feelings from a safe distance—

Your gradually slowing thoughts come to a grinding halt as you pass.

What did you just see?...

Angling yourself carefully and peeking through the crack of the door, you resist the urge to gasp in horror. In an otherwise empty tattoo room, Sirius sits in his tech chair and angles himself upwards as James stands and leans down to meet the former in a sweet kiss.

Scandalised, you cover your mouth and step away from the door, suppressing a scream as racing thoughts pour into your head.

SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!

All breath escapes you and the world begins to spin. The charming, loyal and honest character of Sirius that you’ve built up in your head breaks apart and you’re left spiralling at the implications of his betrayal. You feel like crying and vomiting and throwing a rage-filled fit all at the same time! Wait! —No! It’s not about what you want to do it’s about what you need to do and that’s to—

It was then that you hear Remus walking down the steps behind you. Your heart jumps in your chest and your stomach caves in on itself. Leaning forward, you peek through the crack in the open door again and find Sirius carefully prepping his tools for a later appointment while James is against one wall on the other side of the room, checking something on the computer.

Good… Remus doesn’t have to see anything… you think to yourself, although the thought alone makes your heart break all over again.

“Ready to go?” Remus asks, approaching you with a lifted brow of curiosity. He’s probably wondering why you haven’t made it to the front of the parlour yet.

“I-I was just thinking!…uhh,” you bite your lip and try to keep your rising panic from reflecting in your eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t really want to go on a snack run,”

“Oh?” Remus didn’t even try to hide his surprise, it wasn’t like you to not go on a snack run — so much for wanting to act normal… “How come?”

“I just remembered something-!” it was a lame excuse but you could kill two birds with one stone through this, it’ll be worth it, “-something I wanted to talk to Sirius about—”

“You called?~” speak of the devil and he shall appear. Upon hearing his name, Sirius pulls open the door and flashes his usual charming smile, which only draws a chilling glare from you. Caught off-guard, Sirius blinks in surprise, “What’s the matter, dollface?”

A taunting whistle floats through the air from behind him as James steps up and eyes your unusually angry expression, “what did you do this time, Pads?”

“I-I don’t know…” his normally confident, unwavering voice stutters and is offered cautiously, almost scared despite the tattooist standing a good few inches taller than you.

Finding some confidence, you square your shoulders and address Remus again but keep your glare focused on Sirius, “Why don’t you and James go on a snack run while I talk to Sirius?” you almost snap out the cheater’s name from spite. You can’t believe you ever deluded yourself into thinking he was a good person that could do no wrong. He’s charmed you, Remus and James, tricked all three of you and you weren’t going to stand for it.

The two boys jokingly wish their friend ‘good luck’ as they walk past and head out, promising to get his favourites so he can nurse his wounds from the verbal beat-down he was about to receive with something yummy. It’s clear that James and Remus don’t really believe you’re capable of delivering much vengeance or rage but the fire in your eyes tells Sirius otherwise. As soon as the front door closes behind the two, you push Sirius back into the private tattoo room before he could utter a single word.

“You need to explain yourself, Sirius Orion Black and you need to do it now!” you demand, your voice harsh and biting, something you’ve never done in front of the boys before and catches the traitor, in your eyes, by complete surprise. Sirius doesn’t know what he’s done but he already feels incredible guilt and sorrow over it. He’s never wanted to draw out such a horrid emotion out of you; you’re only allowed to feel happiness and love and comfort. Not this. Never this…

“I-I don’t understand, princess—” he reaches for you but you step away from his touch, your piercing glare and obvious rejection stabbing a knife through his chest. You’ve never pulled away from his reach before, he’s not used to this. What did he do? He would take it all back, whatever he did, if it meant that you would lean into his touch again rather than pull away. He’d do anything to quash the evident flames of rage in your eyes. What did he do?... What did he do goddamnit?!

“I saw it! I saw everything! You’re playing both of them!” you shout, your rage lashing out and scorching him with their intense heat. There was no holding you back, you told him everything, about how you saw his kiss with Remus and James. His eyes widen in shock before filling with horror, which does nothing but corroborate your heart breaking revelations, “I don’t want to believe it! How could you do this to them, Siri?...” your shouting voice slowly quietens and tapers off at the end, quivering like a shaken autumn leaf. So heartbroken over the fact, your rage quickly turns into sorrow and tears quickly fill your eyes, “You’re better than that, I know you are!” and you really do. No matter how betrayed you feel and having witnessed the evidence first hand, you cling onto the little slither of faith you still had in Sirius, “Please tell them the truth, they deserve the truth… they deserve you being forthcoming with them because they’re good guys,”

Looking on at you, Sirius feels his heart break. This misunderstanding was tearing you up inside and, although it makes him happy to know that you would confront him and be angry for the boys at his supposed betrayal, watching you break down, and sob uncontrollably made Sirius’ heart twist and clench uncomfortably— painfully so.

Without a word, he reaches out again and is able to bring you into his arms. You don’t return the gesture but you make no effort to push him away either.

“Shhh Shhh Shhhhhh, darling…” Sirius whispers comfortingly, softly patting your hair as he waits for your sobbing to calm down enough for him to come clean. Scrap the plan, whatever bullshit plan they came up with to slowly ease you into accepting their relationship before selfishly asking for your love as well. He wasn’t going to let you continue misunderstanding their relationship, especially when it’s causing you so much pain, “...this is all a big misunderstanding…” he begins softly once your cries were finally reduced to soft sniffles, “do you know what polyamory is, sweetheart?”

“...n-no…”

“It’s when more than two people agree to be in a loving, romantic relationship with each other, all at the same time,” he explains in the same soft voice, his arms never pulling away from you as he feels you slowly lose your grip on resistance.

“Is…is that…”

“Yes, that’s the relationship James, Remus and I are all a part of…” he looks down with a gentle smile and watches you peek up at him curiously. Sirius resists the urge to swoop down and pepper your face with kisses. Just when he thought his love for you couldn’t grow any bigger, here you were being the sweetest, most caring and lovable little thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

However, you slowly begin to shake your head and the resistance in your eyes and expression returns. This time you push him away and keep him at arm's reach. Like a scared prey animal being cornered by a predator, you inch your way back until you're pressing yourself against the wall beside the door. It takes Sirius two steps forward to finally stop and keep his place so that you don’t feel pushed or stressed by his presence.

“I-I won’t believe you until James and Remus say so…”

He shrugs and gives you a pained smile. He supposes he can’t blame you for being cautious and not believing him, he’s the apparent ‘cheater’, afterall.

You watch Sirius part his lips to voice something when you hear the parlour door open and rush into the hallway to see James and Remus walk in. The two were grinning cheekily at each other and their arms were piled high with an assortment of snacks. They held true to their promise; you could spot many of Sirius’ favourites among the pile and it made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

As soon as the two look up and see your dishevelled form, your eyes pink and tearful, your bottom lip wobbling from restrained cries and your frame closed up like a frightened clam, the snacks are carelessly disregarded and they rush to your side.

“Dove?” Remus calls, worry evident in his voice as he steals a glance at Sirius over your trembling shoulder. The response he was given — tight lips, drawn into a straight line and unreadable eyes — wasn’t enough, however and his chocolate pools hardened into brown stone. What. Did. You. Do?... Remus silently interrogated the tattooist.

“What happened, angel?” James immediately wraps his arms around you and you almost melt into his hold if it weren’t for your need to clarify everything dominating your thoughts.

“Are you and Remus in a relationship with Sirius?” your hesitant voice, small and fraying at the edges, speaks up but barely above a whisper. The two men visibly stiffen beside you and you feel a well of tears quickly building up again; your thoughts immediately jumping to the worst possible outcome.

“Tell her the truth. Give her peace of mind, lads,” Sirius speaks up, his own voice lacking its usual confidence and was reduced to a vulnerable softness.

“Yes,” Remus affirms after a beat of silence.

“We’re all consenting, we all love each other, mutually!” James pipes up, his tone bordering on defensive despite not knowing what he’s their relationship defending from, “You…you don’t think of us differently do you?”

“No! No no no! Of course not,” you quickly elucidate your thoughts, your shoulders relaxing as you turn and meet eyes with Sirius, mustering a small smile, “it’s actually quite a relief,”

Grinning softly, Sirius steps up to explain the situation, “Dollface over here thought that I was cheating on you and James with each other, Rem,” he chuckles softly, amusement in his eyes though it still lacked their full brightness, “she gave me a good shouting to and looked like she was ready to bite my head off if I didn’t ‘come clean’ to both of you,” Remus laughs and pulls Sirius into a sideways hug as James coos lovingly at you.

“You got angry for us, angel?” James presses his face into your hair and nuzzles you affectionately, “you’re the sweetest~” he coos, his smirk growing as he feels an embarrassed heat radiating off your cheeks.

“St-stop the James,” you whine with an awkward smile and wiggle yourself out of his arms, avoiding his pouting lips because you know your resolve will melt away at the sight. It was confirmed. They were in a relationship, all three of them, with each other. You should be happy that Sirius wasn’t a cheater and still the wonderful man you saw him to be. But, no matter how happy you were for them, the twisting of your stomach and the gaping hole in your heart wasn’t easily fixable.

The following weeks, you maintained the friendship you had with the boys, who no longer felt the need to limit their intimate touches around you. However, whenever they tried to initiate affection with you, as per usual, once the innocent kiss on the temple and harmless hug was now fervently being rejected by you and pushed away. You had no intention of disrespecting their relationship, even if most acts of affection you exchanged as friends were innocuous. But, then again, it was also your way of protecting your already shattered heart. Yes, you could just stay away from them entirely but you had built such a strong friendship with them that it didn’t feel right to candidly pretend that you’ve never met them before. It’ll do more harm than the harm you were inflicting now…

Ever the observant man that he was, Remus knew the instant reason behind your hesitation and was quick to reassure you the next time you were invited over for tea.

“It’s really okay, sweetheart,” the tall brunette hums softly as James and Sirius agree from their own seats, “we’re okay with it and you aren’t going to come in between any of us, I promise you,”

Stubbornly, you shake your head, pulling a deep frown from all of them.

“Are you not comfortable with it?” James asks with uncertainty, his question and its potential implication is filled with enough dread to make even his two lovers stiffen up.

You nod your head ‘yes’ and they slump in their rejection. It hurt to know that the revelation of their relationship had pushed you away when the basic nature of their affair meant more love for everyone. And they wanted it to include you… Their romance that led to such an abundance of love and promises of more was now paradoxically pushing you away. For once, they didn’t know what to do, not a single one of them could come up with any idea to resolve the ever-growing tension in your relationship. It was a rubber band ready to snap.

“If you’re uncomfortable then we’ll respect that and keep our distance, touch-wise” Remus surrenders despite the heartbreak it gives him while Sirius shoots up and sends him an irate glare, one that Remus coldly returns. It wasn’t a question of their comfortability but yours, Sirius needed to regard that to the highest degree and Remus was all too ready to make him face the music. They can’t afford to lose you and if it meant that he needed to make the hard decisions then so be it.

“Thank you,”

“...do you not want to be around us anymore?” James speaks up, not necessarily taking things to their extremes but rather potential, future escalations. He’s seen it. In the days and weeks that followed the divulgence of their true relationship, bit by bit you have begun to pull away from them to the point where James can vividly see where the escalation of your behaviour will lead and it’s frightening. One day, you’ll just disappear and that terrifies him.

“No no…” your weak defence, lacking true resolve, ignites a shock of terrorising fear in all three of them, their eyes shaking with trepidation. But you couldn’t see it because you couldn’t look at them, like a coward. Because that’s what you are — a coward. The heartbreak was chipping away at you. You thought you would be brave enough to see them happy together but you couldn’t. Because, not only were you a coward, but you were selfish too. Green with envy, you stewed in that awful, stomach-twisting, heart-aching, bitter-tasting, gut-wrenching feeling each time you saw every loving kiss, affectionate cuddle and sweetly whispered words.

Throughout your friendship you grew to love each of them as more than a simple friend. You know it was wrong but they were all so charming in their own, unique way. They treated you sincerely, cared for you without any sinister, ulterior motives and they’ve successfully wormed their way into your life and heart, permanently.

What was once something that brought you such joy, warmth and feelings of safety was now mercilessly ripping you apart.

Their dynamic looked different to you now that you were looking through a different lens. They weren’t just close friends anymore, they were very much in love and have been romantically involved for a few years now — it was one of the first things you found out about their relationship. Its longevity was a testament to their unwavering love for each other and here you were, secretly, selfishly and salaciously hoping for your own slice of the love pie.

How dare you…

Just because you’ve had such bad luck with love didn’t mean you had the right to wish for something that couldn’t possibly become yours. You have no right to ask them for love when they are completely content with their own.

“Please don’t push us away, dollface,” Sirius begs softly, his steel grey eyes melting into a pool of mercury. Beautiful but poisonous. Something you want but can’t have.

“I’m sorry,” you’re breathless when you see the genuine fear in their eyes and turn away from the sight. This isn’t the time to turn weak at the knees, “it’s getting pretty late, I should go,” shouldering your bag, you get up and rush to leave their flat.

“Stay,” Remus half commands and half begs, almost stopping you in your tracks, “please stay… we need to talk to you about something important,” if there was any time for them to reveal the truth, it was now. Before they lose you, before they drown themselves in regret, before they fall into a pit of despair, before they—

“I’m sorry…” you repeat and, just as James feared, you disappear.

A/N : this took such a long while to write but i wanted it to be perfect, thank you so much for requesting this darling @thepunisherfrankcastle it fit perfectly into the plot although i did make some slight altercations to your request. unfortunately, there's still more to go after this so i'm going to have to leave you darlings with a cliffhanger, look out for part 5! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

→ NEXT. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS M.LIST

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic TAGLIST CLOSED

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vampiredaisiesss · 1 month ago

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vice | homelander x reader

noun

a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit.

tw: gaslighting, homelander giving oral, p in v sex, homelander is a manipulative bitch, dubious consent.

"I let my anger get best of me, okay?" he says softly, still supporting that puppy dog look in his eyes. "I shouldn't have lasered that poor guy."

But you've known him for so long, You can see past his bullshit anytime. That's why you cross your arms over your chest and keep yourself mum. You were not going to give in to him today.

He takes a calculated step forward. Gloved hands reach for the hem of your dress, playing with it like a child played with the edge of its mother's dress. But there's nothing pure about it.

Every touch of his drips with sin. A venom that must have infiltrated your heart for you continue to love him despite all he is.

