#every time i see him it just feels so wrong lol its like. WHERES MY BOY WHERES MY GUY RADIOOOO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wholoveseggs · 7 months ago

Note

Yo I’m back. Tbh half of your anon requests are me lol. Can you write something about Elijah and the reader having a family. Kids of any age maybe living in the compound with the rest of the mikaelsons? Still smut ofc but I love that episode where Elijah is with Cami at the safe house and he acts all family man fixing the fence n stuff that was hotttt

Family Man

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Life at the compound can be chaotic with kids and family running around, but Elijah wouldn't have it any other way.

♡♡ Thanks for the request wonderful @elijahstwink (everyone go check out his fics!) & anon!I Love domestic Elijah sooo much, I truly believe this would be his dream life. ♡♡

4.5k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, unfortunately I didn't make this as kinky as requested...its just very sappy and sweet, this is just a day in the life of Elijah as a devoted father and husband, pregnant!reader, uncle Klaus being precious, toddlers, hot cocoa, kittens & so much flufffffff

ps, this is pretty much a sequel to devotion...

In the early hours of the morning you were awoken by a loud snore from your husband. You rolled over to face him, chuckling a little as you watched his peaceful sleeping form. It was the first time in a long time he was finally getting the rest he deserved.

You slowly turned, carefully sliding out of bed. You tiptoed out the room and decided to go down to the kitchen to make some tea.

You loved this time of night, being in the stillness of the house, just enjoying the calmness and being able to take in the beauty of it all.

When you reached the bottom step, you heard some sniffling and cries coming from one of the rooms down the hall. You rushed to the door and opened it, and a small figure ran into your arms, clinging onto you.

"What's wrong, little one?" you asked, scooping her up.

"I had a nightmare. There were these people with sharp teeth and they were chasing me. And then you were there but you were gone. It was scary, mommy," she sobbed, her head buried in your chest.

"It's okay, sweetheart, it was just a dream. Nothing bad will happen to you. You are safe," you said, kissing her head and stroking her hair, soothing her. "Come on, let's go get something warm to drink,"

You carried her down to the kitchen and began to prepare the hot cocoa, which was her favorite. As you stood over the stove, waiting for the milk to boil, you felt her little hands rubbing your stomach.

"Mommy, when is the baby going to come out?" she asked.

"Not for a while, sweetie. It needs to grow inside my belly for a little longer," you chuckled.

"Okay," she said, looking sad. "I can't wait to meet them. Is it a girl or a boy?" she asked, looking up at you with her big, brown eyes.

"We don't know yet," you replied.

"Oh," she replied, disappointed. "I hope it's a girl. I already have a brother, I want a sister," she said.

"We'll just have to wait and see," you smiled, placing the mug of hot cocoa down on the counter. "Here, drink up, before it gets cold," you said.

She hopped off the chair and held the mug with both her hands, sipping away. You sipped on your tea as well, feeling relaxed. You loved these quiet moments with her, and you would cherish every one of them, since she was growing up so fast.

"So, what was this dream about, princess?" you asked, wanting to know more.

"T-there were people with sharp teeth and they were after me," she said.

"And why do you think that was?" you asked, not wanting her to feel afraid, but curious about what caused this dream.

"I think I saw it in a movie or something," she said, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "An-and uncle Nik showed me his sharp teeth, but he promised he would never bite me, only use them to protect me," she said.

"Oh, did he now?" you laughed.

"Yeah, but then he bit my teddy bear," she said, giggling. "he said my teddy was a threat!"

"That sounds like something uncle Nik would do," you chuckled.

"Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?" she asked, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Of course, sweetheart," you replied.

"Thank you, mommy," she said, smiling and hugging your legs.

"Come on, let's go to bed," you said, picking her up. She wrapped her arms around your neck and laid her head on your shoulder as you walked back up to your bedroom.

You placed her in the middle of the bed, and she quickly snuggled up against Elijah, her head on his chest. She loved having his attention. She was a daddy's girl through and through.

You slid back into bed, lying down on your side and Elijah instantly pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you both.

"Is my little one alright?" he asked sleepily, his eyes still closed.

"I had a bad dream, daddy," she sniffled, curling up against him.

"It's alright, my love. Everything will be alright," he said, kissing her head and soothing her. "No bad dreams will get you while I'm here," he said, pulling the blanket up and tucking her in.

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek, cuddling him as she drifted off to sleep. He stroked her hair, and her eyes grew heavy. Soon she was sound asleep, and he placed his hand on your stomach, his precious family safe in his arms.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Exhausted. Our littlest one is keeping me up, constantly moving and kicking," you sighed, feeling drained.

"Let's hope it's not like this for the whole pregnancy," he chuckled.

"Don't even joke about that," you groaned.

He gave you a kiss on the head, your daughter snuggled in between the two of you, and you finally managed to get a few more hours of sleep.

Elijah was woken by the sunlight shining through the curtains, and he smiled at the sight of his beautiful family.

His daughter was still cuddled up to him, her head buried in his chest, she stirred slightly and yawned.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asked, his hand on her back.

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Hmmm what would you and your brother like? Gruel? Porridge?" he asked, teasing her.

"Eww no," she groaned, loudly.

"Alright, alright, pancakes it is, let's go wake your brother and the rest of the family," he said, chuckling.

"Can we get chocolate chips on the pancakes?" she asked as he carried her out the room.

"I don't know, maybe your brother wants blueberries, but we'll ask," he said, tickling her.

His son and his niece were both awake and running around, and Klaus was chasing him, laughing, the children giggling as they hid under the dining table.

"Oh, look who's here. Little Rebekah is up," Klaus teased.

"No! That's not my name!" she pouted, crossing her arms.

"Yes, it is," Elijah chuckled.

"Nooo," she whined. "It's just Bex," she said.

"Alright, alright, Bex it is," Klaus chuckled, patting his head.

"Pancakes for breakfast, anyone?" Elijah asked.

"Yes, yes, yes," the children yelled.

"Chocolate chips?" Klaus asked, grinning.

"Yes!!!" the kids screamed, all jumping up and down in excitement.

"Alright, I'll make them, the last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg," Klaus said, speeding off.

The kids squealed and ran after Klaus, and Elijah chuckled and went back upstairs to check on you.

You were sound asleep, your hair fanned across the pillow. He laid down next to you, placing his hand on the swell of your stomach, smiling and talking to the baby.

"How are you, littlest one? Have you been keeping mommy up all night?" he asked, his dimples on full display.

"Yes, they have," you sighed.

"That's my job," he smirked, leaning in and giving you a kiss. "Would you like some breakfast?" he asked.

"I'll go eat later. I just want to stay here for a little longer," you replied, holding his hand on your stomach.

Elijah hummed softly and pulled you close, kissing your head and rubbing your back. He loved the way you melted into his touch.

"How is Bex?" you asked.

"She's completely forgotten about her nightmare, Klaus is making breakfast for all the kids," he chuckled.

"They have him wrapped around their little fingers," you giggled.

"He has grown soft, it's true," Elijah said.

"Bex told me he bit her teddy bear," you laughed.

"Yes, well, that doesn't surprise me," he chuckled, his lips brushing against yours.

You sighed happily and wrapped your arms around him, feeling complete bliss in his embrace.

"What would you like to do today?" he asked.

"Stay right here with you," you replied, running your hand through his hair, making him hum in delight. You were feeling a bit needy this morning, the pregnancy hormones making you want him all the time.

"I think that can be arranged," he smirked.

You grinned and leaned in, kissing him slowly, deepening the kiss. He moaned, and rolled over, pressing you into the mattress, making sure not to put any weight on your stomach.

He loved your pregnant state, the way your skin glowed, your eyes sparkled and the way you moaned his name made him crazy. He couldn't keep his hands off you, he wanted to ravish you day and night.

He thought he knew all of his kinks, but this one took him by surprise. When you were first pregnant with Henry it was like something in his brain clicked. The possessiveness, the lust, the way his cock ached to be inside you, he was lost.

Henry was a miracle, he didn't quite know how the magic worked. You tried to explain it to him once, your witch ancestry, how the moon played a part, but all he could think about was fucking you senseless, filling you up, and breeding you.

You were the perfect partner, and an absolute warrior, but nothing turned him on more than seeing you in this submissive, almost docile state. You were his wife, his goddess, and his greatest treasure, and he wanted nothing more than to please you day and night.

His hands went to your soft, full breasts, squeezing and kneading them, making you whimper and moan. He captured your nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, his other hand moving your nightdress up your thighs.

"Elijah," you sighed, his fingers brushing over your wet panties, making you gasp and moan.

"Is my beautiful wife needy this morning?" he smirked, his fingers slipping past the lace.

"Yes," you panted, the pad of his index finger teasing your clit, making your body tremble.

"Good," he hummed, his mouth on your neck, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wet heat.

You were both so lost in pleasure that neither of you heard the sound of Bex running up the stairs, Klaus not far behind her.

Luckily the door was locked, Elijah knew better than that with a house full of children.

"Daddy? Mommy?" she asked softly, knocking on the door.

"One minute, my love," Elijah called, his voice strained, trying to keep himself from ravishing you.

"Okay," she said, not leaving, but sitting down outside the door.

"Come back downstairs Bex, your mom and dad are a bit busy at the moment," Klaus chuckled, his voice low.

"Are they playing hide and seek?" she asked.

"Something like that," he replied.

"Can we play after?" she asked.

"Absolutely, sweetheart. Now come on, let's finish our pancakes, you don't want Henry to eat them all," he chuckled, lifting her up and taking her back downstairs.

Elijah looked down at your flushed face, laughing at the situation.

"You are so mean," you groaned, pushing him off you.

"Mean? I was just getting started," he chuckled.

"I think our daughter needs us, and Henry has probably eaten all the pancakes by now," you laughed, getting up and smoothing out your dress.

"I'll finish what I started tonight," he smirked.

"Don't get your hopes up," you chuckled, kissing his cheek and getting dressed.

Elijah watched your every move, the way you walked, the glow on your skin, and how the dress clung to the curve of your stomach. You looked ethereal. He was completely mesmerized, and completely smitten.

You were looking at yourself in the mirror, the dress a little too tight, the buttons straining against your swollen breasts.

"We are going to have to get you new dresses," he chuckled, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.

"This was my favorite," you pouted.

"We'll find you something that fits, don't worry," he said, kissing your shoulder.

"My back is killing me," you groaned, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Let me try something," he said, his hands dipping under your belly and lifting the bump, and you immediately felt relief. "Better?" he whispered against your skin.

You let out a happy groan and leaned into him, letting him hold you. His hands were gentle, his touch making the tension and aches melt away.

"Thank you," you sighed.

"You are very welcome," he hummed.

"Let's go eat, I'm absolutely starving," you laughed, kissing him and taking his hand.

"Let's," he smiled.

When the two of you entered the dining room, Bex squealed and jumped out of her seat, running towards Elijah.

"Daddy I saved you a pancake, see, here it is," she said, holding it up.

"That's very sweet of you, darling," he said, bending down and picking her up.

She fed him the pancake, giggling and laughing, and Klaus was grinning from ear to ear, and he handed you a plate filled with an assortment of fruit, knowing it was your favorite.

"Thank you," you smiled, sitting down at the table, feeling your stomach rumble.

Hope was sitting with Henry, and they were coloring on their plates, syrup and chocolate spread everywhere, their laughter filling the room.

Bex was still cuddled up to Elijah, and his hand was on your stomach, and he was feeding you pieces of fruit, smiling at you.

"Your birthday is coming up little Bekah, what do you want as a present?" Klaus asked, ruffling her hair.

"Hmmm I don't know," she replied, deep in thought.

"Anything you want, sweetheart," Elijah smiled.

"Can we get a puppy?" Henry asked, excitedly.

"Not until you're old enough to take care of it," Elijah replied, ruffling his hair.

"What about a kitten?" Klaus asked, raising his eyebrow.

"I love kitties!" Hope squealed.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the children yelled.

"I'll have to think about it," Elijah chuckled.

"Please dad! It's all I want for my birthday," Bex begged, her big brown eyes looking at him, her little lip pouting.

"Don't let her pull that face, Elijah, it's not fair," Klaus laughed.

"Alright, alright, you can have a kitten," he replied, smiling at his little girl.

She squealed and threw her arms around him, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"I promise I'll take care of it, daddy," she smiled.

"I'm sure you will," he replied, smiling and looking at you.

Klaus could see the exhaustion on your face, and the way you rubbed your stomach. You were tired and he could sense it, he knew you needed a break and some alone time with Elijah.

"Why don't we go out and play, little ones," he said, scooping up the children. "Let's all go to the park, we can even invite uncle Kol and aunt Rebekah," he suggested.

"Yay, yay, yay," the kids cheered.

"That sounds like a good idea," you replied, yawning and stretching your arms.

"Let's go, let's go," he said, wrangling the kids out of the compound.

Once they were gone, Elijah got up and started cleaning up the mess everyone had made. The compound was bursting at the seams with his family, and it was never quiet, but he enjoyed it, seeing the children run around and play, their laughter and their love filling the rooms.

You leaned back in your chair, admiring the sight of your husband working, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair falling over his forehead.

"You are gorgeous," you sighed, making him look up from the sink.

"As are you," he smirked.

"I can't believe you agreed to get Bex a kitten," you laughed.

"She can be very persuasive," he chuckled, drying his hands and coming to sit next to you.

"She has you wrapped around her finger," you smiled, cupping his cheek.

"Like I am not the same with her mother," he laughed.

"You have a point there," you grinned, kissing him.

He smiled against your lips, his hand moving down your body, resting on your stomach, letting out a contented sigh.

You mind wandered to all the things that needed to be done for the kids and around the house, you also hadn't even started preparing the nursery. You felt overwhelmed and the hormones weren't helping. On top of all that you had a party coming up.

"Stop thinking out loud," Elijah chuckled, pulling you closer.

"I can't help it, there is just so much to do," you groaned, burying your head in the crook of his neck. "I'm already behind, the baby will be here soon and I still haven't gotten anything ready."

"We still have a few months, everything will be fine, love. We will get the nursery ready, and the party will be wonderful, I'm sure of it," he replied, kissing your forehead.

His reassurances didn't help your worries, and you knew you were being unreasonable, but the stress was starting to take its toll.

"And now we have to go find a kitten, I don't even know where to start," you sighed, shaking your head.

"We can look online, we can go to a shelter, there's plenty of options," he replied, stroking your hair.

He was always so patient, so understanding, and you had no idea how he stayed so calm. You felt like you were going crazy.

"Do you even want a kitten?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I prefer them over dogs, although their hair does get everywhere," he chuckled, cupping your cheek. "They are excellent little predators, great for catching the mice that are running around this old place," he smirked.

"You're not wrong, the mice are awful," you laughed, remembering the time you were down in the wine cellar and one of them ran across your foot.

"Why don't you go rest, my love? I will clean up here and join you upstairs," he suggested.

You nodded and yawned, standing up and heading towards the stairs, Elijah's eyes on you the entire time.

The moment you got to the bed and laid down, your eyes closed and you were fast asleep.

When you woke up you heard soft hammering coming from the other room, and you went to investigate, finding Elijah, shirtless and sweaty, fixing the nursery.

"I told you not to start without me," you sighed, crossing your arms and leaning against the door.

He looked over his shoulder, smiling at the sight of you, the sunlight coming in through the window and making you glow.

"It needed to be done. I'm almost finished," he replied, standing up and putting the crib together.

"You've been busy," you laughed, walking over and running your hands over the white, wooden furniture. He hand painted the walls and assembled everything, and you felt tears prickle at your eyes.

"It's beautiful," you sighed, looking around.

"Are you crying? Don't cry, darling," he said, pulling you close, your face pressed against his chest.

"I can't help it, these stupid hormones," you sniffled.

"It's alright," he laughed, stroking your hair.

You sighed and pulled away, taking in the nursery. There was a rocking chair and a bookshelf, filled with all the children's books the two of you had collected over the years.

"It looks wonderful," you said, smiling and wiping away your tears.

"Now, what would my lovely wife like to do for the rest of the afternoon? We have the place to ourselves, so I was thinking we could make good use of that large tub in our bathroom," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You read my mind," you grinned.

You followed him back into your room, watching him fill up the tub with warm water, pouring in some bubble bath.

"Get undressed, darling," he smiled, taking his pants off and getting in the tub, moaning at the sensation of the water against his skin.

You slowly peeled off your dress, feeling a little self-conscious about your changing body. Here was your husband, eternally chiseled, and there you were, round and swollen.

"Come, let me take care of you," he whispered, seeing your hesitation.

You slipped in next to him, the water and bubbles a nice contrast to the heat of the day.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, placing his hands on the swell of your stomach.

"There, doesn't that feel nice?" he hummed.

"Very nice," you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and relaxing.

His hands roamed over your skin, his lips brushing over the curve of your neck.

"I've missed having you all to myself," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

"Mmm," was all you could say, too relaxed and content to form words.

He gently cupped your breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you whimper and moan.

"Eli," you sighed, his touch sending shivers through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice breathy.

You turned your head and looked at him, his gaze filled with lust and desire.

"Do you want to continue this on our bed?" You asked, your voice sultry.

"I'd love to," he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smirk.

He helped you out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body. Before suddenly scooping you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and laying you down.

"I can't wait until I'm not this enormous," you sighed, looking down at your swollen belly.

"You're not enormous, you're beautiful, and absolutely radiant," he replied, hovering over you, his hand gently resting on your stomach.

You couldn't help but smile, and the tears started rolling down your cheeks.

"Don't cry again, my love," he chuckled.

"I can't help it! Just ignore me," you said, wiping the tears away.

"As if that is possible," he laughed.

He kissed your forehead, moving his way down your body, placing his hands on your hips, his lips pressing soft kisses against the curve of your stomach.

"Elijah, you don't have to do that," you whispered, feeling a little shy.

"But I want to," he replied, kissing his way down, spreading your legs.

"Oh," was all you could say, his tongue swirling over your clit, one hand on your inner thigh, the other resting on your stomach.

He hummed and moaned, the vibrations making you gasp, and arch your back. He could tell you were sensitive, and he was gentle, taking his time.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging a little, making him moan and pick up the pace.

" 'lijah," you panted, feeling the pleasure coil in your core.

You couldn't even see him over the swell of your stomach, but you could feel him, and the noises he was making were sending you into overdrive.

"Fuck, don't stop," you gasped, the orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.

Elijah was enjoying himself, the taste of you on his tongue, the noises you were making, and the sight of you coming apart, was driving him crazy.

You tugged on his hair, pulling his face away, the sensations becoming too much, and he crawled up your body, kissing your stomach as he moved.

"Did you enjoy that, darling?" He asked, kissing you and tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Mmm yes, very much," you hummed, pushing on his chest so he laid back.

He watched you move, a smirk on his face, his pupils blown. You sat on his thighs, stroking him, seeing his abs tense and relax, and he let out a long, deep moan.

"You are such a good father and husband, always going above and beyond for us," you said, leaning down and licking his length. "Let me show you how much I appreciate you,"

You leaned down and teased his head with your tongue, enjoying the string of curses that came tumbling from his mouth.

A soft hum escaped you as you slowly, and carefully, sucked on the head, teasing and tasting.

"Love, you are exquisite," he groaned, burying his fingers in your hair.

You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, letting him move at the pace he desired. All you wanted to do was please him, you loved when his voice would crack from pleasure and the way his fingers would tug on your hair.

"Come here," he said, cupping your cheek.

You pulled off of him with a pop, moving to sit on top of him, kissing him and grinding against his length.

"Mmm, I could do this forever," you hummed, biting his bottom lip and tugging.

He ran his hands up and down your back, nibbling at your shoulder, suckling marks into your skin.

Your swell was pressed against his abs, and he could feel every slight movement, enjoying the sight of you rolling your hips.

He guided you down onto his cock, the sheets bunched up around the two of you, and he rolled his hips, his hands gripping your ass.

"You are stunning," he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts.

His lips brushed over your nipples, sucking, his teeth grazing them, his groans vibrating through your body.

"Eli- stop, they are too sensitive," you panted, running your nails over his skin, leaving bright red scratches.

"Sorry, love," he replied, grinning at the sting of your nails.

He did most of the work, gently rocking you in a steady rhythm, and the two of you moaned, the pleasure coursing through your bodies, his lips brushing your neck.

It was a slow, hot and steamy fuck, you felt like your body was on fire, the sweat and heat radiating off the two of you.

You leaned forward a little, allowing Elijah to get a little more friction, his hips moving faster, the both of you panting and moaning.

"Ah- Elijah, I'm-," you panted against his lips.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you came undone, clenching around him.

Elijah followed suit, the sensation of your orgasm bringing him to the edge.

He cupped the back of your neck, bringing you down for a kiss, and the two of you hummed, content and sated, basking in the afterglow.

"I wish we could stay like this," you sighed, nuzzling against him.

He laughed, and gently rolled you onto your side, pulling out of you and tucking you against his chest, both of you smiling like idiots.

"I love you," he said, stroking your hair.

"I love you too," you whispered, resting your head on his arm, letting the world melt away for just a few minutes.

Elijah watched you drift off to sleep, a small smile on his face. He kissed your forehead and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being next to you.

It was days like these that made him wonder what he did to deserve it. That perhaps there was some sort of higher power that had guided him to you, that brought him such profound peace and happiness after centuries of darkness.

You mumbled and cuddled up against him, he placed his hand on your belly, rubbing it with his thumb, thinking about how lucky he was.

He was living a life he never thought he would have, a family of his own, one he created. He didn't know what was waiting for him after he was done with this life, but he hoped you would be there with him.

In the next life, and all the ones after that.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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I've gotten a few dm's about my tags not working (yay) so let me know if its still a problem, I just re-tagged all of you so hopefully that solved it ♡

Also! If you wish to be removed from the tag list just send me a dm, you won't hurt my feelings (it's okay if you got sick of me ~lol) I don't wish to hold you hostage ♡

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springtyme · 10 months ago

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Hey luv, hope all is well. So, I just previously read your spencer x girly!reader and I absolutely loved them. While reading the chess part, an idea sparked.

So if possible could you do something similar where Spencie boy and girly!reader are playing chess and she is obviously frustrated or something because she doesn’t understand. So being the amazing boy wonder he is, Spencer secretly acts like he had no good moves and the reader just starts pointing out the moves he could make not knowing he can clearly see those moves and he lets the reader win making her super excited and happy and immediately sets the board back and starts another game.

I just think it would be so cute to see how Spencer would just gaze at and admire the reader as she is focused and asks questions. If this is too confusing or too similar to the original chess part no worries. It’s simply a mere thought I had. Do with it what you please!!!

Love your works and your blog 🥰🤗

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲 ♡

Thank you so much, hun ♡ I't makes me so happy to hear that you liked the other ones, I've had so much fun with them. And thank you so much for this request, it's such a cute scenario!

Spencer Reid x girly!reader|| Masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: Spencer truly can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. With you, everything just feels so natural, despite him being in completely foreign waters. You keep being patient with him, every step of the way. With you, everything just falls into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally fitting snugly into its spot. All he ever want to do is make you smile, even when it means that he has to lose in chess on purpose. Part one & part two 💕

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I was actually in a chess club in school, but we did not play chess, so sorry if the chess parts aren’t very accurate, I tried my best, lol.

Spencer watches you intently, his heart swelling with adoration at the sight of you trying your best. He can see the determination in your eyes, the way you furrow your brow in concentration, and it only deepens the love he feels for you. Your stained lips pouting sweetly as you contemplate your next move

You let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in your chair with a frustrated expression. “I just don’t understand this game, Spence. I feel like I’m making all the wrong moves,” you sigh, moving your knight in a random direction. “At this point I‘m just making moves for the sake of it.”

Spencer can’t help but smile at your frustration, finding it endearing how you get so worked up over a game of chess. Moving your knight wasn’t the best move you could have made, but he doesn’t want to tell you that, and it wasn’t the worst move either. He reaches out to gently place his hand on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but he lets his fingers linger for a little while. It always manages to surprise him how soft your skin is, and how it feels so warm and comforting beneath his touch.

You look up at him, your pretty eyes meeting his gaze and Spencer feels how his heart skips a beat at the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Some people use their entire life to master this game, and you��ve only been playing for a few weeks,” he reminds you. “You’re doing great, and trust me, you’re not as lost as you think you are.”

You smile softly at his reassurance. “So, what I’m hearing you say is that if I keep going, there’s still a chance that I can be a big old chess nerd like you?” you tease, nudging him playfully.

Spencer chuckles at your teasing, loving the way you always manage to make him laugh, something he hasn’t always had an easy time with. “Hey, being a nerd isn’t that bad, okay?”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, leaning in closer to him. “In fact, I think it’s kind of cute.” Spencer’s heart flutters at your words, feeling a warmth spread through him at the way you look at him with such affection.

Spencer knows many things, arguably too many things, but he will never be able to understand what you see in him, you’re so beautiful and confident and always so kind to everyone, there is no doubt in his mind that you are way, way out of his league, but he is grateful every day that you, for whatever reason, chose him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he mumbles, a slight blush dusting his cheeks at your words.

“I actually think you’re very cute, you know,” you say playfully, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of his face with a gentle touch. Spencer can feel his heart racing in his chest as he looks into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at him.

He leans in closer to you, unable to resist the magnetic pull that always seems to bring you both together. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss, filled with all the love and affection that Spencer feels for you. In that moment, nothing else matters except for the two of you and the way your hearts beat as one.

As you pull away, a smile tugs at the corners of Spencer’s lips, a smile that only you can bring out in him. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

“I love you too, Spence,” you respond, your eyes shining with your own smile, bright and full of happiness.

Spencer will never be able to wrap his head around why you love him, but damn he is glad and forever grateful that you do. If he could travel back in time and tell his younger self that he would find someone as amazing and wonderful as you - that someone as beautiful and kind hearted as you would ever love him, he wouldn’t have believed it, he would probably think that it was some kind of cruel joke. But here you are.

It’s overwhelming, really, the love and adoration he feels for you in every fiber of his being. He never knew he could feel this way about someone, never knew that someone could make him feel so alive and complete. The fact that he feels so at home and normal with another person in his life is beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

But with you, everything just feels so natural, despite him being in completely foreign waters, you keep being patient with him every step of the way and with you by his side, it doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. With you, everything just falls into place, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally fitting snugly into its spot.

