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axeeglitter · 2 months ago

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One way trip to Caracas

The flight from Paris to Caracas was long, but every second felt like a victory for Julien. At 32 years old, this was his first solo trip abroad, the culmination of years of hard work and saving every spare euro. His coworkers had teased him, saying it was too dangerous to travel to Venezuela alone, but Julien had brushed off their concerns. For him, this was not just a holiday; it was a statement of independence. No more predictable vacations with his family. No more dreaming of adventure while flipping through travel magazines. This was his time.

The sweltering heat hit him the moment he stepped out of the airport. Caracas was unlike anything he had ever seen. The towering buildings cast long shadows over streets bustling with life. Food vendors called out to passersby, the scent of arepas and empanadas mingling with the tropical humidity. The colors overwhelmed him: bright murals on crumbling walls, vibrant clothing, and the endless blue sky above.

Julien, with his average build and confident demeanor, stood out among the locals. His fair skin and European features marked him as a tourist immediately, but he didn’t mind. He had always prided himself on being adaptable, confident, and able to handle himself in any situation. After all, he’d spent years in the gym maintaining a body he was proud of. He wasn’t particularly muscular, but he was fit, a point of pride for someone who considered himself just an ordinary guy.

He had planned his trip meticulously. Days of hiking in the Andes, visits to Angel Falls, and, today, exploring the city and getting lost in its streets and markets.

The marketplace was everything Julien had hoped for and more. It was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds: merchants shouting over each other, music blaring from hidden speakers, the clinking of coins exchanged for fresh produce, handmade crafts, and colorful trinkets. Julien wandered through the labyrinth of stalls, enchanted by the vibrant fabrics, carved wooden figurines, and the aroma of spices he couldn’t quite identify.

He stopped at a table displaying intricate jewelry. Bracelets made of woven leather, necklaces adorned with tiny beads, and rings of all shapes and sizes were laid out like treasures waiting to be discovered. The seller, an older woman with silver-streaked hair, smiled at him and began explaining each piece in rapid Spanish. Julien’s knowledge of the language was limited, but her enthusiasm was infectious.

As he examined a particularly striking silver bracelet, a group of teenagers loitered nearby, watching him. There were five of them, all around 18 to early 20s years old, dressed in a mix of modern streetwear and local flair. They whispered among themselves, smirking and occasionally glancing in his direction. Julien noticed them but didn’t think much of it. He assumed they were just curious about the foreigner in their midst.

“¿Cuánto cuesta?” Julien asked the vendor, pointing at the bracelet.

Before the woman could answer, one of the teenagers, probably the leader of the group, stepped forward. He was tall and wiry, with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “Señor, let me help you,” the boy said in heavily accented English, grinning. “You don’t want that. It’s too expensive for you.”

Julien raised an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed. “Thanks, but I can handle myself.”

The boy’s grin widened. “Of course. Just saying. You should look around more. Better deals everywhere.” He gestured vaguely at the surrounding stalls.

The other teenagers laughed softly, their eyes gleaming with mischief. Julien turned back to the vendor, brushing off the interaction. He had no idea that, while he was distracted, another member of the group had slipped close behind him.

As Julien continued haggling over the bracelet, a smaller boy with a quick, practiced motion slid something into the pocket of Julien’s cargo shorts. The boy rejoined his friends, who stifled their laughter as they watched the oblivious tourist.

Julien eventually purchased the bracelet from the lady while small talking with her a bit and then moved on, unaware of the extra weight in his pocket. He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the market, sampling local snacks and taking photos. The teenagers followed him at a distance, always staying just out of sight, their laughter echoing faintly as Julien admired a stand of colorful ceramic bowls.

By the time Julien returned to his modest hotel room that evening, the events of the day had left him exhilarated and exhausted. He dumped his shopping bag on the bed and emptied his pockets, pulling out his phone, wallet, and… a ring? Frowning, he examined it. The metal was cold and oddly heavy, the symbols on its surface almost seeming to shift under the dim light of the room.

“Weird,” he muttered, setting it aside. He assumed he must have accidentally picked it up at the market, maybe it had fallen into his bag or pocket while the young men were talking to him. Julien tried the ring on his finger and it fit perfectly, it was hugging his skin without compressing him and it was a perfect touch that he could keep as a memory of his travel. Being happy to find this ring by accident and seeing how well fitted it felt, Julien got ready to go to bed, forgetting completely to take the ring off as he fell asleep on his bed.

The morning sun streamed through the thin curtains of Julien’s hotel room, casting a golden glow on the sparse furnishings. He groaned softly, his body heavy with the lingering fatigue of the previous day. Stretching, he rubbed his face, only to pause when his hand brushed against his jawline. The stubble he had carefully groomed just yesterday felt... thinner. Softer, almost.

He sat up, dismissing the thought as morning grogginess, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he stood, he felt an odd looseness in his pajama shorts. They slid slightly down his hips, which felt narrower than usual. Julien tugged them back up, frowning but attributing it to weight loss from the heat and all the walking he’d done.

In the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water and glanced into the mirror. For a moment, he didn’t recognize the reflection staring back at him. His skin, usually a pale European tone, had darkened slightly, as if the last days sun he took finally put a tan on his pale skin. His features looked subtly different, his nose a touch broader, his cheekbones sharper. It wasn’t drastic, but it was enough to make him pause and watch with attention how just a tan can make such a difference on his face and body.

“Must be the sun,” he muttered, running a hand through his short-cropped hair to style them after what he got himself ready for another hot day to explore Caracas and its streets.

But as the day wore on, Julien’s discomfort grew. Walking through the city streets, he noticed his stride felt different, as though his legs were subtly reshaping themselves. His calves felt leaner, his thighs slightly more muscular, but not in the way he was used to. There was a new tautness to his skin, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. His shirt clung awkwardly to his torso, which seemed slimmer than it had been in the morning.

By the afternoon, Julien’s reflection in shop windows was unmistakably altered. His once broad shoulders had softened slightly, tapering down to an athletic but less imposing frame. His arms, too, seemed leaner, the veins that usually stood out on his forearms now subdued beneath smoother, slightly darker skin.

The changes, at first painless, began to take on a strange intensity. As evening approached, Julien found himself stumbling as a sharp ache flared in his joints. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was persistent, like his body was being stretched and compressed at the same time. His face felt hot, as though feverish, and when he caught his reflection in a storefront window, he barely recognized himself. His jawline had softened, his lips fuller, and his eyes, a deep brown now instead of their usual golden hazel, stared back at him with an unfamiliar intensity.

Julien panicked seeing that he didn’t recognize himself anymore in his reflection. This was not the sun; this was something else. He needed help. Julien ran back at the hotel, paced the room, his heart pounding. He started to think and walk in his bed, trying to find an explication on the internet while looking for the emergency number; but now that he was alone with his thought and changing body, the feeling was growing stronger and stronger. Julien could feel his bones grinding each other as the transformation was not done yet. His skin tightening around his shrinking muscles, his vision blurring and coming back to normal, his body getting itchy. As he sat in the corner of the room, Julien felt a sharp painful sensation around his fingers, he tilted his head only to realize the ring he put on yesterday was still on, and worst, it was shining a faint golden hue. The ring. It had to be the ring. He grabbed it from his finger and tugged on it, trying to take it off. But it was not moving at all. Worst it felt like he was tearing off his own finger. It was stuck in place. As he was about to try once again going to the bathroom to put soap and water, he felt a jolt of energy course his body and coming from his finger. Julien screamed in pain as his voice felt rougher and higher at the same time. The wave of energy was running through his body and then it stopped and centralized around his feet. Julien turned his head and watched in horror as his feet started to compress and shrink right in front of his eyes. The symbols etched into the surface of the ring seemed to shimmer and shift, almost as if alive. Desperate, he tried to pull it off once again, only to find that it wouldn’t budge. The metal felt warm against his skin, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Julien screamed in panic once again as he felt the ring starting to warm once again, like if it was ready to release a new wave. Julien was terrified and just like he thought, the sensation of invasion in his body came back once again, only this time it went in the direction of his head. The last thing Julien saw before his vision blurred and was taken by darkness was the night falling in his dark room as a golden light was emitted from his left hand.

As night fell and Julien was still fainted on his bed, the transformation accelerated. Julien’s once well-groomed chest and arms were now smooth, devoid of the hair he had always taken pride in. Yet, paradoxically, his armpits and thighs had grown thick with dark, curly hair, the contrast both alarming and surreal. His body continued to slim down, shedding years as it reshaped itself into that of a teenager. His abdomen, while still toned, looked less defined, the muscle structure softer and more natural.

The pain became unbearable by midnight. Julien curled up on the bed, clutching his stomach as spasms wracked his unconscious body. His bones felt like they were grinding against each other, his muscles tightening and releasing in unnatural patterns as tears streamed down his fainted face.

By dawn, the transformation was nearly complete. Julien’s once angular features were now softer, more youthful, with a golden-brown complexion that glowed in the bright morning light. Julien opened his eyes and turned his head around, taking the light in his warm brown eyes as his pupils contracted to accommodate to it. He turned his head to the left to look at the clock, forgetting what happened yesterday, but as he saw his tanned hand in front of him, everything came back to him. The ring, the changes, his body. Julien jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, his body, lean and athletic, moved with an ease and agility he hadn’t felt in years. There, in the mirror reflection, Julien saw his face and body. He looked like a local Venezuelan teenager, no older than 18. The realization hit him like a blow. Julien gasped in surprise and fear only to hear his deep voice being way higher and younger than what he was used to.

He couldn’t be stuck like this; he had a flight back in 2 days. How could he take the plane, his passport wasn’t even looking like himself anymore! As he kept on walking around the room, trying to find a solution, the light of the morning sun shine through his curtain and fell on his ringed finger, which illuminated his mirror reflection in golden hue. “The market!” he thought “I have to find the lady in the market, that’s her ring, I’m sure she’ll be able to help me out!” He grabbed a pair of flip flops, the only things that his feet were able to put on without loosing them, put on a pair of shorts and a shirt that was way too big for his body and then ran to the market with hope in his chocolate eyes.

By the time Julien reached the bustling market, the sun was high in the sky, its heat beating down relentlessly and little to no sweat dripping down from his forehead. He maneuvered through the crowded streets, his heart thudding in his chest and the ring. Everything about the market felt more chaotic than it had the day before, the colors, the sounds, the voices speaking in rapid Spanish that he inexplicably understood with greater clarity now. He tugged at the sleeves of his loose shirt; his movements awkward as he tried to mask the unfamiliar changes in his body.

He reached the vendor’s stall from the day before and froze. The elderly woman wasn’t there. Her table was empty, the trinkets and jewelry nowhere in sight. His stomach churned as he turned in circles, scanning the crowd for her hunched figure. “She must be somewhere, she has to! I don’t know wha…”

“Señor turista!” interrupted a young men’s voice.

It made Julien’s blood run cold. He turned slowly, not knowing who to to expect or even if it was for him.

There, standing in front of him with a smirk on his face, a familiar young man with other ones stood a few meters away from him, their cocky smiles and sharp eyes fixed on him. The leader, a tall, wiry boy with dark, calculating eyes, stepped forward, his head tilting with mock curiosity.

“You look like you need help. You lost or something?” the leader asked kindly, switching easily between Spanish and English, his grin widening. “Come with me, we’ll help you find her. It’s not the first time this bruja does something like that.”

Julien’s breath quickened, but he forced himself to stand his ground. “Can you? That would be awesome. I’m terrified, I don’t even recognize myself, and everything feels so vivid and different.” he said, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound firm. “Do you know where she is? I have to turn back. I don’t want … this” he said pointing at his regressed body.