Suddenly, he's on his knees in front of you. The caped crusader makes sure your eyes stay locked to his ocean ones throughout. His hands continue bunching up the edge of your dress. You let out a exasperated sigh, your own reaching out to get his off.

"John, stop," It's too late. His lips press to the inside of your thigh, right above your knee where he knows you are sensitive. "What are y-"

He sinks his teeth in the supple flesh, letting a moan drag out of your throat. Then lays his tongue flat against the bite mark, enclosing it using his lips. He starts to suction around it, only leaving your skin to continue his ministrations upwards.

He's so close to where you always need him the most. So close it makes something inside your belly liquify into a warm, wet puddle.

"John, please..." you sound uncertain. are you begging him to continue or begging him to stop? even though you intended for the latter, your voice comes out as a manifestation of the former. "Please, stop."

You grab a handful of his hair as he nears your core, paying your words no heed. He looks up, piercing blue eyes boring into yours, and licks a long strip up your slit.

A groan escapes his mouth, his hold on your thighs prying them further apart. You have to lean back on the wall to keep your upper half upright as he lifts both your legs on either side of his shoulders.

At your refusal towards a response, something in his gaze turns. Desperation becomes laced with arrogance and the fine line between the two starts to shrivel.

His red gloved fingers start painting your skin possessively red.

"You have America's greatest superhero on his knees for you, ravishing your sweet cunt night after night," he growled, lips attaching to your clit in circles. "And you continue being a bitch about some godforsaken piece of shit that probably would've taken advantage of you, if I hadn't intervened."

Your mouth is opened in permanent gasp. No noise comes out of it. He has successfully shut you up, and he knows it by how well your body is reacting you him.

Your hands pull at his hair with every brush of his tongue, thighs clenching around his head in a vice like grip.

"What more do you want, huh, before you stop being an ungrateful little brat?" his voice comes muffled from your thighs.

He has this ability of unhinging his jaw like a snake, devouring you whole. He torments your clit with fast, but light strokes, dragging it down to thrust it inside of you. When his lips aren't attached to your bud, his nose fills the role, and you buck your hips desperately to feel yourself rub deliciously against the length of it.

White hot lava is flooding through your veins. You feel it consuming you alive.

His fingers replace his tongue inside of you. He has a habit of keeping his gloves on when he has a point to prove. And they help him prove it. The rubber makes his already thick fingers thicker. It gifts his already impressive skills friction. Pleasure collides with pain in your belly, pulling you over the edge, into a harsh undercurrent.

And it gives him power over you. The only power he has always had.

America's greatest superhero fucks you like it can save him from drowning. He keeps your whole weight effortlessly pinned to the wall, hips meeting yours at a bruising pace. His hair is a mess, his face covered in you. When he shoves his tongue into your mouth, he wants you to taste yourself on his tongue.

He's the perfect specimen, right down to what's between his legs. He's thick and long with a curved tip that hits all your sweet spots. When he's inside you, it's like a drug. He washes over you with a certainty that dulls everything else.

He moulds you to his will.

"John, I'm sorry," You breathe out in the crook of his neck, hands gripping his shoulder like you'd fall without him. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh. It's okay, sweetheart. You're okay," he coos at you, holding you tighter against his body. His left hand cradles your head while he pounds you harder into the wall.

You can feel the cracks forming on the wall where his hand is placed at your side. His thrusts are becoming more frantic. "You fe..feel so, so good, baby," he whisper against your ear. "Made just for me."

Within seconds, he's finishing inside you with a loud growl. His hips tremor slightly as his head tips back, teeth gritted in pleasure. After he catches himself, he tends to you, letting any regret in your mind dissolve into self-doubt over the course of a long, languid kiss.

#homelander #the boys #homelander x reader #the homelander #homelander x you #homelander x oc #antony starr #smut #homelander smut #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys series #the boys season 4 #homelander fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys x reader #the boys x you

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sugudoe · 6 months ago

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❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

#♱ 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ on stage ! ᯤ #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo

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hugsandharrystyles · 6 months ago

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Pathetic

Summary: Harry is pathetic, whipped, and an asshole.

Word Count: 2k+

(SMUT so beware.)

"Just give me one more chance."

"I gave you about twenty chances, Harry," You argue. You both have been broken up for about two months now. Harry has a bad habit of breaking up with you when he feels it gets too serious and then begging his way back into your heart at some lame frat party a few weeks later. You finally became exhausted of the cycle and realized you didn't want to be in a relationship with someone like that. Harry didn't take your final break-up well at all because he finally understood you were done with his antics. He's been in a constant state of panic ever since.

"Please, Y/N. I won't- I won't dick around again. I'm a fucking idiot. Just- baby, please," He's spluttering as he corners you into a wall of his dingy frat house. The music is blaring, and people are dancing everywhere you look.

"Yeah, you've said that every time, and I'm not buying it," you say with a mundane tone. You love Harry more than anything, but you can't give him the satisfaction in knowing that. He practically whines and cages you against the wall, his hands on either side of your head, his face resting against your shoulder. You roll your eyes at his pathetic behavior.

"Please, please, please," He begs, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. You huff in annoyance.

"I hope you know you're acting pathetic right now," you tell him, and he whimpers in your shoulder, nodding his head against you. "Harry, look at me," you say, and he drags his head up. His eyes are clouded over, and his hands rest on your hips, lips in an eternal pout. "I'm not going to date you again because you're an awful boyfriend." His jaw slightly drops, and you swear you see tears well in his eyes. "But-" you begin, reaching up to caress his cheek and wipe a fallen tear, "I'll let you fuck me one more time since that's all you wanted from me anyway, huh?" You ask condescendingly.

"No- No, Y/N, please. You have to know that's not true-" His spluttering is cut off by your lips on his.

"This isn't going to happen if you keep talking," You whisper against his lips. His mouth slips open, and he dips his tongue into your mouth, massaging his against yours. The make out is sloppy and wet, and by the time you pull away, you're both panting and have red cheeks. You take his hand in yours and pull him to the closest bathroom. You lock the door behind you and pop yourself up on the counter.

"We can't go to my room?" Harry asks in a small voice.

"Fuck no. I don't know who you've had in there since me," you say, your voice heavy with disgust as you pull him between your legs and start kissing at his neck. His hands rest against your thighs, squeezing and pawing at them as he shakes his head.

"I swear there hasn't been anyone since you," He promises and moans when you start sucking at his skin.

"As much as I want to believe that we both know the slut you've been in the past," you say and pat his chest. He glares at you before smashing his lips against yours and yanking down your top, so your breasts spill out. He grips and pinches your tits, making you moan into his mouth. His disconnects his mouth from yours to suck at your nipples. Your hand comes to cradle the back of his head as your other hand rubs at your clit through your underwear.

"Let me," he says and goes to put his hands on your pussy, but you stop him.

"No, you can just fuck me," you say breathlessly. "You don't deserve anything else." He nods his head in pitiful agreement and begins to unzip his jeans and pull himself out of his boxers. Your eyes shine at the big dick you've been missing, and you bite your lip to hold back your smile. You spit into your hand before reaching down to jerk him off a bit. His hips stutter into your hand and his jaw drops as a guttural moan spills out. "Geez, you're sensitive," you laugh.

"Wanna fuck you," He whines and thrusts into your hand.

"Alright, c'mon, big boy," you tell him and part your legs further, scooting farther down the counter, so your pussy is perfectly lined up with his dick. He slides himself over your pussy to get himself wet, his face twisting in pleasure at the subtle contact, and you can't not laugh at his piteous behavior.

As soon as he's about to stick his tip in, you stop him.

"Wait," you say and shove at his hip. He pouts but stills himself. "Get a condom," you tell him, and his jaw drops in betrayal.

"But- we never used a condom- ever!" He complains, his eyebrows sewn together in annoyance.

"Well, we are now. I don't trust where your dick has been," you tell him, and his jaw drops.

"This isn't fair! C'mon, Y/N, I've gone along with your games all night, and baby, please, I love you so much. I haven't been with anyone else. You're the only one for me-"

"Harry, it's a condom or nothing," you command, and he basically whimpers at your unwavering attitude.

"Okay," he agrees meekly and reaches into his pocket to pull out a condom. Your jaw drops, and a laugh falls from your mouth. His eyes question you.

"So, you want me to believe you haven't been with anyone when you had a condom ready in your pocket?" You can't control the laugh that escapes you.

"No! It was Niall, I swear! He- He's been making fun of me because I haven't fucked anyone since you, so right before the party started, he jammed one of these in my pocket, and I forgot to take it out. I swear, Y/N," his eyes are serious, and it does sound like something Niall would do, but the irony is too perfect.

"Yeah, okay, just put it on, Harry," you say with humor lingering in your voice.

"Are you fucking- Here, I'll call Niall right now, and he can tell you," he says and begins to reach for his phone.

"No, Harry, that's so unnecessary!" You laugh and try to grab his phone, but he's already ringing Niall.

"Obviously it's not," he counters, puts the phone on speaker and waits for his friend to pick up.

"Hello?" The familiar Irish accent speaks into the phone.

"Hi, Ni. Have I been with anyone since Y/N?" Harry asks.

"No- what the fuck is going on right now- are you with Y/N?" Niall's confusion is evident through the phone.

"Yeah, hi Niall," you say awkwardly.

"Oh, fucking finally. Y/N, you've got to give my boy Harry another chance. He doesn't stop fucking whining about you, and it's annoying as hell-" Harry hangs up the phone before he could say anything else.

"Well, you see now," Harry says and positions himself at your entrance.

"Just the tip," you tell him, and his brows furrow in confusion.

"Huh?" he asks.

"I don't want you to fuck me all the way," you explain. His jaw ticks, and he slaps his dick against your clit, making you twitch. "Careful," You warn between gritted teeth. He spends some time just rubbing himself in between your pussy lips and catching his head on your tight hole. "C'mon, Harry. I want to get back out to the party."

"You're being so mean," He pouts but pushes his head in, his jaw dropping in pleasure. You push at his hip when his hips thrust a bit farther in.

"You were mean first- fucking remember that," you spit.

"I'm sorry," he whines as he fucks you with the tip of his cock. He reaches down to rub at your clit, and your legs lightly shake at the sensation. Harry knows exactly where every good spot is on your body and where exactly will bring you the most pleasure. "So sorry, baby. I'll be anything for you, I swear," he says all pussy-drunk.

"Too little, t-too late, Harry," you breathe and gasp when he pushes in a bit farther. "Watch it," you warn.

"Please, Y/N," He cries, his hips stalling in an attempt to not cum.

"Oh, you better not be about to fucking cum. We haven't even been going for two minutes, and I didn't even think you'd be able to cum from just the tip," You laugh evilly, and he groans in response.

"Shut up, shut up," he says and presses at your stomach when you try to wiggle on him.

"Fucking loser," You spit and clench down on him.

"You're still letting this loser fuck you, s-so what does that say about you?"

"Shut the fuck up," You moan and shove at his hip, but he barely budges. He fucks his tip in and out of you while lightly slapping your pussy.

"If you want me t-to be a loser, I will, sweetheart. I'll be anything you fucking want. Just- just don't leave me again," He begs and leans down to suck on your tits again. "Mama, please." Harry only uses that nickname for you when he's in a certain headspace, so you understand you need to be softer with him for the time being. He does genuinely seem sorry for his behavior, and he's just so hot he's hard to say no to.

"C'mon, Harry. You can cum," You encourage him, and he shakes his head.

"You- You're gonna leave," He whispers and grasps your hips tightly, stilling the both of you once again. You can't take it this time and instead wrap your legs around his hips and push him into you, so you're pressed tightly together. He practically sobs as he cums, and you fear he's too loud, so you press a hand to his mouth. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you to his body, and you swear his orgasm lasts forever. The sensation brings you close, yourself. Your hand that's not on his mouth comes up to play with his hair.

"Calm down," you say gently into his ear as he breathes heavily. His head sags to your shoulder where he sucks at your neck in a soothing manor. The hand that isn't in his hair now rubs at his back. He tries his best to keep his hips still, but they animalistically shove himself as far in as he can possibly go to lock your bodies together.

"I love you- love your soul and your body and everything about you," he breathes and kisses your cheek, letting his forehead rest against your temple. "I love you- I'm so sorry, my love." You can't help the tears that fall at his sentiment. He kisses your cheek again and begins to kiss his way down your body, gently removing himself from you in the process, though when he sees your mixed cum start to drip from your pussy, he quickly gets on his knees and starts to lick you clean. "We taste the best when we're together," he moans and shoves his tongue inside you as far as he can.

"Harry!" You squeal and fist a hand into his hair.

"Fuck- moan my name, baby while I eat your sweet cunt," he pants and sucks at your clit with ferocity. His head shakes side-to-side like a feral animal, and your legs begin to shake again. His hands come up to grip your legs and pin them to the side to spread you open for him. "Cum for me, please, baby." His begging sends you over, and you swore you would've slipped off the counter if he hadn't been gripping you tightly. As you begin to come down, two fingers are being shoved into your pussy and practically shaking you up, hitting repeatedly at that sweet spot inside of you, and you begin to spurt everywhere as you squirt, Harry's tongue flicking against your clit the entire time. He removes his fingers once you finish but then again move his head down to your entrance to lap you up. You have to push his head away and quickly close your legs to stop him.

"Give me a break, Harry," you sigh, a laugh breaking through your lips as you see him pout. He rises off the floor and kisses the corner of your mouth as your panting decreases. "Thank you," you breathe.

There's a moment of intensity where your eyes lock, and you swear you completely understand each other.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry asks.

"Please."

This turned out sappier than I thought, so sorry if you don't like that... Also, thank you for all the love!

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harrystyles #one direction #harry styles angst #smut #sappy

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sukirichi · 6 months ago

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VIRGIN KILLER TRIO !! & their habits

→ oliver aiku + karasu tabito + otoya eita

→ nsfw. smut. wrote this impulsively on my notes because karasu has me feeling things. aged up characters. toxic men. fingering. oral (f receiving) otoya is a cheater (canon but i love him) unedited. size kink kind offf. aiku hits it and quits it.