“Oh, you got something…” you whisper, almost more to yourself than him. He is confused for a short second, until he feels your thumb brush against the corner of his mouth, wiping away the trace of lipstick that had transferred from your lips to his. Spencer chuckles at the realization, feeling a warm rush of affection for you. “There…” you say with a soft smile.

Spencer can’t help but chuckle at the tender gesture, feeling a surge of warmth behind his chest.

“You can’t keep distracting me like this,” you tease, leaning in closer to him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’m actually trying to beat you at this game, you know.”

Spencer’s smile widens at your playful tone, a twinkle in his eye as he looks at you. “Who says I’m going to make it easy for you?” he responds, his voice laced with amusement.

“You did! You literally said that you would go easy on me,” you pout, crossing your arms in mock annoyance.

Spencer laughs, a sound that fills the room with joy. “Okay, okay, I may have said that,” he concedes, “but, I don’t think you really need me to, you know. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up beating me at my own game someday.”

“I doubt that,” you mumble, looking back at the board with furrowed brows.

Spencer leans back in his chair, watching you with admiration as you study the board, he can see the gears turning in your head. He knows what move he should be doing, the move that could make him win the game, but he isn’t really interested in that.

“Well, it looks like I’m running out of options,” he say, feigning defeat as he moves his bishop into a vulnerable position.

You glance up at him. “You could have moved your rook to that square and set up a potential checkmate in a few moves,”you point out, sounding both surprised and proud that you saw the possible move.

Spencer had, of course, seen that it would have been the right move to make, but he wanted to give you a chance to shine, and to prolong the game. Seeing the pride and satisfaction in your eyes is worth more than winning any game ever could.

“Oh, you’re right,” he says, trying to sound surprised, like he hadn’t seen that move multiple rounds in advance. But he must not be a very convincing actor, and he can’t help but smile as he watches the look of realization dawn on your face.

You roll your eyes playfully, seeing right through his act. “You’re such a goof, Spence,” you giggle, shaking your head in amusement. “But thank you for giving me a chance to show off a little.”

“I guess I just wanted to give you a fighting chance,” he says, leaning in closer to you.

You playfully swat at his arm, a laugh escaping your lips. “Dork,” you tease, but there’s a fondness in your tone that makes his heart swell with even more love for you, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, before leaning back again to look at you, his heart overflowing with adoration for you.

You playfully roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of gratitude in your expression. “Well, thanks for the favor,” you say with a smile, moving your queen in a strategic position that surprises Spencer.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise at your move, impressed by your strategic thinking. “Oh, someone’s feeling confident now, huh?” he teases, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You shrug nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, you did say you weren’t going to go easy on me,” you quip, moving your pieces with a newfound determination.

Spencer watches you closely, his heart filled with pride at the way you’re starting to grasp the game more and more and making better and better strategic moves. He can’t help but admire your intelligence and quick thinking, feeling a sense of awe at the way you surprise him at every turn.

And yes, he might go a little easy on you from time to time, but he can see that you’re starting to understand the game on a deeper level. And that, to him, is worth more than winning a game of chess ever could.

As the game progresses, Spencer can see the determination in your eyes, the way you carefully plan out your moves and anticipate his next move

“You’re really giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” Spencer remarks, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you strategize your next move. You give him a sly grin, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I told you not to underestimate me, Spence,” you say confidently, moving your knight into a position that puts him on the defensive.

Spencer chuckles, impressed by your bold move. “I should know better by now,” he admits, moving his rook to protect his vulnerable bishop. The game continues, each move calculated and strategic, and Spencer can’t help but admire the way you’ve grown since your first game together.

“Checkmate,” you say triumphantly, a grin stretching across your face as you realize you’ve won. Spencer can’t help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement and happiness at your victory. “Well done, darling,” he says, leaning in to give you a congratulatory kiss.

“I still feel like you went easy on me, but thank you,” you tease, a playful glint in your eye. Spencer can’t help but laugh, feeling grateful for the opportunity to see the excited smile that is lighting up your face, making your already beautiful features shine even brighter with a sense of pride.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't,” he teases back, a twinkle in his eye. “But regardless, you did really well, I can’t believe how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time.”

You grin at his words. “Well, I’ve had a really great teacher,” you remark. “And he is, like, sooo handsome too. It’s actually wild that I could even concentrate on the game,” you add with a wink before you’re leaning in to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

Spencer’s heart flutters at your words, feeling a surge of love and adoration for you that he can’t quite put into words, they are too big and too overwhelming to express, so instead he tries to pour every bit of that love and adoration into the kiss that he returns to you.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him as he deepens the kiss, savoring the feeling of being so close to you, of sharing this moment. He might have lost the game, but because of you, he has never felt like less of a loser.

As you both pull away, a smile lingers on both of your faces, and Spencer can’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity and adoration.

“I love you too, Spence,” you respond, your eyes filled with nothing but love and affection for him “Now help me set this board up again, I want to beat you fair and square this time,” you say with a playful glint in your eye. Spencer chuckles at your competitive spirit, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him as he helps you set up the board once more.

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lady06reaper · 9 months ago

Note

Viking x Sweetheart reader. Who on the outside is a big sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly. Said Viking got her from a village.

Only when alone with her husband does she cuss like a sailor and scream when she wants to. Just a overall temper (Viking finds it hot tho-)

She also acts like this around her kids (if she has any) and her kids are absolutely flabbergasted to see how their mom acts outside of home. Often getting secretly slapped upside the head when they say something smart only to realize no one saw it.

- Marshmellow (bit of a crackfic lol)

ya know, this the OPPOSITE of me, I'll cuss anytime, it's only when I'm alone I'm a total "sweetheart"

NSFW lines are slashed, the rest is SFW besides the cussing

HOW THE RAGNARSONS REACT TO YOU HAVING THE MOUTH OF A SAILOR

Bjorn wouldn't know it was coming, you were the sweet and doting wife, helping neighbors and playing with the local children

Your were a delicate flower in his eyes, but he knew you could hold your own when need be

Until you came home and slammed your dagger into the table where he was eating

"That mother fucking no tits asshole of a cunt! Who the hell does she think she is?! Talking about my damn husband in that fucking manner!"

his hand stopped mid path to his opened mouth, his eyebrows rose away from his widened eyes

did he hear that correctly? or was the mead taking effect already?

he stayed like that for a few moments until you snapped at him to say something

"Your mouth, where'd you learn to talk like that?"

little to Bjorns knowledge, you had always had that vocabulary, it just only came out when you were pissed

not to mention you prefer to keep the innocent facade up in public, but that doesn't you can't flip the switch if you get pushed more than what you did that day

More occurrences like this happened, though he was prepared to just let you go and cool off

that doesn't mean he didn't help you let out your frustrations with sex either

Now he knew that this delicate flower of his was poisonous

Ubbe had a feeling that that mouth of yours was dirty, he just never witnessed it

unless you were going down on him

the feeling stayed dormant for the longest time, until he came home to the long house turned upside down

furniture was strewn across from its original places, some were broken too

You were sitting on the throne throwing daggers at a table you had propped up on its side, cussing every time the enlarged knives left your hands

"That *thud* little dicked *thud* no balls *thud* bastard child *thud* of a fucking merchant! *thud*"

he now knew his feeling was right, as they normally were

he was grateful you ran out of daggers when he reached you, or otherwise he feared one would end up in him

he didn't need no explanation, he knew that the merchant you were lewdly referring to must've tried something on you to woo you away from him, it wasn't the first time, but you were so sweet in public that you didn't want to ruin your public look by cussing the man out in public

no words were spoken as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bathtub where you and Ubbe would share a relaxing soak

Ivar knew from the start that you had a mouth, there was no way you were as innocent as you portrayed

there was always two sides to sword, he just hasn't seen your sharper, more deadlier side

until he about took your blade to his throat when he approached you in the woods while you were hacking a tree with your sword

"What's the matter my dove?" Ivar cocked his head to the side.

"That god damn fish fucking tree humping shit eating whore of woman your brother keeps closely by his side! Bitch tried to say my form was wrong during training!"

and there was your sharper edge

Ivar never understood why you kept this side hidden, especially from him

he figured it was a threat to everyone to have your meaner side out in public, and keep your softer side for him only

but Ivar wasn't you, you preferred to keep this side a secret incase you truly needed it

he thought it was hot watching those profanities drip from your mouth

like his cum did last night when you two were fucking

but, I also know that if he encouraged the sailor talk he would also receive it too, which would most likely turn into a battle of who can come up with the worst names

he liked the fiery side of you and wished you would show it more often

the villagers did not as they heard every cuss word that came out of your mouth, including the whore

#vikings #vikings x reader #bjorn ironside x reader #bjorn ironside #ubbe x reader #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless

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mila-uchiha · 1 month ago

Text

Best Friend's Older Brother ⁺◦ Itachi x fem!reader

a/n: hey guys... not sure if any of you even remember my blog but its been 2/3 years since i've written lol. new life new errything but my new bf is giving me so much inspo for smut it's insane (he's so hot) and so here we go... enjoy! this prompt tickled something in my brain xxx (also this is set in a modern au w no uchiha massacre where reader wants sasuke's older brother itachi and winds up in his bed,,, just read it [3 years in the making] lol trust its GOOD)

warnings: NSFW, don't feel to write the rest in lmao i haven't done this inna while but hella smut just sayin

word count: 5.6k (wtf?? ok i went overboard here and did not realise but i hope u enjoy LMAO)

You knew it was wrong. You knew there would be conversation, after conversation once you two were done with this. You knew everything would change. But you had wanted it more than you had ever wanted anything before.

A few days prior, your best friend Sasuke had let you and your friend group (if you can even call them friends) know about a "small birthday get together"- in his words- at his house that weekend. You wanted to be excited. You wanted to enjoy yourself. But there were multiple reasons why you felt like you wouldn't; the first being the shitty group of friends that you two shared. They weren't the nicest people nor did they take interest in you and you somehow always felt like an outsider when around them. It was only when you and Sasuke hung out alone did you really enjoy someone else's company. Unfortunately being friends with him meant being around these guys a lot, and that included this weekend for his birthday.

The second reason involved something more complicated: Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's brother. You were- let's not use the word obsessed...- maybe a bit infatuated with him. It may seem like a good thing, to spend a night at the house where your crush lived, but seeing him hurt a little bit more inside every time, and I'll explain why.

Sasuke hadn't been your best friend since you two were kids- it had only been a few years since you met, and yet still, a few years was enough to develop the most enormous crush on his older brother- and of course Sasuke knew nothing. It started off very innocently, you knew nothing would ever happen, you knew he'd never want someone as young as you, and you simply found comfort and entertainment in keeping it to yourself- a silent crush... That was until last year.

You were different now. More mature. Emotionally and physically. You knew that you were capable of being with someone his age and you felt yourself growing older by the day, your interests expanding and your emotions as well. You talked more than usual at the dinner table with Sasuke's family about "intelligent" topics (or what you thought classified as intelligent). You tried to make your presence more known. You tried speaking to Itachi (occasionally) and yet every thing you did was met with a response that contained no more than a few words. And there was certainly never any reciprocation of question given to him that was directed back to you. Not only was he blunt, he was cold too, his voice lingering with iciness and a twang of unkindness, snarky comments occasionally slipping out.

Ultimately, it was useless, and that uselessness turned into pain. You didn't want to see him this weekend. It simply reminded you of what you wanted so badly, yet could never have and it had been three weeks since you had been to Sasuke's house, your feeling of isolation growing more and more. Until this weekend.

You walked up to Sasuke's house, hoping you could quickly sneak up to his room and wait for the rest of his friends to get there, but of course it was never that easy. This may sound like a cliche and joke, but it wasn't Sasuke's mom or dad that answered the door, it was Itachi, and when that door swung open and his brows furrowed upon inspection of who was at the door, you couldn't help but gulp and think this was all a mistake. You felt your heart sink and that horrible familiar feeling fill your chest again. You knew this would be a long night.

You both said your greetings (although his full of much less words than yours) and you stepped inside the house, faintly smelling his fragant smell- the best thing you had ever smelt in your life, although you didn't want to admit that in the moment.

It was awkward. He was cold, and weird and god you just wanted him so bad but of course once again you were left standing there uncomfortably. "Cmon y/n, think! Say something!", you thought to yourself and urged the confidence you had gained in the past year to enter once again as he shut the front door.

"So how's college? I haven't seen you in a few weeks." Finally, some words coming from you. He paused briefly, before answering, "It's fine, I thought you were here last week?"

Ouch. Clearly any attempt you had made to be noticed went unnoticed.

Before coming here, you knew he never paid attention to you (and when he did it wasn't very pleasant) so you thought there was no harm in specifically wearing something a bit "older", a bit more slutty. Your tits were highlighted and pushed up in this sleek, black, partially see-through lace top with a matching laced mini skirt alongside your knee high black boots. Your brown curls were left out and flowing, accompanied by a white headband that framed your face beautifully. You knew most guys your age would drool at the sight of you, but this wasn't most guys your age.

"Sasuke's upstairs", Itachi said roughly. "Yeah I know, I just-" You paused. You could see his eyes scanning your outfit, your body, up and down, his brows slowly furrowing at the sight. This is it! He's finally seeing me in a different light, you naively thought. That was until he opened his mouth.

"Why do you look like you're dressed for halloween?", he asked, a sense of judgment coming from his tone. You looked at him, confused, hurt. "Your outfit. You do realize you look like a nun right?". OH. fuck.

The stupid white headband you threw on with the all-black outfit made you slightly look like a nun, one that was standing there stupidly, looking- not only overdressed- but dressed for an occasion that was not tonight.

"Oh haha, I guess you're right. I do actually look like a nun..." You said quietly, your eyes trying to analyze his facial expression and read his thoughts.

"Yeah a slutty one- and not the good kind," and with that remark he scoffed, walking away as if he was bored with the conversation already.

A sluttly one. And not the good kind. You tried to walk up the stairs and head up to Sasuke's room but those words were repeating themselves in your head. As you opened the door and found Sasuke and two other friends sitting on his bed they all looked at you strangely. "Why are you dressed like that?". It was not going to be a good night.

The next few hours were filled with strange looks from the eyes of those dressed a bit more casually, weirdly sensual looks from some of his friends and mostly a lot of alcohol. You all were still in school but Sasuke's parents weren't exactly the strict type. Yours were however, and you had only ever been drunk once before this night- specifically for Sasuke's birthday last year. He was definitely not the best influence.

The drinking games and the shots were getting to be a bit too much for you as you felt yourself entering a state entitled "The most drunk I have even been.... why do I want more alcohol?". As teenagers do, a variety of games were played such as spin the bottle which involved you having to make out with some gross guy in the friend group and ultimately, strip poker- without the poker. You didn't manage much, however your top did come off, leaving your in your sleek black bra completely on display. You didn't really care though, as everyone else was half naked and now at least you could blend in a bit better without your raunchy, lacy top on.

Despite all the distractions happening in these two hours, you couldn't help but be hurt by everything that transpired downstairs upon your arrival. His tone, his words, I mean he practically laughed at you. You felt your heart sink the more you thought about it and as you found yourself getting more quiet and more drunk, you decided what better to do than head downstairs and give him a piece of your mind.

You had had it. The year of him making you feel like this. Like a younger brother's friend (which, yes, you were but come on, he didn't have to show it). The year of the rudeness and the way he ignored you in the times where you wished he didn't. You were about to head downstairs and tell him exactly how horrible he was. Except you didn't realize that you were in your bra.

As you reached the bottom step, you looked up to see Itachi walking towards the front door, heading past the steps with a few of his friends slowly following behind. "ITACH-", you couldn't even finish your sentence.

"Y/n what the hell are you doing? Why the fuck are you down here in your bra?" He grabbed your wrist tightly. "I'M COMing down HERe to tell you-", again no sentences finished. He spun you around and led you back up the stairs, his hands on either side of your lower back while he pushed and walked behind you. You only managed to produce thoughts for a second and in that second you almost seemed to sober up, his broad hands on your bare skin, the warmth and the feeling that filled you. It was short lived, though, the minute he removed them and guided you to his room. "What the fuck are you doing? My friends are downstairs and you're coming down in your bra?"

You entered his room, his smell evidently everywhere as you looked around at the familiar four walls. You had been there before when snooping around with Sasuke a few years ago, but of course Itachi didn't know that.

"So what? It's not that big of a deal", you slurred your words as he rummaged through his closet, as if he was in a rush. "Here" he tossed you a shirt. One of his shirts. "Put this on," he said as he looked at you with a slightly disgusted expression on his face.

"Why do I have to do anything you say? This is the most emotion you've ever showed me!" You shouted as he stood waiting for you to comply. He didn't respond.

"You know what, fine!" You reached for the waistline of your skirt. "I'm older now and if I want to walk around in my underwear I fucking can!" You started tugging your skirt down, partially revealing the lacy black underwear underneath but before you could fully drop your skirt to the floor, Itachi grabbed your wrists with both of his hands tightly.

"Y/n are you fucking serious? Don't fucking do that in my room or you wont be welcome in this house again." He said roughly in your ear. Ouch. His words were serious. His hands harshly let go your wrists as he added, "Put the shirt on and get the fuck out of my room please." He headed to the door and before he could open it you shouted back, "Where are you going?". He turned and looked back, the familiar icy blank stare facing you again. "To a party", and the door slammed shut.

The next few hours were filled with even more alcohol, to add to your already debilitated state. Sasuke and his friend's looked at you weirdly for wearing what was evidently Itachi's shirt, but nobody really questioned anything when you kept taking more shots of vodka, attempting to forget the embarrassment of a few hours ago.

As time went on, your enjoyment went down and so did your state of coherency. You could not shake the events of tonight, yet one thing you couldn't understand was why Itachi was so worried about you being downstairs in your bra in front of his friends? Surely that had nothing to do with him? Maybe he was embarrassed that one of his younger brother's friends was making an embarrassment of the family? Either way, whatever triggered his reaction surely wasn't prideful on your behalf.

It was now 1 am and you felt yourself slipping, unable to soberly process and function. You kept quiet for a bit, knowing Sasuke's friends wouldn't have cared if you were there or not and eventually decided it was time to get up and go find somewhere to sleep, possibly the couch. As you stumbled to open the door and nearly tripped on your way there, Sasuke knew you were completely out of your mind drunk and decided to help you walk, a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright, y/n? Do you feel to throw up?" You shook your head. No way were you doing that tonight. You knew you just needed to sleep. "Sleep- I just need to sleep."

"Okay, well you were going to sleep on my bed and I'd sleep in Itachi's room but I don't think these guys are leaving soon," He gestured to the open door in the hallway that lead to his room, a blur and haze of noise escaping it. "Ughhhh close the door, too loud!" you slurred and demanded. He laughed.

"Maybe you can just sleep in Itachi's room?" Your eyes suddenly opened wide. "Itachi??? No... No thank you I'll sleep on the floor." You suddenly plopped your drunken self on the floor of Sasuke's hallway. He laughed once more. "No, y/n, its fine. He's out at a party tonight and I doubt he'll be back- will probably spend the night by some girl as he usually does after parties."

Sigh. Probably spending the night by some girl huh?

You complied, finally, and managed to stumble into Itachi's room once more, still wearing his T-shirt and inhaling the scent of him that bounced off the walls. Before climbing into bed, you managed to at last take off the itchy, lace skirt and drop it to the ground alongside your bra and your underwear, remaining in nothing but Itachi's shirt. It may seem a bit strange, but this is how you slept. 'Fully breathable' you called it.

It didn't take long before you were under his duvet, wrapped up in his scent and warmth, and drifted off to sleep while the room slowly spinned.

By this point you were fast asleep. Hours and hours passed as you framed peaceful dreams in your head of god knows what- something you'd wake up to in the morning and forget. That was until the scent of Itachi filled your breath. Every inhale that was taken just fueled the desire in your crotch that kept building and building until you- fully asleep- started humping his bed. What you didn't realize in this moment was that the scent wasn't coming from his bed- it was coming from him. Right next to you.

In the few hours you slept, it was peaceful and quiet. Sasuke's friends left one by one and that led everyone in the house to eventually fall asleep. That was until a few minutes ago, when a partially drunk Itachi came staggering up the stairs into his own room, unaware you were in his bed. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, he was exhausted and just craving sleep and upon stripping into nothing but his boxers, he managed to crawl into his side of the bed.

It wasn't until he jumped into bed, unable to wake up in your passed out state, that he realized you were there. Fast asleep. Humping the mattress. Minutes of contemplation from him passed by but nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you awoke.

As your eyes slowly opened, your underwear fully soaked from the dream you had, Itachi's smell was stronger- it was more than just his bed. You adjusted your eyes and in your half-asleep state managed to latch on to the shadowy figure next to you: Itachi- with his hand in his boxers gently stroking himself up and down, whimpering ever so softly.

What. the. fuck. was going on. You didn't move a muscle- frozen in your position on your stomach as you tried to make sense of the situation. His hand was in his pants. His hand was stroking his dick! Surely this made no sense? Your thoughts ran rampant, trying to come to an explanation for this situation as you tried to understand that the only logical one was that he didn't you know were in his bed. Surely that was it right? He must've come back from this party, unsuccessful with whatever girl he was pursuing, and instead of winding up in her bed, he came back home to touch himself to the thought of her. That had to be it right?

Suddenly your hips started grinding again- the same as they were doing in your sleep. You simply couldn't help yourself. Despite being unable to actually see Itachi's dick, the blurry visual of his hand in his pants gently touching himself alongside the soft noises that escaped from his lips were enough to make you accidentally let out a moan as you grinded on his bed.

Now, you both were frozen from his realization that you were actually awake after the noise you made.

His hand quickly left his boxers, at the most rapid speed possible and he instantly sat up, his shadowed head facing you in the dark with his eyes slightly squinting.

"Y/n?" He called out with a hint of disgust in his voice. Great. You knew it. You knew he didn't realize you were in his bed and was definitely touching himself to some girl. You had the full view (besides his dick) and you ruined it by letting that moan escape your mouth.

This caused you to sit up as well. "Ita-chi?" you called out, the near- pitch black light of his room not helping. No response.

You hand patted his bed, trying to reach for his arm until you found it and latched onto it, your eyes both meeting in the darkness.

"Itachi? What are you doing?" you asked calmly.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He replied. "Why the fuck are you in my bed?".... You didn't know what to say.

"I- I don't know.... Sasuke told me that you wouldn't be here tonight and I needed somewhere to fall asleep before everyone left. I was really drunk... I still am, I'm so sorry- please believe me I'll leave now I didn't mean to intrude on a private time of yours," you rambled on an on and started to make your way out of his bed, away from the mess that this was. Until he grabbed your arm. With the same hand that was touching his dick.

"Wait, y/n, it's ok.... You don't have to go." Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned towards him again, the darkness still making it hard to see his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Well.. Sasuke's in his bed so you can't sleep there, and I'm not making you go on the couch downstairs. It's alright. You can spend the night in here, I don't mind."

You slowly crept back under his duvet, keeping a large distance between the two of you as you both sat there in silence. What the fuck was going on? Time passed and what felt like hours was only around one minute of straight silence. You were both trying to figure out what happened and it was sufficiently awkward at this point.

"I'm sorry I was in here while you uh... were.. ya know.. touching yourself. Sasuke told me you might've spent the night by a girl and I assume that you didn't, and needed some alone time to um... 'think of her'. I just didn't realize you came back," you tried to explain, your face showing clear embarrassment if only he could see it in the darkness.

Awkward silence filled the room for a few seconds. "Is that why you were grinding on my bed?" Itachi calmly asked. Fuck. He knows? So why was he touching himself while you were doing that?

"Ok fine. It's incredibly embarrassing but I was having a.. wet dream.. and you just happened to witness it. Nothing more to it."

"Is that why your eyes were open staring at me touching myself?".... Oh fuck. This was really bad. This was a very bad situati- wait.

"How did you know my eyes were open? You could see them?" You asked confusingly.

He didn't reply. You heard a scoff as he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp, a sensory input that distracted you from the horrible awkwardness of the conversation. Now the lights were on. There was no hiding anything. And both of you needed to explain.

"What were you dreaming about?" He asked. Unfortunately for him you were too distracted by the way he looked in the dim light to answer: shirtless, duvet sitting just below his boxers. Enough to see the hard bulge he still had, despite the uncomfortable situation.

"What were you touching yourself to?" You replied.

He paused. "No, y/n, I'm asking you. What were you dreaming about?"

Your eyes darted between his face and his bulge, evidently showing him that you could see it, yet for some reason, he didn't care. He left it on display, and god, were you taking it in. All of it. Sneakily hiding behind his black Calvin Klein boxers.

"Wait. Before I answer that, lemme just get this straight. So we were both practically pleasuring ourselves... in the same room.. in the same bed... while we both knew the other person was doing it?" You questioned. He had to provide answers at this point.

"Yeah." He replied.

That was it. A simple 'yeah'. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Oh come on Itachi, what is going on?"

"First, you'll answer what you were dreaming about."

"Oh my god, for fuck's sake! It was you! Obviously it was you!" you raised your voice, hoping no one else in the house could hear.

And just as the thought managed to process itself in his brain, you could see his dick twitch underneath his boxers. You both froze as seconds passed.

"What... were you touching yourself to..?" You managed to force the question out again despite your shyness at this moment.

"YOU, y/n. You in my shirt, in your fucking drunken, half asleep state, grinding your hips on my bed. That was until you fucking woke up without telling me."

"What?? Me??" You replied.

"God, of course I was. You showed up to my house looking... well.. the way you did. I couldn't stop thinking about it while I was out."

"So it was because of my outfit you got turned on?"

He scoffed. "Y/n, do you really think I haven't noticed you haven't been here for like three weeks?" Every sentence that was said he inched closer and closer to you. "You see this?" He looked down to his bulge. You were speechless. "Nobody's touched it in weeks. Except me. And anytime I have, I've been thinking about you, your face, your..." He paused.

"My what?" You asked, pressing him to answer.