The leader’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened. “Sure, don’t worry. That’s why I tried to help you the other day when you bought this bracelet. But you didn’t listen. It’s ok, we can help you don’t worry. Just follow us, her shop is a few streets away.” Julien felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders and he laughed a bit out of anxiety. He’ll be able to go back home. As Julien followed the men and his group outside of the market, he didn’t realize the streets were getting less crowded. The houses getting closer from each other and the sun was having trouble piercing through the closed roofs surrounding them. “So, not to be uneducated or anything, but how long do you think we’ll have to walk? You said it was close and we’ve been walking for almost 25 minutes. I’m just wondering if… Hey! Stop that!” Julien was interrupted in his sentence. Two of the men he was following grabbed him by the arms. He tried to break free but they were way too strong for him to do anything in this twink body he was now inhabiting. In a quick move, Julien’s feet were not touching the ground anymore and as he kept on screaming for help, a door opened behind them, leading in a poorly decorated house with only a well-used black leather couch. They threw Julien on the couch and his head punched the wall behind him, making him dizzy for a minute. When his ideas were cleared, he jumped back on his feet only to realize the whole gang was surrounding him and he had nowhere to escape.

“Let me through,” he said, his voice louder now, his nerves beginning to fray.

“Why would we do that?” one of the boys sneered. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The leader stepped closer, his gaze locking on Julien’s terrified face. “You still don’t understand, don’t you? There is no escape for you, not anymore.”

Julien instinctively covered his hand, but the leader’s smirk deepened. “It’s too late to hide it now,” he said. “You’re already marked.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Julien said, though his voice betrayed his growing panic. He tried to push past them, but hands grabbed his arms, his shoulders, his shirt, forcing him backward against the couch.

“You don’t get it, do you?” the leader said, leaning in close. “The lady is not the problem. She was just someone selling her craft trying to get money. She won’t help you, or turn you back!” “But you said…” Julien answered with tears in his throat. “I say a lot of things Julien. Here, it’s either eat or be eaten. And I won’t get eaten by society, not today, not tomorrow. See we needed someone like you. And you are perfect I have to say, or rather were. Your innocent face, your pale skin, your basic body. Yea you really were perfect. And you were alone, Jackpot!” continued the men as al his friends were still blocking Julien from running away. “Now listen, from now on, you work for me. And if you try to say anything out of character, well, let’s say you won’t be saying anything else.” “I’m sorry. I have money, I can pay you. Just turn me back and I’ll give you whatever you want. Please.” Answered Julien with tears rolling down his tanned cheeks. “What did I just say? Nothing out of character. Looks like you broke the first rule, isn’t that right Mateo?” said the men with a cocky smile creeping on his lips.

Julien froze. “Mateo?” he echoed, confused.

The leader laughed darkly. “I told you, Mateo. I won’t accept any side steps from my men.”

“Please I’m sorry. I…,” Julien hissed, trying to wrench free, but the gang’s grabbed him back as he tried to get up from the couch only to be pushed back and forced to sit. Julien froze as he was forced there on the couch. The leader took a step in his direction and then looked at his friends next to him. He smiled and then Julien saw the two men laughing and smirking as they approached his paralyzed body. Soon, the men grabbed Julien’s clothes until he was star naked. His new athletic tanned and musky body sitting there for everybody to look at him. Julien felt humiliated and hated every second of it, but he couldn’t escape from their grip, he was trapped. “I’ll pay you, just let me go. I won’t talk to anyone. Please!” said one more time Julien, trying to argue with the leader standing in front of him.

The leader didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the ring and pulled. Julien gasped as a sharp, burning sensation shot through his finger, as though the ring had fused to his skin. For a moment, it resisted, but then it slipped free, leaving behind a faint red mark on his tanned finger. Julien screamed as felt a part of himself getting ripped with the ring. His head started to spin as everything was starting to merge together before being broken and reformed again. Sweat started to poor down from his skin, his armpits sweating abundantly. Tears of sweat were rolling down his forehead and blurred his vision as he felt like his head was about to explode. He then felt an alien sensation invading his cock. It was like it was burning and itching t the same time. Julien opened his brown eyes only to realize in his blurred vision that his cock was now changing to something totally different. It started to shrink and compress on itself. Veins popping on the lengths as sensitivity started to grow higher and higher. Then burning appeared at the base, Julien’s mouth opened, trying to ask for mercy, as he felt a new forest of curly dark pubes starting to grow. Then his new smaller but thicker dick started to beat with the rhythm of his younger heart, his body getting overdosed by hormones as he couldn’t control himself, his hips wanted to move, to thrust, but the men were still holding him down. Without being able to control himself, a thick pearl of precum was ejected from his new tanner cock head, the first of many. Then all of a sudden, everything stopped. Julien opened his eyes again and everything was calmed, the men still in front of him was smirking with the ring in his hand, shining in a heartbeat rhythm before shutting off in a faint glow that soon stopped too.

“¿Qué me están haciendo? ¿Qué está pasando?”

The gang burst into laughter, their mocking voices echoing off the alley walls. Julien’s panic spiked as he realized he couldn’t remember how to speak English. Worse, his own name felt foreign to him, slipping from his mind entirely.

“As I said, your name is Mateo now,” the leader said, his grin cruel. “And you’re mine.”

“No... no puede ser,” Julien, no, Mateo whispered, his younger voice trembling.

The leader crouched down in front of him, his expression softening into something almost sympathetic. “You going to bring me a lot of money” he said. “My clients will adore you, that’s for sure.”

Julien shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “Esto no está bien,” he murmured, but the conviction in his voice was fading, drowned out by the growing fog in his mind.

The gang’s laughter grew louder as they released their grips on him. Julien’s resistance ebbed, his will crumbling under the weight of the changes overtaking him. As he tried to get up begging one last time for help, the leader snapped his fingers. Julien’s head spanned and he started to blink in confusion, his erected dick starting to spasm and eject more and more precum. In front of him, the leader called one of his loyal friend and gave him the bronze ring. As Julien looked at him, his vision blurred by pleasure and confusion, he saw the young men putting the ring on and in a couple of second, he saw his old reflection standing naked in front of him. His old body standing there at attention and waiting for the leader’s orders. “Que …. No es…” Julien managed to say as his cock was spasming more and more, pleasure invading his young naked sweaty and musky body. The leader just turned his head and smirked. “Cum par mi, puta!” Julien felt the orgasm rising as he couldn’t control himself anymore and suddenly cum fired out of his cock. It felt like he finally could breath again. Julien closed his eyes and when he opened them again, a smirk appeared on his younger face. “Bienvenido, Mateo” said the leader with a smile on his face as he threw a grey used jockstrap to Mateo. “Hola Boss!” answered Mateo as Julien was gone for good, drying on the cement floor.

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys!

Here is the story I wrote for @misctf. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

As always, my DMs are open, so feel free to send me a message if you have any ideas you'd like me to write about.

Also, we're getting close to 1,000, so be ready, I’m planning a special event for you once we reach that milestone!

Thank you so much, guys! See you soon!

#male transformation #my writing #mental change #male tf #reality change #tf #gay #personality change #straight to gay #race tf #race change #latino #dumber tf #smart to dumb #dumbification #dumber #age regression #cursed

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nickistuffs · 2 months ago

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Between the Lines

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: An early birthday gift should help.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None. Angst with slow burn. 💗

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there ...

It was nearing the end of January, and you found yourself deep in thought about what gift you could give to someone who seemingly had it all.

You scratched your head, wracking your brain for ideas. What could you possibly get Harry—someone who could effortlessly buy whatever he wanted?

The answer hit you after some deliberation. As a craft-loving person, the best gift wasn’t something money could buy. Instead, you decided on something personal: an elaborate handmade birthday card.

The idea sparked your creativity as you sat down to brainstorm the design. Your phone suddenly beeped, interrupting your thoughts. Looking down at the screen, you froze for a second. It was the very person occupying your thoughts.

Harry ☺️: Hey! Are you busy tonight and want to have some dinner?

Your heart leapt, and you quickly replied, feeling excitement bubble up in your chest.

Y/N: Nope, not busy at all! So what are we eating? 😩

Harry ☺️: I was thinking pasta. 😗🍝

Y/N: Hmm, I’m craving rice. How about sushi? 😗🍣

Harry ☺️: Sure, I’ll find a place. Pick you up in 40 minutes.

Y/N: Okiee! I’ll get ready. See you! Be safe. 😌🙏🚙

Harry ☺️: Always 😮‍💨🫡

You tossed your phone aside and hurried to your closet. After some deliberation, you settled on the comfiest yet stylish outfit you could put together—a flowy top paired with your favourite jeans. For the finishing touch, you applied a berry-coloured lipstick that made you feel confident

You were just about to head out when your phone buzzed again. Seeing Harry’s name pop up, you smiled and answered.

"Hello! Just going down the stairs now. Wait a minute for me, please.”

"Hi! Sure, I’m parked by the door," Harry replied, his voice warm and familiar.

Hanging up, you rushed out the door. Your excitement must have been contagious because you didn’t even pause to greet the doorman as you hurried to Harry’s car.

Spotting his sleek black Range Rover, you knocked on the tinted window. Harry rolled it down with a cheeky grin.

"Spare change, sir? Please, I’m hungry and cannot afford even bread crumbs," you teased, feigning a pitiful cough to sell the act.

Harry chuckled, his laughter lighting up the cold evening air. Playing along, he gave you a mock-serious look.

"I’m so sorry, madame. No spare change here. Go somewhere else, pauper," he said, rolling the window back up dramatically.

Your mouth fell open in exaggerated shock. Opening the car door, you saw him laughing so hard he was almost in tears. You couldn’t help but join in, your loud laughter filling the space.

"Hello! I guess I missed you," you said sassily as you settled into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt.

"I missed you too," Harry replied softly, leaning over to give you a quick hug in the tight space.

"Okay, let’s go. I’m hungry. For SUUUSHHIII!" Harry suddenly screamed, making you burst into laughter again.

…

The restaurant was cozy, with warm wooden tones and a calming atmosphere. You admired the decor as you waited for your food, bopping your head to the music playing in the background.

"Look at the solid wood they used here," you said, gesturing to the tables. "And the lights! The pendants are gorgeous. I love the pattern they used on the accent wall."

Harry watched you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He was quiet for a moment, his mind racing. Is now the right time to ask her to be my girlfriend? he wondered.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the waiter arrived with your food.

You both broke your chopsticks simultaneously and reached for a piece of salmon nigiri.

"So, how was your day, Harry?" you asked, savouring the fresh flavour.

"It was fine. Full of the usual meetings… that kept me from you." Your cheeks warmed at his response.

"I miss you too," you said shyly. "Thanks for inviting me to dinner. This is delicious!" Harry hesitated, his fingers fiddling with his chopsticks.

"Uh, Y/N… Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what’s up?" you replied, taking another bite.

"Well, we’ve been having dinner for the past month or so…"

"Yeah?

"What do you think of our relationship at this point?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I guess… we’re good friends. You mean a lot to me, Harry."

"You mean a lot to me too, Y/N," he said softly, his gaze flicking to your lips.

But you didn’t seem to pick up on his deeper meaning. Harry smiled to himself, deciding to try again tomorrow.

…

The next morning, both you and Harry found yourselves struggling. You still hadn’t come up with the perfect gift for him, and Harry still couldn’t figure out how to confess his feelings.

As you prepared for the day, your phone chimed.

Harry ☺️: Good morning. Want to ask if you’re busy for lunch today. 🌞😴

Y/N: Not at all. Want to get sandwiches at Feli’s place?

Harry ☺️: That’s what I was planning. See you there. 😎🥪☕️

As you ended the conversation, an idea suddenly struck you.

What if I made Harry something that wasn’t just a card? What if it was something more personal—something meaningful?

You grinned, a spark of excitement taking over.

…

By the time you arrived at Felice’s, Harry was already there, waiting at your usual table.

"Hey, you," he said with a warm smile. "Missed you all morning."

"It’s noon, Harry. We literally saw each other last night," you teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

"Well, it felt like a whole day already," he replied cheekily, his grin infectious.

As Felice brought over your drinks, Harry shifted in his chair, tapping his foot nervously under the table.

"So," he began, his voice hesitant, "I wanted to ask you something… about us."

You set your matcha latte down, a small crease forming between your brows as you looked at him. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, his green eyes searching yours for courage. "You mean the world to me, Y/N. I was wondering if… if we could take things to the next level?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. For a fleeting moment, you thought you might have misunderstood him. But instead of jumping to conclusions, you took his statement the way you always had—through the lens of your friendship.