+ I NEED AIKU SO BAD. i also hc that karasu is a manwhore but he would teeat you so well <3

it’s hard not to catch sight of the virgin killer trio in every afterparty. there’s oliver — the smooth talker who can never remember a girl’s name, karasu — who reads your every move and can tell from across the room how badly you want him, and otoya — the quietest of them all. but don’t let his demeanor fool you. rumors have it that he’s as great in bed as he is at breaking hearts.

pick your poison, they said. don’t let the night go to waste, they said.

but all is easier said than done when oliver has forgotten his cold beer on the counter as he presses you against it during a party. he calls you names that are outright dirty and should not have made you this wet. he smells like smoke and liquor — like danger, like everything you should avoid. you know he won’t remember you the next morning and you’ll most likely wake up in an empty bed. no notes, no small gift left behind. it would be hard to tell he was ever there if it were not for the ache between your thighs and the bite marks he’d left all over your skin.

oliver fucks like the way he wins — luring his opponent and trapping them against him until you give in and submit. what’s the point of fighting anyway? you know it’s futile. you should just let him do as he pleases — to hammer into you from behind, his large hands squeezing your hips in a vice-tight grip. oh no, he’s not letting you go. he’ll keep you there until your thighs quiver and your head drops down to the pillow, the sheets drenched with sex and sweat. he’ll keep you there until his legs are tangled with yours, your tongue lolled out as he fucks out the most delicious moans from you.

oliver aiku is dirty, intoxicating, and when he leaves his mark on you, he only has one goal in purpose — to ruin you for any other man who comes next.

karasu is different. he’s sweeter, more tender with his words and gestures. he doesn’t seduce you right away. no, he likes to watch his prey first from across the room, letting his gaze wander to your pretty face and picturing if you’d look better when you’re finally coming around his cock. when he makes himself known, it’s too late. he’ll know everything about you already, just like how he knows he’ll have you putty in his hands by the end of the night. the only thing left is to prove his theories right �� don’t even try to think you can hide your weaknesses from him. he can read you like an open book. he can tell from the hungry way your eyes roam over him that you’d take it like a good girl, and your eyes would roll back when he slides himself in deep.

unlike aiku, karasu doesn’t cage you under his arms and suffocates you. this isn’t a battle for him, because battles mean there’s equal chances of winning, and there’s none of that in the bedroom. karasu knows he’s stronger and has the upper hand. he knows you’re entirely at his mercy when he pins your hands above your head, his long fingers locked around your wrist. and oh, he’s sweeter, so much sweeter. he calls you beautiful and gorgeous. he worships you and leaves kisses on your body, murmuring sweet nothings like a mantra against your skin. he isn’t rough, but he fucks you hard and deep. hard enough you’re seeing stars and your toes are curling, pussy fluttering around his girth. and when he’s pushed you to the edge, he’ll make sure everyone at the party knows who made you feel that good.

karasu doesn’t leave a note. he stays the night and kisses you again, his eyes droopy in a post sex-haze. he gives you his number, because why not? he sure wouldn’t mind sleeping with you again the next time you run into each other.

the next time you attend these events, it isn’t the dominant oliver or endearing karasu who charms you. instead, otoya comes unexpectedly — slithering his way into your heart (and pants) before you could realize it. he’s subtle, and doesn’t stand out much from the crowd. it comes like a shock to you when you find yourself pressed up against a wall in a random hallway with his lips against your neck. he doesn’t say sweet things like karasu, or teases you on how you’re such a dirty whore like oliver would. no, otoya speaks with his words, and you get the message clear enough when he’s pumping his fingers in you. he’s quiet still, giving you only breathy moans and low groans when you squeeze around him — but by the heavens, he sounds the prettiest.

there is nothing quick and swift when it comes to otoya, unlike how he is when he’s speeding through the field. he takes his time with such confidence and patience that karasu would lack, since he’s too eager. and he touches you in the gentlest manners briefly reminding you of karasu, but when otoya looks at you, it’s different. with his handsome face above you, his reddened lips parted with a shuddering breath, and his eyes narrowed as he watches your cunt swallow him to the hilt. he isn’t the sweetest, but he is the most romantic. lacing his fingertips with yours, otoya swallows all your moans in a devouring kiss. his hips plunging into you in a way that you’re sure you’ll feel him for days. and he kisses like he means it — kisses your sweet pussy with his eyes closed and rough hands kneading your ass like a starved man.

and when he leaves, it’s with a hole in your heart. otoya is a silent killer, who comes and disappears into your life, but not without ensuring he’s more than just a silly fuck. because otoya didn’t have to make out lazily with you, or ask about your passions. he didn’t have to be genuinely interested in getting to know you and smile like he’s fallen in love. he didn’t have to hide that it was all a mistake — that he was already with someone else, and simply couldn’t ignore his needs when you set foot into the room and your scent got him hard.

and when the regret sinks in, otoya will barely look you in the eye. he doesn’t stay the night because there’s someone waiting for him at home.

he doesn’t ask for your name or number because it’s easier to pretend nothing happened between you. just as silently as he made his way to your heart, otoya leaves with a final resounding click of the door being shut.

because just like his friends, otoya never stays.

and they’ll be on their way to find their next conquest.

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rr311 · 6 months ago

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↳ 𝗄𝖺𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗄𝗂 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗎𝗀𝗈

↳ 𝖺.𝗇; I got this idea from listening to a song ☹️ I’m so lonely that i had to write this because I need comfort in my life. it’s bad. anyways enjoy! the song in question

weird as it is, katsuki had a habit of showing you his soft side. one being he can’t keep his hands off you. he’s clingy, real clingy. It was shocking of how much he would touch you, and on top of that he was protective too. overprotective you would say. whenever you guys were doing practice missions and one of the guys (kaminari or mineta) would look at you with heart eyes, he would always stand behind you glaring at them. by the aura that flamed around him, they would end up getting scared or nervously laughing looking away from you. knowing exactly why you smiled shaking your head with a sigh turning around to spot katsuki looking away with a scoff, “don’t look at me like that.” you raised a brow placing a hand on your hip not even willing to argue with him, only shaking your head walking up to him. “you need to stop.” pecking his cheek as he grinned with a shrug. “not my fault those damn idiots keep staring at you.” l you shake your head watching him walk past you with a chuckle but gasp feeling him pull you by your waist as he did.

what else is weird that ever since he started to have that change in his attitude, he’s been showing affection around everyone but it would be small minor things. like holding your hand, whenever you guys are watching a movie or sitting on the couch he or you would put his arm over your shoulder, or whenever it’s just you two out in the dorms he would always back hug you enjoying the comfort he got from your warmth, giggling each time. “kat, what’s goin on?.” he would hum holding you tighter, “shut up loser..I just had a long day.” smiling everytime using your hand to ruffle his hair. he would do this so everyone knows who you’re with, though he didn’t like the constant teasing mina and kirishima did he still does it so no one gets any smart ideas with you. you even knew he did it to remind everyone that you’re dating him, but in reality.. he only makes that excuse so he can hold you 🤫.

he also loves touching you. like really much. though it was not a common thing he would tell everyone, touching is his love language. you thought it was cute teasing him everytime but he thought it was stupid pushing you away each time, but couldn’t help but have that cute grin on his face. the relationship was cheesy— according to kaminari and mineta probably due to jealously that bakugo out of all people got to pull you, but in reality it was cute and everyone thinks you guys look adorable together. bakugo would always yell at them feeling flustered but you would always laugh saying thank you to everyone, “awww look at them!.” mina cooed as she saw you both on the couch, katsuki’s arm wrapped around you as you were cuddled to his side eating. “they look like a married couple.” kirishima added on with a smile but his smile dropped eyes going wide as he saw bakugo’s eyes on them glaring at em both. mina and kirishima looked away from them pretending they were doing something as you heard katsuki scoff. “what’s wrong?.” you asked taking another bite from your plate looking up at him who looked at you with a frown, “pinky and shitty hair fan girling again.” he rolled his eyes as you laughed shaking your head. “let em. there’s nothing wrong with that.” you muttered, leaning up to peck his lips hearing them “awww!!” again giggling pulling back. katsuki groaned glaring at you as you laughed, “you did that on purpose didn’t you?!.” you poked your tongue out shrugging, “I don’t know..did I?.” before you knew it, he pushed you off the couch with a smug grin feeling your glare on him. “I’ll kill you!.” — “If you can catch me nerd!”

“they’re so cute together.”

“couldn’t agree more.”

#black reader #anime x black!reader #anime x reader #{ 🖋️} writings #fluff #bakugou x black reader #bakugou x you #mha x black reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha #my hero academia #black writers

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noyasmashing · 7 months ago

Note

I LOVE YOUR FICS OMGGGG 😭😭

could u write like kageyama where he has like a high prestige (??) especially when he's being sub on the bed, he wouldn't let out his moan but finally being such a loud and whiny baby when u flick his nipples with ur tongue and play with his sensitive member 😭😭😭

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😓

ALSO!! I know my writing keeps switching from past to present tense-it’s a bad habit i’ve had but i’m too lazy to fix it, plz just ignore

CW: Dom reader, nipple play, gn!reader, some crying, hand job, a bit of marking of you squint

Tobio was quietly slumped in the corner of the sofa, nestled comfortably between the cushions. His gaze was fixed on you, as you were completely engrossed in the movie playing on the screen. The tension in the room was intense, and you could sense his longing for your attention.

As an advertisement briefly interrupted the film, you glanced over at him. His face contorted into a pouty expression, clearly communicating his feelings without saying a word. The sight almost made you laugh, but you didn’t want to make him feel bad.

You pushed yourself up from your spot at the opposite end of the sofa and made your way towards him. "Tobioo," you coo’d softly, causing him to nibble on the inside of his cheek. For the first time since the movie started, he looked away from you.

"W-what?" he stuttered, sounding slightly annoyed at your attempt to engage with him despite his obvious staring.

"You're hard," you purred, draping one leg over his lap, you settled yourself on top of him. He didn't meet your gaze, but he nodded silently, looking down at his fidgety hands.

You used your palms to steady yourself on his shoulders, dipping down to his level, until your eyes finally met. You closed the gap with a controlled kiss that quickly turned messy as Tobio greedily took in your tongue. Sweaty hands clasped at your shirt desperately, his needy reaction giving away everything he was feeling in that moment.

Pulling away gingerly, your hands clinged at the hem of his shirt, while his pants for air fanned your neck. "Can I take this off?"

A breathy "yes" escaped him. You could feel his needy erection pressing against you through his pants. But he would have to wait a little longer.

You lifted his cotton shirt up, over his head, unintentionally ruffling up his hair in the cutest way. But what was even cuter was his perky pink nipples that made you grin. Noticing your expression, he shrunk under your intense gaze, not wanting to admit the effect you had on his body.

Tobio couldn’t help but let out a sharp gasp, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Your tongue teased his collarbone, tracing a path of tantalizing warmth against his pale flesh. Simultaneously, your hand skillfully worked to free his erection from the confines of his underwear, eliciting a shiver of anticipation from him.

Drawing your teasing mouth away from his sensitive skin, you took a moment to prepare, spitting into your hand to use as lube. The sight made Tobio's breath hitch, an embarrassing whine escaping him. He reached out to put a hand on his mouth to stifle any sounds that threatened to escape, but you quickly snatched his hand away, ensuring he couldn't silence himself.

“Do I need to tie your hands up again?” You questioned harshly, your thumb teasing his slit that was dripping with pre-cum. The intensity of your touch sent a shiver down his spine, “no please, ‘m sorry!” pleading not to face the humiliation of being bound by harsh ropes.

You hummed content with his response, tongue pressing firmly against one of his cute nipples. He wanted to try to stop you, but the pleasure was too much to care, causing his mouth to go all slack, eyes helplessly rolling back, with a needy whine.

Restraining himself from thrusting into your hand, he struggled with the unfamiliar sensation of being touched in such an intimate area. As you continued to suck and bite lightly, his back arched, granting you better access to his sensitive nipples.

“Your nipples are so cute! You look so pretty like this!” You enthusiastically praised rolling one between your index and your thumb, his eyelashes fluttered, tips of his ears flushed with heat, his thighs quivering as moans spilled from his parted lips.

He hated how much he loved your words, he wanted to be pretty for you. All he could do to respond was let out the loudest, prettiest, “Ahh- nghh!” He had completely lost himself in the moment when your wrist twisting back and forth as you focus on his red tip.

That, combined with the biting at sucking from your mouth, not to mention your free hand teasing his chest, occasionally running over his hard nipple, was too much for him.

"[N-name], please I-I... it's- gonna cum!" he rambled, his hips involuntarily buckling into your firm palm. The desperation in his voice was palpable as his member throbbed and twitched with the need for release. With skilled hands, you focused on his sensitive tip, eliciting pretty whimpers from him. “Did I say you could cum?” You asked harshly dragging your mouth away from his chest.

He let out a pitiful cry, tears threatening to fall from his long lashes. His most pretty tactic to get some of your compassion.

“Ah, n-no, no you didn’t-fuck fuck fuck!”

"You know what I want to hear," You sing, running your finger up and down his weeping cock. He stops his eyes from rolling back, but his head fell back onto the couch as he let out a pained sob.

“Nghhh, can I cum please? I wanna so bad, it hurts, please [name], please.” He shamelessly begs, his prestige melting away from the intense pleasure you placed under him.

You nodded with smile at his words, “Cum for me, my good boy,” You encouraged, and with that thick white ropes of cum coated his tummy. His body trembled with the force of his orgasm, instinctively attempting to close his thighs, but you held him in place. The intimacy of the moment hung heavy in the air, the aftermath of pleasure leaving Tobio vulnerable and undone under your touch.

This time, it was him to speak up, “uh—can you do…do that again.”

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 8 months ago

Text

The Scars On His Back

Just going to slowly reupload my fics...two at a time...

Summary: Astarion has a nightmare and goes out to the forest for a breather when he runs into you.

He’s back there again, with the feeling of a knife tearing into his back, carving up his flesh. Blood runs down his body, creating rivers of crimson on his pale skin and drips onto the floor, pooling between his feet. He can feel the stickiness of the liquid penetrating the gaps between his toes, the feeling sending shivers up his spine. His lifeblood drains with each moment, the pain overwhelms what is left of his soul and tears his body apart, sending screams ripping from his throat until his voice is hoarse but it never stops. The knife digs in again and again, the pain harshly dragging him back into reality each time he drifts off too far into the black void.

And then he wakes up with a start to the mess that is his tent, chest heaving out of habit and a sting in his eyes. His hands tremble as they reach up to wipe his weakness away, nearly causing him to nick himself. He presses his hands against his face, shakily drawing deep breaths.

He’s far far away from there now. He’s safe from him , with the tadpole in his head. He won’t have to bow and scrape to him as long as the tadpole remains. As long as you shelter him.