He scooted back, realizing how close he was to you in the bed and all of a sudden looked like he had regretted those words. The entire energy shifted in the room and he abruptly went back to the very cold man he always was to you.

"Maybe you should actually sleep on the couch," he insisted.

Wow. One moment your wildest dream was coming true: his feelings were reciprocated. And then suddenly this? Was he regretting it?

"Itachi-"

"No, you should leave."

A sharp pain filled your chest and you felt hurt, beyond anything you'd felt before. You were slowly getting up to leave, disgusted by everything he exuded, but you knew he felt the same, and this was the one chance you had to fully prove it.

You turned back at him, his face turned away from you, not once grazing your skin. "Itachi, are you serious? Is that actually how you feel?" You inched closer to him. Soon, you were no more than a centimeter away, as you lifted your arm, ready to do something bold. While he still faced forward instead of looking at you, your arm trickled down to his boxers, finally managing to find his throbbing dick and hold it tightly.

You weren't very successful though, because in an instant, he grabbed the wrist of your arm, lifted it off his dick and used his other hand to grab you by the jaw. Now, you two were inches away from each other's face, your breaths mixing in the space between your lips while your eyes remained locked. Itachi spoke low, roughly;

"Y/n, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"No, but we can deal with the stress of this situation after. I know what I want. I promise."

He paused as his eyes scanned between your lips and your eyes. "I don't mean that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"You can't handle this. It's too much for you." His lock on your wrist tightened.

"I. know. what. I. want."

And with that, both of your heads came crashing together as your lips met, a rough harsh kiss at first, that slowly turned into a slow sensual one as your tongues found each other.

You felt his hands wrap around you while you were still in his shirt as he found himself on top of you, his throbbing bulge meeting your bare pussy with no underwear. You both grinded against each other, giving you a feeling you had never felt before, until he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

He paused, moved back slightly and stared at your opening fully bare while your legs were spread. He acted like he'd never seen one before with a girl.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath. "Take the shirt off. Now."

And you did as you were told, leaving your bare tits in his sight as he continued to stare. He stared even more, then leant in, without touching, and whispered in your ear.

"Before I touch any part of you- and fuck I want to so badly- I need you to give me head, naked and pretty like this....... But I need to know that you can handle this, y/n. It's going to be a lot."

Your eyes met each other's as you nodded your head, willing to give him anything. And with that, he stepped off the bed and pulled his boxers down, finally revealing what he had underneath.

His thin, long dick with the prettiest, pink tip sprung out as he gestured you towards him.

"On your knees. Now."

And so you listened.

You dropped your knees to the floor and inched towards his dick, realizing that you had fantasized about it in the past. But what Itachi didn't know is that you had never given head before.

Your mouth opened wide as you let him insert it himself, a small groan escaping his lips once he felt it against your tongue.

You didn't know what to do. You knew that. But before you could attempt to make him feel good, he spoke,

"I'm going to throat fuck you okay?" And you have to take it." You nodded, and let him do what he wanted to you.

It started off slow. A gentle pace as he became more vocal, almost near moaning. But as his pace picked up, you didn't know if you could take it. He began thrusting in an out of your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat while his hands held your head, and as that happened you couldn't stop yourself from gagging.

"God your mouth feels so good on my cock."

By this point he was practically pounding into your throat, a sensation you had never experienced as tears fled down your cheek. Your eyes closed for a second, trying to catch yourself and let your throat relax, but as you opened your eyes and looked up at him, the tears from gagging turned into real tears. It was too much for you. And he could tell.

He stopped, slowly, but finally came to a stand still as tears still streamed down your eyes. "Y/n, are you okay?" You sat there on your knees in silence, embarrassed that you knew you couldn't handle it.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay," he grabbed you from the floor and lifted you up onto his bed as he got under the covers with you. Now you both were fully nude, bodies pressed against each other, but you enjoyed the comfort. It was more than just sexual.

"I'm sorry," you tried to speak amidst the tears, "I've just.... I don't know,"

"What is it? Tell me?"

"It's just that.... I... I have never given head.. And you expect so much.. I don't know what I thought. I knew I couldn't keep up with girls your age. This whole situation is just so much for me."

"Hey, shh, it's okay. Y/n it's okay. We don't have to do anything."

"But I want to," you replied amidst tears.

Itachi sighed. "It's okay. It's my fault for being so rough. I'll take care of you baby, let me show you how I've always wanted to fuck you."

Baby. He called you baby. And with that you agreed, nodding your head and leaning in to kiss him again.

This time it was sensual, your tongues licking each other as his lips trickled down to your neck, finally reaching your tits. He played with them for a bit, gently sucking and squeezing your nipples to force moans from you, until his lips trailed even further down, finally able to make you feel good.

"Such a pretty cunt," he pressed a kiss right on your clit, making your legs buckle. As his tongue flicked your clit in ways you could never imagine, you found yourself moaning very audibly; a sound you thought Itachi would never hear from you. He led you close to your release and sped up even faster, until finally stopping, leaving you upset that he didn't let you finish.

As his head perked back up, his lips red and flushed, he smirked, finally bringing his dick to your entrance, leaning in to whisper in your ear again.

"This may hurt baby, tell me if it hurts and I can either fuck you through the pain or stop. It's all up to you."

You nodded, unable to audibly form words. You simply couldn't wrap your mind around that fact that Itachi was speaking to you like this- like he wanted you. As he lined his dick up with your opening, he slowly pressed in, making way for his cock as you two watched each other forcefully- no eye contact broken. You both moaned, heavily once it finally managed to reach all the way in and Itachi leant in to kiss you as he started thrusting inside you.

His moans grew as well as his words, "Fuck, what a tight cunt," "Good girl, keeping squeezing around my cock." The pace of his thrusts increased as his thumb suddenly found your clit, rubbing it roughly and nearing you to an orgasm. As you locked eyes with his, you felt yourself coming undone the minute he spoke. "That's it- good girl, yes, yes- just like that let it out- show me how you cum" And as you reached your climax, moaning harder than you ever have before, you found yourself extremely close to Itachi: your lips pressed against his and as your mouth was open in an 'O' shape, he mimicked the same, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally caught yourself, you felt Itachi's dick start moving again inside you, and as his pace picked up you could tell he was close.

"Baby, I'm going to cum in you okay? Has anyone ever done that before?"

And as quickly as you could reply 'no', he came fully undone, groaning heavily as you felt his white cum seep out into you, almost as if him being the first person to release in you tipped him over the edge.

His body weight rested on you, skin to skin while his dick remained inside you and your breaths matched each other's. You couldn't wrap your mind around the events of tonight and how it lead to this although you'd never complain ever again in your life. From seeing Itachi pissed off at you in your bra (which was evidently because he didn't want anyone else to see you like that), to being rough and dominant, to then fucking you sensually, telling you how beautiful you were, you simply felt like you were dreaming.

"Itachi, please pinch me and tell me this is real," you urged.

"It is real, and it's perfect, but it may not be tomorrow... We may have some explaining to do."

You paused, upset at the fact that this night could not last forever.

"Well let's make it last as long as it can- you can be more rough with me... show me that side of you.. I want to experience it."

Itachi smirked, flipping you over immediately onto your stomach and into an arch with your ass in the air.

"Good, because this ass looked like it needed some smacks." And as you felt his massive palm strike down on your right cheek, leaving an obvious mark, you knew that tonight you were about to experience something sexually that you never had before.

And tomorrow's problem... was tomorrow's problem.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi x y/n #itachi x you #itachi fanfiction #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi uchiha x you #naruto #itachi smut #naruto smut #itachi angst #uchiha smut

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bumpkinspice0 · 2 months ago

Text

No One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 1/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You're an X-Man... well, you used to be. You left years ago, and in the aftermath of an attack on X-Mansion, Charles has asked you back to help repair the damage to the estate. An easy job for an earthmover like yourself. Still, after years away from your old home, you feel like a stranger again. So much has changed and you're not sure where you fit in anymore. The newest X-Men member isn't helping your mood either. You're not sure where they found Logan, and you're still trying to figure out what to think of him. The mans barely said anything to you. He's not the typical stray Charles would take in, but then again, neither were you when he brought you here.

AN: Like everyone else, my Wolverine obsession has also re-awoken. So I made a quick little 3 part fic to cope with it. Let's see if I can rest now This leans into the movie-verse of the x-men (He's tall because Hugh Jackman is tall lol) but I think I wrote it in such a way that you can imagine it in whatever version of the x-men you like best. Warnings: Emotional baggage, fluff, angst, self-doubt, anger issues?, alcohol, getting drunk, flirting, Logan is drunk babysitter, this is a little corny but I don't care, eventual smut

Series Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Stepping on the soil of the Xavier estate felt odd in a way you hadn’t anticipated, like standing on hallowed ground you’re unworthy of being on. Funny, years ago you only knew it as home. Now you’re just a stranger to the rocks beneath your feet. Still, Charles asked you back. He asked for your help.

The grounds around X-Mansion were unrecognizable.

They were decimated in this latest attack. Storm assured you all the children got out safely, thank god. The estate took all the damage. The house had been rebuilt but the surrounding lands were… rough. Ripped-up roots and protruding rocks where gardens and trees once stood. The walls of the mansion were now bare of its usual sprawling ivy, freshly reconstructed for probably the dozenth time in its life— another failed attack from another ignorant enemy.

You look at the destroyed earth around you, the real reason you were here. This is why he called you.

Soil, dirt, and rocks were where your powers lie. You could move the earth itself, sense the minerals beneath your feet, see the world around you through the touch of stone. Dozer your friends called you when you first came here— short for Bulldozer . You always hated it but it’s unfortunately the name that stuck. Now it’s just… part of you.

You weren’t the best student. You were angry when you came here at the ripe age of 13 after a rather unconventional childhood. Things were done to you you could never forgive. In a lot of ways, you were still angry. Used by the people you should have trusted most. Seen as less than human. A tool. A mutant.

And that’s when Charles found you.

The Professor took you in when he had no obligation to— and you fought every step of the way. You realize now it was your fear acting out rather than anger. Still, you were an X-Man… for a while. You thought you found your place. It was a good few years but you wanted more. You wanted to prove the world wrong. Be more than just a mutant. People always say a life well lived is always the best revenge. That’s what you wanted, a good life you forged for yourself despite the world's hatred towards you— and you left the X-Men behind to do it.

Once an x-man, always an x-man, Charles told you the day you left. Maybe some part of that was true, but you didn’t feel like an X-man anymore. It was your own fault, really.

Months and years rolled on and picking up the phone just got harder and harder. Dropping by to say hello started feeling intrusive. And eventually, it just became easier to do nothing at all.

You stopped trying, but so did they.

No, that’s not true. Jean tried. Storm tried. A letter or two every year. Missed calls that never got returned. You don’t know why you did it… or didn’t do it. Maybe you thought it would hurt less if you just tried to close the book on that chapter of your life. Be a new person. Something without the X-Men. They didn’t need you anyway.

Really, it was probably that same fear from your teen years rearing its ugly head. Still that afraid, angry little girl.

But Charles called, and you answered, and now you’re here. You’re here to help them get back up.

You became a landscaper when you went off to make a name for yourself. Dirt was all you understood, as sad as that sounds. Still, it was work that made you happy. Funny how you left because you didn’t want your mutation to define you.

Charles treated it professionally like any other client would. The man didn’t expect charity and agreed to your usual fee plus an extra 50% to redo the escape tunnels under the mansion.

I can’t pick my home up and move it, but I do my best to keep people guessing about its secrets, was Charles's reasoning.

It was a big job. It would take you 2 weeks at least. Hopefully finishing up just in time for the returning students. You’d already been here 3 days and the emotional exhaustion was getting to you more than anything.

There was no ‘bad blood’ here. You were welcomed back with a chorus of cheers and endless hugs. It was… nice. Really nice. You did miss it here, you missed your old friends. Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling of disassociation stirring in your stomach. Yes, this was your home— your friends— but you’d alienated yourself. They’ve been nothing but kind to you and you still feel like a stranger because you left. You left and stopped trying and you’re refusing to try even now.

Why was this all so scary?

You're reshaping the east garden beds when you feel eyes on you for the dozenth time today. You turn to see him standing there on the 4th-floor balcony, overlooking the decimated gardens.

Logan .

You only met him a few days ago. The newest member of the X-Men. The Wolverine. You’d heard rumors about him before. Tales of the rage, someone more animal than man. You’re amazed Charles took in someone like him, but then again he took you in too.

You’d said less than 3 words to each other since you returned. When Scott introduced you he only gave a curt nod and lurked back into whatever corner he was occupying.

You noticed he liked to stay on the sidelines. Silently occupy space without participating. He was always there when you turned around— like a shadow. He liked watching you work, you think. You could sense him lingering outside of the tunnel entrance you started in the basement the other day. This is the 4th time you’ve caught him lingering today.

You give him a casual flip of the bird. He retreats back inside as soon as your eyes connect with his.

Fucking creep.

“Dozer!” Storm’s voice pulls you from your unplanned staring contest.

She and Jean step down into the rocky pit that was slowly starting to resemble a 3 tiered garden. You’d been working on the tunnels below the house since you got here, this was your first day outside. Even an Earthmover needed sunlight every once in a while. You couldn’t punch out your slew of confusing feelings in a dark hole in the ground forever.

Of course they’d ambush you as soon as you stepped outside.

“We have a surprise for you,” Jean announces proudly.

“What— Why?” is all you manage to say.

Idiot.

“What do you mean why?” Storm doesn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and march you out of your pit. “Come on, it’s up at the garage.”

You let them drag you there, reminding yourself that these are your friends. The ones that kept trying to let you in and you’ve been an elusive bitch to since you got here.

Try. Just try a little. They want you here. They do.

You’re guided, presumably to the garage, by Storm while Jean diligently holds her hands in front of your eyes.

“Please tell me it’s a new car,” You joke trying to lighten the mood. “My truck’s getting old.”

“Pfft, we don’t have that much money,” Jean nudges you slightly before you all come to a halt. She removes her hands.

It’s not a car. It’s flowers.

They’re absolutely beautiful. Hundreds of them in nursery trays laid out in front of the garage doors. Young blossoms but still vibrant with rainbows of color.

Despite your connection with the Earth you never had power over plants, but felt a kinship with them in a way. Both beings that thrived in the dirt was your best guess as to why. You could sense them, feel them in your own way. Your dorm was a practical jungle when you lived here. Hell, your apartment today still was.

A closer glance at the small garden reveals something more.

“It’s all your favorites,” Storm confirms, reaching down between the rows, “The ones we could remember at least. You had so many.”

She pulls out a bouquet, a small collection of the surrounding flowers. They must have made it themselves. Ororo hands it to you, her smile warm but her eyes sad in a way.

“Guys, I…” you choke out, pushing back the stinging tears.

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Jean strokes your shoulder, “The gardens are yours. A reflection of you… for the rest of us. This is your home, you get to leave your mark on it.”

“We’re happy you’re back,” Storm joins Jean in front of you, “We’re happy you're home.”

Wordlessly, you collapse into the two of them. You’d make an ass out of yourself if you tried to talk right now anyway.

Of course Jean knew how you were feeling. Of course Storm probably had the idea for this corny grand gesture. Of course, they missed you. They’re your oldest friends. Your sisters.

You’re home. This is okay. It’s all going to be okay.

__________

The sun has nearly set when you hear the garage door open from a distance, a fight echoing from inside.

“Logan, be reasonable!” You recognize Scott’s aggravated voice.

“You’re a goddamn coward,” the wolverine growls back. Jean informed you this is a regular occurrence between the two of them. You’re not surprised. Logan seemed difficult, to say the least.

You’re halfway up to the garage before you realize what you’re doing. What are you doing? Are you really going to try to break up a flight or just get a better spot for eavesdropping? There’s the roar of a motorcycle engine before you have time to decide.

“ Logan! ” Scott shouts one last time before Logan peels out of the garage— right through the rows of your flowers that rested there.

“HEY!” you shout after him. It’s no use, of course. He doesn’t bother to stop, already past the front gate by the time you reach the driveway.

Scotts stands there alone at the edge of the garage, his hand on his visor… contemplating.

“You’d have one witness if you're thinking about murder,” you make your presence known as you crouch down amongst the now mangled corpses of your garden.

Asshole.

“Shit,” Scott's posture drops, almost embarrassed. His demeanor had changed so much from that young man you knew. The leader of the X-Men, he took himself so seriously now. It was cute in a way only Scott Summers could pull off.

“What an asshole,” you rescue a box of untouched daisies. At least some of it was salvageable.

“You have no idea,” Scott joins you, finding what flowers could be saved, “I’m sorry. He’s… difficult.”

“What were you fighting about?” you dare to ask, more to distract yourself than anything.

Scott hesitates before he answers.

“We were attacked by an offshoot of the Trask Institute. Extremists we didn’t even know existed. They came out of nowhere, and they’re still out there,” You see him scowl, silently scolding himself for not knowing more as a leader. He’d do the same thing in training.

The person who always put the most pressure on Scott was never The Professor. It was just Scott.

“Anyway,” he continues, “We don’t have an exact location, but Logan wants to hunt them down. Take ‘em out at the source, ya know?”

“And you don’t wanna do that?”

“We’ve taken enough hits right now.” He adds a bushel of ivy to your pile, “Best to wait until we have our feet back under us… or if they provoke us again.”

“Wouldn’t be good to be caught with your pants down again, though.” It’s not your place to question him anymore, but you do it anyway.

“We’re monitoring them. They’re not a treat right now,” he lets out a deep sigh, shoulders dropping, “But that’s not good enough for Logan. He doesn’t plan. Just wants to go in guns blazing.”

“Ah, wild-west style.”

“Like I said… he’s difficult .”

“That seems like a nice way of saying an absolute dick .” you attempt to lighten the mood and simultaneously quell the anger stirring in your stomach. He’d ruined your gift, your welcome home present— and he probably didn’t even notice.

“He is a dick. A big one,” Scott scoffs, gaze lingering over the vegetative carnage, “I’m sorry he did this because of me…”

“Acts of random dickishness are not your fault, Summers.”

Scott actually smiles at that one.

“Did you like it at least? The flowers? The girls were so excited about it. We all wanted you to… never mind. You– you get it.”

You look at the mismatched rescues you’ve already gathered in your hands. Thank god you still had the bouquet in your room at least.

“Yeah, Scott. I loved them.”

He gives a reassuring nod. Scott wasn’t much for words. That’s okay, you didn’t expect him to be. Yes, he’s the leader but there’s still so much of that quiet boy you see in him.

“Logan will probably be gone for the night. I’ll talk to him when he gets back. I’ll fix this, Doze.” Scott assures you, that leadership role dropping so easily into place. Charles made the right choice with him.

“That’s okay, Scott. I’ll take care of it myself.”

__________

Scott was right, Logan doesn’t come back until the following afternoon. You’re on the mansion's north side with Charles, showing him your layout plans, when you hear the roar of that stupid bike again.

“Sorry, Charles,” you quickly step away from your old mentor, “I have to handle something.”

“I hope you won’t be ruining my grounds even further while you handle this,” Charles tuts disapprovingly, completely aware of Logan’s transgressions from the previous night. Being psychic, he was no doubt also completely aware of just how angry you were. Jean did say your thoughts are loud after all. Still, he lets you go without another word.

This guy had been nothing but a creep to you since you got here, stacking more anxiety on top of your already overflowing insecurities. Strutting around like he owned the place. Looking at you like a piece of meat. You’d seen too many men like him in your life. He needs to be knocked down a peg.

“Hey!” You have his attention as soon as he kills the engine. He rolls his eyes as he lazily tilts his head in your direction.

“What, sweetheart?” his face is painted over with an arrogance that was just begging to be slapped off.

You’ll happily oblige.

Kicking your heel into the dirt you send a wave through the ground. A small pillar of rock shoots up under the bike. It falls under the sudden jolt, and so does Logan along with it. The shock on his face was already worth it.

“What the hell?!” He sneers as he crawls out from under the bike.

“Why don’t you watch where you're driving next time, asshole,” You dare to take a step forward. He scrambles to his feet, a metallic ring following the movements.

Ah, there they are— the infamous metal claws. Now these you’ve heard stories about.

“That is quite enough,” Charles rolls up behind you, “I will not have this boorish display of dominance on my property.”

To his credit, Logan is the first one to drop his defenses. He sheaths his claws with an irritated shrug.

“Don’t know what the hell I did for any of this crap,” He practically mumbles. You resist the urge to throw a pebble at his head.

“You wrecked my garden!” You can practically feel the ground vibrating in your anger.

Logan looks down at his feet, remnants of the flora he’d unknowingly destroyed still scattered across the dirt.

“Hell of a place for a garden, toots,” he scoffs, kicking at the now withered flowers, “What you want an apology, then?”

You kick another small wave towards him. He catches himself on the shaking ground this time, only giving a scowl your way.

“Enough!” Charles comes between you. “If you insist on behaving like children, then you will be treated like children.”

“He started it!” against your better judgment you mockingly point a finger at Logan. Charles only offers a disappointed shake of the head.

Once a student, always a student.

Charles addresses you first, “You have my permission to use school funds to purchase more garden supplies, and I apologize on behalf of my newest pupil since he seems to be incapable of doing it himself. They were a gift after all,” he turns to Logan, “And you will take her to get them.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

Both you and Logan protest at the same time.

“If you insist on protesting then I’d like to remind you I can always make you do it in different ways,” It’s an empty threat, of course. One of his favorite tactics to use. You remember him making the same kind to you when you were a student. He sighs before making his way back inside the mansion, “I will not have more petty rivalries in this house at a time like this. See it done… Today.”

You’re left alone together, both staring down at your feet like scolded children. Well into your adulthood you’re still finding ways to disappoint Charles Xavier. You’re ashamed you let your anger get the better of you again. You thought you were past this. Better than this.

Logan may have been an ass, but he was an X-man too. A friend of your friends. You didn’t even give him a chance to fix this before you came barreling in fists first. Still, you don’t really regret it either…

Fine.

With a deep sigh, you’re the first to concede.

“I have a truck.”

Logan hesitates for a moment before finally looking you in the eye.

“I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

The drive to the Westchester Greenhouse was tense and completely silent. Now he’s following three paces behind you like a giant angry shadow. The sweet grandmas perusing the hydrangeas take one look at him looming behind you and change rows. It’s hilarious if you're being honest. You’d cooled down over the drive, you’re not entirely sure he has. Every step he takes is tense, you can feel it through the damp concrete floor.

You wonder if he’s aware of how intimidating he is. He has to be. That or he truly didn’t care. From what little you knew about this man it’s probably a bit of both.

“I don’t get why we’re here,” his gruff voice surprises you, “Can’t you just… grow more?”

“I can’t grow things,” you respond, placing a tray of tiger lilies in your cart, “Just move dirt.”

He hums and looks away in response. This was getting painful. If Charles insisted on sending you both out on this stupid little team-building exercise then you might as well try a little… for Charles.

“I can’t grow plants but I can… feel them.” You continue.

To your surprise, he actually responds. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maybe ‘ I can kinda talk to pants’ isn’t the best icebreaker topic but it’s a start. You look around rows of greenery, your attention landing on a crudely drawn sign that reads ‘ Man-Eating Plants. ’ Perfect. Most basic nurseries never knew how to take care of carnivorous plants properly.

“Here I’ll show you,” you walk over to the small section of venus fly traps. Your suspicions were correct. Brown-tipped leaves and shriveled black heads could be spotted on nearly every plant. They’d repotted them in all-purpose soil without a second thought.

“Don’t tell me you can talk to them.” Logan comes to stand next to you.

“No, nothing like that. But look,” you point at the crisping leaves of one plant. “They’re over-fertilized. They get their nutrients from bugs, not the soil. They’re roots don’t like what’s in the dirt and I can… feel that. So then I talk to the dirt.”

Logan raises an amused brow. You’re not entirely sure if it’s mocking or genuinely curious.

“So whaddya do ‘bout that?” he probes.

Curious it is. You take a quick glance around, making sure no one is close enough to see. Thankfully the massive scary man at your side and some towering majesty palms are enough cover for you.

“We take out what they don’t like in the soil. And what’s soil and fertilizer but some specific minerals.”

You’d first gotten the idea when you’d heard Magneto could rip iron directly out of people's blood. If his powers could be so precise, why not yours? It took years to master. You practiced by dumping table salt on the yard and trying to only summon the granules to your hands.

Same concept here.

You hold your hand over the small carnivorous beasts, feeling the small pellets of fertilizer mixed into their soil. You can feel the specific minerals and separate them out. Steadily, tiny pellets hovered out of each pot in neat rows and gathered above your hand. Once gathered you clench your open palm into a fist, the pellets gathering into one solid rock the size of a golf ball.

“There,” the mineral-dense rock drops into your hand, “Come back in a month and I guarantee these guys will be doing better.”

“Oh, I’m never coming back here,” despite the bitterness of his words, Logan says them with a smile. He’s teasing you.

“Well then,” you turn to him and place the rock in his jacket’s breast pocket, “There, a little souvenir to remember your forced trip to the greenhouse for being a jerk.”

You’re walking back to the cart before he has a chance to respond. The air feels lighter between the two of you now. You don’t like that you had to be the bigger person when he’s clearly been the one in the wrong but… it’s something, you guess.

Your little demonstration reminds you that you need better-treated soil if you’re going to make these gardens work. The ground around the mansion was fine but they needed something ritcher to give the plants a good head start. You could mix the soil yourself from around the area but it was infinitely easier to get already prepared bags of it here. Just a few for the topsoil should be fine. Charles said this was all on him, after all.

You stop in front of the stacked bags of various soil mixes. You reach for the general outdoor plant mix. Logan’s hand beats yours to the fuschia pink labeled bag, pulling it off the stack and tossing it over his shoulder.

“How many?” he asks, emotionless.

“Uh… let’s start with five?”

He grabs two more and effortlessly stacks them on his shoulder. He holds the other two in his free hand. He stands there holding over a hundred pounds of dirt like it’s nothing.

“Okay, what next?”