A warm smile spread across your face as you reached out to pat his hand.

"Of course we can, Harry," you said earnestly. "We’re best friends! I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to anyone."

Harry blinked, his hopeful expression faltering for a split second before he quickly recovered. "Right. Yeah… best friends," he said, his lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile.

You leaned back in your chair, sipping your latte. "I’m so glad we had this talk. It’s nice to remind each other how much we mean, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, his tone warm yet tinged with something unspoken. "It’s good to know where we stand."

But inside, Harry felt like screaming.

He cleared his throat, glancing at the time on his phone. "Actually, I just remembered—I have a call I need to take back home. You know, work stuff."

Your face fell slightly. "Oh, already? We barely had time to hang out."

"I know, I know," he said, standing up and putting on his coat. "I’ll make it up to you, promise."

You gave him a warm smile and stood up to hug him goodbye. "You better. Drive safe, okay?"

"Always," he murmured, his voice soft, as he stepped out the door.

…

As the door chimed shut, you settled back into your seat, finishing your latte. Felice appeared from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron, her expression a mix of frustration and disbelief.

"Y/N," she said firmly, crossing her arms as she leaned on the table and sat in the chair Harry previously sat on

You looked up, startled. "What’s up, Feli?"

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "You do know he’s trying to ask you out, right?"

You blinked, confused. "What? No, he’s not. Harry and I are just friends. He was just being sweet, as usual."

Felice groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sweetheart, he wasn’t being sweet—he was confessing his feelings for you! That whole ‘take things to the next level’ thing? That wasn’t about friendship."

Your cheeks flushed, your mind replaying the conversation. "Wait… are you serious? He meant—oh my god."

"Yes, I’m serious!" Felice threw her hands in the air. "He’s been head over heels for you for weeks, and the poor man is probably banging his head on his steering wheel right now because you didn’t pick up on it."

You stared at her, stunned. "But he didn’t… I mean, I thought he just wanted to—oh no."

Felice softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, Y/N. You’re amazing, but sometimes you’re a bit oblivious. Go home, think about it, and if you feel the same way, don’t make him wait too long. He’s trying, but he’s nervous, too."

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words. "I had no idea," you murmured, biting your lip.

Felice smiled knowingly. "Now you do. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t let him chicken out next time."

…

The walk back to your apartment felt longer than usual, your mind replaying every word Felice had said. Could Harry feel that way about you?

The thought sent a mix of butterflies and panic fluttering through your chest.

Shaking your head, you unlocked your door and stepped inside, determined to distract yourself.

"Focus," you muttered, setting your bag down on the table. There was still the matter of Harry’s birthday gift—a task that had been daunting enough before all this confusion.

You pulled out the materials you had bought earlier, laying them carefully on your worktable. Cardstock in soft pastels, fine-tipped pens, watercolours, and a small collection of pressed flowers you had saved from past projects.

Your plan: a Victorian puzzle purse. A charming, intricate craft that unfolded layer by layer to reveal hidden messages. It was old-fashioned, meaningful, and perfect for someone as thoughtful as Harry.

With a deep breath, you started sketching designs for the embellishments. At the corners of the puzzle, you drew delicate hearts, intertwining vines, and blooming flowers. Each stroke of the pen felt meditative, calming your nerves as you thought about what you wanted to say.

…

Once the decorative borders were complete, you dipped a fine brush into your watercolour palette, adding soft blush tones and a touch of gold to the design.

As the paper dried, you pulled out your favourite pen, poised over the center of the puzzle where the first message would go.

"Dear Harry," you wrote, the words flowing easier than you expected.

"Happy Birthday to someone who brings light and laughter into my life every day. You’ve shown me what kindness, warmth, and passion look like, and I’m so grateful for every moment we’ve shared."

You hesitated, biting the end of your pen. Should you say more? Your mind wandered back to Felice’s words, and the possibility that Harry’s feelings for you went beyond friendship.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to be honest in your writing. Erasing your previous note.

You smiled to yourself, finishing the letter by signing your name. Folding the puzzle purse carefully, you tucked each corner in place, marvelling at how beautifully it had turned out.

Setting the finished craft on the desk, you leaned back in your chair and studied it, pride swelling in your chest. The puzzle purse was perfect—elegant, intricate, and heartfelt. You hoped Harry would love it as much as you had loved making it.

But as you stared at the delicate folds and hidden messages, Felice’s voice echoed in your mind again: "He’s trying to ask you out."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Could she be right?" you whispered to yourself.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like if Harry did feel the same way. His shy smiles, the way he always made time for you despite his busy schedule, the way his green eyes softened whenever he looked at you… it all started to fall into place.

Your cheeks heated as you realized how much you wanted it to be true.

Pushing the thought aside, you stood up and placed the puzzle purse carefully in an envelope, sealing it with a wax stamp for an extra touch of flair. "We’ll see," you murmured. "First, let’s get through his birthday."

Little did you know, Harry was sitting in his car outside your apartment, staring at his steering wheel and replaying your conversation at Felice’s. He was determined to figure out how to tell you his feelings, once and for all—before he lost his nerve.

The soft knock on your door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone. As you peeked through the peephole, your breath caught. There he was, standing in the hallway, looking both nervous and determined, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hands.

You opened the door cautiously, surprised to see him. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Hey," he said, his voice soft but resolute. He held up the flowers with a sheepish smile. "These are for you."

Your eyes widened as you stared at the bouquet—an assortment of daisies, lavender, and tiny pink blooms, the kind of arrangement that felt as though it had been picked straight from a garden. "For me?"

He nodded, stepping inside at your invitation. You closed the door behind him, still cradling the flowers in your arms as if they were the most fragile thing in the world.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "They’re beautiful."

Harry’s gaze softened as he watched you fuss over the flowers, your fingers delicately brushing the petals. He noticed the faint blush creeping up your cheeks, the way you avoided his eyes, and it only strengthened his resolve.

"Y/N," he began, his voice breaking the silence. You glanced up at him, your expression curious but cautious.

"I—" He faltered, running a hand through his curls. "I came here because… well, because I couldn’t wait anymore."

You tilted your head, confusion flickering across your face. "Wait for what?"

He let out a shaky breath, his hands fidgeting by his sides. "To tell you how I feel."

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks now," he continued, his green eyes locking onto yours. "Every time we have dinner, or lunch, or even just coffee, I try to find the right moment, but it never feels right. And then today, when we were at Felice’s, I realized I can’t keep putting it off."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Could this really be happening?

"I like you, Y/N," he said, his voice steady despite the nervous tremor in his hands. "More than a friend should like a friend. And I don’t want to pretend I don’t anymore."

Your grip tightened slightly on the bouquet as you tried to process his words. Harry liked you? As more than a friend?

"But…" you stammered, your voice shaky. "I thought we were just—"

"Friends?" he finished for you, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "I know. I’ve probably confused you by not saying anything sooner. But, Y/N, you mean so much to me. More than anyone ever has. And I just… I couldn’t hold it in anymore."

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest. "I… I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything right now," he said quickly, his voice gentle. "I just needed you to know. Whatever you feel, I can handle it. I promise."

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You glanced down at the bouquet in your arms, your thoughts swirling. Finally, you looked up at Harry, his hopeful green eyes searching yours.

"Harry, I…" You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in your mind, you remembered the gift you had been working on for him all night.

Without a word, you turned and walked to your desk, leaving Harry momentarily confused. When you came back, you held a sealed envelope in your hands.

"This… this was supposed to be your birthday gift," you said softly, holding it out to him. "But I think maybe it’s better if you open it now."

Harry blinked, his brows knitting together as he carefully took the envelope from you. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, clasping your hands nervously as he broke the seal.

Harry studied the puzzle purse with awe, gently unfolding each layer of the intricately designed card. You had poured your heart into it, embellishing it with tiny hand-drawn flowers, delicate hearts, and vibrant splashes of color.

When he reached the center, he found the letter you had written. As he began to read, your pulse quickened.

"Dear Harry, I spent so much time trying to figure out what to give someone who seems to have everything.

But then I realized the only gift I could give you is the truth:

you’ve made my life brighter in ways I never thought possible. You inspire me, make me laugh, and make me feel seen. You mean so much to me,

more than I think I’ve let on. And though it terrifies me to say it… I think I’m falling for you.

Happy birthday, Harry. You deserve all the happiness in the world."

sincerely yours,

Y/N

When he looked up from the letter, his eyes were glistening with emotion. He smiled, a mixture of relief and joy spreading across his face.

"You…" He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "You’re falling for me?"

You nodded shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t know how else to tell you. I thought it would be safer to put it in the card."

Harry let out a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he set the card on the table. "Y/N, you’re incredible, you know that?"

You looked at him, your brows furrowing slightly. "I’m… incredible?"

"Yes," he said firmly, stepping closer. "And for the record, I’ve been falling for you too—hard. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it outright."

Your heart swelled at his words, and before you could overthink it, you reached out and took his hand.

"So… what now?" you asked, a nervous smile tugging at your lips.

Harry grinned, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Now, I make this official. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?"

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. "Yes, Harry. I’d like that."

Relief and happiness washed over Harry as he pulled you into a warm embrace, the wildflowers now forgotten on the table.

You rested your head on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

"I guess I don’t have to wait until my birthday for the best gift of all," Harry murmured, his voice low and full of affection.

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes shining. "And what’s that?"

"You," he said simply, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

… In the spirit of Harry's 31st Birthday. Here is my gift to the fandom. 💗💗💗

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aphiewrites · 4 months ago

Text

Pairing: season 1!Viktor x gender neutral!reader

Warnings: literally just fluff, being asked out lmao, first time writing, no mentions of y/n, not proofread,

Word count: idk

a/n: y’all i used to write fanfics, but i haven’t in sOOOOOO long. I literally apologize, on my knees, begging, if like this is bad. i wanted to pick up writing again bc arcane has just inspired me especially viktor if u know what i mean. ahaha. pls dont criticize me so harshly i will cry and stop writing but advise is appreciated. also grammar might be bad, its like a weakness for me cus english is my second language. anyways bye love u whoever reads this.

The clacking of your shoes echoes through the academy halls. The lights in the hallway barely emit a soft light in these dark hours. A guard stands at the end of the hallway, quietly dozing off and then catching himself awake when his head nods. He finally notices you with a box in your hands, a box filled with trinkets such as gears, screws, and jagged handmade parts of machinery. He nods at you, passing him with a quick smile as you make a left to looming doors of the laboratory.

You quietly open the door, using your elbow to turn the long door handle. You push the door open with your foot and smoothly slide in. You nudge the door close with your foot aback and adjust your hold with the wooden box as to not drop anything. The laboratory is glowing a blue hue from the hexcore being mended on. There in the middle of the lab, you notice Viktor. Slouched and focused on the magical machinery, his arms twisting and turning to control the robotic arms that interacts with the hexcore. His hair is ruffled from the goggles that is on his face and from the frustration that he runs through his hair with his hands.

You slowly make your way over to his position, cautious of the laboratory environment as to not cause an incident. “Viktor, I brought your order of supplies,” you speak softly.

Viktor jolts from his focus and immediately lets go of the controls. He pulls back the goggles and turns to you, “ah! You can set that down anywhere. I hope you didn’t find much trouble getting those,” he speaks kindly, his accent smooth and alluring.

You set the box down on the table in the middle of the laboratory and you pause for a moment. You can’t help but smile at him, his face has marks from the goggles resting too long on his face, and his hair is just a giant jumbled mess. You walk over to him, reaching out to the top of his head to readjust the goggles and to fix the folded parts of hair.

Viktor gives you a flustered look but doesn’t say much of it and lets you adjust his look.

“I managed to haggle the price for most of the parts,” you gleefully share to him.

“That is good,” he says, continuing to watch you closely as you clean up a few more pieces.

You retreat back and put your hands behind, “I did have trouble finding one part, I had to check three different shops before I found one that had it available.”

“I could’ve done it myself, but thank you for going through that trouble for me,” he says with a gentle smile.