Hastily throwing on a tunic to cover up the scars, he heads outside his tent for some fresh air, to be away from the stuffiness that his tent brings tonight. The night air is cooling, a gentle breeze whistling through the still camp. Moonlight spills through the tree canopy, shining beams of silvery light upon the various tents pitched around the once burning campfire.

Quiet trills of nighttime creatures fill the silence, the smell of your blood wafting from…hold on. The smell of your blood? Ruby eyes widen and his feet move in the direction his nose is picking the scent up from before his mind can register anything. You are injured , his half-awake mind processes, a small pool of panic bubbling within his chest as he quickens his pace. How bad are your wounds? Have you been attacked? Will he make it in time?

He bursts through the trees, gaze frantically searching for any signs of an attack but all he sees was you. There is no sign or scent of enemies, only your lonesome figure sitting sheepishly on a rock, crimson liquid seeping through your fingers.

“Hi Astarion,” you smile, waving awkwardly.

“Y/N!” He hurries over to your side. “You’re bleeding.”

“So it seems,” you chuckle. “A small accident, really. I merely slipped on some wet grass and cut myself on the sharp edges of the stones.”

“You really are the clumsiest person I know, darling,” he shakes his head with a sigh, taking out some bandages and ointment. “Let’s treat this wound of yours before it gets infected. Wouldn’t want a small accident to turn into a big mess now, would we?”

You nod, biting your tongue before words that will ruin the mood slip past your lips. It’s better to keep to yourself how prepared he was to treat your injuries, and especially the fact that you could tell he was worried about you. Then an idea hits you.

“Since I’m already bleeding, do you want to feed on me?” The question sends his head shooting upwards, a quizzical look on his face.

“Feed…on you?”

“Yeah, like drink my blood since it’s leaking out of my body anyways, would be a shame if so much of it went to waste,” you can’t help but grin, “I can see your fangs peeking out, you know. Go ahead and drink, I don’t mind.”

He opens his mouth, moving it closer to your wound. The sweet scent of your blood hits his nostrils hard and they flare in response, hunger gnawing in his chest. You had offered your blood to him, what did you want in return? His body? His services?

Ruby red eyes search your face, waiting for you to lay down your conditions but you simply press your bleeding arm to his lips with a small smile, dabbing a sliver of blood on his lips.

“I mean it, Astarion. And no, I don’t want anything in return. I promise.”

A small puff of breath leaves his lips at your words and his tongue darts out, gently licking a stripe up your arm. When you don’t pull away, he gets a little bolder, sucking blood from the open wound. You hiss softly when his fangs dig in, drawing more blood from your body but keep your arm steady. He hungrily drinks it all in, the sweet flavour bursting in his mouth.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but your other hand moves towards his hair, gently running your fingers through his silver curls, twirling the longer strands around your index finger. You carefully avoid touching his ears, knowing how sensitive they are and instead tangle your fingers in the hair at the top of his head.

He quietly purrs against your arm, pressing his tongue against the wound to staunch what bleeding he can before cleaning the wound thoroughly with a damp cloth, sending vibrations running up your arm. Gently dabbing the ointment on your arm, he wraps a bandage around the wound, pressing one last kiss to it before standing back up, offering a hand.

“Shall we return to camp before the others begin panicking? I doubt they can function without the both of us.” The smile on his face is filled with apprehension, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Astarion –”

“Don’t you worry, my sweet. I’ll repay this debt of yours as soon as possible,” he winks, pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it in the slightest.”

As he turns to leave, you shout.

“Astarion!”

He stops in his tracks, turning around. Muscles tensed, he tries to cover up the fear that is thrumming through his veins with a feigned smile, hoping it’d mellow out your anger. After all, you could neve resist his smile…right?

You see the way fear flashes in his eyes and immediately regret raising your voice, even if it was out of frustration directed at yourself. Taking a deep breath to clear away your anger, you hold out a hand in peace offering.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’m not mad at you, I’m just…” Your voice trails off. How do you even justify what you just did? You know of the horrors Cazador inflicted on him, and yet you still lash out.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N,” he chuckles nervously.

You vigorously shake your head, “I really am sorry about it. There’s no way I can justify raising my voice at you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was really frustrated at myself for not being able to convince you I didn’t want anything in return, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Astarion searches for any sign of a lie in your words but finds nothing. You really meant it. Every word you said. Your apology, your insistence on needing nothing from him after he had just fed on you, all of it was sincere and genuine. His undead heart skips a beat and suddenly the night doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

You care about him.

Before he knows it, his feet carry him over to you once more, his hand sliding into your outstretched one. The warmth blooms from your palm and winds around his cold one as your fingers intertwine with his.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

“Will you accept my apology?” You ask softly, eyes downcast.

“Of course, dearest. I always will,” he leans in, lips hovering over your forehead. Can he kiss you? Will he taint you if he does?

You tilt your head upwards, meeting his lips with yours and he immediately melts into the kiss. Unlike his previous kisses, this one is filled with care and love, not the usual lust and passion he’s used to receiving. Your arms wrap around him, hands resting on his back where scars tell of his past and he reflexively tenses. But this time, the hands on his back mean him no harm. They lie there to pull him closer into your warm embrace, to protect him from those who seek to harm him. So he lets them rest on his vulnerable back, soaking in the strange warmness that the simple action brings.

Astarion closes his eyes, putting his own arms around you. It’s weird, hugging someone for the first time. You don’t mind his cold dead fingers resting on your back and even press closer against him, enveloping him in your warmth.

When your lips part ways, he doesn’t say a word lest his voice wavers and betrays him. He lets you do the talking, relishing in the way you hold onto his hand tightly. Not a single move is made when you lead him into his tent, only letting go of his hand to help him tidy up his bedroll. You make sure he’s comfortable before turning to leave, pausing when he calls out your name in such a gentle manner.

“Stay…with me?” He begs. Your heart aches from his tone and once more you’re reminded of how much he hurts on the inside, so you backtrack and wrap your arms around him.

“Always.”

#astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion angst

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thatnonameuser · 1 month ago

Text

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 4.

When things do not go well, they continue to not go well.

This is the feared Dorm Head Riddle Rosehearts. This abridged story's Red Queen, the Rose-Red Tyrant. And to you the most frightening title of all, the Head of a Dorm full of controlling yanderes.

Ace wasn't very smart. That was the first thing. Rule of thumb, don't bad mouth someone when you haven't checked first to make sure they aren't around.

Second thing, of all the ways to officially meet Riddle Rosehearts, this was had to be the worst way. Immediately after Ace's smear campaign. Are you unlucky? You feel unlucky.

Well, here we are, no turning back now.

Whatever you do next, it's all based on Riddle's reaction to Ace's stupidity. Riddle's face is tight in a scowl, arms tightly crossed and you can feel the glare going through Ace right now. Let's hope this doesn't end with an actual beheading.

Cater jumps in to damage control, "Hey Riddle! What's shakin', pal." That was so forced, it might as well have been written by a computer, and not said by a chronically online person. "You're lookin' adorbs, as always!"

Riddle's scowl softens, maybe there's hope. "Hmph, Cater, keep running that mouth and you'll lose it - along with the rest of your head." Nope, no there isn't. When was there ever? Riddle's face may have softened but his temper sure hadn't. Is he always like this?

How can he so casually threaten doing the magician's equivalent of an amputation for an greeting he didn't like!? Maybe your plan was doomed from the start. Does this guy even have friends?

Still, you're not trying to actually be friends. You're looking for allies to use in cases of emergencies. So you'll bite your tongue.

"Sorry, sorry! My bad!" Cater shuts up, faster than you ever seen him so far.

Grim probably seem can't read the room, because he tries to square up with the magic severing Dorm Head with a fuse shorter than Grim himself. "Myah?! You're the guy who put that stupid collar on me at the orientation ceremony!"

Riddle doesn't miss a beat, and throws it back at your foolish feline friend. "And you're the new students who were nearly expelled earlier this week. I'll ask that you not refer to my signature spell as a 'stupid collar" Ok, shitty start so far.....

He glares directly at you next, and you hadn't even said anything yet! "The headmaster's habit of tolerating rulebreakers like you is going to send this entire campus spiraling into chaos one day." You tighten your jaw around your the tip of your tongue. Don't say anything. Just don't say anything.

"Those who break the rules should have their heads removed immediately, without exception." You can taste blood in your mouth, but you won't say a word against his little slander rant. Even if Ace and Grim are sending this plan downhill at the speed of an avalanche, you will persevere.

Unlike you, Ace doesn't seem to know when to shut his big fat mouth, because even after that, and how this conversation started in the first place, he doesn't shut up, "Dude, seriously? This guy looks like a wimp but he sounds like a monster," You hear Ace hiss under his breath. You only hope Riddle didn't hear it.

This polite insult-laden speech finally draws to a close. "The headmaster may have forgiven you, but if you break any further rules, I assure you I will not."

Ace, pulling the idiot card from the deck once again, chooses now to get his collar off his neck. Perfect. "So, uh, listen, Dorm Leader, sir..." Off to a wonderful start, Ace. "Any chance i could get you to remove this collar?"

The response wasn't a surprise. It was expected, really, "I had intended to remove it once you'd taken an opportunity to reflect upon your crimes," So, no. Yay, Ace is stuck in your dorm tonight...."But I've not detected so much as a hint of remorse in the foolishness I've heard you spout today. So I think I'll let you keep that for a while." Saw that coming a mile away.

You tune out the reassurance that he offers regarding school life, more concerned with the fact Ace will be alone with you tonight, again.

"Now, if you've finished your meal, you should quit gossiping and prepare for your next class. Rule 271 is quite clear: One must leave the table within five minutes of completing their lunch."

There are over two hundred rules...? You'd scanned the first fifty rules of the Queen of Hearts, before stopping under the reasonable belief that no one actually followed these insane rules. Was that too much to hope for?

This time his ire is pointed directly at Ace, "You DO understand what happens to rulebreakers I trust?"

Ace sighs, "More insane rules...."

Riddle's eyebrow twitches in irritation, "I believe you mean to say, 'Yes, Dorm Leader!'"

"Yes Dorm Leader," Ace and Deuce yell, and you felt nearly compelled. He's like a dictator threatening his troops.

"Very well then."

Trey tries to calm Riddle down, "Don't worry I'll keep an eye on them."

Riddle eyes Trey with skepticism, "Hmm. As Vice Dorm Leader, I trust you'll avoid any further indiscreet conversation."

Trey is the Vice? Why didn't he tell you guys? Is he trying to hide something. Or, is he trying to separate himself from a certain tyrannical dictator.

Riddle seems satisfied now that he's said, read ordered, his piece. "Now, as per rule 339: The post-meal beverage is to be lemon tea with two sugar cubes. Thus I must go acquire my sugar cubes. Farewell." As he walks away you can hear him mutter under his breath, "Don't even get me started on their violation of running out of sugar cubes....!" Is he ever happy? If you can nitpick every single detail and violation then how do you find any joy in your life? No wonder he's such a jerk to his own dorm mates.

Is it even possible to get him to forgive you? Much less befriend you?

"Yeesh!" Cater exclaims, "That was terrifying."

"That guy......has some serious issues." says Grim. "I don't think serious is enough of a word to describe this...." You agree.

"Hey, we shouldn't disrespect him.." Deuce sounds like wants to agree with you but can't.

You shake your head. "I don't think we're the only ones who think that your Dorm Leader is a bit nuts." You can hear the fearful murmurs of some other Heartslabyul students, relieved that Riddle didn't collar them.

Cater and Trey don't argue against your claim, and that speaks enough in itself. Two upperclassmen are too afraid to even deny what you had said. Trey's smile now feels forced as he explains, "Riddle managed to secure the Dorm Leader title before the end of his very first week at school. I know he can come off a bit harsh, but-"

You cut him off, "Trey, no offense but over half of your dorm mates are cowering in fear because Riddle walked over here. I don't think he comes off a bit harsh. I think he is harsh."

"I know....but" But it doesn't seem like even he believes that, "he's not a bad guy inside. Everything he does, he does because he thinks it'll improve the dorm."

"Would a good guy go around putting collars on strangers' necks?" Trey and Cater laugh awkwardly but they can't deny it. So Grim actually is right.

"So what's this signature spell he mentioned?"

"Hm? You're curious about Riddle's signature spell?"

"That means, like.....it's a spell that only he can cast, right?"

"I doubt he's the only person in the whole world....But yes, a signature spell is a magical ability that is, generally speaking, unique to its user." It might be best you remember this. If there's magic unique to the user, could that magic be dangerous against you? Riddle's own seals off magic, so you're not in immediate danger thanks to that. But you still don't know about the rest of the Heartslabyul students you know. What exactly is their Unique Magic? Does Grim have one?

"Which is why all of us at Heartslabyul House try hard not to violate Riddle's rules." But back to the present issue, Riddle's magic sounds terrifying to magic users. So that does explain why Heartslabyul lives in fear.

"And as long as you are following the rules, Riddle isn't so scary." And that's all you needed to know. If he is kinder to those who follow the rules, then you just had to be a teacher's pet, or a dorm leader's pet. Wait, that sounds wrong either way.

"Speaking of which- are you still not gonna let me into the dorm until I buy a tart, Cater?"

"Don't @ me, but yeah. That's rule 53, so my hands are tied."

"Isn't that taking this too far? Sure, Ace stole something but he still lives in that dorm. Kicking him out is too harsh of a punishment."

"Riddle really looks forward to having the first slice of a tart. So he won't forgive you unless you come back with a whole tart."

Perfect. So all you have to do is find a tart and all will be well. You're starting to realise that that is a whole lot of fat chance served on a plate. Maybe Ace will steal it, and cut you a break.

But as it turns out, Ace is flat broke, so he can't just go buy a tart to replace it with. You would happily just go buy one to save your own ass, but Crowley (the bastard) is yet to give you any money.

Thankfully, Trey offered a solution that would work, make a tart on the cheap and give that to Riddle. You also learned he was a talented baker, which sounds like something you might take advantage of in the future but priorities.

You hope that the tart plan does work, because if you have to do an entire run around for a honestly exhausting wild tart chase is becoming very annoying...

"Riddle wants a chestnut tart next, so I'm gonna need you to gather a ton of chestnuts."

"Like that's any less of a hassle. But.....fine. How many do you need?"

"Well, it's for the unbirthday party, so....Probably two or three hundred?" You choke on your own spit.

"S-Sorry, HUNDRED!?" You splutter.

"And they're all gonna need to be boiled, shelled and pureed." What you do to get Ace out of your house. It may seem that easy to just make a tart and be forgiven, but with how complicated this whole thing had been so far, things will probably be more difficult.