The sun is starting to set when you make your way back to the manor. The air between the two of you is decidedly less tense but it’s still painfully silent. There was… progress made. You didn’t hate him anymore and hopefully he would treat your property with more care from now on. He tried, in the only way stoic men like him can. Not with words, but with small actions. Carrying bags of dirt for hours, shooing you away from loading the truck and doing it all himself, opening the car door for you. For some reason actually saying ‘sorry’ was always so much harder than just showing you he was sorry.

You got it. Your father and brothers were the same. You wonder if he was a military man too.

That doesn’t change the fact that you hadn’t apologized either. Yes, he’d wrong you first, but you provoked him without warning. Actions instead of just talking like an adult. Yeah, actions were always easy for people like you.

And in your own fucked up little way, you’d made him the subject of your anxieties. He was new here, you’d made yourself an outcast. They all clearly adored him despite his rugged nature. Charles so clearly wanted to help this man who was too skittish to be helped. It reminded you of someone else…

You could extend the metaphorical olive branch. Offer something that resembled friendship. That’s why Charles sent you out here, but you’re going to do it your own way.

Somewhere that holds a lot of memories is coming up on the right, and you could use a drink. The sudden turn off the road jolts Logan from his empty gazing out the window.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” He reaches for the center console, shooting you a glare. You hold back a smile, “This isn’t the way back to the school.”

“We’re not going back to the school,” You pull into an all too familiar parking lot, a red neon sign already lit up reading ‘Stevie’s Bar ‘n’ Grill’ illuminates the windshield. You’d snuck over here at least a dozen times when you were in school.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“What?” He smirks with a raise of the eyebrow. He does that a lot, you've noticed.

“Look, I—” You take a breath and shift the car into park. You can do this, it’s just words, “I wasn’t fair. You did a shitty thing, yeah, but you didn’t know. And I came at you with no explanation.”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs jokingly, trying to lighten the mood you’ve suddenly soured. It works. You smile.

“It’s… weird. Being back,” you’re grip on the wheel tightens ever so slightly in an attempt to ground yourself, “I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s weird coming back to a place you called home and feeling like a stranger. Despite everything your friends are saying, you just feel wrong there. I tried to take my insecurities out on you Logan. I’m sorry.”

The bloated silence that settles between the two of you doesn’t help, but you can’t blame him. What was he supposed to say after you just bared part of your soul? You’re not expecting an apology but it hurts a little when he hops out of the truck. You’re about to yell after him when he rounds the front and comes to your door. He opens it and leans in closer than you’d like.

“How about I buy you a drink then?” There’s that stupid smirk of his again, “You said it yourself, I did a shitty thing. You drug me out here to clean up my mess, wrecked your little welcome home present Jean wouldn’t shut up about. I owe you a drink, toots.”

He leans in a little closer. You can smell the cigar smoke on him, probably embedded into his clothes at this point. It’s not an apology. Not really.

It’s an olive branch.

__________

It’s exactly the same. Old country on the jukebox, dirty floors, old tattooed lady bartenders that wouldn’t hesitate to knock someone out if they tried something. Funny how little hole-in-the-wall places like this never change. You’re grateful for it.

You and Logan huddled into the farthest booth in the corner away from the commotion. His beer’s already half gone by the time you’re on your second sip. Somehow you’re not surprised.

“How the hell did Charles get stuck with you?” You laugh as he wipes away the suds from his stubble.

“Funny, I could ask you the same.”

You playfully kick him under the table and he thankfully laughs it off. He had a nice smile… you suppose.

“He drug me in kicking and screaming,” You take another sip, glancing at the kitchen door in hopes the fries you ordered were coming. Logan leans forward, waiting for you to continue. “I… ran away from my birth family. Was on the streets for probably six months before he found me. I was thirteen.”

“That’s the most boring way to tell a probably good story I’ve ever heard,” He says before taking another gulp.

“Oh, please tell me your life story then, Mr. Wolverine.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, we’d be here a while, Darlin’.”

Well… if he was asking about you.

“I was born in Guam… I think. We moved almost every year. Mom died before I even had memories. Was brought up by a Colonel in the army and two brothers.”

“Military brat. Should have guessed.” You kick him under the table again, “Explains the temper too I guess.”

“Well, a military upbringing with a bunch of boys’ll do that.”

When was the last time you told someone about your life? And why was it so easy to tell him? He holds your gaze for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat.

“Why’d you run away then?” He asks.

“Oh, you’re gonna need a lot more alcohol in me for that, fella.” you skillfully evade the question. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to tell him everything .

“That can be arranged,” waves at the waitress, signaling for another round. You look at his practically empty mug and you're still practically full one— and still no fries. God help you.

“Your turn,” you prompt him, “Tell me something about you.”

His posture tenses.

“Not much to tell, sweetheart.”

“Where were you born?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Okay, where’d you grow up?”

“Same answer.”

“Did you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening, “Like I said, it’s a long story… but I’m missing a lot of details. It’s not worth listening to, I promise.”

You suddenly feel bad for snooping so much. He had a boundary, and that was fine. Just because you were so keen on sharing doesn’t mean he has to be.

The waitress delivers your next round along with a greasy basket of fries. Logan is the first to reach for one.

“You said Chuck drug you in kicking and screaming?” His eyes soften again, “I guess he did with me too.”

He’s trying to be friendly. Trying to be a little gentler.

“Oh?” you gently prod him to continue.

“I’m not…” he runs his hand through his pointed hair, “I wasn’t a good man… the parts I can remember. And Chuck gave me a chance. I don’t like it all the time… bein’ somewhere I don’t belong. I run. It’s what I do. But they keep havin’ me back. So… I get it.”

You suspect he hasn’t told anyone this, but he’s saying it to you. He chose you to trust for some reason. Your heart clenches.

You thumb at the handle of your still mostly full beer next to another waiting one, unsure of how to continue. You both started with the heavy shit, so there was only one way to go now. You came here to clear the air… but you also came here to drink. You take the mug and raise it to Logan.

“To the class fuck ups then.”

__________

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to buy you six drinks on a practically empty stomach. To be fair, you didn’t admit that you’d skipped lunch until drink four and by then the fries were gone and the kitchen was closed. Half a basket of fries wasn't a good substitute dinner, it turns out. Not so much a lightweight as just an idiot, but everyone’s a lightweight compared to Logan. Perk of a healing factor is he can sober up pretty damn quick when he needs to. Practically had to wrestle the keys out of your hands while you were stumbling your way back to the truck.

Cute how you thought you could put up a fight. He carried you the rest of the way to the truck, you giggling the whole way. Funny how he didn’t really mind either.

So used to drinking alone, he’d forgotten what it was like to do it with someone else. All the comradery that came with it and a few sloppy games of pool too. Kurt wasn’t much for booze, unfortunately. Hank, Jean, and Storm were always too damn busy to relax, and Scott… like hell he’d have a drink with Scott.

But this was all your idea. You brought him to a shitty bar, shared a little bit yourself with him and now he was driving you home while you poorly slurred along with whatever was playing on the radio.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

He didn’t know what to make of you when you first came. They all talked about you with such admiration whenever your name came up… which was all the damn time. You were quiet, skittish almost. Kept your nose down and got to work immediately.

He recognized what you were doing right away.

Logan understood what it was like to be part of something and feel like a stranger. Hell, that’s all he’d ever been. Just someone passing through until the X-Men. He’s still learning how to do it. Be part of something. He meant it when he said he wasn’t a good man, but he’s a better man than he was. He wouldn’t have that without Charles.

And here you come, someone who had it all and left it behind just to try to be normal out in the world. The one thing people like you could never be. Yeah, he really got it.

You admitted you were an angry kid in your drunken ramblings. He has a hard time picturing you that way— a little rebel. You shied away from talking more about personal things. Your family and whatever the hell else that past life entailed. He didn’t pry, didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than he already had. Instead, the conversation drifted into one of those that’s about everything and nothing at all. Just sharing drinks with a friend kind of conversation.

He liked it… having someone to talk to.

You’re finishing up belting Bohemian Raposesty when he finally pulls into the driveway of the mansion.

“Shows over, rockstar,” he announces as he kills the engine.

“Boooo!” You weakly protest as soon as the radio dies, “Killjoy!”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, getting out and walking over to your door. You slump out of the seat as soon as he opens it, “Come on, princess.”

You’re slumped over, curled up into the flannel he offered as a blanket. He pulls you into his arms, deciding it’d be easier to just carry you straight to bed rather than herd you up the steps. God he hopes everyone’s gone to bed by now, otherwise he’s probably going to get an earful for getting their precious darling drunk.

“You’re like the firemen… in those calendars…” you slur as he pushes through the front door, “Or a lumberjack. With those chops, you have to be a lumberjack.”

He holds back a laugh at your girlish ramblings. To his relief, no one is in the foyer. He quickly hikes up the stairs, squirming drunk girl in hand. You were already dozing off by the time he reached the top of the stairs.

Thank god.

“Whoa, deja vu,” you rub your hands down your face, “I feel like 'm 16 again. We did this all the time back ‘n the day.”

“Yeah? Who carried you to bed then?” your door is in sight.

“The Professor.” you jokingly wheeze out without hesitation. “Guy loves his brandy.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Logan scoots past your door, careful of your head. He lays you down on the bed gently, you don’t protest. He carefully unlaces your shoes while you squirm into the covers.

“Y’know, yer nicer than I thought you’d be.” You can’t even keep your eyes open now.

“That right?” Logan smiles to himself as he pulls one sneaker off.

“Mmhmm,” you nod, nuzzling your head into the pillow, “Funny, I thought the Wolverine would be so scary.”

He cringes a little at your words. He won’t hold them against you, not in this state.

“I’m very scary.”

You blow a raspberry before continuing, “No yer not! You're just a guy. A hunky, lumberjack guy who hates flowers.”

“I don’t hate flowers.”

“Right… just my flowers.”

“Yeah, just your flowers,” he pulls off the other shoe. Your feet immediately shoot up into the covers. He smooths a comforting hand over your hip. It makes him happier than it should when you don’t flinch away.

“You need anything else, darlin’?”

“Stop doin’ that,” You groan into the pillow.

“Stop what?”

“Makin’ me blush with your dumb pet names.” You admit, “Stop it.”

He smiles to himself, a familiar warm feeling rising in his stomach. He’ll leave you be for tonight. Best to wait until you're sober to ask what you mean by that anyway, if only to watch you blush a little more.

“I’ll leave you be then,” he almost feels regret when he stands off of the bed. Almost. You were drunk. Tired. There was nothing more to be said tonight.

He drags your empty trash can over to the side of the bed, just in case, and fills a glass of water for you too.

“I had fun tonight,” He says before walking towards the door. Your voice makes him pause.

“Logan?” you call out like a scolded child.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t actually hate my flowers, do you?”

“No, darlin’. I don’t hate your flowers.”

He makes sure to turn off the light and close the door behind him.

__________

#logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #wolverine x reader #logan james howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #x men #fanfic #wolverine smut

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reignpage · 17 days ago

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hello my love 💕 loving the recent updates as alwayysssss 😩 but I had a horny ask if you could, pretty please, you don’t have to but would love if you could

how often do each of the jjk men jork it? 😈 and any added details of their sesh: which hand(s), any edging/overstim, or do they play with the back door (i think Toji defo does but will NEVER admit) or you know general jorkin details 🙈

sigh, I woke up to horniess and now I will sleep to horniness, ventila98 you need holy water 😔

this was a little difficult cause I have no idea what goes on in a man's head as they jerk off but I really tried to embody their spirit, even closed my eyes and phantom jorked my imaginary penis and everything

....

Gojo:

how often?

depends on how busy this man is, I think. like if he doesn't really have much to do in a week, he'll likely do it everyday tbh. does it when he's bored is what I'm saying.

where?

anywhere really. he's away on missions often, so hotel rooms, in the bathroom, in bed, on the sofa. just anywhere he gets the urge to.

edges/overstimulates?

he edges himself for sureee, man wants to push his limits and tries to see how long he can last until the need becomes overwhelming.

choice of lubricant?

he's too good to use just any lotion, his dick is special. probably strawberry flavoured. deffo gets curious once in a while and tastes his own cum.

porn?

I feel like he doesn't really watch porn, just uses his imagination most of the time cause he's so focused on his own personal challenge. but if he does watch porn, it's of a threesome, two men one woman, totally doesn't think about a certain long haired bff 👀

Geto:

how often?

not too often, very rarely. too busy with his cult and plans for world domination. but when he gets really frustrated with monkeys and all the burden he has, then he'll seek out release.

where?

in the bath. he's kind of a clean freak, right? or at least he just hates monkey dirt, so I imagine being around so many non-sorcerers gets to him and the knowledge that he's partaking in something as monkey-like as self-pleasure fills him with a need to cleanse. and it's a bath, not a shower, specifically because he likes to take his time, to pamper himself.

edges/overstimulates?

edges too. there's a bit of internalised disgust so he tries to punish himself by pushing away the pleasure until he's sure he deserves it.

choice of lubricant?

lotion. I imagine he carries hand lotion often, he takes care of himself. and because he doesn't do it often enough to buy himself lube.

porn?

exhibitionism shit. like sometimes semi-public videos, and other times, fucking in front of a crowd. doesn't really like the aggressive porn videos, wants one that takes it slow, that builds up the torture, not just physical but also mental.

Choso:

how often?

every night. needs it to fall asleep tbh. thinks its wrong to do it during the day and he really beats himself up when he gets horny when the sun's still up. there's a lot of shame there that no one, under any circumstances, should exploit in our poor cho cho 🙂

where?

in bed. doesn't even dream of doing it anywhere else because it's too filthy, too naughty. he hides under the covers even if he's completely alone and tries to stifle his moans, biting his lip and throwing his head back against the pillows as he writhes.

edges/overstimulates?

overstimulates once in a while. most of the time he's just trying to get rid of the urge so he can sleep soon. but sometimes, he's in a mood to push himself, to extend the pleasure, to bring himself to tears. he loves being overstimulated so so so so much.

choice of lubricant?

lotion. has one right on his bedside table that he uses just for his special time. likes the vanilla scent. tasted the lotion with his cum once. he didn't hate it.

porn?

probably doesn't even know what porn is lol. if he does though, he goes wild. like he's watching every single video he possibly can. when he first starts watching porn, anything he watches gets him going. but once he's gotten over that beginner phase, he's a lot more discerning. likes the intimate videos, the one where it's at night, and you can tell the couple actually really loves each other.

Toji:

how often?

3-4 times a week. surprising? I think he's at an age where he's not getting turned on by a nice piece of ass. plus, he whores himself out, so he gets plenty of sex. he's not a pent up little teenager. does it when he's bored or when the natural need arises. morning wood is dealt with and if he can't sleep he'll jerk off.

where?

anywhere. does it in shiu's car sometimes. he jerks off pretty often in public toilets. does it on the sofa more than the bed, like if he's watching tv, he'll absentmindedly jerk off.

edges/overstimulates?

jerks off to cum most times. doesn't really view masturbation as an form or anything. it's just to satisfy an itch so he doesn't play around. but if he's feeling extra frustrated, he edges cause he knows the orgasm is better when you push it away.

choice of lubricant?

his spit and then his pre-cum. I hc he leaks a lot of pre cause of them big ass balls (is that how it works biologically, idk and who cares). doesn't have money for fancy shit.

porn?

lesbians probably. doesn't really like orgies or gang bangs. seeing too many men turns him all the way off lol. but he deffo likes the ones with a plot. sexy fireman saves slutty nurse from vibrating chair or something idk

Nanami:

how often?

a couple times a week. he's too busy to even think about sex. and he's also too stressed to get boners. I kinda feel like erectile dysfunction would be something that isn't a complete stranger to him if he's in a relationship. well anyways, he does it when he's really stressed and frustrated and he has so much tension to release. he'll take it out on his cock.

where?

in his office quite often. under the desk, not even bothering to lock the door. or in the bathroom cause he wants to be able to clean up the mess quickly.

edges/overstimulates?

usually neither. jerks off to cum too. he's always in a rush so he doesn't have time to play around. but if he does, then he switches up. edges more often than overstimulates, but he does the latter if he's reallyyyyy into it. like he's really feeling freaky and wants to feel some pain.

choice of lubricant?

lube. he used lotion a lot when he was younger and it caused him rashes, so he's since invested in proper lubricant. not flavoured, but definitely the warming/tingling kind.

porn?

only when he's in a safe space, like without the fear of getting caught. so if he's at home. and he has the time. probably watches couples too, likes the more intimate ones, the ones that focuses on the women's pleasure. he hates the fake moans and the overly produced videos. think it's just shameful. so he really likes homemade videos. sometimes tho, he does like the ones where its teacher punishing student. but that's very rare cause it gives him so much post-nut guilt lol.

Sukuna:

how often?

once in a blue moon. maybe even once in decades tbh. just doesn't really get boners and if he does, he just leaves it alone cause he's not a weak little mortal.

where?

in his chambers mostly. thinks it's a private matter so wants to keep it personal and intimate. and he also wants to take his time so he needs a place where he won't be interrupted with the sight of a snivelling little rat.

edges/overstimulates?

edges. personal challenge. wants to see how long he can last and how much he can take. could go on for hours. squeezes his base just at the last minute.

choice of lubricant?

spit. doesn't use lube, might not even know it exists, and he probably doesn't even use lotion let's be real. so he spits on his hand, or drools right onto his cock, or manifests his curse mouth onto his palm to slobber his own dick with his spit.

porn?

does not watch porn. he's traditional. doesn't even really think of anything in particular. his sexual experiences is limited I imagine. and if he does watch porn, then he'd much prefer homemade ones and bdsm, probably hates the overproduced ones too cause of all the extreme plastic surgery. he's a snob.

#jjk reactions

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tomriddleslove · 3 months ago

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can I please please please request a reverse grumpy x sunshine with theo 😭🙏🏼 i have a horrible cold rn and im pretty sure im getting a fever too and im so so close to my periods and im in some very desperate need for something nice 😭 it's totally fine if you can't or if you're busy, no pressure!

p.s. im in love with your writing! (if it wasn't obvious before)

Show a little loving.

✩ Theodore Nott x F!Reader

The one where a smitten Theodore Nott is willing to do anything and everything to see that smile of yours. It’s only a matter of time before he has to let you know - and the school mandated trip might make that a lot earlier.

A/N: This was so disgustingly cute i actually almost threw up but ig its necessary after 61 letters LOL (also @stardustsymphony ur actually amazing i hope you like it)

songs: Lovers - anna of the north

Theodore Nott had a habit of being too cheerful for his own good, especially in the mornings. You couldn’t figure out how he managed to wake up so early and still be this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

It was unnatural.

You leaned against the Slytherin common room wall, waiting for your first class of the day, arms crossed and expression set in your usual neutral state. Your friends called it a "resting bitch face," though you insisted it was just your natural look.

Either way, no one seemed brave enough to bother you this early - except for Theo, of course.

"[name]!" His voice rang out from the entrance, and you groaned internally before turning your head to see him practically bouncing down the stairs, his dark hair flopping slightly as he moved.

“Too early for that much enthusiasm, Theo,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. He always had that effect on you, no matter how much you tried to resist it.

Theodore didn’t seem fazed. He gave you a wide grin as he plopped down next to you on the stone bench. “It’s never too early! Have you seen outside? It’s perfect weather - I thought we could grab breakfast and maybe sit by the lake before class.”

“Not sure if I’m awake enough for all that,” you grumbled, pulling your cloak tighter around yourself. The dungeons were always too cold in the mornings. “But breakfast doesn’t sound too bad.”

“See? You’re already coming around,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

It was a running joke between the two of you. Theo was always the optimist, the 'sunshine' that (much to your dismay) seemed hellbent on making you smile. He was one of your closest friends, so you let him get away with it, though you wouldn’t admit how much you enjoyed his company - or how much his smile did things to your heart you didn’t entirely understand yet.

He nudged your arm gently. “I even asked Mattheo to save you a croissant for breakfast. No need to thank me, though I’ll accept compliments.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him out of the common room, the two of you falling into step as you walked through the corridors. It was easy, the way you fit together. Where you were quiet, he filled the silence with his never-ending commentary on whatever came to mind-whether it was about the latest Quidditch scores or some random thing he noticed about the castle.

Today, it was the latter.

“Have you ever noticed how that one portrait near the Great Hall looks like it’s giving people side-eye? I feel rather judged every time I walk by.” he rambled, feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “No, but now I’m definitely going to look for it.”

“See? I’m expanding your horizons,” he said with a satisfied grin.

You shot him a sideways glance. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking and you’ll lose your seat.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that always made your stomach flip. “You’d miss me if I wasn’t there.”

You didn’t respond right away, but he wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t know how to describe the way your friendship with Theo felt like it was standing on the edge of something bigger, something neither of you had quite dared to name.

And maybe you weren’t ready for it just yet. But when he sat down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed under the table, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.

Theodore hummed contentedly as he reached for the little pot of sugar, dumping three heaped teaspoons into his coffee like it was perfectly normal behaviour. The steam rose lazily from the cup, and he stirred it absentmindedly, flashing you that familiar, easy-going smile.

“Have you packed for the astronomy trip tomorrow?” he asked casually, as though he hadn’t just committed a serious coffee crime right in front of you. “Apparently Tromsø is absolutely piss cold at this time of year. Draco was telling me.”

“I’ll help you pack later. Just so you don’t forget something important. Like, I don’t know, an extra jumper for me.”

You shot him a glare. “Sure, Theodore. I’ll just pack your entire wardrobe while I’m at it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of asking,” he replied, grinning again. “Just the scarf, though. You know, my lucky one.”

You snorted. “That hideous green one? Absolutely not.”

“Blasphemy,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, [name].”

“Good,” You deadpan, turning to look at him.

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with something between disbelief and amusement. “God, Theodore-” you chided, pointing at his cup with disgust, “is that not just sugar with a side of coffee?”

"Well someone needs to make up for the clear joy discrepancy in this friendship." He defended, taking a long sip as if to punctuate his point.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto your face. “Right, because your never-ending cheerfulness is the only thing keeping us all from a dark, miserable existence.”

“Exactly!” he declared, entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m performing a public service, really. One smile at a time.”

There was something ridiculously charming about how he just… didn’t care. Theodore was all lightness and laughter, one could argue too much so for a Slytherin.

“I wouldn’t need to drink quite so much sugar if you’d stop glaring at me like I’ve just murdered a puppy.” he teased, bumping your knee lightly under the table. “Honestly, one of these days I’m going to get you to smile before 10 a.m. Just you wait.”

You scoffed, but the warmth in his tone made it impossible to stay annoyed. “You’d have better luck with a Patronus charm.”

"There's a reason why I'm top of the DADA class" Theodore shot back with a cocky grin.

Despite yourself, you felt the corners of your mouth twitching upward, and before you could stop it, a smile crept across your face. Quickly, you took a sip of your coffee to cover it up, but Theodore noticed.

If you saw the way he looked at you, you'd know he was in love then and there. The way he almost melted into your expression, eyebrows almost furrowing as he looks over at you. Just as he opened his mouth, ready to say something - something he wasn’t even sure he was ready to admit to himself- Pansy’s voice cut through the quiet.

“Well, if it isn’t day and night sitting over here,” she chimed, plopping down next to you with a knowing smirk.

“Merlin’s sake, Theo. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” Pansy’s voice broke through, dry and unimpressed as ever.

“I reckon the sugar’s the only thing keeping him tolerable,” Mattheo said, slouching into his chair and eyeing Theodore’s cup with disdain. “Otherwise, we'd have to listen to him drone on about defensive spells without end.”

You snorted into your coffee before you could help it, the sound surprising you. You couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up, covering your mouth as you shoot Mattheo a glare that was only half-serious. It was loud - unfiltered and genuine, and when you glanced up, you found Theodore staring at you with that easy smile, his eyes warm and a little too soft. Even with Mattheo’s jab at his expense, Theodore couldn’t bring himself to be mad, not when the sound of your laughter was still ringing in his ears.

“Right, like I’d ever come to you for life advice, Mattheo,” Theodore muttered, finally tearing his gaze away from you, though his grin lingered.

Mattheo shrugged lazily. “Probably shouldn't. I’m a terrible influence."

You let the three of them fall into conversation as you zone out, sipping on your coffee. Their chatter faded into the background as your mind wandered, focusing instead on the upcoming trip. The Astronomy class’s trip to Tromsø was all anyone could talk about lately.

And as the pessimist you were, all you could focus on was how damn cold it was going to be.

You were right.

It was cold - too damn cold.

As soon as the group stepped off the train in Tromsø, the icy wind cut through your layers like they were made of parchment. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, teeth chattering despite the heavy coat you wore.

"Bloody hell," you muttered under your breath, glancing around at your classmates as they all shivered in the bitter chill. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"

"Because it’s Norway, and we’re going to see the Northern Lights," Pansy answered with a 'that's so obvious' tone, bundling herself up in a fur-lined coat that looked like it cost more than your entire wardrobe.

You shot her a look. “I don’t care if we’re going to see dragons dancing in the sky. It’s fucking freezing.”

Pansy only rolled her eyes, linking arms with Lorenzo as they trudged ahead through the snow-covered streets. The rest of your group followed suit- Draco, Mattheo, Blaise, and, of course, Theodore- who was surprisingly unfazed by the weather, despite the hideous green scarf he insisted on wearing.

By the time you arrived at the lodge where you were all staying, your fingers were numb and your patience thin. The lodge was quaint, wooden, and cosily tucked away at the edge of the forest, the surrounding snow-capped trees giving it a 'hallmark christmas' charm.

You all shuffled into the common room, where the housekeeper with a rather large bushy moustache greeted you with thick blankets and far too much enthusiasm for someone who lived in such a cold climate. Everyone split off to their rooms, getting settled before heading out for the evening’s stargazing expedition - one you had organised amongst yourselves. You were sharing a room with Pansy, while Theodore was bunking with Blaise.

Once you'd unpacked, you met the group downstairs again. The fire crackled in the hearth as the others talked about what to do before heading out for the night.

Theodore appeared by your side, leaning casually against the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. "So," he started, that familiar grin tugging at his lips, "what do you want to do?"

You frowned at him in confusion. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because I want to do whatever you want to do," he replied simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "I don't care. I'll just go along with whatever everyone else is doing."

But Theodore wasn’t having it. "You always say that. C’mon, humor me."