You chuckle, “I’m happy to help around, Viktor. It keeps me busy instead of waiting around in an office to stamp papers.” Viktor and you share a light laugh. “Oh, before I forget…” You dip your hands into the pocket of your coat and place down the change you obtained from haggling beside him on the desk. “I would’ve dropped it off earlier, but I got caught up on the stamping and I’d figured you’d still be here,” you ramble.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a pause in the conversation. You didn’t notice how loud the hexcore hums until this silence. The silence is edging the line of awkward and comfortable silence until you cut in quick.

“So… Are you planning on clocking out soon?” Your eyes shift to the side as you question.

“There is still much work to do.” His head lowers, eyes looking down on his hands that are nervously soothing each finger.

“I don’t want to sound like Jayce right now, but I think you should take a break and come back to this in the morning.”

He sighs, “I am well aware,” he runs his hand through the back of his head, his other arm leaning on his knee, and his leg is now bouncing.

“Come on, you will have more space in that brain of yours to think once you’ve rested,” you outreach a hand.

“Fatigue is not the issue, it is you taking up more space in my head.”

You freeze in your place, dumbfounded. You aren’t sure if you heard that right, but you aren’t sure if he means it in the way you think. Does he despise your presence? Does he want you to leave so he can work more? Or does he find some sort of affection towards you?

He finally looks up at you to analyze your reaction, arms resting at his knees.

He must’ve realized your confusion on your face but he speaks up again, “Will you have dinner with me?”

You, never in a million years, would expect Viktor to make such a bold move on you. Your face is burning and heart is beating like a large drum inside of you.

“Um… Isn’t it a little late for dinner, Vik?” You awkwardly state. “Besides… I should probably sleep soon… and you too…”

Yours and Viktor’s face turn to shock from what you just said. You immediately curse yourself in the inside, it sounded more like a way to kindly reject him, but you swear to yourself it was out of concern for the man to rest as well instead of ruining his sleep schedule more.

Viktor straightens himself in the chair, trying to compose himself, “ah, yes. I’m sorry to bother you with nonsense—“

“No! no, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to come off as a rejection.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Is it not?”

“No! I would love to have dinner with you! I was just saying you should rest, you’ve been working all day.” Did it get even more hot in this room? You think. Your face is burning even more than before and it feels like a sweat is about to drop from your forehead.

Viktor picks up his cane from the side of the desk and stands up.

Oh god. He’s coming over.

He stands right in front of you, looming. Bodies close, not touching, but you swear you can feel the warmth radiate off of him. The scent of his cologne fills your nose due to the close proximity. You can see the overconfidence that has kicked into him and you wish you could melt right at this second. He just stares at you for a while without saying anything. A smile creeping up on his face and it almost scares you because what else is going to come out from that mouth that’s going to send you into a frenzy?

“Well, perhaps I will rest tonight to keep your brain from worrying, and maybe a date tomorrow?” He slyly asks.

You blink a few times before gaining the composure to respond, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay cooped up in this lab tomorrow?” You snarkily remark.

“Jayce will do the work.” He grins.

“A date it is then,” you smile back.

“I’m glad,” he brushes off a piece of dust from your cheek then backs up. “I will head out now then, goodnight.” He says as he slowly walks towards the door.

“Wait a minute, have you eaten at all tonight?” You turn to him.

He stops halfway to the door, awkwardly as if he was caught stealing something, “No, but I was going to head to a little shop to pickup a meal,” he gives an innocent honest, almost goofy, smile.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Let’s go together then,” you catch up to him and follow him through the door.

———

“So, if we’re eating dinner right now, does that mean there will be no date tomorrow?” Viktor asks, half a sandwich in hand.

“Dinner, we rest, then date, okay?” You smirk.

He grins, “Okay, good.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor lol #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #league of legends #arcane #jayce talis #viktor league of legends #viktor nation #viktor machine herald

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sister-lucifer · 2 years ago

Text

Genre: Smut

Summary: Reader finds an antique Jack-In-The-Box at a yard sale, unaware that by purchasing it they would also be taking home an unwanted guest.

Content/Warnings: Dubcon elements, horror elements, LJ being a stalker creep (so some non con voyeurism), LJ is just fucking weird in this one, clown fucking shenanigans, big stripey clown dick and also long stripey clown tongue, comically large clown penis, LJ eats ass, LJ is massive so big size difference, tummy bulge, that dick should NOT be able to fit in you but it’s my story i can bend the laws of anatomy however i wish, LJ is very mean in this one and doesn’t really care if he hurts you, some degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is kind of a slut boy (same), there’s a lot of build up but please it’s worth it i prommy (but also feel free to skip to the porn that’s totally fair)

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Jack is british just fyi so if you’re like me and you read with accents there you go!

The antique jack-in-the-box was certainly an odd find at a garage sale, but there was no denying that it caught your eye the moment you saw it. It was incredibly ornate, clearly hand painted in all black and white and decorated with balloons and candy, not to mention it was preserved wonderfully for a piece that had, presumably, been stored in an attic for who knows how long. You could run your fingers over the edges and feel every detail of the tediously carved borders. You carefully turned the wooden box over in your hands, looking over the large, carefully painted words on the front:

“Laughing Jack In The Box!”, surrounded by all sorts of patterns and shapes.

Your face immediately lit up. Everything about this box screamed one of a kind. You could already see it sitting on your collectors shelf, safe behind the glass for you to keep and observe. You absolutely had to have it.

“Excuse me miss?” You called, looking around for the old woman who was running the garage sale. She got up from her lawn chair and made her way over about as fast as you’d expect from one as antique as some of the items currently being sold.

“Could you tell me about this jack-in-the-box?” You asked, trying to hide your elation.

“Oh, this old thing…” She began, looking at you over her comically oversized glasses. “It belonged to my great, great grandfather, Isaac, and was handmade by his father. It was given to me as a young girl, and I was keeping it in the hopes I could pass it on to my own children.”

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the comment, but it seems the woman had no qualms about selling it.

“Well, it may please you to know that I’m an antique collector,” You explained in an effort to reassure her. “This is a beautiful piece. If you’ll sell it to me, I can promise you it’ll be safe on my shelf.”

“Oh, I have no worries about that. No one would pick this old thing up unless they knew what they were buying. So, what’s your offer young man?”

You thought for a few moments, weighing the box in your hands. You didn’t want to completely rip her off, but a one of a kind antique like this could go for thousands in the right place, and you weren’t looking to break the bank for this thing. Besides, who else would possibly buy it if you didn’t?

You pulled your wallet out and flipped through it, debating with yourself.

“How about…a clean fifty?”

And with that, a deal was made. Before you knew it you were proudly walking back to your car with the box tucked under your arm. You placed it carefully in the front passenger seat where you could watch over it, glancing back one last time to the now empty place on the table where the box once sat before driving away.

Immediately upon getting home you rushed to your room and swung open your shelf, eyes scanning over every row as you tried to find the best place for your newest treasure. It took a bit of rearranging to keep the shelf organized to your liking, but eventually you were able to place the box neatly right in the middle. You carefully closed the glass door and took a few steps back to admire your work. It was absolute perfection, and you couldn’t stop yourself from happily clapping your hands together. You deserved to applaud yourself a bit, after all.

You flopped down on your bed and grabbed your phone, eager to share your find with anyone who would listen, giddy with excitement. You really couldn’t believe how lucky you were! No one else would ever lay hands on a jack-in-the-box like this one, and now it was all yours.

As the hours of the afternoon dissolved into the night, you found yourself peeking into your room just about every time you walked past. You smiled wide whenever you saw the pristine box sitting on your shelf. It was especially beautiful when the sun hit it just right and made it shine. Your chest was still swelling with pride even as you climbed into bed for the night, able to peacefully fall asleep knowing that you’d filled another spot on your shelf today.

Unbeknownst to you, you had just given up the privilege of peaceful sleep.

That night you had one of the worst, most vivid nightmares you could remember.

You were standing in your room late at night, and everything seemed deathly silent, as if all the birds and insects that would normally be chirping outside had up and died off. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked around in confusion. You tried to turn on your lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. Trying the light switch yielded the same distressing result. You moved to open the door, but the moment you reached out for the knob it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. When you turned back, your bedroom window was gone too. Both of your escape routes had dissolved into thin air without so much as a sound.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your eyes slowly wandered to the jack-in-the-box. It was the only object left on your now open collectors shelf, but it seemed to take up so much more space than before. It had captured your gaze in an iron grip, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t look away. A terrible feeling began to bubble in the pit of your stomach, becoming heavier and heavier until you felt as though you may collapse from the weight, but nothing was happening. Something about the box itself felt so…malicious, so threatening, but it was simply sitting dormant on your shelf.

What were you so scared of?

That was the question replaying in your mind when you woke with a start, nearly falling out of your bed in your disoriented state. You shot straight up as you fought to catch your breath, taking a look around just to make sure your window and door were still there. Fortunately, they were. It really was just a nightmare.

A wave of relief washed over you as you slowly laid back down. You took an extra minute to catch your breath, silently scolding yourself for being so easily scared. You turned your head to look out the window, now noticing the very first little shreds of the dawn coming up over the horizon.

However, you noticed something else as well. Something that set off just a bit of unease in you.

The glass door of your shelf was open.

Not wide open, or broken, just slightly cracked as if it hadn’t been closed all the way and was now just barely ajar. You could’ve sworn you shut it all the way, you could even remember hearing the little click.

But we all make mistakes, don’t we?

That seemed enough of an explanation to calm you as you slipped out of bed to close the shelf once more. This time you double checked, just to be sure. When you were satisfied you went back to bed, finding sleep rather easily and this time without incident.

When you awoke some hours later you couldn’t help but question which parts of the night were a dream and which were reality. The memories of when you had woken up the first time were hazy, not to mention you were still shaken up from the nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind, though, when you found your shelf securely closed and seemingly untouched. That was really all that mattered.

It seems you had the green light to go about your day as usual.

First thing’s first: you need to change out of your nightclothes. The stained band tee and baggy sweats would not cut it for running errands. You decided on something that would be comfortable for the day, but still made you feel confident and happy with yourself.

As you undressed you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself in the mirror, standing there in just your boxer briefs. You ran a hand over your sides, turning around halfway as you admired your own figure. It was a silly habit to have, really, but what was it hurting? After all, you were one handsome man. You deserved to be seen.

You weren’t the only one who thought this, and you certainly weren’t the only one who enjoyed admiring you.

Completely hidden out of your view, just how he liked, two achromatic pinwheel eyes spun manically behind the shadows of the jack-in-the-box. He only had to lift the box just slightly, so little that you would never notice, and even if you did you would likely brush it off as your imagination. Jack was skilled like that, able to slowly lure his victims into madness in such a way that they wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

You, though, had caught his attention in a slightly different manner.

You had piqued his interest the moment you picked up his box, handling it with a curious yet careful manner. For generations he had been packed away in dusty attics and grimy basements and long forgotten storage units, completely disgraced by the family line that was supposed to cherish him. But you had plucked him from that miserable cycle, dusted him off, and placed him carefully on your shelf in a secure little spot where you could see each other every day.

This was certainly unusual behavior.

That ache of contempt that he felt for nearly everyone else somehow had yet to creep in. On some level, Jack was just as curious about you has you had been about him, and now he was safe behind the glass to keep and observe you as he saw fit. Human bodies in particular had always been an odd interest of his seeing as they looked so different from his own. Seeing you flaunt yours so proudly with no one else around was honestly a bit amusing.

He watched silently as you slipped on your day clothes, turning around a couple more times in the mirror and adjusting your outfit a bit before finally deciding you were happy. He didn’t slip back down into his box until he heard your car pulling out of the driveway.

He sat there with himself for some few hours while you were gone. He had lost any sense of time at this point, used to spending his days alone in his box. Although, this time, there was one reoccurring theme that all his thoughts seemed to circle back to:

You.

What made exactly you so interesting, hm? He could venture a vague guess, but something was just…different. His affinity for humans had long since waned to nothing nearly two centuries ago, and yet a small part of it was beginning to stir in him once more.