Whatever you have Grim and Deuce to help-

"Alright, I'm gonna head out." "I'm leaving too."

Why are you even surprised. You would have done the same really.

"You heartless cowards!" Ace objects from the abandonment and betrayal. But to be honest, considering he caused this whole mess because he couldn't keep his fingers out of someone's tarts, and the fact he exposed you to another obsessive psycho, you really want to leave him to his own devices.

Before you can jump in with a BS-laden speech to persuade them Cater thankfully jumps in. "Hold up! Haven't you ever heard that food tastes better if you make it with your friends? This'll be a memory to treasure! It could even be your chance to make a splash as a cooking blogger!"

Trey even proves useful, "Don't tell Riddle, but chestnut tarts are at their tastiest when eaten right out if the oven.. And the only people who get to experience that culinary privilege are the ones who make it."

That's enough to convince Grim, "Well, when you put it that way...Come on, humans, let's do this!"but you doubt that's the same for Deuce. But where you'll go, he'll follow.

"I'm only helping because it will mean you're back in your dorm sooner, Ace. You gonna help, Deuce?"

Deuce smiles at you. "S-Sure, Prefect." You're starting to get the hang of this.

Later, you'd focus on Ace's apology tart. Right now, you'd focus on your own. The apology, not the tart part.

After getting the cut in your tongue treated, you'd asked Ace and Deuce to go to class with Grim without you to get something private done. They'd both pushed to go with you but you managed to shut that down.

With what you had planned, you needed Ace, Deuce and Grim away from you. To prevent any unwanted incidents like accidentally sending Riddle off in an angry fit.

You had a plan, so you just needed to start that plan.

So here you were back in the cafeteria, searching for a head of red hair and there he was sipping a cup of lemon tea with exactly two sugars, if you remembered the rules right, completely alone with only thick tomes for company.

You don't bother yourself worrying about the implications of the him sipping tea all on his lonesome. That's not your priority right now.

You tap Riddle's shoulder, "Excuse me? Riddle Rosehearts, was it?" you say as politely as possible.

He first gives you a look of chagrin, only for it to relax when he realises that you're alone. "You are correct. Have you come to cause more trouble and break more rules?"

His suspicion is warranted, but you've prepared for that. "Actually, I'm here to apologize to you specifically for all the trouble I caused." His eyes widen in surprise. He wasn't expecting that. Alright, here we go. "May I sit with you?" You say, allowing a small smile grace your lips.

He snaps out of his surprise at your question, but he doesn't reject you. After a few moments of silence, he finally says, "I-I'll allow it." He motions to the empty seat in front of him, and you accept the seat with another smile and a word of thanks.

Alright, step one of the potentially dangerous plan, apologise the the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader. "I'm sorry about bothering you like this. I'm sure you'd rather spend the time around your friends rather than a troublemaker."

He doesn't answer for a few seconds, "I'd rather spend my time in solitude than in the company of troublemakers," he responds. Does he not have friends? That answer makes you feel that the answer to the question is a yes. "However, you wish to apologise for your violations, so I'll humor your presence." Ok, so far so good. "Well, I should get the apologies out the way. I'm sorry about all the trouble I've caused since I've been here. Grim during the ceremony, accidentally damaging the Great Seven statues and destroying the chandelier. I hadn't meant to."

Riddle frowns, setting aside his teacup to cross his arms, "One should not apologise whilst making excuses." he recites as if he'd heard or said that a thousand times. He really is a stickler for the rules.

"What rule of the Queen of Hearts is that?" You ask, with how many there are you really need to remember them.

He shakes his head, "It isn't one. It's one of my mother's." Let's not touch that, insulting someone's mother is the fastest way to piss someone off.

You take a deep breath before continuing, "Well, then I'm also sorry for making excuses for my behaviour. I hope you can forgive me."

Riddle's silent for another few seconds, as if contemplating the validity of your apology. You feel yourself stop breathing in anticipation.

Finally, he answers, "It's rare for a troublemaker to be genuinely repentant, so I'll accept your apology. However, I won't be as forgiving should you choose to continue breaking the rules." So he is capable of forgiving troublemakers, that means Ace will eventually be back in his own dorm.

"Thank you." you let out a sigh of relief. Alright, time for stage two. Suck up like the worst kind of teacher's pet, "If you don't mind me asking, could you maybe teach about the rules of the Queen of Hearts?"

Riddle chokes on a sip of his tea, and looks at you in incredulity "Y-You what?"

"I want you to teach me about the rules of the Queen of Hearts, so if I ever break any of them I can't use ignorance as an.....excuse?" You trail off as you find Riddle completely stunned, has this never happened before? Has no one bothered to ask him to help them learn the rules so they could avoid breaking them?

"W-Well, it seems you really are trying to atone for your mistakes. If that is the case, then yes." He pauses, before offering you a cup of tea, smelling of sweet citrus, " Would you like some?"

If it's lemon, you don't want to drink it. The citric acid in the lemon will burn your tongue like hell. But there are unfortunately rules. "Are they any rules that say whether I can say yes or no?" You're not failing if this is a test.

Riddle smiles at you, "You learn quickly, Rule 114, One must never reject a cup of tea from the Queen." You, against your better judgement, accept it and take a sip and the tea burns the cut on your tongue but you force it down nonetheless. In the name of Future you's safety you would do what you had to. As long as it goes down without objection, you'll drink as fast as you can to dull the burn.

"Perhaps there is hope for you, even with that unignorable violation." Riddle says and you hesitate in your next sip.

"And what is that?" You ask, before taking another mouthful of tea.

He spares a few glances around as if looking for any eavesdroppers before dropping his voice into a hushed whisper, "That you are a darling attending Night Raven."

You choke, how does everyone keep knowing?! "H-How did you know?!" You ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"I was taught to recognise all the traits your kind has as soon as I was registered." How many of those were there?! Besides all the darlings here can't be exactly like you, that would just be impossible. Right?

Riddle continues, "That and you remind me of my father, kind and bubbly when you are surrounded by people you do think are trustworthy and jumpy and frightful when you think you are surrounded by those you don't. Subtly is not exactly your strong point."

You deflate like a balloon. You carefully set down the teacup before it breaks in your hands. "Are...Are you going to tell anyone?"

He shakes his head, "No, and while I feel your presence at this school is a travesty that Crowley has allowed to happen, you attempting to hide your identity keeps the members of my dorm from killing each other. You must understand it is quite difficult to mix paint in manner that hides the smell of blood." They kill people and mix their blood with the paint. Oh, shit, did...did you paint with blood earlier!?

"So I suggest you figure out how to circumvent your little issue." He finishes.

But that's impossible thanks to that stupid law, "But how do I do that if I can't access any of the things you can?" You ask.

"Your testing papers, all darlings have the legal right to see them after their registered. Headmaster Crowley should be able to give them to you if you request them. You'll be able to tell with those." Riddle gives you the first answer that actually helps you.

All you need to get Crowley to give you those papers and you'll be free to figure out how to save your skin.

You sag in relief, finally some good news. And then you remember, "Wait, why are you helping me?"

"Because it will keep you out of trouble. Speaking of, I expect your attendance at the unbirthday party tomorrow, so that I can keep an eye on you."

"Thank you." You whisper, for once you actually feel relieved. You were wrong about earlier it seems, he isn't as bad as you though he was.

"Now, Rule 71 of the Queen of Hearts states that one must never arrive on time, always early. You should leave now, before the bell rings." You nod, rising from your seat as he does the same.

"Thank you for everything. See you tomorrow, " You say with a smile before turning heel.

If only you hadn't failed to see how his face flushed and how he grabbed his heart as you left.

The woodland behind campus were surprisingly bright and vibrant, like a painting you would see in picture books, even with the change seasons coming up. As it seems the chestnut season is equally vibrant, as hundreds upon hundreds of chestnuts covered the forest floor. But the chestnut spines were too much of a bother to ignore, so here you were in the Botanical Garden looking for a basket and some work gloves.

The gardens are stunning, full of life and thousands of plants. Some you recognise, some you don't. The whole building is enormous. Finding anything here is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Which means you have to split up to find what you need. "We should split up, we'll cover more ground that way."

Ace and Deuce open their mouths to object, "But-"

You're not wasting any time on them coming with you and taking longer. Besides having two bodyguard/friends feels a little suspicious.

"We're going to spend the rest of the night making tarts, we don't exactly have time to waste..." You argue and they don't fight back against this.

".....Sure. Dibs on the right side."

"Then how about I go left, while Prefect and Grim go straight ahead?"

"Sounds good, we'll meet up here at the entrance in 10."

You immediately regretted your decision to split up, as Grim got distracted every ten seconds by all the ripe, sweet smelling fruit. So you spent the five minutes that you were supposed to spend looking for a groundsman, chasing after your 'boss'.

"Hey, come take a look at this!" Grim runs to another bright, ripe fruit. "There's a ton of fruit growing here! Smells like they're ripe."

You grab his tiny body and yank him away from the fruit on the tree. "Grim, we're supposed to find a groundsman, not snacks!" You don't recognise any of the plants in this section. They all look mystical, but that doesn't mean safe. "Don't pick anything."

Grim wriggles loose to run to chase after another bright and shiny fruit. The grasses here are tall enough to reach your waist, and Grim disappears into the long stalks, "Grim. Stop!" Grim doesn't listen to you. "Don't pick anything!" You yell out as you wade through the tall grasses after him.

You stumble over the lush stalks of grass. It's so thick that you can't see your own feet. You hope there aren't any animals-

"Ngh!" A groan of pain fills the air and you feel something underfoot slip out and you reflexively take a few steps back. That didn't sound like an animal...

"Did I just step on something?" You think aloud, looking around for a source as a nearby patch of grass starts to rustle.

"Hey! You got some nerve steppin' on my tail and just walkin' away!" To your surprise, someone rises out of the grass, and he looks angry. Crap.

Originally, your brain had failed to compute the 'tail' part of what he'd said, but it's obvious to you now that you see his ears. He's a beastman. And he's wearing the Savanaclaw colours. Wait, didn't Cater say that Savanaclaw students like fighting. Shit.

"I-I'm sorry!" You say immediately, taking a few more steps backwards. You feel compelled to run.

"Tch. Ain't nothin' worse than bein' in the middle of a good nap and havin' some jerk step on your tail." Ok, no. He's the one who decided to sleep in waist high grass. Be mad at yourself for your bad decision making, buddy.

Despite how you feel, "It was an accident...." is what you mumble instead, but he doesn't seem to care, instead he stalks towards you, with a smirk on his face. "You.....I know you. You're that herbivore from orientation who couldn't use magic."

"What did you call me?!" You demand, outraged. He still ignores you, and he leans forward and..."And why are you smelling me?!"

He ignores you, pulling away with that punchable smirk. "Huh. It's true. You don't smell of magic at all."

"Did you miss the part where the mirror said that to everyone?!" You can feel yourself losing every ounce of your patience. You'd felt apologetic for accidentally stepping on his tail and waking him up, but this guy was being such a jerk, you no longer found it within yourself to care.

"Well, well, well, the little herbivore thinks she has claws. Can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone like you. Still gonna do it, though."

"Do what?" You spit through gritted teeth. You clench and unclench your fists.

"No one gets to stomp on my tail and just walk away without payin' the price."

Ok, that's fucking it. You aren't a weak darling, and all the earlier rage and anger that you've felt in the last two days.

"Then maybe don't sleep in waist-high grass, and maybe in your dorm next time? That way no one will step on your tail" You say as sarcastically as possible.

"Hm? Herbivore, I'm afraid you're all bark and no bite." Oh? All bark and no bite, mystery animal man? Let's see how he bites your fist when it flies into his-

You tighten your fist before taking a swing aimed at his jaw. With his face so close to yours, he has no way of moving out of the way in time-

He stops your fist just shy of his face. He gives you an unimpressed look, before replacing it with that fucking smirk. He laughs at you, like you were foolish to even think that would work. His grip on your wrist is so tight that you wince as you struggle to twist it away.

"L-Let me go!" He laughs at your pathetic struggles to free yourself.

"Pathetic, like a mouse trying to kill a lion." He's a lion? Well then, what an arrogant asshole he is.

You struggle fruitlessly for a few more moments, before giving up. "Fuck you." You spit.

"You're a brave herbivore, I'll give you that. Still," His already tight grip feels like it's crushing the bones in your wrist. "You woke me up from my nap, that'll cost you a tooth."

"Fine. Take it." You hiss. Maybe you can get him in trouble for darling abuse or something after this. Would Crowley take you to a dentist?

"Leona! There you are!"

"Heh?" Leona turns to someone, and you follow his gaze to another beastman student, wearing the colours from the same house Leona is. His cocky, arrogant face tightens in annoyance.

The new mystery beastman looks like he's spent the time since last bell chasing down Leona. "I knew I'd find you here! We got after-school classes today, remember?"

Leona groans. "And now, I've got this guy on my tail...." You can hear him mutter.

You take the chance to do something stupid, rewarding in the moment but still stupid. Ah, whatever you only live once.

"What's wrong, Carnivore? Too afraid to bite?" You taunt, throwing his own words around and right back at him.

He glares at you. But the beastman speaks up before Leona can actually break your wrist. "Leona, you've already had to repeat one year. If you get held back again, we'll be in the same grade." You snort from repressed laughter, trying to hold back your laughter before the person holding your wrist captive decides killing you is better just breaking your wrist.

"Oh, put a sock in it already. I'm tired of all yer yappin', Ruggie."

Ruggie frowns, "Look, you think I like always being on your case? C'mon man. You act like it'd be hard for you. You could skate through life if you'd just TRY. Come on! Let's go already!"

Leona finally releases your wrist and you wince as blood returns to your fingers. "Hmph...Herbivore, you better not cross me again."

"Oh, I'll be sure not to." You turn, and walk as confident as possible through the tall prairie grass back into the fruit trees.

It was nice to actually be in control for once.

You eventually find Grim half finished eating a dozen multi-coloured unknown fruit. You don't feel as mad as you were earlier. So you don't bother with the scolding that you originally planned on giving him. Instead you scoop him up like a bag a rice.

"Nyeh?!" Grim exclaims in surprise, "Henchman, where'd you come from?!"

"Nowhere, I thought you already ate your weight in lunch earlier?"

Two familiar voices fill your ears.

"Yo, guys, we found the baskets and gloves."

"Prefect, what in the world happened to you?" And you smile.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

You feel a little better now.

You feel worse now.