Before you could argue, Mattheo walked past and clapped Theodore on the shoulder. "Come on, Nott, stop making her overthink. Let’s go grab some snacks and freeze our asses off while we wait for the lights," he said, and with that, the group started bundling up again, ready to head out into the freezing night.

The sky above was almost too perfect - as though it had been plucked straight from a postcard. It almost compensated for the bone numbing chill, the sight of string-light lit stalls far too pretty to make you feel grumpy.

For a while, though.

You trudged along beside Theodore, bundled in so many layers that it felt like your entire body had been wrapped in blankets. The long puffer jacket you wore reached nearly to your knees, and your scarf-wrapped around your neck at least three times-barely left room for your face to peek through. You couldn't help but grumble to yourself, tugging at the edge of your gloves to make sure no skin was exposed to the biting cold.

Theodore, of course, noticed immediately.

"Merlin's beard, you're waddling," he teased. "If you added another layer, you might not be able to walk at all."

You shot him a glare from under your knitted hat. "I'd rather waddle than freeze to death."

He chuckled, eyes flicking over your bundled-up form with an almost too-pleased look on his face. "I don’t know, it’s kind of cute. You look like a disgruntled penguin."

You snorted, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Glad you're entertained."

"Come on," he coaxed, nudging your arm lightly, "I bet under all those layers, you're secretly enjoying this. You’re just too stubborn to admit it."

"Enjoying this?" you asked incredulously, gesturing to the freezing air and the snow-covered ground beneath your feet. "I’m wearing half my wardrobe just to avoid becoming an icicle."

Theodore shrugged, his easy grin never faltering. "Still cute, though."

"You're insufferable, Nott," you muttered, scowling as you slap his arm.

He grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself for pulling that almost-smile out of you.

"Oi! We're gonna go see if we can get some hot chocolate and blankets before we set up for the evening, You guys just guard our spot before someone else grabs it." Blaise yells from a short distance, and Theodore nods as you groan. You wanted to be in the cosy warm lodge - not out here on an isolated ledge in the middle of god-knows where whist your friend traipse around the quaint markets.

You look up, momentarily stunned as the half sarcastic curses that were about to escape your mouth dry out on your tongue. Ripples of greens and blue entwine, seamlessly dancing through the dark that otherwise shrouded the night-sky. It wasn't magic, only charged particles from the sun colliding with gases in Earth's atmosphere, causing them to emit light in vibrant colors, typically seen near the polar regions (courtesy of muggle book you had read on the journey here) but it was nonetheless enchanting.

Surprisingly, your voice broke the silence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Theodore nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Yeah… it really is.”

There was a brief silence, and when you glanced over, you found Theodore watching you instead of the sky, his expression soft.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to make you smile.”

You huffed, turning your gaze back to the sky. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I like seeing it,” he said simply, his voice so sincere it made your stomach flip.

You didn’t respond, the weight of his words lingering in the cold air between you. After a moment, he sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “I’ll have to try harder, then.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your tone was more fond than irritated now.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “And you’re stubborn.”

You turned to chastise him, ready with another quip, but the words faltered when you looked up at him. The moonlight caught his features- soft shadows dancing across his sharp jawline, his eyes gleaming with that look that you had seen far too often these past few weeks. His scarf, that hideous green thing, was crooked as always, the ends flapping slightly in the breeze.

Your hands moved instinctively, reaching up to fix it. "This scarf..." you started, your voice trailing off as you focused on straightening it.

Theodore’s gaze never faltered as he watched you, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if committing it to memory. "You know, I’m not sure if you actually hate the scarf or if it’s just an excuse to keep touching me."

You scowled, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mumbled, but even you could hear the wavering in your voice.

His smile widened, but he didn’t say anything more, just stood there.

Before you knew what you were doing, you tugged him closer by the scarf, pulling him toward you. "This hideous scarf of yours," you muttered under your breath, using it as a flimsy excuse to hide the fact that you were really just closing the gap between you.

Theodore’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his breath fogging in the cold air between you. And then, without another word, you closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like both of you were testing the waters. But the second his lips moved against yours, something inside you shifted. It was slow, unhurried, his hands gently cradling your face as if he had all the time in the world. The cold air disappeared entirely, replaced by the warmth of his touch, his closeness, and the feeling of him - consuming you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, Theodore’s eyes were still on you, that stupid smile of his making your knees weak.

"You didn’t even fix the scarf," he whispered, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, still trying to catch your breath, but you couldn’t fight the grin that broke through. "Shut up."

But Theodore only laughed, leaning in again to steal another kiss.

Your gloved hands came up, fisting the thick wool of his jacket as you-

“Finally!” Pansy’s dry tone rang out, followed by the sound of scattered applause.

You and Theodore broke apart, startled, only to find the rest of your group approaching, grinning like idiots.

“What the-?” you began, but Blaise interrupted, holding up a handful of galleons.

“We made a bet on how long it’d take for you two to finally snog," he said with a grin, pocketing the winnings. "I was getting worried."

Your face burned, and your grumpy demeanor returned in full force as you glared at them all. "I hate every single one of you."

But before you could storm off, Theodore just chuckled, pulling you into his side with a warmth that made it hard to stay annoyed. "Don’t worry," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, "they’re just jealous."

Grumbling under your breath, you leaned into him as the group settled down.

Perhaps it wasn't all too bad.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott #theo nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you

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monayen · 7 months ago

Note

how about jealously with randal n reader? :3 like reader is jealous that randal is hanging out with satoru more than her while dreaming so reader hangs out with sebastian, making randal jealous ?? sorry for my bad english, its not my first language :))

Jelly | Randal Ivory

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - master/pet play, fingering, unsafe sex, praise, licking/biting, possessive tendencies, jealousy

a/n - exams have been a bit occupying unfortunately :( i still have a lot of concepts and requests i want to get to, you guys have awesome ideas and i love seeing them in my inbox !! u should see my google docs rn lol

It's hard to not scoff when Randal wakes up and immediately starts talking about his dream. It's become an annoyingly common thing now ever since Randal informed you about his little dream friend, Satoru Tsukada. Even seeming disappointed when he doesn't get a dream with him in it.

Almost every night he snuggles up against you in his coffin, nibbling at your ear and whispering cheekily, “I really hope you come into my dream tonight, imagine the fun we’d all have!” He pulls you closer, elating how proximity raises the chances of this happening.

You suck in any annoyance and nod because you're still his good pet. Though, internally you fight the urge to roll your eyes and admit “I don't really care about that guy.”

A gripping feeling twists in your stomach each morning when you wake up without the shared lucidity, hearing about all the fun Randal had that night.

Sheepishly, you push it down and let him talk.

Though, you tune out most of it – for your sake, as an overwhelming feeling of envy washes over you whenever you do pay attention to his words.

A thought reverberates about not being enough for him. Is the novelty of a new friend enough to push you away? It's not like you don't already share Randal’s attention. Sebastian exists, of course.

You two got along well enough, much to Randal’s satisfaction. Though, you admit that your focus lied more on the unpredictable gakuran-clad young man.

And despite your initial standoffish attitude when Sebastian was gifted to Randal, you quickly learned he wasn't a threat at all. He just had some unfortunate circumstances and ended up here.

Therefore, you didn't have to fight for attention and Sebastian seemed to appreciate that you were at least cordial to him. Nobody was in the way.

So maybe this is why you have so much more of a problem with this Satoru character. You don't know him, and the only way you could is completely up to chance.

How do you compete with that? Based on Randal’s stories, they tend to have a ball of a time. You really try to convince yourself that you're better, that you're overthinking and Randal isn't losing interest in you.

But at night, when his arms wrap around your body, it's clear his mind is somewhere else. Satoru is a part of him, always in the dream-plane, waiting for him with open arms. Somewhere where you aren't.

Jealousy ten-folds and insecurity festers within as time goes on. Your own stressed voice tells you to relax, but an even louder one continues to complain.

On a day where Randal is occupied with Luther, leaving you and Sebastian alone in the house, you can't seem to keep it in anymore.

Words seep out of your mouth, “Am I doing something wrong?” It's quiet and Sebastian immediately looks uncomfortable.

“Um… with what?” He shifts in his seat in the living room, avoiding eye contact with you. He's not to blame, you rarely had conversations that didn't involve Randal. Maybe you should have put more of an effort to get to know him before dumping this on him. Still, you continue.

“I don't know, what if Randal doesn't like me anymore?” You speak softly, but the candidness is clear. Sebastian isn't used to this vulnerability, he was just brainstorming an attempt to escape (again) but now he has to comfort you…

Thing is, he doesn't know how to do that. Maybe he would feel more sympathetic if Randal wasn't a complete freak, (he still doesn't understand your affinity for the young man) but you haven't done anything bad to him. He doesn't want to be rude to the only normal enough person here.

“He definitely likes you.” Which is the truth, anybody with eyes could see the relationship dynamic. You always doted behind Randal, doing anything he asked of you. And Randal was more than happy to have you crawl around for him if it meant you’d get a kiss.

It goes to say that you might seem more like a lover to Randal than a pet. He thinks himself lucky for not walking in on you guys yet…

Which might be why he was taken by Luther, Randal probably finds it more fun to torment and bother someone who wasn't as willing as you–

“Wait… I dont– I don't want to steal Randal from you! I actually want to get out of here–” He stammers before you cut him off with a laugh. A change in tone, good sign. “I know that, don't worry.”

Sebastian sighs and relaxes a bit, but still fidgets with the white sleeves of his god awful outfit. It then clicks it might be about that dream guy Randal hasn't stopped boosting about recently. He almost certainly wants to roll his eyes. “Is it Satoru?”

Immediately, you jump up and grab at Sebastian’s arms. “You see it too, right?! It's so annoying, I’m so sick of hearing about it every morning! We haven't even met the guy, but apparently they are best friends. Fucking stupid.”

Sebastian nodded along to your words. To him, it was annoying but it also occupied the eccentric weirdo. Better he’s entertained by Satoru than him. Still, he lets you complain, and it becomes evident to just how much this was eating you up inside.

You both don't realize how time has passed until Randal stampers into the room with an ominous black bag that is dripping green slime. Neither of you question it.

“Whatcha’ talking about?” He swings the bag over his shoulders and nearly falls back with the force, catching himself.

Sebastian notices how you immediately smile at Randal despite the complaining you've been unloading onto him for the past couple hours, how ironic. “O-Oh, nothing much. How was your outing with Luther?”

Randal shrugs and then drops the bag onto the couch, undoubtedly staining it with the goopy substance. Luther will have a problem with that later.

“Within bounds. Now I’m just tired… how about we go to sleep!” He says it more like an order than a suggestion.

Your smile immediately drops, “It's like 6PM.”

“Actuallyyyy, 6:38.”

---

You want to smack yourself for not being more welcoming to Sebastian, he actually isn't that bad of a guy. He’s still a bit awkward, (he seems to constantly radiate it) and he has no shame in expressing to you how he wants to escape the house. You giggle and give him a “good luck with that”

Still, he's easy to talk to with the ever growing free time you have now. Though, despite your attitude, a part of you still craves to be around Randal.

You wish you could prod into his brain and yank Satoru out of there. If he really wants Randal, he can fight you for it. You doubt he’s even strong outside of the stupid dream-plane he lives in.

Unfortunately, you haven't been paying attention to the conversation with Sebastian, and now he's pausing for your reply. Sweat dropping, you let out a laugh, hoping it fits as a response.

He stares, “You think my goldfish getting run over is funny?”

“No, no, I don't– wait? Run over? How’d–”

The bewildered sentence doesn't get the chance to finish before the sensation of oddly cold, but familiar, hands wrap around your waist and drag into an adjacent room.

“Randal– what do you want?” It comes out more harsh than you expected, and you can see the slight grimace on Randal’s face.

His hands leave your waist, now folding across his chest, “Long time no see.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Well, you've been a bit busy.”

Randal pauses before letting out a big laugh, “Doll, I always have time for you!” A traitorous blush spreads across your face, huffing, “Doesn't look like it.”

Randal steps a bit closer, “I thought Sebastian was keeping you plenty company.” His lips tug upward, “You two have gotten close, that's cute.”

His eyes contrast his smile, there's a clear coat of irk behind them. Holy shit, is he… jealous? You perk up, suddenly gaining some confidence… and leverage.

“Yeah, we talk.” You show him a coy smile, his eye twitches for a second. “Awesome… about what, exactly? Tell me all the deets.”

“Oh, y’know.”

“I don't, I literally don't.”

“What does it matter?” You hum cheekily before adding, “Anyways, isn't it past your bedtime right now?"

It was far too bold, but god, did it feel good to say. Randal reacts accordingly by pinning you against the wall. He's peeved, and you should really be scared, but you can't help but buckle at the proximity.

Randal’s voice is unusually low, his eyes staring into yours, “You’ve forgotten who you're talking to, doll. I think I need to remind you, heheh.”

Your confidence is beginning to crumble, but you still manage to get a reply out through quivering lips, “Sebastian is right outside.” Randal grins, “Good.”

A gloved hand trails your torso before it finds its way under the hem of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down and past your ankles. You have to hold back a gasp when a cold finger circles the pearl of your clit.

Randal draws closer, his hot breath pressed against your neck. A warm tongue laps up and down the side before teeth bite down and suckle on your sensitive skin.

Adrenaline and ache build as the latex of his fingers push into your entrance, pumping in and out of you. “Randal–” A moan gets caught in your throat when he speeds up slightly, angling upwards with his movements.

Randal rasped, continuing to mark your neck with bites and hickeys, “No-no, pet, you know my name.”

You do, “Master, please, m-more!” It’s shameless, and it’s aloof to how upset you were earlier. Now, you burn for more, bucking onto the length of his fingers.

You couldn't help but surrender to the overwhelming emotions – the hold he had over you was a force you couldn't deny, and certainly not control. There isn't anything holding you back from this. Not Satoru, not Sebastian, not even yourself.

Randal’s mouth hovers over yours, words tracing quivering lips, “That's right,” He grinds his erection against the tender flesh of your front, “ah–, let me hear those pretty noises!”

His touch only accentuates the pure excitement washes over the both of you, neither being able to remove sweaty hands off one another.

Randal pins you further, hiking your legs up around his waist. His exposed cock rubs against your slick and pleading heat, relishing in the intoxicating shudder of your body.

Your head rests on his shoulder, mouth agape as fingers tug at his hair, “S-Stop teasing!”

You wrap your legs around him tighter in any attempt to heighten the friction, and Randal responds by gripping the bottom of your ass harder, “So needy, aren't you? Is that why you’ve been in such a mood? Can’t– ah, can’t handle not being the center of my attention? So jelly!”

An onslaught of groans fill the room, sputtering and begging for more. Randal grins against your neck, “Hah, how about you show me how much you need me?”

Randal then puts you down and pulls away, ignoring your whines about the wait. He shuts you up by motioning you to where he now sits, legs spread with his cock erect in his lap.

Sweaty gloves hold onto your waist as you eagerly hover over his lap, “Can I? Can I, master, please?” Randal gives you a dopey smile, leaning to kiss your cheek, “I love it when you beg!” You groan and rut against him impatiently, “Oh, oh, yeah – get to it, pet.”

He’s right, you are incredibly needy. Despite all the sass and complaints, you truly can't help but rut into him.

For now, you’ve completely given up any resentment towards Randal, instead relishing in the awaited pleasure he's giving you. A choir of slapping skin, moans, and praise cascade on the walls with pure want and need behind them.

Your eyes never leave his, with Randal out right refusing to blink. He lays out under you, red spreads across his face, whether it blush or blood. His skin also glistens with sweat, downright uncomfortably sticky for any normal person.

You aren't that type of person though, you're better than Satoru or Sebastian, or any other person he can waste his attention on.

You want him to want you, like how you do him. Truly, you’ll take everything he gives and only ask for more.

Randal’s fingers start to dig into your hips, but he's nice enough to let you keep your own pace, encouraging your incredibly desperate movements.

“Good pet,” His fingers dig even deeper, his own hips thrusting fervently against yours, “show me how much you want this.” His eyes never leave your body, admiring the way you bounce and quiver.

Randal finds it addicting and oh-so adorable how he can completely make you come undone around him. He thinks himself kind for letting yourself prove how much you love him, but there really wasn't anything to worry about in truth.

He knows you’re so loyal, constantly aching just for him. But he still saw those sideways glances, how your mouth would pout, and the muttering between you and Sebastian.

Your pettiness, though annoying, was because you missed your cute master… enough that you confided in Sebastian, leaving him out in turn.

He can admit he got a bit caught up during his time with Satoru, but he's thankful now that he's reminded that nothing compares to how you surrender yourself to him. Randal knows you are his. He’ll make sure to show you time and time again.

Randal arches and humps into you, licking his upper lip to taste the blood that rests on it. Your own grip lies on his hips in an attempt to keep balance, the pace becoming feverish and hard to keep up.

You croak out, feeling the knot in your abdomen grow tighter and tighter, “I think–” Randal eagerly nods, the twitch of his cock evident.

Your thighs quake, loud moans echoing off the vintage wallpaper of the room, orgasm ripping through you. Randal pushes his fingers into your hips one last time and follows suit, writhing under you.

Immediately, you allow yourself to rise a bit and lay on top of the young man, feeling how his rapidly breathing lungs press against your own.

With labored breath, you choke out, “Can you… just spend more nights with me?” It's shy compared to the actions seconds earlier, but you still hold onto Randal’s form with that same desire.

Randal laughs, slapping your bare ass cheekily, “If you wanted my attention,” He licks your earlobe, a hand resting on your waist, “You could’a just asked, doll.”

You huff but still lean into his touch, pausing for a second before asking another question,

“...Do you think Sebastian heard us?”

“One grillion precent.”

#randal ivory #randal ivory x reader #ranfren #randals friends #cw master/pet play

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whileyoureinschoolidothisallday · 26 days ago

Text

Fixing MHA's Ending So It Follows Through With Its Core Themes (And It Basically Fixes Itself)

I don't like retconning at the best of times, but turning what started as essentially a Hope focused narrative into a "realistic" tragedy at the very last second is some wild work.

So I'm gonna do what I do best as a fic writer and fix it!!!!!

The Summary

So, I'm pretty sure all of us were on mostly the same page up until the very last panels of the Shigaraki fight (Having AFO being just "born evil" was probably the start of things not being great, but I'm willing to let that slide because it doesn't really effect the overall function of the story that much). Once that and the epilogue started is where I mostly saw people being like ????????? to a lot of choices, so I'm going to focus on those two sections only.

We're gonna be rewriting:

-The deaths of the Villains + Kurogiri (obvs)

-The overall post-War actions and reactions

-The continued existence of the Commission and the Hero Rankings

-Hawk's fate

-Spinner's fate

-A liiiiitle tweak to Chisaki's fate

-Slight tweaks to the Todorokis

-and finally What to DO with the Villains + Kurogiri now that they're alive

And we'll be starting with...

Toga

Now for a battle that was so beautiful, this really did end up completely falling apart.

I'm not gonna justify every single Villain Rescue I do, but Toga's really comes down to one simple reason for me:

Her bullies literally wanted her to die as atonement.

You don't...typically make your character's fate agree with their bullies or abusers (otherwise???? why are you explicitly portraying them as bullies and abusers to the audience if you want us to ultimately agree with them?????)

Throughout most of the story prior to this, Hori made it a staple in the show that dying for the cause, hurting yourself for the cause, martyring yourself or otherwise telling someone to kill themselves for the cause is a vile thing to do. So, it makes ZERO sense why he would suddenly retcon this at such a critical moment, especially since he already set the stage for it to be wrong in the first place.

(also does anyone also think it was weird/creepy that Hori LITERALLY has her do this with Twice and she very explicitly says "Don't be stupid I don't have to give all of my blood away"? No? Just me?)

Everything happens the same, she still thinks she's sacrificing herself, "If only, if only", blah blah blah

AND THEN...

Hawks

This is such low-hanging fruit plot-wise it actually feels offensive that it went nowhere

Nothing happens with Hawks. We all say it, fans and non-fans alike. He is wasted potential incarnate. His story is a circle and it so easily did not have to be that way because of one simple writing decision:

Hawks and Toga share a blood type.

Up until now, it really did seem like Hawks learned nothing from Jin's death. The first thing he says when he sees the clones is, "We have to kill them now!" But then, picture him still battered and broken from his fight with AFO, wingless, but there is still SOMETHING he can do to save someone's life.

And he puts the needle in his arm instead, and before she can question it, he tells her Jin would want her to live. He's not gonna make the same mistake twice.

(I also think it'd be nice if he said something like how lucky she is, to really go full circle with the Jin story, but I'm not trying dialogue here lol)

And that leads us to...

Shigaraki (and Kurogiri!)

This is a double feature because with the way I'm doing it, I can't save one without the other.

So, something that happens during this and is super anti-climactic and seemingly pointless is Midoriya losing his hands. He gets em back in like 2 seconds, because Eri gives him a surprise rewind almost immediately after. The actual point of it was just to show the brand new rule that physical damage that happens in the vestige world also happens in the real world, so that killing Shigaraki a few chapters later would still make sense.

We're gonna get rid of that rule entirely and just say that Midoriya does not lose his actual arms in the fight, and psychological damage in a ghost world does not reflect physically in reality (or idk. If you DO want that to happen, then just say the embers of the vestiges protected him one last time or something).

And because he doesn't lose his arms, Eri still has a surprise rewind to use.

But before we get to that, we actually have to save Shigaraki. So, here's the super complicated rescue rewrite I came up with. Ready?

Kicking AFO out of his brain and giving him back full control over his body simply does not kill him.

That's it!!!! That's really all that needed to happen!! It was a very conscious choice to make that kill him! It's actually more work and details to kill Shigaraki than it is to save him!! Hori already went out of his way to say that Nana's vestige protected him so that he wasn't completely swallowed by AFO, just so he could say goodbye before fading away anyway. What if, considering the fact that hatred of Nana is what damned him, love FROM Nana actually just plain ol saves him? Full stop? We come full circle. It would make it a fantastic mirror to the Todoroki fight and solidify the theme that love from your/a family, even a broken one, will save you!!

And then further in the background, Bakugou doesn't randomly kill (?????? Even after reading it again I'm still really confused about how Kurogiri dies. I think this is what happens?????) Kurogiri, and instead starts to lose control like they feared. But then, refusing to give up on him, Aizawa hits him with the now-available Rewind Juice and it finally, finally stabilizes his mind for good.

The day is saved.

And that just leaves...

Touya

Unfortunately my stupid husband can't stop trying to kill himself for 2 seconds despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise, so there's really nothing I can do about the extent of his injuries

However, there's LOTS I can do about the way we're treating said injuries! =D

First of all, because Touya is my favorite, I do wanna allow myself the space to briefly rant about how his entire situation was handled because brother. first of all. It's so incredibly obvious that he was supposed to die on the battlefield with his comrades. That man had no fuckin eyeballs by the end of that fight, bffr. And then it was like Hori remembered the thing about the noodles and was like 'oh shit I better at least wrap that up lol' so he brought him back--eyeballs and TEARDUCTS magically intact btw so naturally the audience with reading comprehension was like 'oh he's healing somehow I guess'--just to get that specific moment on the books (and maybe just to draw Touya in his Batman Who Laughs era because I mean he does look pretty sick in the tank) and then turned around and killed him again. With no explanation what the random functioning tearducts and magical regrowth of eyeballs was about.

Like...my guy, you ain't gotta do all that. Again, it's so much harder and more complicated to kill him than it is to keep him alive. Not to mention he was killed OFF-SCREEN. WE DON'T EVEN GET TO SEE ANY--IF ANY--CONVERSATIONS HE HAS WITH SHOUTO OR HIS FAMILY, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF NOT KILLING HIM ON THE BATTLEFIELD. INSTEAD OF THE SEXY SHIRTLESS SERVING-FACE-AT-A-FUNERAL IMAGE OF TOUYA WE COULD'VE SEEN A FLASHBACK OF THEM TALKING AND HIM SMILING AND BEING HAPPY WITH THEM FOR WHATEVER TIME THEY HAD AND THAT STILL WOULD'VE BEEN MORE SATISFYING. Y'KNOW. BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF THE TODOROKI PLOTLINE?????????????VSSSBBNM,.;;PUSAAXXGHIIRWDFGG

But anyway.

Fixing Touya's death is really simple. We can do two things, actually.

Work with the deus-ex Ice Quirk a little bit, make the Phoenix Theory canon. Ice heals him, the tank is a giant fridge. Lo and behold, it would explain why he magically healed eyeballs and tearducts. It's an incredibly slow process, but eventually he'd heal enough to be out of the tank and in a normal hospital setting for the rest of his recovery. It also gives him a goal to pursue for the future, I.E learning how to control the new side of his powers and mayybeeee getting interested in studying Quirk Biology in the process 👀

He simply!!!!!! Doesn't die!!!!!!!!! Out of ALLLLLLL the MHA characters, I would 100% believe you if you told me that Touya Todoroki nevertheless persisted. That's like...his entire character. You don't even need to give me a reason. His entire character up until now has been 'the one that's somehow still alive' to the point that the fucking Dr. Eggman lookin ass mad scientist that brought him back to life in the first place (in WORSE condition) was like 'yeah no idea how he's still here that's scary'. I'm sorry, the entire fucking show I've had to see A. An old man without a face with a back alley ventilator system shoved directly into his stoma that's somehow fine and talking perfectly, and B. Another old man missing his ENTIRE digestive tract for years and is still up and walking around somehow with no G-tube or colostomy bag to be seen, so I think by the power of God and Anime, Touya could probably survive his injuries and it would be within the realm of believability for the show. In fact, it's LESS believable that he stayed alive through all that by spite alone and then when he finally gets offered love and acceptance, that determination and tenacity to stay alive suddenly goes out the window. If anything, it should've made him MORE determined to live.

Sorry I got carried away with that one. But there. Everyone is saved and the core themes are intact.

Now we just have...

The Overall Actions and Reactions Post-War

Gonna sum this up really quickly:

-The cameras never turned off. They're built for Quirk resistance because they're a fucking newscast in a Hero society if their technology broke every time there were heavy Quirk exchanges there would never be any fucking news. Making them conveniently lose footage so none of the civs can see the Villains humanity is just rubbing salt in the wound and serves no narrative purpose in line with pre-established themes. Everyone saw what was recorded, and it helped the Villains' cases for rehabilitation.