It seemed this would require further observation, which was certainly no issue to him.

You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware that you were currently sharing your humble abode. There were a few times when the events of the earlier night managed to worm its way back into your mind, but you always managed to push it away. You were simply being silly, that was all. It was a random occurrence with absolutely no significance.

Yeah, sure, that made enough sense.

By the time you were unlocking your front door, you had been lucky enough to truly forget about your nightmare. It seemed that you had finally calmed yourself and managed to stay grounded.

At least you had until you stepped through the door.

The second you had both feet in the doorway, the nightmare came rushing back in vivid flashes. It felt like your grocery bags were filled with cement, your limbs suddenly going weak. Your entire body had gone stiff, paralyzed with an indescribable sense of anxiety, the feeling that something was terribly, deeply wrong in your home.

You swept through the whole house and found not a single thing out of place, though every time you turned a corner you were sure you’d see something you didn’t want to.

No smashed in windows, no kicked in doors, nothing taken or broken, no other sign of an intruder. Nothing that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.

Then why was your stomach churning with the same heavy dread you’d felt in the nightmare?

You wracked your brain as you tried to figure out what could possibly be making you feel so uneasy in your own home, but nothing came to mind. Even as you put away your groceries you were mumbling and muttering to yourself, attempting to fetch any semblance of an explanation.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Jack was more than happy to watch you spin yourself into a tizzy over his little tricks. He giggled to himself when you paced back and forth where he could see you outside the doorway of your room, proud to see he hadn’t lost his mischievous touch.

You felt absolutely exhausted by the time you were trudging your way to your room, the subtle thrum of an oncoming headache already threatening to floor you for the rest of the day. You were so drained, in fact, that you had to do a double take to realize that your collector’s shelf had been completely opened.

Not just creaked open like last time, completely opened. If it had been pushed any farther, the hinges would’ve snapped.

You stared in disbelief, mouth hanging half open. You couldn’t even will yourself to move. It felt someone had just lit a match to the pile of questions that had been accumulating in the back of your mind. As if on autopilot, you walked over numbly and shut the glass door of the shelf. This time, you triple checked that it was shut.

Of course, this time you weren’t satisfied with that.

The first thing you did once you had thrown on sweats and laid down was go to order a lock for the shelf online. You even paid extra to make sure it would be delivered the next day. After all, the last thing you needed was one of your prized possessions falling out and breaking.

Yes, that was the very normal, rational reason why you needed a lock.

You sighed with exhaustion as you struggled to get comfortable in your bed, figuring maybe a nap would help you recharge a bit. By some miracle you actually managed to fall asleep, and by another you slept peacefully for a full hour uninterrupted.

Damn, you needed that. You actually felt better when you woke up, stretching and cracking your back a few times before getting up.

Suddenly your fearful reaction earlier seemed so silly! Why were you so upset anyways? Because of a bad dream and a dingy old shelf? How stupid. Really, you were lucky you lived alone. If anyone had seen you like that they’d think you were crazy, irrational, completely out of your—

The shelf is open again.

The fucking shelf is open again, and the box has moved an entire shelf down on its own.

The box has moved on its own.

You were suddenly feeling light headed.

You sat back down on your bed, your head already beginning to ache once more. You were dizzy, confused, struggling to find your bearings in reality. You held your head in your hands as you tried to take a breather. Part of you hoped that if you simply looked away then back up, maybe the problem would fix itself.

No such luck.

You groaned with frustration, practically stomping over to your shelf. You moved the box back to its original place in a quick and jumpy manner, as if it was burning hot and it would hurt to hold onto it for too long. This time you quadruple checked that it had been closed properly, and even threw a blanket over the shelf to cover it.

It wasn’t a fix, but it could at least give you some semblance of security.

“Stupid broken thing…” You muttered to yourself, speed walking out of your room to head to the kitchen where hopefully a snack could distract you.

Jack was giddy with excitement, unable to stop himself from snickering with smug self-satisfaction. It had been so long since he had someone to play with, and you were so fun to scare it almost felt too easy.

He would have to play his next cards perfectly, though, if he wanted to keep this up.

He didn’t mess with you at all the rest of the day, even when he really, really wanted to. You peaked into your room every time you walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the shelf was exactly as you’d left it every time.

Maybe, you thought for the umpteenth time, you really were just being irrational. You didn’t even have another nightmare that night, and when you awoke the shelf was still closed with the blanket untouched on top of it.

When the lock came in that day you wondered for a bit if you really needed it, but ultimately decided it was better to be over-prepared than under. You could finally remove the blanket cover on the shelf, feeling much better now that you could properly shut and lock it. You stored the key away in the drawer of your nightstand where you knew it would be safe.

For you, it seemed like everything was finally back to normal again.

For Jack, this was the perfect opportunity to increase his antics tenfold. He was becoming more and more impatient, wanting to badly to properly greet you, and with each scare he only felt himself grow stronger. He was feeding on your anguish, allowing it to fuel him until eventually he would be ready to come out and play.

For the next few weeks, Jack made you sure you found absolutely no peace. He was relentless and cruel, even by his standards. He broke your stupid little lock, and the two others you ordered after that. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d made you shut the glass door to the shelf again. Whenever you tried to cover him with the blanket, he let you know he was particularly upset with you by not only swinging the shelf door wide open, but moving his box right to your bedside table. That way, he got to see your terror up close when you jolted awake, nearly tripping over yourself to get away when you saw the box a mere couple of feet from your face. He made the house creak and jump every time you got a moment of quiet. Hell, he was petty enough to mess with the thermostat when you were out, meaning you got to return home to a freezing cold or blistering heat that was surely running up your bill. Speaking of running up your bills, it wasn’t unusual for Jack to leave the water running either.

The thing that got to you the most, though, was the incessant nightmares.

God, they never stopped.

They were almost all the same:

You’d be trapped somewhere familiar, like your room or a store you’d been at that day. You’d be completely alone and no lights would work, and when you tried to leave all the doors and windows would disappear. And every time, every goddamn time, that jack-in-the-box would be sitting there to greet you when you turned around. That was by far the worst part. Just looking at it would make you weak and nauseous, but you always woke up just before you’d collapse. Whenever you awoke from your nightmares you tried to take comfort in the sunrise beginning to slowly come up over the horizon, but deep down you knew the daylight could no longer save you.

Each day you woke up more exhausted than the last, too tired to go anywhere but not able to stand being in your house with whatever entity was making your life hell.

On the contrary, Jack was merely becoming more and more energetic every day. He hadn’t felt this eager in a long, long time. He was even feeling a bit bold, working up the courage once or twice to open the shelf while you were in the room. That scared you the most, making you jump with fear and scramble out of the room as fast as you could.

He knew you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. You could leave for the day, sure, but sooner or later you’d have to come back home. The stars must’ve aligned for him to find you, the perfect little plaything that could never really escape and gave him endless entertainment. You were certainly a funny one.

Although, there were times he enjoyed simply watching you just as much as tormenting you.

Countless times he’d find himself occupied with quietly observing you as if you were a completely foreign creature. He’d peak out of his box to watch you toss and turn at night, to watch you dress in the morning, and he even got to see you walk back from your showers a few times. You looked so soft, even from this far away, with so many places for him to grab and squeeze and wrap his massive claws around.

It was shameful, really. Or it should’ve been at least. Jack didn’t know the meaning of the word. All he knew was that the urge to reach out and grab you in his claws was growing stronger, and fast. His already minimal patience was beginning to thin, and he knew that soon it would run out completely. Watching you from afar wouldn’t be enough.

But that was okay.

He was finally ready to properly greet you, and he knew exactly how he’d do it.

That night you experienced one of the usual terrors, but this time you couldn’t recognize the room. It looked to be the bedroom of a victorian mansion with tall wooden walls decorated with dusty paintings that seemed to go up forever, closing you in on all sides. A child’s toys were scattered around the room, and the blankets on the bed had been tussled and pushed around. It was clear someone had been living here, but who? And why were you in a room you had never seen before?

And why, God—

Why was that jack-in-the-box still sitting on the shelf? And why was the crank turning on its own, playing the quiet, foreboding tune of “Pop Goes The Weasel?”

The feeling of dread that filled you was nothing new, but what you didn’t expect was to see the box slowly open as the crank continued to turn.

The movement wasn’t sudden, but it was absolutely shocking, so much so that you fell back onto your hands. You tried to scoot backwards, to somehow get away, but you couldn’t move. All you could do was watch as the lid of the box clicked into its open place, and a dark shape began to emerge.

It took a moment for you to figure out what you were looking at. The shape had sharp edges and moved slowly, in a controlled manner. It wrapped around the edge of the box and tapped against it.

It was a hand.

A massive hand with pitch black claws, each nearly as large as your palm, much too big to belong to something that should’ve been able to fit in that box.

A second clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the opposite side of the box. They looked to be pulling up the rest of the body.

You watched, mouth agape in silent horror as the claws were followed by long striped sleeves, then a head and face covered by long black hair that fell past broad shoulders, until eventually the entire body had dragged itself out of the box. The creature sat there limply with its limbs bent unnaturally as if its own body was too heavy for it to move. There was one thing about it, though, that made your blood run cold:

Above a sharp toothed smile that was stretched impossibly wide were two achromatic pinwheel eyes, spinning manically behind a curtain of dark hair. They pierced your soul with their stare, almost seeming to glow in the dark.

There was a split second where you knew you were about to wake up, but the sight before you when you forced your eyes open was so similar to your nightmare that you weren’t sure it had worked.

That…thing from your dream was hovering over you.

Its visage was completely clear to you now, hair falling around its face and on either side of your head as it peered down at you. A single glance towards its body showed it was even bigger up close, easily twice your size. It resembled some sort of clown, in line with the theme of the jack-in-the-box, but nothing about it seemed comforting or humorous.

Your first instinct was to thrash, but you couldn’t move. The clown had pinned your arms down with its massive claws, not even flinching when you tried to fight it off. It took no effort to hold you down.

Its razor-toothed mouth began to crack open, and for a second you expected it to lunge forward and end it all with one fatal snap of its jaws.

But that didn’t happen.

No, instead…

It laughed.

The laugh itself didn’t even sound malicious or evil. In any other context it could easily be mistaken as an innocent giggle, a sound you might make when you saw something particularly cute.

That was what you were to Jack:

Cute.

But not in the way you’d think.

You were cute in the way a helpless, injured animal is cute.

Cute in the way that something you could hold in the palm of your hand is cute.

Cute in the way that something you knew you had complete control over is cute.

Cute in a pathetic, pitiful way that Jack loved.

He had waited so long to have his fun with you, he was trembling with excitement.

“Oooh, there you are!” Jack spoke in a lighthearted tone, drawing out his words in a playful manner. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to sound like, but it definitely wasn’t that. You couldn’t decide if his oddly happy demeanor and sing-song tone with the cartoonish lilt of his accent was more or less frightening than the classic demonic voice of a supernatural killer.

Suddenly something uncomfortably wet slid from your shoulder to your cheek, and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you realized it was his tongue.

It was impossibly long and had the same striped pattern as his sleeves, moving in a much too articulated manner, as if it was another limb. You watched with wide eyes at it slowly retracted back into his mouth with a sickening wet sound. You could imagine it coiled up in there like a snake; after all, that was the only feasible way it should’ve been able to fit back in his mouth.

“You taste even better than I imagined…” The clown continued, taking no notice of (or at least not caring about) your discomfort. “You’ve been teasing ol’ Jack, haven’t you?”

“J…Jack?” You echoed in a whisper. You could hardly hear your own meek voice.

He only chuckled in response, taking great delight in hearing you say his name.

One of his hands released your arm, though you didn’t dare move either way. It slowly slid its way under your oversized nightshirt, pushing it above your chest and exposing your entire midriff. Both of his hands ran along your sides slowly, two claw-tipped thumbs barely scraping over your skin. Just a bit more pressure could’ve drawn blood, and it wouldn’t even take much effort on Jack’s part.