Not in a bad mood, just tired. A sleepless night would do that, then harvesting about three hundred chestnuts on your hands and knees plus hauling them back to the communal kitchens.

And now here you stood struggling to peel the soft skins of the chestnuts.

Deuce and Grim are lucky because they have the magic that Trey showed them to magically and quickly peel them, but you, a poor magicless human, must fiddle with sticky skins. Ace, forced to do this the old fashioned way, is struggling equally with the much higher pile that he'd been delegated for getting you all into this mess.

Still, it was actually fun to see the 'friendly' competition Ace and Deuce went through as Ace struggled to keep up with the magical efficiency.

Problem was, you were so much slower.

"Need any help?" Trey asks. He'd stopped supervising Deuce with his peeling. And he's looking at you with"You look like your having a hard time."

"Yeah...I've never really done this before...." You reply, still fiddling with the finicky skins.

"Here." He places his hands over your own, directing your fingers into a proper hold. "Like this." You can feel his chest against your back, his head over one of your shoulders. He smells nice, like a bakery right after the oven is opened and the sweet aroma of warm pastries has filled the air. The shell holding the nut finally gives way, done with your hands and guided by Trey's.

"Thanks", you say with a smile.

"It's no problem", he returns with his own smile. "Do you want help with the others?" He feels friendly, and you can't see that glint. Maybe it's his glasses.

"Sure." You respond.

With Trey's help, you start to fly through the pile of chestnuts that you'd once struggled to peel. You can actually keep up with Ace and Deuce in their chestnut peeling, being only a few dozen behind.

It's like painting the roses earlier, you like the serenity that you feel as you do this. The same when you were straining, and pureeing. Despite the fact you were willingly unwillingly roped into this, it's actually quite relaxing maybe you could talk to Trey about teaching you.

After what had to be a good two hours, straining and pureeing three hundred chestnuts, Ace finally groans in relief "There! Finally got 'em all pureed!"

"My arm is killing me..."

"Well at least it's over.." You agree as you massage the ache in your forearms. Deuce and Ace actually did most of the work for you, but you still tried to help. And now your arms hurt more than your legs.

"Nice work. It'll be all the sweeter for your pain!"

"Are you sure about that?" You say with a laugh. But seriously, your muscles hurt. It better be sweet for all the work that it better be.

"The smell alone already has me droolin'." You manage to grab Grim before he sticks his paws into the puree. You're not letting everyone's hard work to waste.

"I just need to add butter and sugar to the chestnut paste, and a sensible splash of oyster sauce- that's my secret ingredient." Oh, cool then you'll be done soon. Wait...

Your brain fills in the blanks. "Did you just say oyster sauce?" You say in utter disbelief. Maybe Trey shouldn't teach you how to bake....

"Yep. The umami of the oysters gives the cream a deep, savory flavor." He can't be serious, can he? Are desserts different here? Because last you checked a sweet dessert wasn't supposed to taste like salt.

"I use this one here: Walrus-brand Young Oyster Sauce. All the best bakers use it in their tarts." Your brain tunes him out in utter disbelief. Was this place just completely fucked? Because you'd have to dig through the mold on the underside of the barrel to actually find this madness. It's not the scariest thing or the most insane thing you heard in this misadventure, but an insane thing nonetheless.

Deuce actually seems to believe him, at least a little, "Really? But isn't oyster sauce like, super salty?"

Apparently so does Ace, "Some folks put chocolate into curry, don't they? Maybe it's the same idea." No, Ace. Whether it's pineapple on pizza or chocolate in curry, whether you like or hate it, it is not a total abomination of the culinary world. Oyster sauce in a chestnut tart cream is.

"You guys......are messing with me right?" You say, still in disbelief.

"Pfft...Ah ha ha ha!" Trey laughs, is he mad? If this dorm is Wonderland, is he actually the Mad Hatter and not the three of clovers.

"I'm totally lying! No one in their right mind would put oyster sauce into a pastry." You breathe a sigh of relief, okay this world wasn't completely far gone.

"Let that be a lesson to you. Don't believe everything you hear."

"Feh. And here I thought that human was actually somewhat decent." Grim murmurs.

"It wasn't that bad." Out of all the things you'd experienced this week, let alone today, this was by far the most tame. At least he revealed the lie, before Ace poured oyster sauce in the cream.

Trey has to be the most tame person you met so far, it's actually hard to connect that he's supposed to be a yandere and not a normal friendly dude with a hidden mischievous side.

That reminder isn't a fun one, but he seems perfectly nice...you hope.

"Next, I'll put in the cream....Oh!"

"What's wrong?"

"You guys gathered so many chestnuts that we may have overdone it with the chestnut paste. I don't think we have enough cream to mix in."

"Then I'll go buy some." Deuce volunteers himself, "Do they sell it at the school store?"

Thankfully, according to Trey, it does. You haven't been there yet, but no better time to find out like the present.

"I don't think I'll be able to carry all that back. ___-"

"I'll go with you." Whatever gets you back here faster. As soon as Ace gives Riddle this tart back tonight, you'll be in the clear. If he doesn't you're stuck with him tonight.

Deuce ended up calling this shop wild. Wild is an understatement. The shop is full of....everything. From fruits to stationary, and crystal skulls to rare plants. There's even a restricted access section, with locked cabinets full of freshly sharpened short and long blades to guns to pre-made potions filled with unknown fluids.

It's a perfect one stop shop for students, and for criminals.

"Do you really think they sell cream in here?" Grim says incredulously. Grim ended up tagging along, and looks equally mystified from all the products this 'school' store as to offer.

"I'm not-"

"Greetings, my stray imps, How fare you today?" You yelp as you reel back in surprise. The shopkeeper appeared quite literally from nowhere. "Welcome to Mr.Sam's Mystery Shop. What among my humble selection interests you? A charm from a secluded land? The mummified remains of an ancient king? A cursed tarot card?"

Ok, a name, the shopkeeper's name is Sam...something. And humble is modest understatement. You're pretty sure that this place makes the mega department stores back home look empty.

"How about some cream...for baking?" With so much stuff here, you feel a little overwhelmed.

"Y-Yeah, we wanted to buy all the items on this list."

"Ring up two cans of tuna while you're at it!"

"With what money, Grim?"

"Yes, Grim! We're not here for tuna!"

"What's this? Cream and eggs and....Quite the sacchariferous list! I'll get everything for you." It's impressive that he even knows that he has everything. With all the stuff here, you wouldn't even notice something strange or normal on these shelves. There's animals skulls, jewellery, weird taxidermy, even a weird shadow hand waving at you.

.......Y'know what, who cares. You wave back just in time for Sam to return with all your groceries. That was fast.

"Here you go. It's pretty heavy.....Are you sure you can carry this?Luckily for you, our 1/100th size flying saucers are 30% off today. Perfect for carrying groceries!"

Grim falls for the advertising, but Deuce stops him before he spends your nonexistent money. "We're fine, thank you. Let's go."

"Myah! I didn't realize today was National No Fun Allowed Day!"

"You're allowed to have fun as long as you don't make a mess." He deflates, "Grim, if it makes you feel better I'll give you an extra can of tuna for dinner." he perks up at that.

You and Deuce take the bags and bid Sam thanks. Deuce pulls you aside on the way out, "That store was amazing."

"Yeah, it was." You make a mental note to inquire about some products before your time of the month comes. That store has everything after all.

Main Street is practically void of any students, though you can see a pair walking up. The two are wearing red vests, Heartslabyul or Scarabia students probably. Besides that it's just, you, Deuce and Grim, who starts whining about his lack of purchases. "Yeah, and you guys are amazingly cheap."

"Hey!"

"Who are you calling cheap?!"

You shake your head, before readjusting the cords of the bags digging into your arms. You wince from the pressure relief, the bruise on your forearm that Leona gave you from earlier still stings. The bags are too heavy but you'll manage the rest of the way back.

"Hm?" Deuce must have seen your struggling, "_____, looks like you got the bag with all the cans. That must be heavy."

"It's not that bad," You shake your head, lying, "I can carry it."

"Here, let me take that one." He takes one of the heavier bags from you. And you breathe a sigh of relief now that the weight is off. "I've got a little trick for carrying heavy bags."

Smiling, you say, "Thank you." He smiles back, balancing all the heavy bags with ease. "You're quite the power shopper."

He nods, "Yeah. My mom always used to stock up at sales, and the bags would get ridiculously heavy. I was the only man in the house, so I got to do all the heavy lifting, and-" He pauses, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to monopolize the conversation."

You shake your head, "No, it's okay..." Actually, you might be able to learn something useful from this. "Y'know if you want, you could talk about her, you seem to care about your mom a lot."

He deflates, "No, it wasn't like that at all." He takes a deep breath, "The truth is, I-OW!"

The students you saw down the street from earlier, ran directly into Deuce.

The sound of something cracking into bits fills the air. Clear and yellow goop drips out of one of the bags.

"The eggs!"

Deuce hurriedly opens the bag to inspect the damage. "The carton is completely smashed! And now the bag's dripping egg goo everywhere."

"Ugh! Why don't you watch where you're- Hey!"

The offending student turns around infuriated, and then his eyes widen in recognition. You recognise them too. The delinquents from earlier. The ones who through a fit over a broken yolk. Surprisingly, they're wearing the Heartslabyul ribbons. Hard to be delinquent when a tyrant can collar them with ease.

"It's you from earlier."

"Yeah, and you're the jerks who broke the egg yolk on my carbonara!"

"It was just a yolk." You repeat but it's pointless.

The other delinquent stalks up to you, grabbing you by your tie , "I've had enough of you punks. You need to learn your place." They threaten.

You can see Deuce's eyebrow twitch in fury. "You're the ones who darted out at as from around a corner!" He mutters, you can hear the hostility deep in his voice. He's angry. "And you picked a fight with us at lunch over an egg that you were still totally able to eat!"

"And now you've destroyed six of OUR eggs!" That anger in his voice is getting louder, clearer. You've seen Deuce a little angry before, but something's off about this time.

"Yeah, he's right!"

"So what? You sayin' that was our fault?"

"I am. Please reimburse us for the eggs." Deuce is frighteningly calm. He's not yelling or anything. "And then apologise to the chickens."

"Ooh, look who's got his big boy pants on. You sure are makin' a big deal outta some stupid eggs." The one with hold on your tie taunts Deuce.

"You shut your mouth." You hiss at him.

"What?" Deuce is still way too calm.

The idiot delinquent keeps blabbering, "They haven't even touched the ground, so they're still edible. Quit whinin'."

His idiot lackey keeps up the nonsense jabber. "Yeah, you should thank us for savin' ya the trouble of crackin' em."

They laugh and it's mocking and cruel.

"That ain't funny." Deuce's voice has a low growl and very quiet, the delinquents are idiots so they don't notice but....

"Deuce?" You ask, and you can see his eye twitching. He's angry. dangerously so.

"Huh?" Idiot delinquent number one asks.

And then that anger that Deuce was holding back finally bursts forth.

"I said......THAT AIN'T FUNNY!" The yell is so loud, it stuns you. The normally polite and reserved Deuce is replaced with one with a voice so loud, you're surprised that it didn't awaken the statues.

"You don't get to call my eggs stupid! You don't get to call ANY eggs stupid!! Those eggs may not have gotten to be chicks, but they were gonna make some amazing tarts!!"

"And you," Deuce's voice drops low as he rips the second delinquent away from you. "You apologize to her, right now. Do you get it yet!? DO YOU!?" Your tie comes apart in the delinquent's grip, said delinquent too afraid to actually let it go. They looks like he's about to piss himself from fear.

"W-What is with this guy all of a sudden?!"

"You owe me six eggs. If ya ain't gonna pay me for em, then you're gettin' a bruise for each one!" Deuce cracks his knuckles for emphasis.

"A-Are you serious right now?" The other little twerp is shaking in his sneakers.

''Buckle up, jerks!!"

Deuce's fist sails home into the cheek of the red-haired one, and another into the nose of the other. Blood splurts out staining the gloves he's wearing.

Like two pathetic little bitches, the two delinquents scamper and struggle against the one man army Deuce proves to be. And he isn't even using his magic.

"This guy's outta his mind!" The first one stammers.

"Bwah! L-Let's get outta here!" The other squeaks. And they both take off running. You hope Deuce doesn't get in trouble for this.

"Next time you eat an egg, you better apologize a hundred times, you buncha chumps!!" He yells at the retreating duo.

"D-Deuce! You need to calm down." You cup his face with both hands. And the blind rage on his face dissolves completely into calm.

He pants as he tries to calm himself. "....Urk!"

"W-What's wrong?" You let him go. All that anger is replaced with sadness, or actually....It looks like disappointment. "Are you ok?"

"I did it again, didn't I...?" Did what again? Deuce stares at the blood on his gloves, and he looks pained. "ARGH! I was dead-set on becoming an honor student this time, too."

"Huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I was in middle school, I was pretty wild. I cut school all the time and got in fights. I called my teachers names, hung out with bullies, bleached my hair..." Deuce lists off all of his middle school crimes, and honestly....He did sound a lot like the delinquents back in your world, minus the Magic Wheel thing and the magic.

"So you were only a little more annoying than you are now?"

"Grim, not now...." You scold Grim before trying to comfort Deuce. "No offense, but that's kind of hard for me to picture..."

Deuce continues to tell his backstory, "But one night, I saw my mom talking with my grandma. She was trying to hide from me, but I saw her, and I could tell she was in tears. She was saying how she must have been a horrible mom, and that she never should have tried to raise me by herself."

Ouch, that must have been tough to hear, especially from his mom.

"That had nothin' to do with it! She hadn't done anything wrong. It was all me......And when the carriage came to take me to Night Raven, she was so happy for me. I decided then and there that this time, I wouldn't do anything to make her cry. That this time, I'd become an honor student-someone she could be proud of."

"And I messed it all up!"

"No, you didn't." He looks so surprised at what you said.

"But-"

"Deuce, you didn't get into a fight for no reason. You got into to a fight because someone destroyed your stuff, and threatened your friends. Besides, they probably would have attacked me if you hadn't stepped in. And protecting the people you care about is something honor students should do."

"R-really?" You nod.

"Plus the thing an honor student should do....is report this to the Dorm Leader that some of his students tried to get into a fight with two freshmen." You whisper into his ear. "Let's see how they like it when they can't use their magic." You chuckle.

"______....."

"And to be honest....I really enjoyed that."

Deuce cheers up at that, "Heh heh....I guess you're right! I just hope those chicks can rest in peace."