-We do not censor out this battle in future history books. Everyone is very familiar with the final fight and the events and circumstances leading up to it. It is not erased from public memory as soon as possible. In fact, it's frequently studied and referenced when making new policies to avoid making the same mistakes. Hori. Wtf.

-We do not reinstate the Hero Rankings in any way shape or form, and Shouto is the biggest voice in dismantling this system. Voila, this is now actually the story of how they all became the greatest Heroes, because they aren't ranked. They're all literally the greatest Heroes, and so will everyone after them.

-This IS actually portrayed in the epilogue, but yes, let's be LESS reliant on Heroes and police and MORE invested in the community!!!!!!! Even more so than what's portrayed!!!!! Take another bit from Spider-Man: Anyone can wear the mask!!!!!! Let's make a world where Heroes have too much time on their hands and not just make more of them, right????????? Remember that????????

-WE DO NOT REINSTATE THE COMMISSION. WE GOT RID OF THEM CORRUPT HOES FOR A REASON!!!!!! NO A CHANGE OF THE GUARD IS NOT ENOUGH TO FIX IT WE'RE NOT 7YRS OLD!!!!! HORI. WTF. The only thing I want them to be in charge of is licensing Heroes. I want these fuckers to be the DMV of the Hero world and that's IT!!!!!!!

Which brings us to...

Hawks' Fate

I don't even fuck with this man like that, but he did not deserve to become CEO of the organization that groomed and abused him since he was a child when all he wanted to do was chase tail and fuck off to a beach somewhere. Considering the fact that he also, like, killed people he shouldn't have, let him retire like Endeavor, please. We're done giving the old guard power and privilege, especially when they explicitly did not and do not want it (and when they did have it, they misused it). The only thing I want this man involved with is Toga's recovery alongside Uraraka. Specifically, I want him paying for it and anything else she might need. Fuck it, you know what, make HIM Endeavor's personal aide instead of Rei!!!! He gets to be a little simp and Endeavor gets a replacement son to fill Natsu's spot. Everyone wins.

(He does deserve that hairline tho. I ain't fixin that.)

So that leaves...

Spinner's Fate

I'm not changing much here, besides the fact that now Shiggy is alive and I think they should be ✨Roommates✨ eventually (and obviously he's gonna be much less riddled with survivor's guilt). I still think he should write that book, but I also think that with his multiple Quirks, he should team up with scientists to understand how Quirks work in the body (and maybe get some of them removed from his).

And next...

Chisaki's Fate

I just think this guy needs to be in the same place as the other Villains, at least for a fraction of the time. Why is he just...out. He was also in that daycare and could definitely use some help before we just let him loose in the streets because he said sorry (Can the League just say sorry then??????????).

I do think afterwards he should get involved with something chemistry related tho, cause those bullets of his came in clutch.

And on that note...

The Todorokis' Fates

And by Todorokis I mean two of them, specifically Rei lol

Yeah, she's not gonna be Endeavor's nurse for the rest of her life lol. That man has more money than God, he can hire an aide like everybody else. In fact, they're not even living together. Do you remember how earlier in the series, he gave them a new house? So they could live away from him and he would be in the old house by himself? I liked that plan. Let's go back to that plan. I'm not gonna go as far as to make them divorce, if they're together they're together, but I think separation is a necessary must at this point because if they MUST stay together, they should at least try dating for once???????? Girl was actually bought like maybe they figure out if they even still like each other at all, or ever did.

(Also, I have to laugh as a motorized wheelchair user that Hori drew her pushing Endeavor all happy and blissfully. Motorized wheelchairs are not meant to be pushed like that lol. They have push features for emergencies and small around-the-house distances of course, but uh, mine's 350 pounds without me in it. It's not usually anyone's first choice.)

But there is one more Todoroki I have a lot to talk about, so that finally brings us to...

What Do We Do With The Villains + Kurogiri Now That They're Alive???????????

We take everything from comic books except what would actually makes sense with the story lol

Surprise!!!!!! We're doing Arkham!!!!!! This is another low-hanging fruit thing that I'm almost a little offended that it wasn't implemented. Obviously Arkham has its problems in the Batman canon that we're gonna try to avoid, but I honestly think Batman villains and the core MHA Villains are pretty similar in their execution in that they are primarily mentally ill victims of society who have done very terrible things, but the audience (and Batman himself) is actively rooting for them to get better over just rotting in jail or being killed. Two-Faced has killed sooooo many people and has relapsed a ton, but I ultimately still want to see him get better because he was Batman's best friend once and a good man, and what happened to him was a tragedy. I think all the Villains deserve a space where they can humanely heal from their issues and gain support, while also being safely separated from society while they're still dangerous to themselves and others.

Oh, but Batman and his endless money bought Arkham. Who do we know who has access to trust fund money, an investment in the mentally ill, and the bonus of a medical background that could fund such a thing?

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for...

Natsuo Todoroki!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My mans graduates from college and immediately uses his money as a doctor and his inheritance to open up Rindou Sanctuary, in honor of his mother Rei and named after her favorite flower (I don't think he'd want to give Enji the satisfaction of his last name attached to his greatest achievement). He's head doctor on site and the board, and visits Touya every shift once he's healed enough to be transferred to the facility. He is very invested in his brother's treatment and refuses to lose him again--at least not until they're proper old men.

It is publicly funded by donors and taxes alike, and Enji, naturally, is always the highest donor. Call it reparations.

And there you have it! That's how to fix the epilogue. It took longer to type than think about. I could care less about canon shipping, so y'all can keep that (or not). I'm just here to fix the structural problems that have no reason to be here at this point. As I said, once I redrew lines Hori already set up and just abandoned, it pretty much fixed itself.

Hope you enjoyed it and I hope it eases the grief a little!!!!! They're alive look I fixed it!!!!!! <3

(also feel free to use anything I said in here in your own fix-it fics!!!! Just tag me so I can read them 👀)

#x-men but anime #I...don't wanna tag this with the main tag LMFAO #oh how about this I've seen this one #bnha critical #dabi #touya todoroki #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #toga himiko #league of villains #sorry if there's typos I did not realize it was 6am good lord

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angry-geese · 1 year ago

Text

The Weight - Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: smut//not osha compliant. arranged marriage au. blood/cannibalism mention. biting/size kink. unprotected sex, creampies. afab reader

synopsis: an arranged marriage au where the reader chooses sukuna instead of one of the men from her village

word count: 10.3k

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since probably last february and I finally got around to finishing it lol

jjk masterlist

As mid-afternoon turns to dusk, you realize you have nothing to show for your hours in these woods. You know, reasonably, you should cut your losses for the day, and return home. In a little over an hour, it’ll be dark, and navigating these woods will become a challenge. But winter has come and gone with a vengeance, leaving food stores low. The thought of fresh meat is too much for you to quit now.

Fresh tracks mark the once-smooth creek bed. Deer. At least three. They’ve bedded down here, as evident by the smell, and flattened patches of grass. For several meters, the tracks nearly overlap themselves, before heading off in separate directions. It's been years since you’ve traveled this deep into the woods, and those few times were accompanied by your father, or uncle. Your solitude has you jumping at every rustle of a leaf, and snapped twig. It's when the woods fall silent that you need to worry. That means a predator is near. As long as you can hear bugs, or birds, you'll be okay.

Further ahead—maybe twenty yards—is a buck that stopped to drink from the creek.

You knock an arrow, lining the broadhead up with your target. Something feels wrong. The string feels too taut. It slips from your fingers prematurely. The arrow hits just behind the front shoulder, and—in theory—should puncture the heart. A shot like that—in theory—should drop an animal like this where it stands. Today it doesn't. The buck takes off running.

Between the footprints, and little droplets of blood, a clear trail is left behind. When you do finally come upon your prey, the crickets have fallen silent. The buck lays on its side in the grass, chest heaving. You ready your knife to put the poor thing out of its misery when something—someone—emerges from the treeline on the opposite side of the clearing.

Your body is moving before you can fully process the situation. You flatten yourself out on the ground, hiding under the cover of some bushes. If the man does see you, then he makes no note of it. He draws closer, stopping to kneel beside the buck. It’s too dark to make out his face. Something about him has the hair on the back of your neck on end. He hauls the carcass up onto his shoulder, turning to return in the direction in which he came.

The absurdness of it all has you frozen. You blink several times as if to make sure this isn't your mind playing tricks on you. Once reality sets in, you’re back on your feet, chasing after him.

“That's mine!” You say, hoping the volume of your voice is enough to scare off the thief. It isn't.

What you first assume to be another trick of the lighting becomes a horrifying reality as you notice the true size of the man. The man—being, or whatever he is—towers over you, completely dwarfing you in size. Mild annoyance is all that is visible on his face as he turns to you. From the deer, he rips out your arrow, tossing it at your feet. The broadhead has snapped off, as well as the shaft is bent. If you so desire, you suppose you could repair it. Not that you have any wish to. Sometimes it is simply better to cut your losses.

But you have more pressing things to deal with right now.

“And just what do you plan to accomplish, little lamb?” He asks. “A deer like this can weigh as much as a grown man. Do you plan to carry this back all by yourself?”

It’ll be tiring, but not impossible. Gutting and dressing it here would remove a lot of unnecessary weight, but would render plenty of valuable meat and organs useless. All that extra meat and skin could be used better elsewhere…

You are overcome with the urge to run, yet his gaze has your feet firmly planted on the ground. Your eyes fall to a small red splotch on his kimono—a blood stain. It can't be from the deer, it's far too old. It’s not until your knees knock together that you realize you’re trembling.

The action of him moving closer causes a cry of panic to leave you, unintentionally calling out for your father.

“What—who are you?!” You ask as you scramble backwards.

“I am Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, my dear,” he says. “Now, shall we get this back to your home?”

Fear threatens to overcome you. Even if you could draw an arrow in time, you doubt it would truly hurt him. Yet, in spite of your fear, you know he has no plans to harm you. Once you’re in sight of the village, he sets the deer down, and gestures for you to take the lead.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask. You’re certain the look on your face suggests you still expect him to eat you.

“Why do you ask?” He says. “Maybe I wanted the location of your home. It seems there are plenty of sacrifices here for me.”

“Wait a minute!” You say, eyes widening with fear. A mix of panic and guilt consumes you. “You can't-”

A look resembling amusement crosses his face. “I mean no harm to your village,” Sukuna says, “but in five years, I will return to claim what is mine.”

The strange man would vanish upon reaching the outskirts of your village, and in the nearly five years that follow, you would not once traverse so deep into the woods. On several occasions, you would try to retrace your steps, but would never once come across that clearing. When you would bring it up to your father, or any of the other village elders, your concerns would be brushed off, or outright ignored. Years would pass and slowly, achingly slowly, you would forget about the man in the woods entirely.

The coming spring brings your twenty-eighth birthday, and the looming threat of being an “older” unmarried woman.

If you had any say in the matter, you wouldn't get married at all. Plenty of older women exist, happily unmarried, yet your mother insists that you must find a husband. Any attempts to convince her that you’re fine with the way things are, fail. Once it became clear you weren't going to seek a husband on your own, your mother took upon the task of finding a suitor for you. Over the course of several months, meetings were arranged with various men, and with each rejected one, your mother grew more desperate to find the perfect match.

Your mother insists you're cursed. Your father thinks you’re simply unlucky. When you asked how marriage was supposed to fix that curse, she had no answer for you.

In the months prior to your birthday, your mother proposed a deal to you: meet with another man—the son of a wealthy merchant. That if this meeting went well, even if you didn't marry him, she would stop pestering you about getting married. Tired of her pestering, you relented, and agreed to meet him. And as the days draw closer, you only feel dread towards him.

The outcome of tonight has already been decided by you: failure. Whether your mother knows this or not is hard to tell. Judging her tense nature, you suspect she knows your plans.

“I was already married at your age,” she says, tightening your obi, “I used to have a dress just like this.”

“The difference is, you knew him already,” you say, “and I am meeting a stranger.”

“I am simply doing what I think is best for you,” she says. “This is your chance to get out of this village—to live a better life! Don't you want that?”

Her eyes meet yours in one last pleading glance. It makes you wonder; did she have such a conversation with her mother? Did your grandmother go through such trouble to match her to your father? Or did this come easier to her, than it did to you?

You suppose he’s handsome. The silks he wears are clearly expensive, with threads like woven gold. His features are sharp—what one could describe as noble, but you find him truly dull. But he is scrawny—squishy, with hands that show he has never worked a day in his life. The little conversation he makes is dreadfully boring. His father is an older man, with a graying beard, and sagging eyes. His mother is considerably younger, dressed in blue, with a small scar on her chin. Her silky black hair falls down her back. The little conversation you do have is short, but polite. The typical small talk you would have with a stranger.

Your mother does her best to talk you up. She’s gotten pretty good at that over the past few years. Your father interjects here and there, but it's your mother that does the majority of the talking.

“She’s strong. A talented hunter. Good with a knife.” Your father says. This time, you’re paying attention when he speaks.

Your potential father-in-law seems unimpressed with your father’s attempts to talk you up. Perhaps if you were a son, this conversation would go differently. If you were a son, your mother wouldn't be so stressed about you being married before 30. Your growing irritation mounts when you set down your cutlery, turning to look the old man in his eyes.

“And what about him?” You ask, motioning to his son. “Look at him—how is he supposed to give me a strong child?”

The energy in the room seems to shift entirely. Your father nearly chokes on his wine, but his eyes are firmly trained on your mother. She glares daggers at you, gripping her spoon so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

“What?” You ask. “I am the one getting married. Don't I get a say in this?”

Are you trying to screw this up? Your mother’s face seems to ask.

“A good father controls his daughter,” the man says, “especially one with such a sharp tongue.”

“I can serve this village, or I can control my daughter, but I cannot do both,” your father says, “she’s not a child anymore, she can make her own choices.”

That earns a small smirk from you. Leave it to him to stand up for you.

“That is exactly why this is so grievous,” the man says, “my son will not marry an old maid with an attitude problem!”

“And I will not have in-laws as insufferable as you!” You bring your knife down on the table, narrowly missing his fingers. This little outburst of yours at dinner will certainly have consequences. Your mother’s wrath is only the beginning.

They don't leave in nearly as big of a hurry as you’d expect from a man who was just threatened with a knife, but they do hurry out, making certain not to look back.

“Maybe we should have offered to let them stay,” says your father, “it’s not safe to be out on the road after dark.”

“We’re lucky to not have them send guards after us for that,” your mother says, and for once, you agree with her. “Threatening a man like that is a new low, even for you.”

After such a disastrous dinner, you’re not particularly eager to go find your parents. You linger towards the outskirts of your village for as long as daylight allows you to. Once it grows too dark to stay out, you begin the trek back to your home, praying your parents—or at least your mother—have simply gone to bed. Maybe your father will forgive such a night, but your mother certainly won't. Over the past year you’ve done enough to earn her ire, this will not help your case.

Sitting outside is your mother, her eyes trained on a dying fire. Although she doesn't acknowledge you, you know she’s noticed you. Part of you wonders if you should speak first. Would that even improve your situation, or simply make it worse?

“You win.” She says.

“What?” You ask.

“You win. I told you I’d stop after this, remember?” She asks. “Besides, I stopped liking him after that comment he made about your father.”

You still don't believe it's over. No tone of accusation clings to her voice, yet you can't help being suspicious.

“I don't get it.” You say.

“I just want what's best for you.” She says. “I want you to live a long and happy life. Are you really content to spend the rest of your life in this village? Stuck taking care of your brother and father?”

“That sounds like the preferable outcome,” you say, “compared to having in-laws I can't stand.”

“Where does he get off calling you an old maid anyway?” She says.

A small smile crosses your lips. This is about the best she'll get, and she knows this, a grin crossing her own face. A moment that should be one of triumph—at least for you—seems to be more sorrowful. The older you grow, the further apart you drift from her, and with that comes a strange, aching loneliness. You long for a time in your youth; the days when she would play dolls with you in-between house chores. You miss the tiny clothes she’d sew for them. The furniture made of timber scraps she’d hand paint. Oh how long has it been since she last braided your hair? Or brushed it? Or helped you wash it?

Did she have these same feelings about her own mother? Or was it easy for her? Does she too mourn those moments you used to share?

You don't remember her always looking this old. That’s not to say she isn't beautiful still—age does not nullify beauty. But she looks tired now. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent than ever. The skin around her eyes crinkles when she laughs, or smiles. Her hair is littered with grays—like little silver threads. She looks like you.

From within the nearly pitch-black woods comes a scream; not that of an animal, but of man. When the scream rings out again, it’s much easier to understand. It’s a cry for help.

Emerging out of the treeline, and following the main road is a man, half hunched over and clutching his stomach. He makes it several yards into the village before collapsing. Enough blood pours from the wound on his side that you can smell it. A metallic taste lingers in the air, stuck to the back of your throat. Blood.

You’re the first to run over, followed shortly behind by your mother. The injured, shambling figure collapses upon the road. It’s only as you draw closer that you recognize him, albeit barely: the man from dinner. His clothes at one point in time were yellow in color, but are now stained a deep brown in color from a mix of dirt and blood.

“We need a doctor over here!” Mother cries out, her voice echoing against the wall of trees.

Someone must hear, because eventually a group of men burst out of a nearby house. They make quick work of rolling him onto his back, granting you a better look at his wounds. Three long slashes across his stomach. From your mother comes a gasp, followed by her clamping her hand over her mouth. The young man succumbs to his wounds before anyone is able to help him. He’s lost too much blood. People don't come back from that.

“Was he stabbed?” One man asks.

“Looks like knife marks,” comments another.

“Not a knife,” the oldest of the three says, “claws.”

“Do you think a mountain lion got to him?” You ask.

The oldest of the men shakes his head. “Cats like that don't get this close to towns. They avoid people if they can. A bear, maybe; if he got in between a mother and cub. But even that seems unlikely…”

This is why you don't go into the woods after dark. This is why you lock your doors and close your shutters tight when the sun sets. Bad things lurk out there, but they are not bears, nor are they mountain lions.

Something about the height of a person bursts from the treeline. Atop the legs of a chicken is a head only humanesque in the way corpses are. Sunken eyes sit atop a shriveled nose, and cracked lips. Its skin seems to be hanging off bone. Still, it takes you a moment to register that it’s fear you feel. Your palms prickle with sweat, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The urge to flee is nearly unbearable.

More of these creatures emerge from the direction of the nearly-set sun. They appear to come in all sorts of horrid shapes, and sizes, the smallest being no larger than a bird, and the largest about the size of a cow. Fear threatens to overcome you entirely. At least twenty of the creatures leave the treeline, although you suspect more remain hidden within it. The temperature must drop by ten degrees. It’s as if all the moisture has been sucked from the air. Those who dared leave their homes to look at the source of the commotion have now retreated, locking their doors behind them.

The collar of your dress jerks backwards as your mother struggles to drag you back towards the house. “Get your father!” She says. “Hurry!”

“What about you?!” You ask.

“Just get your father,” she says.

And you do so, running as fast as your feet will take you. The chilly night air renders your fingertips numb, and your face burning. He’s asleep in his chair, and wakes with a gasp as you shake him, motioning frantically to the door. The words that leave you are incoherent, but he must understand your panic. He retrieves his sword, telling you to lock the door behind him. You don't listen. You never listen, you can hear your mother say now. A sudden burst of light draws your attention—a nearby house has caught fire. Those strange, horrid creatures swarm around it like flies. Several neighbors have exited their houses, and begun throwing buckets of water upon the blaze, but the fire is too strong.

And from the treeline emerges that man from the woods all those years ago.

In five years time, he has not aged a day. His cruelly sharp features appear the same within the flicker of the firelight. They fall before him on their hands and knees, heads bowed in fear. You only realize you’re shaking when you move closer to the window, peeking out through the crack in the shutters.

The King of Curses, he called himself, all those years ago.

His mouth moves as if he's speaking, but you can only make out about half of what he says. The ringing in your ears is too loud to make sense of much.

“My offerings lessen, my shrine lies defiled,” he says, “and you humans sit here complacent. I gave you five years to make amends and this is what you do with it?”

You know, logically, that your father is going to die. He is no match for the creatures, let alone that strange man. You must do something. Even if it is beyond logic, or reason, you would not forgive yourself if you did not act.

“Then what is it you require of us?” Asks father, his hands trembling slightly. You can tell it’s more than just the dancing light of the fire. He is truly frightened.

“An offering,” says the King of Curses. “A sacrifice.”

“We have nothing to offer,” says father, “the river has run dry of fish—our crops have withered! We have nothing to offer, we’re starving regardless!”

The King of Curses eyes drift to your hiding place, before landing back on your father. “You said it yourself.” He says. “You’ll starve regardless. What difference does it make that you should give up one of your own? Won't there only be less mouths to feed?”

Your arrows rattle loudly as you pull one from your quiver, knocking it. From this angle, and sitting half crouched on the ground, you can't bring it to a full draw. Not only does that mess with your aim, but alter the power of the shot too. That can be accounted for. You adjust your angle to be a little higher—right above his head. When you release the string, the arrow gives way with a thunk! The shot is dead on; your arrow whistling towards the demon king’s head. He brings his spear up, knocking it aside. Several heads whip back towards you, their faces contorted in a mix of anger, and fear.

You’re not quite sure who grabs you first—it must be more than one person. Several sets of hands are upon you, dragging you from the house. Any attempts to fight it fail on your part, there are simply too many people to kick off. They drop you in the dirt beside your father. You don't dare look at him. You know his eyes are filled with fear.

“We’ll—we’ll put it to a vote,” says one of the elders. “All those in favor of sending this woman as an offering…”

Two other elders raise their hands. Then several of the men. Then, reluctantly, the mother of a neighboring family. Even more hands pop up after that. Although maybe a minute passes, it feels like hours. At least a dozen sets of eyes are on you.

“Out of all of you,” the demon king says, eyes following across the crowd that’s now gathered, “she was the only one of you to fight back, yet you punish such an action?”

Silence is the only response the crowd can conjure up. A groan so loud that the ground rumbles beneath it rings out as the house gives way, collapsing in on itself in a rain of ash and embers.

“Wait!” Your father cries out, “let me go in her place!”

Several more incomprehensible sentence fragments leave him. He pleads and pleads to no avail. The last view you get of your village is of the spirits retreating back into the woods.

It must be hours before your state of shock wears off. Dawn breaks bleak and gray over the horizon. The temple he brings you lies in ruin. You must be one of the first people to set foot in here in years. A cracked foundation gives way to walls overtaken by vines. Dust and ash layers the ground, and every surface imaginable.

Sukuna must not expect you to try to run. Nothing is done to prevent you from escaping. There are no doors to lock. No ropes or cages. The only real barrier of escape is the trek home through miles of woods. Should you wait until sunrise, the trip won't be impossible. It is the fear of what remains for you that prevents you from returning.

Would there even be anything to go back to? Is it even worth it after what they did? They did not hesitate as they offered you as a sacrifice. Whatever happens to them… they have it coming.

Such thoughts do little to comfort you. If anything, they make you feel worse. What little strength you have left goes into stopping the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. You manage. Barely.

Unable to find it within you to do anything else, you sit. Only a thin, woven mat separates you and the hard floor. Footsteps draw closer down the hall, the noise only amplified by the high ceilings of the temple.

Uraume. That’s what Sukuna called them. A strange being that looks human, but appears to be more than such. They enter the room, a shock a white hair visible before the rest of them is. They wear the kimono of an unmarried woman, in vibrant shades of orange, blues, and pinks woven in the pattern of flowers. Hooked around one arm is a pail of water. Under the other arm is a roll of cloth. Contained within the cloth is a mix of hygiene supplies; a sponge, comb, various vials of oils and creams.

Uraume treats you like one would treat a frightened animal. They kneel on the ground before you, leaving about the distance of a foot. When you don't flinch, or shy away, they move closer.

“You’re covered in ash,” they say, “let me help.”

With the sponge, they dab away the bits of dirt and ash that have caked to your skin. Human contact like this should, in theory, be intimate, but in this situation it feels like anything but that. Uraume’s touch feels cold, and clinical. With them comes a strange, uncanny feeling, like you are not looking into the eyes of a human, but of a corpse. The reason behind their kindness is a mystery to you. It feels wrong to question them, but you can't help but think there is something sinister behind their actions. Their casualness suggests this isn't the first time they’ve done this. That thought does nothing to comfort you, so you quickly push it aside.

Next, they move on to your neck, then down to the exposed bits of your chest, and shoulders.

“Such a beautiful dress,” they comment. You reply weakly, saying it belonged to your mother. Their response to that is little more than a hum.

They take your hands, scrubbing the dirt from under your nails with a small brush. After that, a comb is worked through your hair, taking great care to not pull on any knots that have formed. Once they can work their hands through your hair with no resistance, they stop.

Uraume leans back to examine their work, deeming you presentable. Gathering what they brought with them, they make their way towards the door, turning back once to say: “I’ll bring something to eat.”

The events of the night have left you without an appetite. You probably should eat something. It’ll be important to keep your energy up. The little adrenaline left within you has you jumping at any small noise, or shadow. Sleep feels like an impossibility right now.

About ten minutes pass before Uraume returns carrying a platter. Tea, pickled vegetables, a hunk of bread, a bowl of some kind of stew. It smells quite good, but you merely pick at it. Like your hesitation to sleep, you can hardly eat. Uraume sits with you, picking at their own food, but never finishing it. A million questions race through your mind, although you can barely bring yourself to ask them.

Would they even answer you? Or does this have a more sinister plan behind it?

Finally, you find enough of your voice to ask: “Where is…?”

“I’ve prepared a bath for master Sukuna,” they say, “he’ll be joining us shortly.”

Your attention turns back to the bowl in your hands, which soon slips through your fingers, breaking upon the floor. What little appetite you had is soured entirely. This is it. You’re nearly certain you’re going to die here.

Your attempt to clean up the mess is stopped by Uraume. They insist upon cleaning it themselves, taking great care not to cut their hands on the shards.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, shocked at how small your voice sounds.