You tried not to move, to not even breathe, terrified that one wrong move would get you torn to shreds. You could imagine one razor sharp talon digging into your chest and dragging to your stomach, slicing you open in a mess of gore and intestines and oh, God—

You winced when Jack’s tongue unfurled once more, this time running from your navel all the way to your chest. It left a cold trail of saliva that made you shiver. You had to turn your head away, unable to look at Jack any longer, only to yelp in pain when you felt the sharp sting of a bite.

When you looked down again you were greeted with Jack’s smug grin.

“Pay attention to me and I won’t have to do that again.” He ordered, unblinking stare piercing through you. The tone of the demand was almost whiny, like he would throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way.

“Wh…What the hell do you want?” You choked out.

Jack didn’t answer. It would be more fun to watch you figure it out on your own.

He adjusted you in his hold, allowing him to sit up as he moved to grasp your thighs. It was then you realized you’d neglected to put on any actual pants before bed, your lower half clad only in your boxer briefs which were doing very little to keep you modest, especially as Jack lifted your clothed bulge closer to his eager mouth.

“W-Wait—!”

But your plea came a moment too late, and any other attempt at words died in your throat when you felt Jack’s tongue run over your cock through your boxers.

“Shit—! Jesus Christ…” You huffed, “What the fuck…are you doing…?”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip and watched helplessly as Jack’s tongue ran over you once more, making you tense as you felt your cock twitch. Damn, that felt good…

You really shouldn’t have been enjoying this. Especially not this much. You expected to be much more disgusted, and yet you weren’t. In fact, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was eager to take much more.

But what choice did you have, really?

Jack certainly had no intention of stopping, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere. Besides, for all you knew you’d wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a shameful wet dream.

You tried to relax a bit in his grip, which proved difficult when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

Before you could blink Jack had suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making quick work of your boxers with one swipe of his claws. The sound of ripping fabric caught you off guard, and everything happened so fast you weren’t sure what had happened until you felt Jack’s tongue run over the bare back of your thighs.

“Oh my God—!” You cried out, barely managing to muffle yourself with a pillow. You held it tight against your face, and even had to bite down on it in an attempt to stop yourself from screaming when Jack slipped his tongue inside of you.

It felt even longer than it looked, squirming inside of you and leaving absolutely no spot untouched. Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly go any deeper, he somehow did, filling you with his tongue until you couldn’t fit anymore. A shame, really; he had lots more to offer, but he couldn’t expect much from such a little human.

His hands were easily large enough to grasp your waist and hold you against his mouth. You had no way of knowing, but Jack was more than aware of his own strength, even taking care to make sure he didn’t pierce you with his nails. You’d be much for fun alive, after all. Although, this didn’t mean he didn’t have a bit of fun scaring you, occasionally giving a rough squeeze just to feel you flinch. He was thoroughly invested in tasting every inch of you, but that didn’t mean he’d stop toying with you at every opportunity.

Despite his hold on you, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing desperately in his hands. You weren’t trying to fight him, but the sensation of his tongue wriggling around so deep inside of you was certainly an odd one. Your cock was already throbbing between your legs and dripping precum onto your sheets. There was a nagging urge to reach down and give your needy member some much needed attention, but you couldn’t force yourself to release your painful grip on your blanket. It was the only thing providing you any sort of purchase.

Jack was making quite the show of eating you out as well, moaning and slurping in a rather dramatic manner. He certainly wasn’t afraid of being noisy, though he made sure to stay quiet enough to listen to your encouraging noises. You sounded so desperate and needy, he just couldn’t get enough. You became especially loud when he began to slowly move his tongue in and out. He could even feel you squeeze around it, and it made his cock ache as he imagined what it would feel like to finally be inside of you.

You shuddered when Jack finally retracted his tongue, his saliva completely soaking your hole and beginning to run down your legs, leaving you now feeling thoroughly stretched but unpleasantly empty. He only let you rest as long as it took for him to close and wipe his mouth before he was manhandling you once more, this time flipping you into your previous position on your back. It happened so fast that just the impact of your head on the pillow made you dizzy.

When you looked up again Jack had leaned back a bit, looking down at his hands as he unbuckled his suspenders and soon after his pants. You followed his gaze just in time to see his own massive length spring free from his trousers.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was bigger than anything you’d ever even imagined, and suddenly you felt embarrassingly inadequate. It too was striped, and shaped in such a way that you could easily tell it was a cock but definitely not a human one. He laid it over your stomach and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size. It was thick and heavy too, throbbing eagerly against your skin.

“W-Woah, wait, no way—“ You stuttered, attempting to crawl backwards and away from Jack. “That’s fucking giant, holy shit…You can’t— T-That won’t—“

“Shhhhh!” Jack interrupted as he roughly pulled you back to him, “Calm down, you whiny little thing. You’ll be fine.”

You only whimpered in reply, watching with bated breath as he spread your legs wide to make room for his cock. He groaned with delight when his leaking tip brushed against your waiting hole.

“A-At least be careful…!” You pleaded in a last-ditch effort to earn yourself some mercy.

“I make no promises.” Jack replied shortly, as if he was annoyed with your request. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be so careless, but surely you were being dramatic. Humans were meant to stretch, right? Surely you weren’t that fragile.

The noise that struggled out of your mouth when he forced himself into you was downright inhuman, followed by a string of curses and other equally nasty exclamations of the sort that could’ve barred you from getting you into heaven all on their own. Not that you were going either way at this point.

When Jack had finally filled you as much as he could, only about two thirds of his cock had managed to disappear inside of you. That was still rather impressive, all things considered, and it’s not like he could complain. Your tight hole squeezed around him in all the right places.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You repeated under your breath as you tried to adjust to Jack’s size, a borderline impossible task.

“Foul mouthed one, aren’t you?” He scolded, grabbing your chin roughly. “Behave, or I’ll have to wash your mouth out.”

He seemed to find that hilarious, laughing to himself as if he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life.

“You…fuckin’ freak…” You spat back at him half-heartedly. It was hard to sound angry when you were trying to catch your breath after being filled to your limit. Jack feigned a gasp of disbelief at your lackluster insult.

“Naughty, naughty thing you are! Someone simply must teach you to behave!”

He squeezed you in his grip, testing his hold one last time before he began to pull back. You thought he’d stop halfway or at least start slow, but you were left speechless as he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip still nestled inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for what was sure to be a brutal impact.

“Brutal” was an understatement.

Shit, it felt like he fucking impaled you. You choked on what would’ve been a shriek when he pushed into you again, nails digging into his shoulder so hard it would’ve drawn blood if he had any. You felt unbearably full as his cock bullied its way back inside of you until it was laying heavy in your stomach.

Jack let out a shuddering moan that dissolved into a breathy laugh as he watched you struggle to keep it together. Your mouth hanging open in a silent scream and eyes going wide with panic was exactly what he wanted to see.

“Aww, did that hurt?” He asked, and honestly the condescending tone stung a bit. You only glared in reply.

He pulled back again, slamming into you with even more force than the first time. You could feel the bed swaying beneath you from the sheer strength. You could only hope he didn’t wind up breaking it after he broke you.

Jack was never one to take things slow, and as soon as he had gotten the hang of his thrusts he set a brutal pace. Each movement made your head spin with the impact. You really weren’t built to take something so massive, you shouldn’t have been able to, but you were taking it despite your body’s protests. You didn’t want to look down, unable to even stand the thought of seeing his gigantic cock disappear inside of you.

Desperate, animalistic noises spilled through your gritted teeth and out of your mouth. Each thrust hit deeper than the last and there were times you swore he was literally rearranging your guts. Of course you would eventually adjust to Jack’s size and strength, but that didn’t shake the fear that this encounter could land you in the hospital. This fear would fade as he continued though, the overwhelming fullness and ache soon melting into a pleasure like you’d never felt before. You grasped at anything you could, whether it be your sheets or Jack’s sleeves or hair, hopelessly clawing at anything you could get your shaky hands on.

Jack’s tongue laid limp out of his mouth as he panted, shamelessly rutting into you like a toy. You were nothing but a rag doll in his clutches for him to hold and use to his black heart’s content, and then some. While you couldn’t bring yourself to look down, he was more than happy to watch his cock thrust in and out of you. The wet squelching sounds made by each little movement were like music to his ears.

He knew he must’ve been hitting deep when he noticed the bulge he was making in your stomach.

Oh, you simply had to see this!

He grabbed your hair roughly and forced you to look down.

“Ahah! Do you see that? Do you?” He asked eagerly. He took your choked noise as a ‘yes.’

“You’re so small, ahah…I wonder how deep I can go before you break in two!”

He tugged on your hair once more, this time pulling it back to expose your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he dragged his tongue slowly up your neck before pulling you into a messy kiss. It only took one second of your surprise to allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, and it quickly found its way down your throat. You were caught off guard and nearly choked, which only made Jack laugh against your lips. You could feel every little twitch or jerk it made as it explored your throat with no regard for your comfort.

Jack didn’t pull away until he could tell you were struggling for air, retracting his tongue incredibly quickly. You were coughing and heaving to catch your breath, which he apparently found very amusing. It seemed to send him into a giggling fit every time he scared you half to death.

Suddenly Jack came to an abrupt stop. You looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on something else. You felt yourself being jostled around as he shifted his position, sitting up on his knees and lifting you from the bed with one hand still around your waist and the other under your back. You were entirely supported by his hands now.

What the hell is he thinking?!

You felt him retracting once more, but this time he wasn’t moving his hips. He was moving you.

He showed no signs of struggle or even the slightest strain as he began to thrust into you again, your weight practically nothing to him. He was using you like a goddamn fleshlight, nothing more than a sleeve for his cock.

And honestly…It wasn’t so bad.

That seemed to be your breaking point, any sense of dignity you had before completely going out the window as you gave into him fully. If he was going to use you like a toy, you could at least put in the effort to be a good one.

“F-Fuck! Ah—! Jack, m-more…!” You begged, and for a moment a look of surprise flashed across his face. The last thing he was expecting was to hear you pleading for him so shamelessly, but it was a welcome surprise. His signature grin returned quickly, stretching from one pointed ear to the other.

“Oh, more he says?!” He replied, “More, more! What happened to ‘wait, Jack!’ and ‘you can’t, Jack!’, huh? Sudden change of heart?”

He was mocking your voice, degrading you so blatantly that he expected you to recoil at his nasty words, but instead you tightened around him.

Oh…you liked that.

He was more than happy to keep going.

“What is it then, hm? Or have you already gone too stupid to answer me? Aha, you really do love this!”

You nodded quickly in response, managing to push out a slurred reply that sounded vaguely like an agreement.

“Fine then,” he conceded, “I can give you more…”

And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any faster or shove in any deeper or make you cry out for him even more.

He fucked you like his current life and the next depended on it, each thrust slamming the headboard into the wall so hard it left a mark. Your legs trembled as you began to get lost in the pleasure. It all felt like a blur, a wonderful blur only broken up by the realization that you were much closer to your orgasm than you realized.

“Jack, J-Jack—! I’m close, I…I’m…” You couldn’t even choke out a single sentence of warning. Jack was more than aware of what you were trying to tell him, but he was content to let you pathetically struggle for words.

“Go on, why don’t you? If you need it so bad I won’t stop you.”

His attempt at an impartial tone was greatly hindered by his obvious excitement, a result of how close he was to his own peak and how much he desired to see you cum. He wanted so badly to see you make a mess for him, to feel you spasm around him and know that he was the one who brought you to that.

“Oh, please—!” You whined, “Please, please, please…”

You had no idea what you were begging for. You didn’t have to, though, because it seems like your pleas worked anyways. Every muscle in your body tensed on instinct, your back arching up into Jack and one last high pitched cry managing to leave your throat as you came. The force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, more intense and prolonged than any other you’d had, helpfully hastened by Jack’s increasingly erratic thrusts.

“Ahah, you squeezed so tight!” He gushed, “You feel so, so good…”

Faster, faster, faster, he had to go faster. He was so close, so close. He had to fill you, he had to. He had to see his cum dripping out of you and to know that he’d filled you with all he had and you had to be filled.