"Uh, Deuce, the eggs were unfertilised..." He blinks at you, he doesn't know what you're talking about. "They were never going to hatch in the first place..."

"Wha-WHAAAAAT?! Are you kidding me?!"

You giggle again whilst shaking your head. He's not very smart, but you don't mind.

"But about your mom, could you tell me about her? She sounds like a really nice lady."

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandereverse au

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hatsukeii · 2 months ago

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think fast / childhood bsf!tsukshima kei x reader

genre(s): childhood best friends x soulmates???? past lives and normal people by sally rooney coded im a sally rooney MEATRIDER!! angsty, gut-wrenching longing, bittersweet / hopeful ending so it's not all bad!! nostalgia is going to carry this fic so hard it's going to be a fun, fun time...

warning(s): eventual smut!! all characters are aged up to 21!!MDNI (at least up until the observatory)!! unprotected sex here remember to wrap it before you tap it!! (sorry kids), female leaning anatomy because smut but pronouns are gn all throughout and honestly you could read it as gn anyways:)) dead dad warning (my dad is NOT dead this was just convenient to kick off the thing), i fw the timeline of the world??? pretend flip phones were still in use in like 2012 or something idk

wc: ~6.3k

tldr; time has a way of reminding Kei of its presence, and its escape. you are the reminder it has been sending to him for six years.

Fate: A power believed to cause and control all events, so that one cannot change or determine the way things will happen.

It is a sunny afternoon when you step foot into Sendai, Miyagi. A beautiful day of golden warmth beaming onto petals of pink, red, and white, wrapped in coffee-stained newspapers and tied together with a spool of twine. The bouquet lies on browning grass, a contemptible reminder of the time that has passed since your last appearance here, six years ago, and you crouch down to the ground. Now face to face with the engraving of a full name on a slab of polished granite, you hesitate. Your father lived in a language that you can no longer speak, died in a country you no longer call your home. When you whisper blessings and apologies at the gravestone in broken Japanese and slurred syllables, you sound like a stranger. A stranger who sits in a graveyard at noon, with nothing but a bouquet from the nearby florist in hand, and a promise, stuttered out in half-decent Japanese, to return again the next year.

When a second bouquet falls to the ground behind you, and you turn around, Tsukishima Kei thinks this is what English speakers like you would call fate. He’s a little taller now, and bulkier too, and you have to crane your head higher than you remember just to meet his eyes. You don’t recognise the glasses he dons anymore, the black rectangles from his teenage years swapped out for rounded squares and silver frames. But he has a towel in his hand, a towel that has his initials poorly stitched into the corner with red string. You wonder if the matching one he made you, eleven years ago, is collecting dust somewhere in your dormitory, halfway across the world.

“You’re back.”

“It’s been a while, Kei.”

You can no longer differentiate Japanese syllables clearly, and your statement jumbles into nonsense in your head. Kei hears the English woven into your accent in the way you roll your tongue like foreigners do, and in the odd intonations that don’t exist in your mother tongue. You don’t even remember your father’s dislike for white flowers. London has truly done a number on you.

“Why? Why now?”

You bite your nail, a persistent habit that Kei frowns at. He picks up his flowers, and steps towards the gravestone, just close enough for your knee to brush against him for a moment. The bouquet in his hand is wrapped in plastic and filled with red and pink, the white from your own sticking out like a sore thumb when he places his flowers gently on the grass beside yours. He tosses the towel in his hand, opening it up against his palm, and you take it from him. If you cannot get the language right, or the flowers, this is the least you can do. Cobwebs stick to the fabric as you sweep at the granite slab, watching soot and dust fall to the grass. The curves and dips of the gravestone are familiar once again, and you dig the towel into every nook and cranny. You feel Kei’s body shift, before his knee is touching yours and his face is finally level with your peripheral vision. He glances at you, waiting. His knees bounce in anticipation.

“Never had the chance, college has been a lot.”

Your phone rings as you finish cleaning. The ringtone is familiar, unchanged from when you used to have a flip phone, in fact. Kei hums along to the jingle for the four seconds that the call is left unanswered, before it cuts off into a flurry of English. He catches something about research, and a thesis, his shabby English unable to fill in any more than that. He’s never known you were interested in research, let alone what it is that you’re researching. All he’s known is your aspiration of becoming a librarian when you were six, and his promise to borrow books from you for the museum that he swore he would one day work at. Now, he works at the museum, sorts antique scripts and yellowed books into cabinets and display shelves. He does not borrow books from you. Now, you talk, but nothing makes sense to him.

You end the call, mumbling foreign curses as you shove your phone back into your pocket. Clicking your tongue, you turn to Kei, who stares at the flowers on the ground. He pushes his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and you resist the familiar urge to nag him about buying the right frames for his face.

“Yeah, college has been mostly phone calls like that.”

He nods, a half-hearted chuckle huffing from his nose. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sit at a graveyard with somebody else, the annual reminder of a lonely death replaced by another this year as you dust off his towel, and drop it onto his thigh. He swipes it from his leg, folding it into quarters and sliding it into his pocket.

“So you choose to come now, without a word? Not even a heads up? Six years after leaving?” Kei’s voice rises at each question, the same way it did six years ago when you broke the news of leaving Japan to him. This hurts him to ask, that much you can still recognise.

“I would have come sooner if I had the chance. I’ve missed everyone so much.”

You pluck a petal from a white flower in your bouquet, then another, until all that remains is the naked bulb, and scatter them onto the ground beside you. Perhaps the next person that’s been buried under six feet of dirt used to have a liking for them. Kei remains unmoving, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His knee stops bouncing.

“How long will you stay for?”

“Today, then Friday and Saturday too. Flight back is Sunday night.”

Six years of waiting, and this is what it amounts to. A weekend and a bit. Despite that, Kei still thinks this must be fate, in all the languages that it exists in. Six years of life, and love, and hurt, all to be condensed into four measly days. Yet as Kei pushes himself off the ground, dusting his trousers off, he still thinks that this unlikely, yet conveniently timed visit must be the answer to his pleas for your return. That this must be some heavenly reward, good karma for visiting your father’s grave annually on your behalf. You watch him turn to leave, and he calls out to you as he walks away from your father’s grave.

“Everyone’s at Hinata’s old place tomorrow. You should come by if you can.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Change: to replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).

All it takes is one coincidental exchange of panicked glances at the first throw up of the night for you and Kei to leave together. Hinata slurs a drunken farewell, tries to embrace you as you slip your sneakers on at the door, and you make a note to yourself that you really do not miss most of the people here, spare for the volleyball team. Kei waits at the door, holding it open for when you finally shake Hinata off of your back, and step through. The night is chilly, the warmth in your skin from the indoor heating system emanating into the midnight air. You kick rocks along the pavement as you walk, scattering pigeons that remain awake and active at this time, and Kei smiles at your antics. You still hate birds, and you still remember the trick he taught you when you were nine for chasing away pigeons that flocked around you for food.

“Who are you staying with?”

“My mom’s.”

The road leads the two of you to a high school. Kei has not come back to Karasuno since graduation. You squint in the dark, scanning the school, and you don’t recognise the new building that stands in place of the old auditorium. He watches you crouch at the plaque next to the front gate, tracing the letters engraved on it with the pad of your thumb. Some part of him blames Karasuno for being a bad place to you, the other parts blame himself for not being good enough to outweigh it.

“It’s changed.”

“Everything has.”

You rattle the locked entrance, the chain and padlock hitting against cold metal. It won’t open, so you look up through the gap of the gate. Six years ago, on that rooftop, was where you stood over a cold lunch box and emptied convenience store drinks, back against the wire fence, saying to Kei, I’m leaving tomorrow. On that day, you had packed yakisoba for his lunch, and nothing for yourself. He could barely respond to your announcement, only dropping his chopsticks and asking you, why? You told him something along the lines of being an expat, and a better school for what you wanted, all in the fluent Japanese you once spoke. Nothing made sense to him anyways.

When you turn back to him, his hands are in the pockets of his jacket, and his nose is red from the cold air. You stand beside him, staring aimlessly at Karasuno from outside its barriers.

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“Yeah, Sendai Frogs.”

You hum, and then wonder why you only asked tonight, and why you’re surprised. He shrugs, clouds of white puffing from his mouth when he breathes out. He tries to blow a wisp of hair away from his face, and you suddenly realise that his hair has grown too, along with his height. It fails, and he tries again. You reach up to swipe at his bangs, before running your fingers backwards through his hair. It parts itself as you lift your hands from his head, and falls into place neatly. A cold breeze whizzes by, and undoes your work, sending strands of gold into his face once again. You snicker a little.

“You know, you could ask my mom to trim it for you like she used to.”

“Nah, I prefer this.”

It isn’t until you turn to look at him properly that you see how much time has passed. He likes his hair longer these days, the choppy hairdo of his teenage years now nothing but an old preference, and you wonder if he is still a loyal customer of your mother’s salon. When he pulls his hands from his pockets and blows hot air into them, calluses line the bases of his fingers, the blisters of his high school years hardened by trials of time and effort. There are bags under his eyes, eyes that are now a little rounder, and softer too. When he speaks, monotone and tired, you realise his snarkiness has dissipated into general frustration. You stare until his eyes dart to you, and turn away quickly, ashamed. Leaving Karasuno has taken your hand and led you to a purpose that you never knew you were capable of. You wonder what the hell it has done to Tsukishima Kei.

“It looks good.”

He breathes in sharply, then exhales with a huff, shoulders relaxing as he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. You suddenly realise that your fingers have gone numb from the cold of the night, fingertips tingling like a million frost-bitten needles poking into your skin. You also stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing your fingers against each other to generate some heat. Then, Kei’s looping his arm around yours, and pulling you away from Karasuno High School. He keeps on his straight path, and you stumble along behind his leaping steps. When you round a corner, the night breeze grows into something less imperturbable, and more vicious, pushing the two of you forward from behind in slashes of cold. The sea is near.

“Is this the beach we used to go to?”

“You still remember it.”

He drags you down a flight of stairs to Fukanuma Beach, and the misty sea air rushes to your head. When he leads you to the shoreline, you hesitate. The sea has been off limits since the two of you were five, a regulation put in place in remembrance of the Great Sendai Earthquake. An earthquake that saw Kei and yourself hunched beneath the same table in the middle of class, huddled next to each other as you cried for your parents. Now, in your final years of college, as the water slips beneath the soles of his shoes, pushing and receding in layers of aqua and bubbles of white, it seems that time has slipped by just as easily too. Time, that saw the fading of the earthquake’s devastation, despite the loss of thousands, including your father. Time, that frayed the string connecting yourself to Kei as you moved through life halfway across the world from Japan. Time, that passes through you like sand spilling between your fingers on a beach you once thought you knew, but has changed like the unprohibited water that seems to push further up into the shore at each tidal wave.

“They lifted the ban?”

“A few months ago, yeah.”

You step into the next wave that fizzles into foam, and the water crashes into the toe of your shoes. Crouching, you push mounds of wet sand into a cylinder, flattening the top and pushing divots in equal intervals. Kei joins, moulding shorter ones beside your own and drawing windows into the side. You finish, and he stands, smiling at the creation. You cover the top, afraid he will stomp on it, a trademark of Kei’s whenever you built sandcastles with him in childhood. Instead, he laughs, and walks further into the water. When you get up to join him, the hems of his trousers are soaked, shoes also covered in a sheen of wetness. You hop over the castle, and the next wave that comes sends its foundations crumbling back into the sea.

“We used to do that. You’d destroy it every time.”

Kei chuckles, and looks back to see the half destroyed castle. Clicking his tongue, he returns to the rubble, and you watch his hands push mounds of sand towards what is left standing.

“I’d always build a better one for you afterwards though.”

He dusts his hands off when he finishes, and the waves fizzle out just before they hit the two-tiered sandcastle. You sniff, holding your arms close to your chest. When Kei looks up, he feels like the summer of being seven years old again, smiling at you with his missing front tooth when you sniffle and laugh at the improved castle he’s put together for you. Now, it is winter. He only grins with the corners of his lips. You only sniff because it’s cold.

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really been a while. How have you been?”

He steps over the castle towards you, careful not to break it. Your hair blows in your face from the beach breeze and your eyes squint from the sand that flies into the air, and Kei takes it all in when you’re face to face with him. When he opens his mouth, some selfish part of him thinks about casting his words into shackles of regret, so heavy that they weigh you down and keep you in Japan, in Sendai, on this beach, somewhere close to him.

“Do you want to stay the night? Like you used to?”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Nostalgia: A sentimental longing, or wistful yearning for a return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

Kei does not take you to his family house. He leads you up stairs that make no sense, and hallways that stretch on forever, until you finally reach his flat. He wipes his shoes on the doormat, throws his keys into a glass bowl upon entry, and hangs his jacket on a hook mounted to his front door instead of the coathanger that used to stand beside it. You look around, searching for the shells you once collected in a jar for his tenth birthday. When your eyes land on a jar filled with conches and cowries, you let go of a breath you were unaware of holding. They sit on the top of his bookshelf, above textbooks and file organisers. A knot forms in your throat at the realisation that the jar sits alone in its compartment, with nothing beside it. You’ve done the same to the jazz vinyl Kei gifted you at the airport before your departure. You don’t realise that he’s disappeared somewhere as you stare at the shells, until a shirt and a pair of shorts are thrown into your chest. He stands at the entrance to a hallway, donning sweatpants and an old hoodie, one that’s clearly a size too small. The pocket is lousily sewn on, a result of a mishap that occurred when you had borrowed it once. He doesn’t know that you spent the night learning to sew fabric just to fix it.

“Change. It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scurry through the hallway to his bathroom, pulling the shirt and shorts on hastily, before balling up your clothes and returning to the living room. Kei sits at his couch, now bound in leather instead of fabric, and clicks at the television. You join beside him, legs splaying across his own subconsciously. He doesn’t move. He stops at a movie, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before at his old house. It drones on in the background as he watches in silence, his arms now draped over your knees. The first time he watched this movie, it was in his old home, cross-legged on the carpeted ground with you on the couch behind him. Your hands used to press into his shoulders from above, shake them whenever your favourite scenes came on, squeeze them when you laughed until tears rolled from your eyes. Now that his new flat lacks a rug, he’s willing to settle with your legs on his own. Flashing lights illuminate the dark room in sequences that you can still recall perfectly from memory. He watches the movie. You watch him.

“Have you been doing good, Kei?”