“Master Sukuna likes to play with his food before he eats it,” they say.

Uraume leaves shortly after, taking the leftover dishes with them. You remain seated, eyes moving between the two exits of the room. One takes you to the entrance of the temple; you’re not certain where the other leads. The first is almost guaranteed to be guarded, though. Trying to run now is a bad idea. But when will you get another chance?

You will not sit idly by as death draws closer. Like the previous night, you feel as if you must do something. It was your own foolish actions that got you into this mess, says a small voice in the back of your head.

Trapped under your heel is a small pottery shard, left over from the shattered bowl. It’s small enough to conceal in your palm. Sharp. Better for stabbing than it is slashing, but it will be good enough at either. Once Sukuna returns, you’ll get your chance.

The rush of adrenaline has started to wear off now, rendering your arms weak, and your legs shaky. If you were to sit down now, you’re certain it would be a while before you get back up. It is the body fighting itself; fight or flight mode mixing with exhaustion. If you do not stop and rest, your body will give out on you eventually.

So you stand there and pace, clutching your shard of pottery close. Maybe thirty minutes pass in the time it takes Sukuna to enter, but it feels like hours. Adrenaline turns into fatigue.

Tears burn at your eyes again, but you’re able to blink them back. A mix of shock and betrayal has left you nothing short of exhausted. Sukuna’s towering stature only helps to make you feel like a lamb about to be devoured by a wolf.

“I trust Uraume has been of assistance,” Sukuna says.

Unsure of how to respond, you simply nod.

“What now?” You ask. “Is this the part where you’re supposed to eat me?”

That earns a laugh from him, although it’s strange sounding, as if the very action is foreign to him.

“Many decades ago, the people of your village—among others—would hold a festival during harvest season,” he says, “it was meant as a sign of peace. An offering in return to not raze their homes,

“The people of your village have grown laze, and complacent. They have forgotten their place as humans, and needed to be reminded of it. You are simply another offering. Something to tide me over.”

Sukuna draws close enough for you to feel his breath across the back of your neck. You shudder. Adrenaline courses through you once again.

This is it, you think, you are going to die.

In one last attempt to preserve your dignity, you aim for his jugular, and swing the shard of pottery towards it. A hand wraps around your wrist before it can make contact. A second set of arms are trapping you against his body before you can even register it. His breath is warm against your cheek, teeth inhumanly sharp in the dim light.

“You are entertainment.” He says.

That same set of sharp teeth drag up your neck. Some sick sense of pleasure runs up your spine at the feeling: being a little lamb in the jaws of a predator. It would take so little effort from him to render you lifeless that it’s almost comical. Adrenaline turns to delirium in your mind.

What happens if he finally grows bored of you? It’s not a matter of “if” in this case, it’s a matter of “when”. You have an idea of what will happen once he does.

You don't hear him leave, so much as you notice his lack of presence.

Sukuna is gone for most of the following day. In that time, you explore much of the temple in an attempt to gain your bearings. It’s sparsely furnished, and dilapidated for the most part, but there are some signs of life. On a lower level of the temple is a bedroom, where the bed alone is as big as a room in your home. Must be Sukuna’s. Another, smaller room appears to be Uraume’s quarters. A small kitchen branches off the hallway not far from this.

The later half of the day is spent trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. Thick woods surround the structure, spreading out for what must be miles. To the North is a creek. If you followed it, you might possibly meet up with the river by your village. Whether you could do so before nightfall is another question entirely. Finding yourself stuck in unfamiliar woods past dark may prove to be a death sentence.

Even if you could go back, would you want to? Their lack of hesitation towards sacrificing you still rings clear in your mind.

Sleep seems to be the best way to pass the time. There isn't much else to do around here. In the hours before dusk, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, and into the woods that surround the temple. You justify it by saying that fresh air will do you good, not that anyone asks you. The only person around to do so would be Uraume, though you don't see much of them.

Heavy fog settles upon the trees, causing the day to take on a quiet, sleepy nature. Little cream-colored mushrooms pop up through the layer of moss and dead leaves that blanket the forest floor. Carved out over years of use is a dirt path, barely wide enough for a person to walk through. Following it for about ten minutes brings you to a pond. At one end, the start of a small creek leads downhill. Little fish are visible just under the surface. Leaving your socks and shoes at the shore, you wade out into the water. It’s cool, but not chilly. The mud feels soft underneath your feet. Being outside helps settle your nerves a bit. Outright terror is replaced with uneasiness now. While not entirely better, it’s an improvement to your previous mood.

From the treeline opposite of the path you took, a figure enters the clearing. Sukuna. Adrenaline spikes through your body at the sight of him. Your pulse quickens, and fear prickles in your palms. Every cell of your being is telling you to run.

Sukuna motions with his hand for you to follow him. It is not an offer, so much as it’s a command. Following a short walk on a stoney path, you find yourself overlooking a rock cliff-face, and a small wood hut. Scattered about are several steaming pools, which bubble up from the ground, layering upon the cliff-face like stairs.

Sukuna undressed at the wood hut, leaving his clothes hanging upon the rafters. Your gaze remains firmly on the ground. You should not be seeing him like this. This feels far too intimate. You try not to let your gaze linger too long, but can't help it. The sight of his back alone is hard to tear your eyes away from; the muscles, the tattoos, the curve of his spine. There is a strange, supernatural beauty to him. You eye him with caution, yet curiosity.

Why has he brought you here? What does he want? Is this simply a ritual before he eats you?

Certainly, if you were to scream, no one would be nearby to hear you.

It strikes you just how easily his teeth could tear through your jugular. How his sharp nails could shred your flesh to ribbons. Sukuna is far faster and stronger than you, outrunning him is not an option.

Following his lead, you undress, and leave your clothes folded neatly upon a rock. Next comes the task of taking down your hair, and combing through it with your fingers, finding it still knot-free from the events of the previous night. Only then do you approach the largest of the three pools, and wade into it. At its deepest, it's a little above your waist. You could walk all the way across and never once have your feet leave the ground.

You settle upon a rock towards the edge, half submerged in the pool. The hot water feels nice upon your sore muscles. Your eyes trail ribbons of steam as they curl off the water. A wave of self consciousness rolls over you. You sink further into the water, crossing your arms in front of your chest. It’s up to your chin now. Sometime during this, it starts raining. The droplets leave little ripples across the surface of the water. Fall brings the smell of damp earth, and decaying leaves with it. Something that should be comforting only makes your stomach turn.

“You look frightened, little lamb,” Sukuna says.

Is it so obvious?

“I still don't believe this isn't some attempt to eat me.” You ask, though you’re not certain you want the answer.

“Had I wanted to eat you, I would have had Uraume make preparations.” He says.

You still don't believe him. How many people met their fate at his hands before you? There is no reason why you would be lucky—why you would escape your fate.

“Then what is it you want from me?” You ask.

His expression softens, shoulders lowering with a sigh. The space between his eyebrows is not so harshly creased anymore.

“I am not like the typical curses you have met,” Sukuna says, “I require your permission.”

“Permission for what?” You shrink back as he draws closer, stopping mere inches from you. He’d tower over the tallest man, let alone someone like you.

A kiss. Hungry, and overbearing, but a kiss nonetheless. Sukuna has to lean down, and you have to crane your neck up to complete the action. His movements feel stiff, clinical, as if he hasn't done this many times before. The action causes warmth to bloom in your chest, and spread out to your limbs. The hands that cup your face are nearly large enough to encompass it entirely. He tastes like wine, and something vaguely metallic. The thought that it might be blood crosses your mind for only a moment. You’d much rather think about other things.

“Will you devote yourself to me, completely and entirely?” He asks.

Funny, you think, had a human man asked you the same thing, you would have laughed in his face. Yet you find yourself bewitched by the King of Curses. Curious, and cautious all the same. This is not a feeling of love. It is something else entirely. You are a sacrifice, you remind yourself, this is the fate of a sacrifice.

“I devote myself to no man,” you say, “I don't see how you'd be any different.”

He hums in amusement, circling around you in the water. He stops behind you, slightly to your right. Sharp teeth graze across your shoulder. Large hands trace their way up your hips, then your body, coming to rest just below your breasts. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the strange pressure that has built up. Your heart rate picks up in pace. Sukuna must be able to sense this. A low laugh leaves him as he pulls away.

“Well then,” he says, “do I have your permission to continue?”

Continue what? You wish to ask. As if against your mind’s wishes, your head moves in a nod. “Yes,” you say.

You can only imagine the look on his face as you have your back to him. He’s close enough you can feel the warmth radiate off his body. Is he pleased? Amused? Smug that all it took was a kiss to make you let your guard down?

Hands that should be calloused and rough are quite gentle with their touch. One comes to rest upon your hip, before trailing down to the space between your thighs. Seconds in and your knees seem to give out, your body supported only by him. One finger presses into you, then a second. You sigh at the intrusion. There’s little resistance as he presses into you. You’re too wet. Sukuna’s fingers are much larger than your own, though the stretch you feel is pleasant, not painful. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, drawing a low laugh from him. You can feel it rumble within his chest, which your back is pressed flush to.

Being so close to another being feels odd. The only intimacy you know is a platonic one. A familial one. This is different. Stronger. More intense. He finds the spot that makes you squirm and abuses it, toying with you like prey. It must be a game to him, you think, like cat and mouse. With one of your hands over your mouth, you try to muffle the lewd noises that spill from you. It’s a losing battle. All sorts of pleased sounding noises—from both you and him—echo through the clearing. Secretly, you’re glad this place is so remote. Should someone hear the lewd noises you’re making, you wouldn't recover from the embarrassment. He brings you just to the edge, but refuses to let you cross over. Frustration turns to desperation as you grind against him, chasing your own release. Sukuna doesn't appear opposed to your actions. He lets you work yourself up to—and through—your own release, the noises you make growing gradually more obscene until they come to a head in the form of an orgasm.

You remain in the water for a while afterwards. The layer of fog overhead makes the day take on a lazy, sleepy nature. His hands comb through your hair as you lay against his chest. Such a moment feels uncharacteristically tender for him. While you expect them to be sharp, his nails feel nice against your skin. The mouth on his stomach resembles a smirk, although the expression on his face is flat. Unreadable. A slight pang of disappointment shoots through you. You know it’s unreasonable of you to expect humanity from someone inherently inhuman. He does not—he can not—process things the way you do. Humans must appear so small and fragile to him.

You’re uncertain of how much time passes as you lay there, your limbs tangled with his. It doesn't feel like long enough. No time would feel long enough. You crave the touch of another being whether you want to admit that or not.

“It’s getting late,” he comments. Without another word, you watch as Sukuna dresses himself, and leaves.

You follow him as quickly as you can. You’re not quite fast enough, arriving back at the temple long after him. Dusk follows soon after.

You find no sign of the King of Curses upon your return. Finding yourself with not much of an appetite, you head straight to bed. Uraume stops by once to offer tea, but you decline, insisting you’re tired, and just wish to sleep. Whether or not they believe you, you can't tell. That’s about the extent of every conversation you have; polite, but short.

Sukuna must not need to sleep. Not in the same way you do. You dress down into your underclothes, leaving the rest folded neatly upon a chair. They’re not dirty, just slightly wrinkled from the events of today. You crawl into the bed much larger than you, and attempt to sleep. When he crawls into the bed beside you, you do nothing to protest.

As time passes, you grow used to his presence. Falling into a routine takes mere days. In that time, you don't see much of Sukuna, or Uraume. Maybe it’s for the best. You’re not certain what you’d say to either of them. You figure it best not to question what Sukuna gets up to in his free time. If the events at your village are anything similar, you figure it best to pay them no mind.

The longer you spend here, the more curious you find yourself. At least twice you find your way back to the hot springs. Familiarizing yourself with the surrounding woods has you growing more confident when navigating it. Animal tracks and trails reveal themselves, bringing more life to the woods.

Fall turns to winter. Rain gives way to snow, bringing in a bitter stormfront. It’s hard to tell how many days pass as the storm hits, rendering the three of you confined to the temple. Sukuna doesn't appear bothered at all by the cold, but you spend many bleak nights huddled by a fire. Sukuna approaches you on one of these nights; perhaps the bleakest and darkest one before the storm finally breaks. Your inability to leave the temple has you ready to claw out of your own skin. Never were you one to stay in one place very long.

Days have passed and you haven't spoken much to one another. Not since the day at the hot springs. You find yourself especially longing for them on a day like this, where the cold makes your joints ache, and your lips cracked. Winter is among your least favorite of the seasons. A hot and sticky summer day was always preferred over a day like this. Sukuna must sense it. He finds you curled by the fire, wrapped in an assortment of quilts and fabrics. You can't tell if it’s morning, or evening. Snow has rendered midday as dark as dusk.

You know you should get up, and toss more wood onto the fire. Should you let it die any further, it’s unlikely you’ll get it started again. Sukuna joins you in the room, sitting on the mat to your left. Finding yourself searching for warmth, you move closer to him. It’s an unconscious action at first. Once you recognize it, you can't find the willpower within you to stop.

You offer the edge of the blanket to him, basking in his warmth as the quilt is wrapped around both of you. One of his hands comes to rest upon your knee. Your gaze is trained on his face, while his remains on the dying fire.

“I don't suppose you do this to every sacrifice you get,” you say, not expecting an answer.

The corners of his lips twitch into something that resembles a smile. Much life his laugh, his smile is stiff, and rather foreign feeling. Like he hasn't done such a thing in centuries.

“You are different from the sacrifices I have received in the past.” He says.

You get the impression he is still figuring out what to do with you. Such a thought doesn't inspire confidence on your part, though you assume your situation could be worse.

You're nearly in his lap now. The hand on your knee soon moves upwards onto your thigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he palms himself through his clothes. Some sick part of you wishes to taunt him. To tease him in the same way he has done to you. You part your legs just enough to encourage him. There must be something wrong with you, you think, no normal woman would enjoy the company of the King of Curses.

This is not your typical virgin sacrifice. It is little more than that. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure. To fuck without the intent to procreate.

“I always assumed you wouldn’t have these… urges.” You say.

“Many things lost their potency,” he says. “Food was never enough to satiate, drink was never enough to quench thirst. Sex has remained the same. Primal pleasure never loses its potency.”

So he was human. At least at one point in time…

“Like I said,” he hums, “I am not like the typical curses you have met. I require your permission.”

“You have it,” you say.

Oh how dearly you wish to recreate the event at the hot springs. To feel the same build-up of emotions, and the following release. Such mindless pleasure has remained in your head, unable to be stifled by your own hands.

Off comes your kimono, guided down your shoulders by his hand. Your nipples stiffen when exposed to the open air. It is not the cold that has you shivering, but the expectation of what’s to come. His size, and calloused hands suggest his touch would be harsh, but you find to be the opposite. Sharp nails graze down your sides as he moves to kneel before you. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

His own clothes are left among the growing pile on the floor. He pumps his stiffening cock in his hand, the head of which weeps across his palm. A different kind of heat blooms in your stomach.

Sharp teeth graze across your jaw, down your neck, before eventually nipping at your shoulder. A sting both painful and pleasurable radiates from the bite. Blood beads from the two points where he managed to break the skin, quickly lapped away by him. Part of your brain is telling you to push him away. The other part is telling you to expose your neck further. You’re not certain which to listen to as you lay under him, caged within his arms. Your breaths grow ragged, turning into quiet moans as his knee nudges your legs apart. This is different from the day at the hot springs. Sukuna is seeking something more—he is seeking his own pleasure this time.

A hand finds its way into your hair, gently tugging at it. Guided by his hand, you expose your neck further to him. He laps at the droplets of blood that form, sucking dark marks into the skin of your neck. Pain and pleasure overlap in your mind. Your thighs are a mess of your own slick, and the precum that leaks from the heads of his two cocks. It’s almost comical how you work yourself up in knots at only the slightest provocation by him.

You taste yourself on him as he kisses you. The bleeding from your neck has mostly stopped now. What remains will barely leave a scar. His lips trail down your neck, through the valley between your breasts, and down your stomach, before eventually stopping just shy of your cunt. The look of him alone has you growing as wet as a virgin; his hair disheveled from your hands running through it, the muscles in his shoulders appear more prominent now. His arms hook around your thighs, although he doesn't need to bother holding your legs open. You’d do it without prompt by him. Eager for your own release, and worked up into a soaked mess, you’d do anything to please him.

You shouldn't be enjoying it as much as you are. You know you should be afraid. It would take no effort from him at all to tear through your femoral artery, and let you bleed out. You would be helpless in the matter anyway; you’re nothing more than a little lamb trapped under a big bad wolf.

The feeling of his tongue is strange. With him on his knees, bowed in what resembles worship, has your stomach in knots. The lewdness of it all has you more worked up than anything else. A strange, pleasurable tension builds within you. He is not toying with you this time, but working you over. When you do finally cum, you cum hard, riding out your high on his face. The noises he’s making suggest he’s enjoying this almost more than you do.

He must be painfully hard now. The head of his cock is an angry shade of red, and leaking precum. Using his hand to guide him, the head of his cock presses into you. You’re too wet from his previous actions to notice much of a stretch. What little pain there is crosses over with pleasure in your mind. He groans as he sheathes himself within you fully. His expression softens just enough for you to take in the features of his face. He’s quite handsome now that you’re close enough to appreciate his looks. It makes you wonder what his life as a human was like. Was he royalty, or a commoner? What was his job? Did he ever have family?

You won't get an answer out of him no matter how hard you try. This is the most human the king of curses will ever appear.

His thrusts are slow at first. Lazy. More like grinding, not proper fucking. With as sensitive as you still are, this doesn't make much of a difference. You’re still a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. Judging by the noises he’s making, he’s not far from cumming himself. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and that seems to only encourage him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders gradually grow more tense before he shudders, then visibly relaxes. A warm sensation in your cunt follows soon after; he’s cum inside of you.

You lay like that for a while: limbs entwined, bodies curled around each other. He lets himself soften inside of you until the desire to pull out hits. You can tell your hips will be sore in the morning—whenever it decides to come. What little of his seed spills out of you is forced back in by his fingers. You assume it ties into his possessive nature. It must be a way of marking you as his. The fire has long since died out, though you find the warmth from his body adequate enough.

“I don't think I can walk,” you lie, “carry me?”

Sukuna feigns annoyance, but relents, carrying you to the bed too large for any human. You quickly find your way under the covers. He finds himself in the space beside you. Fatigue hits you soon after, yet you find yourself unable to sleep.

“You were human once?” You ask.

The mood in the room seems to shift entirely. Sukuna is not one for conversation. You expected no different from a man like him. He looks at you with mild annoyance, as if deciding on his answer.

“I was. Once.” He says.

Your fingers trace across the tattoos on his wrist. “Do you miss it?” You ask. “Being human, I mean.”

“I am far stronger now than I was when I was a human.” He says. “I no longer need to eat, nor drink. I have the gift of eternal life so long as I am smart with my actions. I do not miss the fragility that comes with humanity.”

His words almost irritate you. So much more exists to humanity than what he says, from little things like sharing a summer even with a friend, tearing into ripe persimmons. Spending an evening hunched over a stew pot helping your mother. Kisses shared between a lover in the woods, or out in the fields. Stories exchanged by firelight. Intricately woven fabrics and paintings that might as well be indistinguishable from real life. So many beautiful things exist within humanity. Maybe he’s been away from it so long he’s forgotten the extent of it.

Would the King of Curses even admit he’s lonely? Or would he be too prideful to admit such a thing?

“You're sad. Why?” He questions.

“Was just thinking about my mother. That's all.” You say. “She wanted me to get married before I…”

You’re mad at her. More mad than you’ve been at anyone in your life. Yet you wish for nothing more than her comfort in this moment. A wound exists that time won't heal. Anger is not productive in fixing it. Anger only makes it worse.

This time, you are the one to initiate the kiss. You wish for it to distract you, but it only amplifies the ache in your chest.

“If you were to lose what little fight you had left in you, then this would no longer be fun,” he says.

You grow used to the ever-present shadow that is Sukuna, talking to the space beside you as if he is there because hell, sometimes he is. He is more than a mere man. He exists on a level different from you or anyone else. Your existence at this temple feels less like confinement and more like living.

“Will you join me?” He asks one day by the river.

The two of you sit upon the riverbank, watching as the water swirls below you. Spring snowmelt, combined with a recent storm, has stirred up the river bottom, turning the water murky. What was meant to be a fishing trip has proved unsuccessful.

“I would be lying if I said I haven't grown used to your presence.” He says.

“Don't be getting soft on me,” you say, half joking.

The most emotion you get out of him is an amused sounding huff.

“I want you to join me,” he says, “not in life as human, but in eternity as a curse.”

“I will,” you say.

No thought is needed for your answer, nor is there any hesitation on your part. Sukuna simply nods. That is what love is to him. Devotion. Worship. Throwing away your humanity means nothing if humanity is so quick to reject you.

Gifts begin appearing around the temple after that. Priceless jewelry, and expensive dresses. Hair pins and cosmetics. Seasons pass in what feels like no time at all. Before you know it, your third fall here is quickly approaching. Winter comes and goes—uncharacteristically bitter this year. Spring brings a sense of rebirth. The ground thaws slowly, and plant life is in full bloom. Animal life returns to the surrounding woods, showing signs in every trail around the temple.

A hunting trip brings you further out into the woods than you’ve traveled before. You don't realize you’re nearing a human settlement until you’ve stumbled upon it.

The village has changed drastically in the time you were gone, so much so that you almost don't recognize it. A full blown mill has sprouted up along the river. At least twice as many houses stand now. Years ago this street was little more than a dirt path. Sometime over the years it has been paved over with river stones. Children play in the streets. Men walk home with pails of fish slung over their shoulders. These strangers notice you and pause, returning to their homes quickly.

Your house remains mostly the same. Age has not been kind to it. One corner of the roof sags, and the wood trim has grown bleached with time. The path up to the front steps is overgrown. Sitting outside, hunched over a wash bin, is your mother.

Her hair is mostly gray now. Wrinkles mark her skin, and her joints are knobby, but you would still consider her beautiful. The face of the woman she once was is still there. The clothes she wears are of rich fabrics, suggesting your family has not hurt for money. Her sturdy figure suggests they never lacked food either.

When she sees you, her eyes grow wet with tears. And it’s as if the weight of the world has lifted off your shoulders. You want to be angry at her. You want to unload years of anger upon her. You want her to feel just a fraction of the fear you've felt. But you can't bring yourself to do it. The look in her eyes tells you she’s felt all the emotions you have.

Her movements are laced with hesitation, as if she’s deciding whether or not you're real. One of her wrinkled hands takes yours.

“I love you,” she says, “and I am so sorry.”

“I know,” you say.

She invites you in for tea, setting the table up with the nice dishware—the kind she only uses for guests. The interior of the house hasn't changed much. Your room is eerily the same, as if it hasn't been touched since the day you left. Your father’s boots, and hunting coat remain by the door, although they look as if they haven't been moved in years. Makes sense, you think, hunting is a task that grows difficult as you get older. There comes a time in every hunter’s life where they grow old, and it becomes their turn to stay home and tend the fire.

“Where's…?” You never get the chance to finish your question, the solemn look on your mother’s face is enough of an answer.

“He passed,” she says, pausing to think, “two springs ago now? Maybe three.”

Believing you would never see them again, you grieved your parents long ago.This particular grief is like an old wound to you.

“The village looks prosperous,” you comment. A bitter tone clings to your voice.

“Yes,” she says, “the past years have been kind to us. I suppose we have you to thank for that?”

She sits across from you, her eyes still wet with tears. It feels like you are holding a conversation with a stranger. Your mother regards you with a certain weariness she only reserves for strangers. Maybe it would hurt more if you had more room within you for grief.

“He never stopped looking for you, you know,” she says, setting a cup of tea in front of you. “Even after the village held a funeral for you. He never wanted to believe it. Until the day he died, he was out in the woods thinking he could bring you home.”

“I was under the impression I wasn't wanted here.” You say.

“You know that’s not true,” she says. “What happened that night was a result of fear. The elders did what they thought would preserve the safety of everyone.”

“Except for me.” You say.

Fear. Right. To them, you were simply a sacrifice. You drain the last of your tea, standing from the table. Your mother stands as if to stop you, but freezes before she can.

“Does he treat you well?” She asks.

“Yes,” you say.

“Better than any human man?”

“Yes,” you answer, although you can tell she doesn't believe it.

“Do you love him?” She asks. “Does he love you?”

“I suppose so.” You say. “As much as he is capable of loving something.”

“But do you love him?” She asks again.

“As much as I am capable of doing so, yes.” You answer.

It is not the answer she wants, but the one that is the truth. With her hands folded in her lap, she nods solemnly.

That following night you leave your village not as a human, but as a curse.

Enough time would pass that the story of a young sacrifice would be forgotten by its people; what would remain, is a tale of a love so infamous that it survived centuries.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #not osha compliant #jjk #my writing

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bqu1nns · 19 days ago

Text

hello!!! my apologies i know someone requested a q fic that i posted an hour ago BUT i deleted it, not knowing that it would delete the inbox request (im dumb) BUT ITS HERE!!! whoever u are, this is for u lol!

the perspective of where i wrote this from is that you're sal’s youngest sister (maybe 6-7 years younger than him BUT you aren't a minor to brian dont worry!!!!) but he would've never ever imagined you and brian, his best friend, to ever hook up with one another. if he ever found out, he’d probably never talk to either one of you guys ever again. also this is set in 2008 maybe ?? peak tenderloins era. i think …

brian quinn ☠︎︎ daddy’s girl

1376 words ♡

you awoke from the sound of your doorbell ringing at an ungodly hour. 2:37 am read your clock in bright and blaring red lighting. it made you jump slightly but nonetheless, you took some time to orient yourself, your heart already racing from the sudden interruption. lazily, you got up and started to question… who the HELL could that even be at my door at this hour?

you didn't know anyone that would come up unannounced, hell, your apartment complex wasn't the kind of building to let in strangers to show up, especially in the middle of the night. you grabbed a spare hoodie (brian's hoodie…) throwing it over your tank top as you padded towards the door.

then, all of a sudden, came a knock. three sharp taps, followed by a familiar, deep voice — one that you could always hear in the back of your mind.