He went silent for a split second, and you knew what you were in for when his hips stuttered before going still, but you weren’t ready for the sheer amount of cum he pumped into you. He held you on his cock until he was completely done, continuing to make small ruts with his hips until he’d ridden out his orgasm to the end. There simply wasn’t room for it all inside of you, but even as it flowed out of you and down your legs and onto your sheets he continued to spill into you. You’d gone limp in his hands by the time he was done.

You barely processed the feeling of being laid back down on your bed, but you definitely winced when Jack pulled out of you. Damn, you were already sore. Not to mention your forehead was drenched with a thick layer of sweat and your thighs were soaked with a multitude of bodily fluids that you were trying not to think about right now.

You managed to crack an eye open when you heard Jack snickering.

“Tired already? A shame. I had fun.” He said casually, as if the both of you had just returned from an outing and he hadn’t practically jumped you in your own home. Your only answer was an exhausted sigh.

Jack cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. Were you really so worn out already? He wasn’t tired at all! Then again, “tired” wasn’t really something he felt…

Humans are so strange.

He laid down beside you and draped an arm over you. When he leaned in you expected him to lick you again, but instead he brought you into a kiss. An actual kiss, the first real gesture of affection he’d given you, even if it was rather brief. He pulled away to nestle his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his laughter against your skin.

“You’re a funny one, do you know that? I hope I get to play with you a lot more…”

Oh, fuck.

He wasn’t leaving, was he?

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afternoondreaming · 1 month ago

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No Business Like Show Business (8/?)

Hello, dear viewers! Finally time for you to actually get to this screenwriter business. Bet you forgot that was your job title after all this time, huh?

Monday. The worst day of the week for every working class citizen. One that upon its utterance plants the seed of exhaustion into the very marrow of humanity’s bones. Well, you were being dramatic. It just sucked. Especially since it is your first actual day of working at Puzzlevision as it’s sole employee. Your hand slammed down onto your phone in attempts to stop the alarm that blared in your ears, knocking it off of your bedside table in the process as you groaned in annoyance. No, no, you must remain positive. It’s your first day at a new studio! Your boss was kind enough and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with asinine small talk with other employees and interns…! You’d have the office all to yourself- besides Mr. Puzzles- so you can play music of any genre and as loudly as you’d like! Positives. You must think of positives. Sluggishly retrieving your phone, you’d go about your morning ablutions while your mind wandered. What would you wear? Business casual would be your go-to, but it seemed rather unassuming in comparison to your superior. Strictly casual was definitely out of the question, then…

You would eventually find your way to your closet, freshly unpacked clothes from your move hanging in a neat order that would likely be failed to upkeep in due time. Your tired eyes would scan across, coming up at a loss as-… Something was there that most certainly was not when you packed. A double breasted suit jacket of monotone grey, accents of white along the shoulders and down the length of the sleeves. The starched collar of the jacket raised so that it may wrap around your neck, a black bow tie hung neatly around the hanger so that it may be paired with it. It looked much like a black and white version of an old cinema uniform, the main point standing out being the recognizable white TV logo on the left breast pocket. Had Mr. Puzzles left you a uniform…? Given it’s just a jacket and a bow tie, you likely could pair it with any pair of black slacks to complete it. While it was somewhat startling to find an unwelcome new addition to your wardrobe, it at least allowed you a simplicity of choice.

Puzzlevision Studios was but a short ten minute walk away, the soles of your shoes clicking against the sidewalk as you adjusted your bowtie with one hand and held your portfolio bag in the other. A rather nice day, hopefully a herald of a good work day as you came across the faded asphalt of the abandoned parking lot. Still eerie, you thought, pushing open the front door and preparing yourself for that puff of dust you were met with last time. Though, as you squinted your eyes and paused, you’d find that no grime of derelict years would greet you. Rather, that distinct lemony scent of floor cleaner. Mr. Puzzles had actually kept true to his word, having cleaned at least a section of the building for your use. Now that you could actually see the furniture beneath the caked grime, you’d have to guess that they were from the 50’s. Slim, streamlined wooden desks and conical hanging light fixtures adorning the sparsely populated office waiting space. At least, that was your guess, you weren’t in charge of props after all.

You walked past the waiting area and to the beginning of the hall, though stopped as something caught your eye. On one of the first doors down the hall was a rather out of place looking sign, very obviously handmade as it seemed the ink had slightly smudged atop the cheap printer paper. ‘Screenwriter’s Room’. Well, at least that made it easy, you thought, opening the door and jolting in surprise. Mr. Puzzles had been in there, apparently still cleaning with a dust cloth in his hand. He had yelped in surprise in turn at your sudden intrusion, though covered it up with a cough and a sideways glance.

“Ahem—- Starlet! Aha! Welcome, to the new and improved~…!” The man did a dramatic pose, gesturing to the finally clean living conditions. “Puzzlevision Studios!” He seemed to wait with baited breath as you looked around your would-be office, examining it out of politeness for all the work he had apparently put in. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing you’d ever seen; in fact, most would consider this a downgrade in conditions. Where you had recently come from a rather modern, ‘hip’ office with open planned drafting areas stocked with beanbag chairs and snack cabinets, this was absolutely archaic. A small room with a window to view the run down parking lot, one large table filling the space covered in permanent ink stains and notches from use, and two frankly uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. But, hey, at least it wasn’t mostly dust…!

“Thanks, Mr. Puzzles…!” You spoke carefully, not wanting to hurt your new boss’ feelings as you went about putting down your things. After all, he signs your paychecks.

“No need for thanks, my loyal sidekick!” Despite the words, it was very obvious the man wanted thanks. “I am a man of my word, after all! And I see you’ve found the uniform I created! One must match with their minions, after all~! I dare say that greyscale suits you!” Mr. Puzzles gestured to you, then back at his outfit, radiating pride for his apparently genius idea.

“Yeah, about that.” You began, your stern tone causing his happy expression to fall. “I get wanting a uniform for your employees- even though it’s a bit weird given I’m just a screenwriter-“ Emphasizing your proper job title, you continued. “Can you not leave it in my closet without any warning? It’s kinda creepy. How did you even know my size?”

“Excuse you! I had offered to help you move! Why not leave it there since I was already assisting?!” He scoffed, insulted at your creepy comment. “Besides, I simply guessed at sizing. Best to leave it for you to get tailored at your leisure.” He had in fact guessed at the sizing, given he had spent plenty of time just staring at you while you watched movies on his screen. A lucky guess, and certainly not creepy…! That’s what he’d tell himself, at least. He had gotten it done at the same place where he got his signature designer clothes, so at least you’d be similar once he got up to his villainy. Easier for everyone to know whose side you were on!

“Sure, sure.” You’d leave it at that, given he didn’t seem to mess with your room further. “Just don’t go leaving any more surprises around my house, ‘kay?”

Mr. Puzzles rolled his eyes— well, as best as a mostly static picture possibly could—- and sat down in the chair opposite yours. “Now! To business!” His hand went to one of his knobs, switching the picture to Puzzlevision’s current ratings. “We are… at zero stars.” He brushed past that part rather quickly, turning the knob again back to his face. “So! We need a breakout hit to being to correct course! Craft something genius, Starlet!” He waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the look of absolute confusion on your face.

“There’s so much to process here.” You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration, thinking it all over. “First: how the hell did we get to zero stars?!” While Mr. Puzzles’ knee jerk reaction was to begin to admonish you for even questioning such a thing, one word gave him pause. We. Despite it being your first day, you seemed to already count yourself at a proper Puzzlevision employee… He was lucky you were still so frustrated so you wouldn’t see the genuinely pleasant expression on his face. “Second: you can’t just tell me to craft something!” You exclaimed, hands dropping to your sides as you looked at him in mocking annoyance. “There’s a process to this! I need to know what you’ve done already, what films got what ratings, what test audiences thought was good and bad…!”

Test audiences. He… Hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps it would’ve been a good idea, but he’d be damned if he let you know that he never even considered it. “I have tried everything!” He exclaimed back, voice raising. “Foreign films, game shows, horror, westerns, kids programming, even a damn fairy tale for goodness sakes!” For each listed genre his screen would change to the poster, growing frustration at having to list each of his prior failures. “Everything!”

You racked your brain, watching the man ramble before an idea would finally strike. “You didn’t try romance.” You countered, Mr. Puzzles stopping mid ramble with a confused look on his face. He even had a little loading circle… You’d unpack how you felt about that later.

“Excuse you?”

“Romance! Sure you did a fairytale, but that’s not really a proper romance. If you do a romance right, you gain a practically rabid fanbase who’ll consume anything you put out related to it.” It was an easy genre to mess up, and one that could get you a lot of flak. But the rewards far outweighed the losses, given there was practically nothing to lose. “I worked on a few serialized romance series, so I’ve got the experience under my belt. What’s our pool of actors looking like? Can you call back the ones who performed in the other shows?”

“Absolutely not!” His sudden objection left you rather confused, but he continued anyway. “I refuse to… Call back, those oafs!” Mr. Puzzles didn’t exactly want you knowing that they were held against their will and brainwashed into performing. “They are wholly unprofessional and have produced the single worst show I have ever seen!”

“Okay, okay, jeez… You’re the one with zero stars, though.” You decided not to push that further, moving on before he could comment on your little jab. “So you’re telling me we have no actors, no staff, and no existing fanbase.”

“Exactly why I hired you.” Mr. Puzzles’ manic face returned, a slightly imposing look when he seemed to tower over you even when sitting. “We’ll develop a show with a skeleton crew of actors, a shoestring budget and you must get our ratings sky high. Do I make myself clear?” God, the man looked scary with that threatening tone, a shiver going up your spine.

“Crystal…” You replied, clearing your throat to distract from the slight terror. “So, we’re probably looking at two actors at least… I can work with this. Filming in your head will make for great sets, at least… How’ll we run through the screenplay with just us, though?”

“Simple, Starlet!” His demeanor changed back to something less threatening, though you still couldn’t shake that inkling of fear. “We’ll act it out ourselves until we can find suitable replacements!”

…Oh boy.

#mr puzzles #self insert #smg4 mr puzzles #fanfic #smg4 puzzlevision #x reader #mr puzzles x reader #self insert fanfic #smg4 fanfic #canon divergence #puzzledbusiness #puzzled show biz #mr puzzles x you #mr puzzles au

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moremaybank · 2 years ago

Note

i know it’s probably too late and i’m sorry but what about a short blurb or headcanons about dad!jj surprising his love on mothers day

if it’s too late, maybe vice versa where she celebrates fathers day for him when that comes around this summer 😭😭

— 💗 anon

-͟͟͞☆ dad!jj and your daughter surprise you for mother's day

warnings pure fluff, you and jj have a daughter bc i said so (lovingly)

author's note happy birthday to all the badass mamas out there. y'all are appreciated beyond belief, especially by me 🤍

jj masterlist

You hear the door creak open, followed by the sound of hushing and quiet footsteps against the boards of your wooden floor.

"Okay. Go ahead, baby girl. Wake Mommy up just like we talked about," JJ whispers.

"'Kay, daddy."

It's hard to suppress your smile but you manage to pull it off, not wanting to spoil the surprise that your loving husband and daughter clearly worked so hard on.

Your daughter climbs onto the bed and crawls over to you, her tiny hands and knees pressing into the mattress as she moves. You feel her palm rest on your shoulder, followed by her lips pecking your cheek.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy."

You play your role accordingly, whipping up your best fake yawn and stretching your limbs dramatically before you creep your eyes open.

"Thank you," you say, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You smooth down her bedhead and press a kiss to her head.

Your eyes then roam over to your husband, who's standing beside you with a grin on his face. He sits beside you and hands you the tray of freshly-cooked breakfast foods. The sweet smell of waffles doused with fruits and syrup fills your nostrils, along with notes of your morning coffee.

"We made you breakfast, Mommy. With scratch,” your daughter states proudly.

JJ corrects her after the two of you let out a soft laugh, "From, babe. From scratch."

"Close enough," you say, beaming at her encouragingly. "Thank you for breakfast, my sweet girl."

JJ clears his throat, "She had help, you know."