Turning to you, he pushes his glasses up into his hair, leaning further back. You shuffle closer, legs bending as your shoulder digs into the leather couch. A strand of blond falls into his face, and you lift his glasses to tuck it back, before smoothing your hands over his mess of hair, combing and pushing with your fingertips.The words from the television melt into gibberish when he hums in satisfaction, what is unspoken between you two is more glaring than ever.

“I’ve been okay.” He cuts off, then finds himself thinking of what to tell you first, amongst the recollections of life that rush through his head. “Started working at the museum a couple years ago.” He wishes that you still remember the building, where the marble floors squeaked beneath your slippers, and glass panels lined the walls, hiding away treasures and artefacts that have withstood centuries, maybe even eons of erosion and weathering.

You nod, mind filling with the many museum visits you had with him there. He’s always liked the dinosaurs more than the shells. When you breathe out a chuckle, he knows you’re recalling the time he almost pissed himself at a life-sized, moving tyrannosaurus rex model.

“What about you?”

“Research. I’ve been doing research about…” you sign in the air, searching for the Japanese words that have slipped from your mind. Surrendering, you whip your phone out, searching for a translation.

“Archaeology?”

“Yeah, that. No more librarian dreams for me. More dinosaurs, though.”

A smile finds its way onto Kei’s face, one that softens his cheeks and flattens his eyes into crescents. He wonders if amongst the silver plaques and digital displays, your work is engraved in there somewhere. If each time he explains something to some bright-eyed child, who scuttles around the museum as you and him once did, he is unknowingly speaking in your language, translated until he can decipher the thoughts that run through your mind in your research, your memories, your dreams too.

“Maybe it’s in the museum somewhere. I’m willing to bet.”

“I hope it is.”

Your conversation fizzles back into silence, and the characters on the television do too. The two on the screen sit in a field, mere inches apart. The two of you look at each other, your knees now leaned into Kei’s chest and one of his arms draped along the back of the couch. When he pulls his glasses back to his eyes, and studies you all over again, it hits him that you really haven’t changed all that much, even after your six year separation. Six years older, with the exhaustion of a functioning adult, but you still gnaw on your cheeks, and tilt your head as you ask questions. Six years apart, and you are still you, who taught him to build sandcastles, and introduced him to his favourite movie, and fixed his hair whenever it stuck up in stubborn peaks of gold. When you let your eyes close, and drop your head onto his shoulder, you wait for lost time to tick backwards, until you’re on the rooftop with him once again. In this version of time, you blush when you tell him that you’ve chosen to stay in Japan instead. Pushing your head further into the crook of his neck, Kei’s chin reaches over to rest on the top of your crown. The credits of the movie roll in the background, and you mumble into the skin of his pulse.

“Can you take me there? I’ve missed it.” Your words send vibrations down his spine, sending his head into a frenzy as he pushes his hands against the couch harder.

“The museum?” It will be closed for the weekend, but Kei nods anyway. He’s sure he can find his way in through the back. Maybe he’ll take you to the fossils again, let you run your fingers along smooth amber and stone engravings. Perhaps he could show you the new exhibitions, ones that you won’t miss this time, as you have for the past six years. For now, he thinks he will let you sleep on his shoulder, listen to your soft snores, tremble at every hot breath that fans onto his neck.

The credits roll to the end, and come to a stop. Kei removes his arm from the couch to grab the remote from his coffee table. He rewinds the movie to the start.

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思慕 [しぼ, shibo]: yearning; deep longing, especially when accompanied by tenderness or sadness.

On the final night of your stay, you learn that Kei still giggles when he breaks rules, as he drags you through the back entrance of the closed museum. He maneuvers through hallways of antique paintings and repurposed junk, slips into dark stairwells illuminated by the flashlight of his phone, traps your wrist between his fingers and chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he takes you higher, and higher, and higher. You’ve lost count of how many flights of stairs have gone by when he taps his keycard against a sensor by a backdoor, and pushes it open. The museum observatory, once a mess of bamboo scaffolding and green covers, now allows silver moonlight through its glass dome, boasting billions of iridescent stars nestled in a blanket of hazy midnight. A decade of your anticipation has resulted in a circular space, hundreds of plush recliners lining the circumference of the room, and you wonder how many eyes have watched the stars from those seats before you ever had the chance to. When Kei leads you further into the observatory, you step foot onto the north star plastered on the ground in the centre of the room, where nothing but a telescope remains in a ten-foot radius. He takes a spot on the ground, back pressed against the cushioned edge of a seat.

“I figured this is the best spot. Better than any of the seats, actually.” He plants his feet on the ground, bending his knees and spreading them just wide enough for you to sit in between. You cross your legs, wagging them up and down as your hands hold your shins, and he lowers his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Leaning back, your spine hits a spot between his ribs, the same way it did when you were thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen, staring at stars from the grass of his backyard. You pity the visitors that have yet to discover the simplicity of stargazing from the ground, hands pushed into the ground for stability, dirt and moisture seeping into the fabric of clothing. Pushing further into him, his breathing is heavy against your back, chest rising in rhythmic ups and downs. For what feels like hours, you sit in silence, eyes trained on your fingers that pick and fiddle. At the realisation that you haven’t looked at the stars in years, something bubbles in your stomach, pervasive, relentless. When you finally loll your head backwards to fall on his shoulder, and the tip of Kei’s nose grazes your cheekbone, you wonder how long he has not looked at the stars for as well.

“Why’d you stop calling?” His sudden question sends a haze rushing into your head.

You swallow thickly. If the passage of time were a sin, you’d burden it with all your explanations. Telling him that now would seem like some lousy excuse.

“It stopped going to your line a year after I left.” You pause, searching for the right words to use amidst the sea of Japanese and English that you must now sort out. “I only stopped trying after another month, the voicemail just said your number was no longer in use.”

Kei wishes he could dig his fingers into his chest and rip his heart out. If only he hadn’t stupidly broken his phone that night, five years ago during volleyball practice. If only he had checked his pockets before entering the court, just as he has done hundreds of times before. If only he had this, if only he had that, he might just torment himself for the rest of his life. His breath hitches, shoulder freezing rigid. Time does not differentiate between the knowing and oblivious. It slips and leaks beneath the noses of all that it encompasses, and it is but the cautious few that know to grab it, and join in on its journey. He knows now that he is not one of them, not after he’s cursed at the passage of time over and over and over for his own blunder.

“I broke my phone in a game. Got a new one so the number changed as well, fuck me.”

You laugh dryly into the empty observatory. The occasional twinkling of the stars above do nothing to make his explanation any easier. You think you’ll blame it all on doomed fate that you’ve spent five years trying to find somebody that felt the same as Kei did, to no avail. Blame it on cursed luck that you’ve clawed and grabbed at anything familiar enough, archaeology, jazz vinyls, old DVDs of the movie shared between two, all to remind yourself that he too, was once within grasp. You say nothing, because you don’t see a reason to. Instead, you push your head into his neck, drown in the scent of his cologne, ease yourself into his now grown body. You don’t see him wipe a hand across his mouth, then rub his eyes with pinched fingers.

When Kei decides to speak again, it is what feels like another hour later. He’s readjusted his posture about fifty times by now, arms removed from the ground and draped over your shoulders. The sensation of your hair against his skin is suddenly more prominent than ever when your hands find his own, holding them closer to yourself.

“If I didn’t find you at the grave, would you have looked for me?” His question is heavy, weighing his chest down as the words leave his throat in a hesitant cluster. You turn to look at him, and your eyes linger on his own when you squeeze his hands once, twice, then a third time.

“I’ve been looking for five years. Nobody else could take me home.” Your heart rushes to your mouth at your confession, and the bob of Kei’s throat does not go unnoticed. One of his hands comes up to hold your shoulder, pushing it towards himself until your body twists, rubbing against his. You let go of him, pressing your fingers into the ground between his legs instead, and he breathes out shakily, his windpipe suddenly cleared of its uncertainty.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

His fingers slide down to grab your wrist, before going numb completely. His unoccupied hand peels itself from the floor and settles on the side of your waist. Your mouth goes dry when Kei breathes, hot and heavy, his eyes travelling to every inch of you. A bout of heat rushes from his chest to his head, and his legs, and his arms too. The air between the two of you is thick, and it sends your head into a feverish blur. The ground collapses beneath your knees as they shift to press into the floor, and you come face to face with Tsukishima Kei, who prefers his hair parted in bangs on the sides of his face, and wears silver frames instead of black ones. Tsukishima Kei, who has been visiting your father’s grave on your behalf for six years, and still plays volleyball even in his adulthood. Tsukishima Kei, whose eyes are finally finished with their ventures across your figure, that is pushed up against him on the ground of an observatory, and is learning whatever he can about you when his fingers tighten around your wrists and he kisses you without a warning.

Once, at the young, innocent age of seven, Tsukishima Kei kissed you in this museum. You had run a little too fast, stepped on your loose laces and fallen onto the ground face first. You sulked at a bench facing some random painting of melting clocks, red dots scattered across a purple patch right beneath your eye. When he kneeled in front of you to grab your face, and pressed his lips onto the bruise for a fraction of a second, he must have kissed the pain away, mending the leaking capillaries beneath your skin as he separated from your cheeks with a pop. Now, he pulls against your wrists to push himself closer, traps you in the embrace of his legs around the back of your thighs, wheezes and stutters against your lips at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. His head is running in circles instead of straight paths, and everything is spinning. When your hands reach to grab at his shirt, and palm at his chest, he pulls away only to rip his glasses off and toss them to the ground. Beneath the glow of the moon from above, everything but your flushed cheeks and swollen lips is a blur. You take half a breath in, before it is interrupted by Kei’s palms pulling you in by the sides of your neck, and his mouth on yours again. At seven years old, he ripped bruising pain away from your face with a kiss. At twenty-one, he forces his pain, and grief, and regret rushing into your heart by pushing himself against you, fingers tangling themselves into your hair as he kisses you, desperate, almost distressed. Every tug at your lips is a confession left unspoken, every time Kei opens his mouth apologies spill out into you in choked groans and sighs. At the sensation of his hand leaving your neck, your arm searches for him aimlessly, before he’s palming at you through your pants. He swallows your sudden gasp, and your fingers grip his wrist until your knuckles go white.

“Did you ever like me?” You can do nothing but choke out a question against his lips, one you’ve pondered about, day in and day out, since your departure from Japan.

By the way that Kei nods frantically, you’re certain that this is what six years of separation has amounted to.

Sparing no time, your fingers tug at the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to release himself from the fabric constraints. He does the same, hands roaming until they find the waistband of your pants to push them down, fingers tugging your underwear to the side with a flick. He grabs you by the waist beneath your shirt, yanks your body towards him until something feels right and he can’t help but let out a trembling sigh into your shoulder. And when you finally begin to sink yourself onto him, agonisingly slow, you wish that you had never left Japan in the first place. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you wish that you could spend the rest of your life in this observatory with Kei, your hands wrapped around the back of his sweat-slicked neck.

When he pulls you down to push further, more pervasively, you fall into him, head hanging over his shoulder and arms squeezing around his neck. His inexperienced hands rock you back and forth against his hips, pulling a flurry of gasps and moans from your throat. He lets himself learn how you taste when his teeth tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to expose your bare shoulder. His lips latch onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a trail of red marks up to the side of your neck. You shudder at his advances, and he studies the way your walls flutter around him, the erratic pulses that draw stars around his head, how your nails dig into his shoulders, and send his mind into a senseless orbit.

When he pushes and pulls at you a little harder, you whimper his name into his ear, reduced to nothing but a babbling mess that nibbles at his neck and kisses up his jaw feverishly. First friend, first kiss, first love. The notion that this is another first that Tsukishima Kei has brought upon you sends your mind spiralling. He should have been your first prom date, first roommate, first dance too. If only you hadn’t left him first. You push your head off his shoulder, hands moving to hold his face instead. A wave of pleasure washes over you when his palm presses against your stomach, and you hang your head low again, a shaky sigh released from your chest.

When you look up, there are tears in Kei’s eyes. He rolls his head back onto the plush seat behind him, hands lifting you off himself fully, just to push you back onto him again. You collapse into his body, palms pressing against his heaving chest.

“I- fuck! I fucking loved you! I still do!” He speaks it into the glass ceiling as one hand reaches for his face. He wipes his palm across his eyes, only for more tears to form. They are uncontrollable, relentless as he turns his head away from you. He isn’t sure how he will live again tomorrow, not when he’s finally come to a reckoning with the pang in his chest at every thought of you. He thinks he could die the second you step onto that flight back to London, ripped away from him once again. The reality that he cannot stay buried inside you for any longer than the next couple of minutes haunts him to no end, the idea of being separated from you a second time unbearable to even imagine. When he turns back to see you, head on his chest and fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he decides that reality can wait until he’s finished with you.

“I love you too- shit, Kei! I never stopped!”

You rut against his hips senselessly now, chasing some unfamiliar high as your vision fades to black and you scream his name until your throat goes hoarse. Kei barely gives you time to breathe, before he’s coming undone from right beneath you, shuddering and groaning as you relax against his body and go limp. He holds you against him, one hand pushing your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your back. He tucks your damp hair behind your ears, places kisses along your temple so he can hear the hums of satisfaction that sound from your curled lips.

“Can you stay forever?” He mumbles into your hair, and you turn to press your ear against his chest. His heart pounds as he pushes his cheek into the crown of your head, and your hands crawl up his chest to wrap around his neck. When he looks up through the glass ceiling, the stars have not moved one bit.

“I’ll find you again, wherever you are.”

Time may slip away from Tsukishima Kei like petals that fall off the buds of flowers, water that seeps beneath the soles of his sneakers, stardust that hovers above the atmosphere. Yet he has learned that it has a way of always coming back to remind him of its presence, and its escape. You are the reminder that it has been sending to him for six years.

author's note:

ERM! never writing nsfw again that's for sure but this piece defs had some stuff that i was very, VERY proud of coming up with!! sorry to my minor moots who probably won't read this in its entirety bc of the big MDNI warning... but I honestly don't know how to feel about this piece as a whole... i was super excited to write it but i think i got a little impatient towards the end esp since im always writing at like 3am LOL but i hope you guys liked it anyways!!! i tried really hard to make the dynamic work and i hope it did!!!!!

also ps they exchange numbers again js a little extra bonus that i didn’t get to put into the actual thing

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @laughingfcx @writingsofanomnivore @t0rchknight @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @hiraethwa @fiannee @catsoupki @anonymity-222 @wishi-selfships @kuroppiii

ok love u guys thank u for being patient

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