“it’s me. baby please, open up”.

brian fucking quinn.

what was he doing here and why must it be at 2:40 in the morning? you unlock the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there, illuminated by the orange glow of your apartment's hallway. he looked… disheveled. like he woke up on the wrong side of his bed (he did). his hair was messy, like he’d been running it through his hands over and over, black hoodie with a jacket hanging open over it.

but it was his face that really made you take a second look. his eyes – those stupid, downturnt eyes that were too expressive for his own good– were tired and red-rimmed, as if he hadn't slept for a day or two.

something stinged in your heart but you broke the silence, “brian?”, you whispered softly, your voice still riddled with sleep and confusion. “what are you doing here?”.

he let out a shaky breath, putting his hands in his pockets as he looked at you through the crack of the door, “m’sorry angel”, he spoke, low and rough. “i… i know it's late and you should probably be sleeping but i couldnt… i didn't know where else to go except here”.

in that moment, you swung the door open, letting him in. he hesitated for a second, like he wasn't too sure if he should step inside but as he did, you caught the faint smell of his cologne, familiar and homely in a way that made your chest ache for him.

“i couldn't stop thinking about you hon”, he said, words almost feeling too frantic and rushed, as if they’d been bottled in for too long. “every time i try to do the right thing and just stay away, it just… it never fuckin’ works. it never works and i never want it to work. but tonight, i just– i couldn't stay away. not in a million years”.

he seemed like he was on the verge of falling apart if you hadn't caught the tears gathering in his eyes. it was too much to take.

“ya think it's easy for me?”, he continued, voice breaking slightly. “i hate sneaking around to see you. i.. we cant even go on dates together and i just hate lying to sal. i hate feeling like im ruining everything. but not seeing you? pretending like you dont matter to me? pretending that the thing that we have is nothing? baby, that's worse. that's so much worse”.

“brian…” you start, but he shakes his head, stepping closer to you.

“no”, he cuts you off gently. “just…please listen”, his hand at your hip, his thumb tracing a slow pattern against your skin.

“you're so stubborn, you know that?”, he murmured, his voice soft. “you act like you don't want all this. like you don't need me or that you're fine keeping this… whatever this is… a complete secret. but trust me, i can see right through you baby”.

your breath hitches as he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, his gaze following the movement as if he was trying to memorize every second of it. “every time i touch you”, his voice deep, “you melt. you let me in, even though you're so scared of what might happen if someone found out. but right now? right now, it's just you and me”.

it’s like you're under his spell.

“still scared, baby?”, he asked, leaning down just enough that his lips were merely a breath away from yours.

“no. no i’m not”, you whisper. you tried to sound confident but the tremble in your voice gave it away.

“but brian we shouldn't—”.

“i don’t care”, he says, voice making your heart ache. “you've been driving me insane, baby. do you even know how hard it is to hold back whenever i see you?”.

his lips find your neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses all over your skin, each one making it more and more difficult to think. “let me take care of you baby. just tonight. no one has to know, i swear”.

you knew you had to stop this that there were a billion reasons why this was a horrible idea but when his hands gripped your waist and his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on the right side of your neck, every reason just went away.

your breath hitched, the air between you both feeling impossibly warm. his soft touch was just enough to make you whimper, his hands leading you to the bedroom like he was afraid you might slip away from him forever.

“you don't know how long i've been waiting for this, bri”, you murmured against his skin. “to have you like this— i've been thinking about it for so long and it just seemed impossible..”

“brian..” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky as he got into your bed. you begin to curl his hair with your fingers as he's on top of you. you tug him back up to kiss you but this time, it was so much more slower and deeper, his tongue teasing yours as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

“i love the way you say my name”, he said, soft and low. his fingers trailed your body up and down, leaving goosebumps in its wake. he leaned down and slid his hand between your thighs, his fingers teasing your slick folds. you gasped, your hips lifting off of the bed as you sought more of his touch. he wanted it too, slipping one finger inside of you, then two, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars.

you moaned, your head falling back against a pile of pillows as he worked quicker and quicker. his rings brushed against your inner thighs, the cold metal being a total opposite to the heat of his skin. each thrust sent shivers racing down your body. his fingers stretched you out deliciously, making you arch your back, pressing your hips against his hand

he rubbed tight circles around your clit with his thumb, plunging it deeper than you ever felt before. the rough texture of his skin and the coolness of his rings made a maddening combination of sensations. your juices flowed freely, coating his fingers while making obscene wet sounds as he worked harder and harder towards your orgasm.

“look at you, so desperate for my touch”, he growled, breathing heavily. “your pretty little pussy’s grippin’ my fingers so tightly, like she doesn't want to let them go”, he chuckles.

he curled his fingers rougher inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl and your vision blur. at the same time, he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, the cold metal of his rings making you scream out in pleasure.

you cried out, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pure ecstasy washed over you. he helped you work through your climax, fingers never stopping until you collapsed back onto the bed, spent and trembling.

he pulled out his fingers, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean, “fuck, baby, you taste better than i remembered. i could finger this sweet pussy all night long”.

and you let him show you how good he could make you feel.

#first smut fic ever im nervous #brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #impractical jokers #brian quinn x female oc #brian quinn x female reader #q x reader #q impractical jokers #the tenderloins #need him

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year ago

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Hey I hope you have a great day.

So I just saw the post with the wrath of the creator on Azar and I had an idea.

I am very emotional and I bailed my eyes out when I did the chasm quest with xiao and he nearly died AND I got a sad cutscene of the adepti after so my traveler was just stuck in the dialog with Xiao while I was crying a whole waterfall and sniffing really loudly and the only other quest where I had that was when we were in the chasm with dain and he tells us that the hillichurls are cursed people from Khanri'ah. I stood in front of the corpses and cried heart out.

So I wanted to ask the characters reactions to that. Especially Xiao, the archons we know (because khanri'ah and its destruction is a big thing here) and dainsleif.

I'm sorry this got so long. If you want to change something or want to add someone or take a character out it's okay, this is just my 5 am thought I just had.

Alr, Anon! Coming right up! Imma just focus on the Perilous Quest lol-

Creator Having A Meltdown During Perilous Quest

(Warning: Might Be OOC & Spoilers to the Perilous Archon Quest!)

Yelan

She wasn't going to lie, she wasn't expecting you to cry your heart out so freely. Raw emotion was hard to come by when people grow. They tend to be more...seclusive, with their emotions.

You, on the other hand, were free-balling it. You did NOT care if people were gonna look at you weird, you are gonna cry because you are sad! And honestly, Yelan's glad that the Almighty Creator is expressive and sentient. It proves just how much you care for the characters.

"It seems the Almighty Creator is far more connected than anyone thought..." She wonders what she can do with this information, but at the same time, keep it under wraps. Letting this information slip into the wrong hands was always dangerous.

She wouldn't gamble your safety. Never. Safe to say Yelan's got you covered.

Itto

Woah, woah! He did not expect you, the Almighty Creator, to be crying their eyes out the moment he wakes up from passing out and all that—what he miss? What happened while he was sleeping?

Wait, they're not in the Chasm anymore? Oh Archons, someone just tell him what happened! Why the heck is the Creator balling his eyes out?

"Huh—? What's going on? We're out of the chasm?" Poor guy is so oblivious, and no one's bothering to fill him in—at least, at the moment.

He'll pester Shinobu about this later. Just, someone, stop the Creator from crying! Those are sad tunes, not something you want to hear when you should be celebrating about leaving that gloomy place!

Yanfei

She was NOT expecting you to be this emotional! Yanfei feels a little guilty not being able to do anything about it, to be honest...

She has to resist the urge to shake Xiao out of his stupor, because a) that was unprofessional, b) she's more relieved than anything, and c) Yanfei wasn't sure if you, the Creator, would think she was okay if she started acting out like that.

So, instead, she tries to ground herself, and do her best to make sure that the situation is fine, and that everything will be okay. That's the least she can do to reassure you, and everyone else, right?

"Hopefully, Their Grace will stop those tears...Hearing them sad makes me feel sad..." As a lawyer, Yanfei knows how to sympathize with her clients. This, however, felt like she could really understand what you were going through—there was a bond between you and everyone.

She doesn't want to make you sad. That's one thing for sure. Yanfei wouldn't be able to sleep out of guilt otherwise.

Shinobu

She wasn't expecting you to be crying your heart out, but she loves how sentient you are. It shows just how you truly care about Xiao, and about everyone.

She really appreciates you. She can see how you connect with every character—how you cheer with everyone, cherish the moment with everyone, rejoice, and mourn. This was visible proof of it all.

"Hm...How should we comfort Their Grace..." Shinobu wants to do something—for the sake of the gang's gratitude for their Almighty Creator. And everyone here as well.

You contributed much of yourself for them. For that, she's grateful.

She'll have to explain to Boss later...but that's besides the point right now.

Xiao

He feels guilty for making you cry. He heard you call out his name several many times. He hears how you ball your eyes out, thinking you were gonna lose him, only for Rex Lapis to save him just in time.

He doesn't know if the Lord of Geo heard your divine prayers, or if he went on his own accord, but he feels guilty. He placed a heavy burden on you. He didn't mean to.

"How should I make it up to Their Grace..." He listens to how you scream and cry (out of joy now) that he was alive. You, the Almighty Creator, already connected yourself to someone like him. Your bond was too severe, and he tried to cut it off.

But the way the Traveler is smiling at them with a reassuring smile, Xiao wonders if he will be forgiven. Perhaps far quicker than he imagined.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: This honestly feels too OOC—I don't really know Yelan's personality all that well, and honestly I don't think I caught the full potential of Yanfei, Itto, and Shinobu. I do hope you enjoyed this, but I'm also sorry if this came out disappointing.

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

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cursedcola · 2 years ago

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Ok ok so you know the thing where it's like 'hey trust exercise' where person A runs up to person B and jumps in their arms? The one that became a meme with the hot coffee....

that. just that. Could you please write something for it using characters from twisted wonderland? Thank you!

A/N: I do know the thing lol. I think this is a super cute idea and will have some fun with it hehe...Sorry if it's not too long. I am writing this in between classes just to have a little mental break :) I also think this will work better with baby headcannons so I can do more characters. Since you did not specify any characters, I will be self indulgent. Prompt: Trust exercise! Do they catch you? Format: Baby headcannons huhuhu Characters: Everyone. Literally Everyone. I feel inspired for some reason. Warnings: None :) Tooth-ache fluff. Also not proofread. Likely grammar/spelling errors

Heartslabyul Dorm

Riddle Rosehearts

Catches you by a millisecond.

The moment he sees you running he instinctively drops the books in his hands

Yells for you to stop and puts his hands out in defense

Instinctively opens them when you jump and boom. Catch

My man has noodle arms. They instantly start to shake and you get dropped on your bum

Half-angry that you put him on the spot, and half-humiliated for dropping you. He is left shell-shocked for a moment before the fuse is lit

"What on EARTH were you thinking? Must you behave so childishly all the time?! Sometimes I wonder if you WANT me to have a heart attack....*sigh* come on. Get up. Are you injured at all?"

He thinks it's silly for you to test his 'trust,' like that. Don't do it again. Next time just talk to him.

….secretly relieved that he caught you.

Trey Clover

Arms are open before you even jump

The moment you started to speed up, he knew what would come next. It flusters him, and his ears burn but he lets you have your fun

Wraps one arm around your back and the other holds one of your legs around his waist. Nice and secure :)

Laughs a little bit before setting you down carefully

"Well, that was an excitable greeting. Maybe warn me next time, okay? What if I was holding something?"

Shakes his head in disbelief that you'd test him like this. Oh well. Its over now Best for him not to think on it.

Learns that Cater showed you the prank on Magicam, and makes his tea extra sweet. Revenge > cavities.

Cater Diamond

Does not catch you. In fact, he side-steps you.

You're quite literally sprawled on the floor and he's just standing there all smug. What? Don't even look at him like that. There's no way he could have caught you without toppling over

Cater prefers to not have a face full of dirt, thank you very much

He knows what you were trying to do, and also purposefully chose to 'fail'

"Hmm~ Now why would you use such a silly method to test me? Don't we take enough exams in class (Y/N)? You're no fair..."

Despite the taunts, he holds out a hand to help you up. He'll clean your face a bit with a handkerchief and leave a cheeky peck on your cheek before going about the rest of his day

Ace Trappola

Tries to catch you. Does not succeed.

In his defense, Ace is never on full alert. Especially during the school day.

You started running at him and he full on panicked. A genuine scream to stop tore through his throat, and he held his arms out

You, in fact, did not stop. Therefore you both fell on the ground with him on the bottom

Ace is not happy

"What is wrong with you?! If my back's broke then the medical bill is on your shoulders, not mine!"

When you explain to him, he still is pissed but does feel bad for yelling at you

"...well, whatever. You don't need some stupid test to know I'm trustworthy anyways. I prove it every day, right?"

....right? Please say yes or else he will overthink this hardcore later.

Deuce Spade

Catches you on instinct.

The moment you start running he assumes something is wrong, and opens his arms to give you a hug. When you jump? Well, that's just an extra step

His feet slide back against the ground and he wobbles for a millisecond. However, he's steady. He wraps both arms around your waist firmly, and leans back to get a look at your face.

"What's wrong?! Why are you in such a hurry?!"

His eyes flicker anxiously between the direction you came from and your face

He's relieved when you tell him that everything is okay, and that you just wanted to see if he would catch you

"Don't scare me like that! I was seriously worried!"

He's still holding you, and becomes bashful once the adrenaline dials down. He mutters a quick apology while gently setting you down. Avoiding eye-contact, he excuses himself and promises to hang out later. For now, be still his beating heart

Savanaclaw Dorm

Leona Kingscholar

Yes. You don't give him enough time to think through the situation, and so he acts. Albeit a bit roughly.

The moment you jump he's reaching with one arm, startled. It wraps around your waist and hoists you over his shoulder. The other hand reaches for his wand, and he's on high alert.

Says nothing. Just grunts upon impact and scans the area.

You'll have to pat his back a few times to be let down, and it is needless to say that he is not pleased with your joke

His eyebrows draw downward with his classic scowl, and he's lowkey disappointed in you. He thought you more straight-headed than to do something like this

"You- ugh. Whatever. I caught you, so I win, right? Happy?"

Deems scolding you more trouble than it's worth. Last thing he needs is for you to get mad at him. That'll just give him an even bigger headache.

Ruggie Bucchi

Does...not. He knows that you're coming. He heard the footsteps a mile away. He simply is a snot-nosed little arse

You're running at him from behind, and the moment you get near he steps to the side. He does his little shishishishi laugh when you face plant on the floor.

When you don't get up, he crouches down and pokes your head.

"Hey, you alright? That was a pretty harsh fall. I can't imagine what caused it,"

Laughs again, but feels a bit bad if you don't reciprocate. Okay. You got him. He's sooooooo untrustworthy. An utter fool, if you will.

With a tsk, he grabs you by the elbow and eases you up.

"Yup, yup. I'm cruel, I know. Let's go get a snack, alright? It's on me - and by me, I mean that it's on Leona shishishisi"

Jack Howl

This boulder doesn't even flinch. Like clockwork, he's startled but instinctively readies his stance. You quickly land safely in his arms, and are back on the ground in a jiffy. Almost as if you never tried to tackle him in the first place.

He holds you at arms length with an eyebrow raised.

"Uhm....are you good? What was that about?"

He doesn't understand how catching you proves that he is trustworthy, but if it makes you happy then he'll do it as often as you'd like. Just give him a heads up next time, ok?

Won't admit it, but he liked holding you. Even if it was for a fleeting moment, it felt right. If you ever asked for a piggy-back ride or to be carried, he wouldn't be opposed at all. The realization embarrasses him greatly.

Octovinelle Dorm

Azul Ashengrotto

Does not, and is extremely ashamed. He does not fail tests, academic or otherwise!

He’s not weak. This man has a very healthy diet and regularly exercises. He is confident that he would have succeeded with no issue, had you not startled him. Our little cephalopod here gets flustered very easily. Only by you though.

Normally he can hide it but you 100% startled him. Can you even judge? One moment all was peaceful and the next thing he knows you’re barreling towards him. All giddy and like “catch me, catch me!” …ugh. His heart couldn’t take it.

What’s worse is that Jade caught you in his stead. He’s appreciative that you were not harmed by his lack of reflex….but the humiliation. Dear gods.

He demands that you do it again. Leave him and then try again another time when he isn’t expecting it…which is impossible since he will be on high alert 24/7. Azul fails to understand that the purpose of the test is now null, and that it tests for impulse

“A-again! Go on. Get a running start and do it again! Into my awaiting arms!…do not argue. I will not fail this time so give me another chance,”

His ego requires it, so just do it. He can’t stand the idea of failing and that image of Jade carrying you is lingering in his mind

Floyd Leech

Catches you easily. Nothing startles this guy. Well, okay, some things do. Nothing that’s physical though.

He hears you yelling for him? Well that’s just a normal day in his life. You’re running his way”? Awwwwwwweeee his little Shrimpy is so excited to see him! That’s so rare!

He’s running to meet you half way. It nearly makes you halt but the test needs answers!

He hooks his hands under your arms mid-air, and spins you around at arms length before bringing you in for a hug. All the while he has a giant grin on his face

“Did you miss me that much??? I guess I haven’t been giving you enough attention…not that I’d mind it if you do this every day hehe~”

He doesn’t care about the test, so long as you do it again. You won’t be leaving his arms any time soon si get comfortable

Jade Leech

Another to catch you easily. He does it flawlessly, like catching a balloon or a feather

He hears your approach and chooses to ignore it until the last moment. Then he turns effortlessly to capture you bridal style, set you down, and return to what he was originally doing. If anyone’s in shock, it’s you.

Then he’ll finish up and turn to you as if nothing even happened. While his gentle smile and hand on his heart are unknowing - the smug crinkle of his eyes says otherwise. He is highly amused, not in your little stunt but in the reaction he managed to create

Caresses your face with one of his gloved hands and asks how your day has gone. Once answered, he leans down to plant a light kiss on your cheek before leaving

“Oh, I almost forgot. Please be more careful in the future. Had it not been you, I would have reacted much differently to someone ‘attacking’ fufu. I love your enthusiasm dearly, and am always happy to hold you. You need only ask,”

Scarabia Dorm

Kalim Al' Asim

Sunshine meets you half way. He sees you running at him with a mega grin and instantly knows what’s going on. Social cues be damned, he wants to be loved

More like it’s you catching him. He just can’t help himself. He jumps at you before you even get a chance to do the same.

His arms go around your shoulders in the biggest hug imaginable. He knows better than to throw his whole body weight on you, so he settles for merely hugging and swaying your body from side to side

It’s sickeningly sweet how giddy he is. He pulls you at arms length before peppering light kisses along your cheeks

“I missed you so much! Can I have another one? Please?”

Oh! A test? How fun! He’ll take this one many times if it means you’ll hug him more often. He passed? Yippieeeeeee

Jamil Viper

Catches you, begrudgingly. He’s known about the trend and was frankly expecting you to try it. He just didn’t know when.

Jamil is no fool. He could let you fall. It would be funny. Maybe even make his day.

But then you’d be upset with him. He really could do without that. Not if it could be prevented

So the moment he sees you rushing towards him, Jamil knows what to do. He quickly sets down whatever he’s doing and takes position

With an oof and a momentary scowl from discomfort, he’s got ya. One arm around you’re bum and the other your waist. You wrap both of your arms around his shoulders, and with a sigh he just lets you koala hang for a moment

“Are we done now? Not to be rude, but my arms are tired and I would prefer that we not make a spectacle of ourselves”

He asks if you had fun. You did? Well, he supposes that it can be done again. In private only though. No more pranks.

Pomefiore Dorm

Vil Schoenheit

Does not catch you on purpose, and then insists that you do it again.

You see, he did not want to encourage your childish antics, so he purposefully pretended that he was not strong enough to catch you

A lie, obviously. He is very strong despite his pretty boy exterior. Instead of calling him out for it, you play along. A mocking sigh of resignation flies out as you not so subtly comment on his lack of strength.

Oh, you're absolutely right, Vil! I'm sorry for over estimating you...hmm, perhaps I can try again with Neige-

"You will do no such thing. Now, I am going to walk away and once I turn the corner you are going to run at me. Is that clear?"

Epel Felmeir

Catches you! Listen. My boy here spent his entire childhood lugging around crates of apples, cutting down trees, and running through fields. There is no way that he lacks the stamina to catch you. Maybe he can't hold you for an extended period, but those cinnamon stick arms are built for catching

He jolts when you scream his name, and he loses his composure. The moment you jump he lets out a string of curses and drops everything to catch you

The impact sends Epel teetering, and he fall son his butt with you on top of him

"O-o-oi! What'd ya think you're doing?! I nearly split my tailbone!"

Is slightly saddened that he couldn't keep steady. If only he was stronger like the Savanaclaw students...

Rook Hunt

Catches you with grace. There isn't much to say here.

Our princely hunter need not predict your movements, or pay attention to your plotting. Where's the fun in that?

Non non, what a sight for sore eyes. Rook swoons the moment you call his name, and his pupils basically turn to hearts when he sees you running towards him

With a laugh, he opens his arms wide and catches you in an instant. He shifts you into a bridal carry, and dips you down to plant a loving hiss on your nose.

Bonus points if you kiss him back along where his freckles would be without makeup. Oh this man is dying

"Mon coheur....what a wonderful surprise! If you were to greet me like this every day for the rest of my life, I would die a happy man indeed,"

Ignihyde Dorm

Idia Shroud

Catches you

On accident :)

More like you just fall in his lap, but it still counts? Kind of

He was in his room, multitasking both controlling his floating tablet around school while also playing the latest MMO

Just when he started to wonder where you might be (normally you find his tablet during study break) he hears his door burst open

Startled, he whips around in his chair to see you running at him. He lets go of the computer mouse and keyboard on impulse. Right when you jump and basically straddle him in his chair

Idia.exe has stopped working. From the sudden entrance, to the physical contact, to your giddy rambling about...something? He can't hear past the buzzing in his ears and just nods along

Hyper aware that you are sitting in his lap still. Attempting to control himself...and failing.

"U-uhhh, can y-you please move? Like, off of me? I c-can get you a chair,"

You comply, and he calms down for a second. He's not complaining but why would you -

an internet trend? Ortho told you to?

....Idia doesn't know if he should thank his brother or scold him.

Ortho Shroud (PLATONIC!)

Little Ortho meets you half way! You do not get to jump because he sees your arms open for a hug and does not waste a moment

With you basically being one of his best friends (and hopefully second sibling. Ortho is rooting for his big bro to win your heart!) he loves your hugs

When you ruffle his hair after letting go, his eyes crinkle into the cutest little upturned crescents and he laughs

"You know...I bet brother would love one of your hugs! You should go surprise him!"

Diasomnia Dorm

Malleus Draconia

Child of man, what a wonderful surprise?

You are fulfilling this man's fantasy. You know the phrase 'looking through rose-colored class'?

You're running towards him and he's watching like it's an early 2000s AMV on Youtube

Or like a Tik Tok edit. You know the ones

Drops everything. AND I MEAN EVERYTHING

It is like this man loses all sense of his surroundings. Lovesick fool.

Opens his arms wide with a soft smile, and when you jump he barely flinches. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and legs around his waist. One of his arms holds the small of your back, and the other your rear. He...well, yes he is aware and is doing it on purpose. Our prince isn't uhm...well, he is a man. A gentlemen, but still a man nonetheless.

"What a welcome greeting. Are you comfortable? I would like to remain this way for longer, if you do not mind"

He holds you tight with his head comfortably buried in between your neck and shoulder. Malleus lightly kisses the fabric of your uniform blazer, before returning to his prior activities like nothing is amiss

Lilia Vanrouge

...I guess? It's complicated.

You come at this bat from behind in an attempt to surprise him

He's not that old, y'know. Lilia senses you trailing him the moment you begin. Then again, he always knows when you're within a five mile radius.

What? Is it really so bad for him to seek out the object of his affections? Anyone else would do the same. It's not like he's being a creep about it...you just have a unique presence.

He is also well versed in internet trends. Lilia can't help but humor you. He walks around unknowing and occasionally snickering. Some question what he finds so humorous, and he waves them off with a cheeky grin

He senses your intent to attack, and doesn't turn around when you call his name. You jump at him from behind and koala hug his back

If it weren't for the hands holding your calves, you'd think him ignorant.

'Lilia? Lilia~ Hello? Are you already deaf so soon-'

Faster than you can comprehend, he spins you around to face him and pecks your lips

"Why hello there, my dear. Care to finish that sentence?"

'....no'

Sebeck Zigvolt

Does not catch you. He initially thought you were aiming for Malleus, and stood in front of his superior to protect him

Oh he should have known! Betrayal! You have betrayed him!

...why are you calling his name? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?

Oh seven it's one of your pranks again, isn't it? Whya re you always doing such-

When you yell for him to catch you, Sebeck does so without a second thought

but he fails. His offensive stance wasn't fit for taking the imbalance of weight, and he couldn't get a stable grip on you

Gravity pulls him forwards on a path where his weight would crush you

So Sebeck quickly wraps one of his hands around the back of your head, and flips so he takes the impact instead

"Have you gone mad?! I genuinely cannot fathom what is going on in your brain anymore. Who put you up to this? What if you had been injured? What if you injured Lord Malleus?....stop laughing and listen to me!"

Silver

Do not startle a man with a sword.

Once again, do NOT startle a man with a SWORD.

Silver catches you. Easily. He also thinks it is absolutely adorable that you trust him enough to do so.

It's just that you could have warned him. Y'know, considering that he is armed and trained to draw his weapon at the slightest sign of a threat :)

Lucky for you, Silver is high-key vigilant since he has a tendency to doze off to dreamland. He sensed your presence but couldn't pinpoint where...

Imagine his surprise when you jump down from above :) The hell do you think you are, his father?

On instinct he reaches out and catches you in a bridal carry. Your rear knocks against the sword hanging at his side, and with a grunt he places you down on the floor to check for injury

"While I love spending time with you, can you please use the door next time? For my sanity?"

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