"Come here," you say with a knowing grin. Your hand cups his cheek, and you grant him an affectionate kiss as a silent thank you. Still, you decide to say it as well. "Thank you for breakfast, handsome."

"Don’t mention it. We actually have one more surprise for you." JJ eyes land on your daughter. "Ain't that right?"

Your daughter nods in a giddy manner, her little feet pattering against your floors once more as she bolts into your closet. JJ follows after her, knowing that she'll need help bringing out your gifts.

They return with a large assortment of red, pink, and white tones, with baby's-breath accenting the bouquet beautifully. Then came a handmade card from your daughter, covered in scribbles and a few splashes of paint around what you assume says Happy Mother's Day.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. You can't help it. You feel so loved and appreciated, even more so than they ensure to make you feel daily.

"You guys," you sniffle, wiping an escaped tear from your eye. You give them each another smooch, this time on their cheeks. "I love it. I love you."

"We love you too. Thank you for being our world,” JJ speaks, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear

"Thank you for being mine."

jj tag list (join here!): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @ellesalazar @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @mvybanks @aliyahsomerhalder @dreamingwithrafe @sarahjosefine03 @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @wildflwrdarlin @saturnband @adoreyouusugar @massiveprincesshologram @rosie-cameron @f4ll-for-you @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @venomwh0re @cumbuckett @jjmaybankisbae @marsipaanz @pank0w @enhypens-hoe @madsstuffsstuff @loverofdrewstarkey @insanelycrazyanddelusional @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @veescorneroftheworld @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

Text

Angels Like You

Loki x Fem Reader

Summary: After being pruned by the TVA, you were sent to The Void where you've lived ever since. During a storm Loki comes to your setup, seeking shelter. You allow him to stay and explain your nexus event to him.

Word Count: 2.0k

The context for this story: I based the reader's character after Sigyn who is the goddess of victory. In Norse Mythology, Sigyn is Loki's wife and is known for being extremely loyal. In Loki the mythical god's actual lore, after he kills the god Baldr he is banished to a cave where he is bound to rocks as a poisonous serpent drips venom onto his face until Ragnarok. Sigyn is so faithful she stays with Loki in this cave and holds a bowl above Loki's head to protect him from the venom. I based the reader's actions and relationship on the lore of Sigyn and Loki's romance if that makes sense; Thanks for reading!!

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You were sent to the void so long ago that it’s hard to remember what life was like beforehand. It was such a beautiful life, living on Asgard with your mother and sisters. Mother was a baker and made everything from sweet to savory and your father was a butcher. They were in love and always were, newlyweds by the time they were only 17. Everyone in the family helped out with the bakery, one of your favorite things to do was teach your younger sisters how to make different pastries. Taking care of the animals and interacting with so many locals. You threw another stick in the fire, trying to shake your head of all the memories. Your handmade shelter was holding up nicely from the storm currently roaring around you. While you were scavenging recently you found a mini DVD player among a bunch of rubbage. It had the movie Star Wars: Episode II Attack of the Clones which you’ve been watching on repeat ever since. It was comforting to you, especially because of how much the background looks like Asgard during certain points of the film. You had your legs kicked up, eating an unknown form of fruit that you picked earlier when you heard rummaging. You slowly start to get up not wanting to alert the potential threat. Arming yourself with your daggers, you get closer to the entrance of the shelter. Throwing the wooden door open you step in front of it. Unsurprisingly, a Loki stood in front of you smiling as if he was coming to ask for a cup of sugar. Instead of focusing on who was standing before the doorway, you whip your body around. The Loki that you saw was an illusion created to distract you, every single Loki you encountered did this so you were very familiar with this technique. You pressed the blade into his neck, causing him to raise his hands in defeat.

“How did you get my blades?” he asked, looking quite taken back.

“These are mine, not yours,” you replied flatly.

“How did you know I was coming,” he asked, most likely to stall.

“Because all Loki’s think they're clever by doing so, it’s like your party trick at this point. What is your business here?” you asked.

“Is that an Asgardian accent I recognize?” he said, dodging your question.

“What. Is. Your. Purpose. Here?” you ask, backing him against the wall and pressing the blade against his neck so hard that you caused a small scratch on his throat.

“Okay, cards on the table. I only came here looking for shelter from the storm. Truly had no ill intentions, could you please..?” he asked, insinuating for you to unarm yourself. You did pull the dagger away from his neck but kept them in each hand.

“I don’t believe you,” you said.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he said, sitting down and putting his hands in front of the fire, “you know you’re incredibly uncharismatic for a Loki,” he said, using magic to dry his clothes.

“I am not a Loki, and I never said you could stay here,” you said.

“Okay if you’re not a Loki then why do you have those daggers?” he asked.

“They belonged to a Loki and now they belong to me; end of story,” you said.

“Wasn’t aware it was pawning for a storytime,” he said giggling.

“Do you want to die,” you said, moving closer.

“You think you can kill me?” he asked.

“Me being able to kill you is irrelevant. I know I can keep you out of my hut, and I know that storm will have its way with you,” you said.

“Fair enough,” he said, putting his hands up playfully to surrender.

“Why are you wearing a TVA jacket?” you asked.

“I am a bit of a consultant, helping them with an inside look into the mind of a Loki,” he said.

After physically showing your disgust for his loyalty to the TVA through facial expressions. You started roasting a chicken over the fire that was in the center of the shelter. Loki again began to pry about the origins of your accent. You ignored his inquiries and turned the roasted chicken that was cooking above the fire. He was eyeing the food like a lion would a gazelle.

“I thought you worked for the TVA? Don’t tell me your wonderful new friends aren't feeding you,” you said flatly.

“Well you know sometimes missions go… askew if you will,” he chuckled then conjured himself a blanket.

“The TVA discarding lives at will? Can’t say I’m surprised,” you said.

“And what about you? Clearly, you're Asgardian so what was your nexus event?” he asked.

“I lived in the villages of Asgard, my family and I lived comfortably. My mother and father ran a foodery. They were given the opportunity to work in the castle’s pantry. Without a second thought, they took the opportunity, especially because it meant proper education for my sisters and me. We were shocked to see the interior of the castle. I couldn’t stop laughing because of how mesmerized I was,” you said, turning the chicken again, “as my sister and I lost our minds, the queen came around the corner. My mother was so upset that she saw me acting foolish, she pinched my forearm so hard it bruised. She took us to our separate rooms before showing my parents around. I didn’t want to be in separate rooms, in our old home, the room we shared was so small and the sudden change was jarring. Once I was alone in my room I broke down into tears, I was only 13 and it was all so overwhelming.” You moved the chicken away from the fire onto a makeshift table. Ripping one of the legs off and setting it on a chipped plate. Loki thanked you before you even handed it to him. After taking a few bites, he stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

“The next day things were getting easier. I came out of my room and saw a snake slithering outside my door. I picked it up and began talking to it, saying things like ‘If someone else would have found you, they’d make you lunch’ or ‘let's get you out of here before you’re killed’ but after I set it free, Loki shapeshifted out of his snake form. The first thing I noticed were his eyes, they were so bright and his pupils were wide.

“I was uh- trying to scare you but when you picked me up I had to wait till you set me down to shapeshift back,” he explained.

“Why would I be scared of a creature that is simply existing?” you asked.

“You have a point there,” he said laughing, which caused you to join him.

“After that encounter, it was like we couldn’t stop bumping into each other. Everywhere you went, he'd always end up stopping by even just to share a quick glance with each other. Eventually, things got more serious, and we’d both sneak out to meet each other in the library. Loki loved the library, he explained that when he was to rule Asgard, he’d make his soldiers study basic battle strategy and geography to ensure his glorious purpose wasn’t to be wasted. I always loved romance novels which irritated him beyond no end. One that you remember was about a young king named Angus who was turned to stone by Medusa. His queen Rose was wrapped in his arms when turned, he was protecting her. He thought if he shielded the queen from the serpent's view and it did. The queen could have escaped but she would’ve needed to shatter her king’s stoned body. He was gripping her so tightly that the stone was rubbing her skin raw, but she was so touched that in his last moments, he wanted to be as close as he could to her. The love she had for him was so strong that she couldn’t bring herself to it. So she died in his arms. Aphrodite was so moved by the queen's sacrifice that she turned her body into a rose bush with thorns that completely wrapped around him. To protect his stoned body so she could be with him forever. Loki would poke up and talk about how no king would ever do that. Even if he was right, it didn’t stop you from reading them obsessively.

The night before my 14th birthday, Loki appeared at my window wanting to talk.”

Flash Back:

“I have something to show you,” he said, taking you by the hand and helping you climb down from your window.

When you got to the bottom, there was a black horse that Loki helped you on. You were scared of getting in trouble but he insisted that nobody would notice. This is when you knew feelings were starting to develop, at least on your end. At first, you were scared to fully wrap your arms around him. He reached behind him and pulled you by your arms closer to him. You now had your cheek pressed against his back, watching his long black hair bounce as the horse galloped. You guys were getting deeper and deeper into the forest, starting to see more animals and thicker trees. When you guys finally stopped, it was starting to rain quite hard. He grabbed you by the waist and helped you down from the huge stallion. Taking you by the hand he began leading you to a cave that was nearby. At first, you were reluctant to go into this dark and foreign entryway. Loki dried your clothes and conjured a lantern. When he lit the cave up with light from the lantern you couldn’t believe your eyes. The cave had rose vines on every section of the wall. Your hand immediately threw your hand over your mouth.

“Like in that book you love, when I found it I knew I had to show you. I know it’s not much-” you interrupted him by pulling him into a hug.

“This is amazing, thank you for bringing me here to see this,” you said.

“I actually didn’t bring you here only to see it,” he said, pulling the book out of his saddle bag.

The cave’s floor was covered in long grass, which made it very comfortable when sitting on the ground. Loki’s back was pressed against a portion of the wall that he cleared of vines and thorns. You were your back against Loki’s chest as you read aloud to the book. You kept stuttering over words at first, being distracted and flustered. Eventually, you settled and were able to read fluently through the story. You guys stayed there until it began to rise, and right before you parted ways to separate bedrooms you shared a chaste kiss. Ever since that night, you knew Loki was the love of your life. The connection that was growing was strong and undeniable. It remained that way even after time aged the two of you. By the time you guys were 18 the love between the two of you was still as fresh as the roses in the cave. A wedding was being planned and the energy in the air was euphoric. Both of your families were healthy, the kingdom was thriving and you loved each other. Long story short: Baldr invaded Asgard. Loki killed him and saved so many people's lives yet he was punished. Banished to the very cave where your love blossomed in, only now the roses were all dead, yet the thorns remained. When you saw him, he was passed out from the pain. A serpent was suspended above his head, dripping its toxic venom onto his skin. You refused to leave his side, at first he would scream for you to leave. Not wanting your mind to be poisoned by the pain of seeing him so weak. You comforted him and held his head with one hand and used the other to hold out a bowl, catching the venom. You weren’t sure how much time passed, but one day you couldn’t stand the thought of living this way. For your love to be punished for doing what he believed to be right by his people. You noticed Loki still had his two daggers tucked into his pant-line. Knowing you would have to be quick, you emptied the bowl of venom and quickly grabbed his daggers. Using your own head to cover Loki’s body from the venom you start attacking the snake. After severing its head, you passed out from how bad the venom burned your skin. When you woke up Loki was already causing Ragnarok, he had so much pent-up rage. The timekeepers found me and when I was at the TVA pleading for answers, they told me certain events on my timeline needed to play out before Loki was released. Because you were the one who released him, they blamed it on you.

End of Flashback

The Loki you’d just met was looking at you with a pitiful expression. You noticed he picked his chicken clean which made you chuckle.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Not your fault,” you said.

“I know but, that’s one of the most heinous stories about survivors of the TVA,” he said.

“I’m glad you liked the chicken. I’m going to bed,” you said, setting your cot up.

“Is it okay if I stay?” Loki asked.

“If you stop asking questions then yes,” you said, extinguishing the fire and going to sleep.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki series #loki season 2 #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki s2 #loki fanfction #loki fandom #marvel loki #loki mcu #glorious purpose #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction

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