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daphwritesworld · 21 days ago

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Chapter 1— For The First Time.

a/n: welcome to the Be My Baby series! i’m super excited to get started and work on this story! I’m thinking of publishing 2/3 chapters weekly if I can, but at least 1 will always come out. If additional ones are on the way i’ll make sure to update that on my upcoming post. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this lol. I will later and edit any details that need touching up. This is already a few hours late tho, so I want to go ahead and get it out.)

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, bed humping, fingering (r receiving), teasing, talks of shoe humping, spit play, talks of previous sexual encounters, brewing sexual tension, and masturbation (both)

warnings: allusions to heavy dom/sub relationship, talks of injury, Leah busting her ass at practice, Leah making a fool of herself when she’s in shock, flirty!Leah deserves a warning on its own so here you go, calling reader a bitch & slutty once in a dominating way, semi-public sex, almost getting caught by Alessia, Leah accidentally knocking you on your ass lol

synopsis: You've arrived to your first day at Arsenal; your new club for the foreseeable future as head Athletic Trainer. A new country with promises of a new start awaits for you...until a familiar face disrupts your plans and throws you head first into a whirlwind of emotions and actions.

word count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The crisp air of Shenley lites a whispered chill to cover you as you step out of the taxi. You pay the driver, wishing him a good day as you collect your bags from the cab. A deep breath makes its way from your chest and out your lips, gathering your bearings as you finally start to make your way inside. This is going to be a fresh start in a place no one knows you– exactly what you need. No expectations to meet or lingering gazes on and off the pitch. No drama or gossip floating around or eating lunch by yourself. Things are going to be different here.

You take in the scenery as you approach the Sobha Realty Training Centre, your new place of employment. The building feels like it’s going to swallow you, the tall white walls reminding you of the hospital as a familiar churn starts to turn in your stomach.

Breathe. Everything is going to be fine.

Your hand comes up to open the door, but it’s pulled from your grasp. You look up, eyes meeting a warm smile and kind eyes. You relax at her appearance, and even more at her friendly approach, “Hi, I’m Alessia! You must be Y/N, I assume?”

You find yourself mirroring her smile, a hand coming out to shake hers. “Yes, it’s lovely to meet you, Alessia! Sorry I’m late– I got lost and then I just ended up taking a taxi….London is a lot bigger than I expected…” you trail off as you realize you're rambling. Embarrassment sinking in as you look down to the floor.

“You’re totally fine! I think we all got lost on our first day, haha. That’s why I’m here to show you around, this place is huge when you don’t know it. Now follow me, new girl!” and just like that, she’s showing you everywhere possible. She shows you the cafeteria, weight rooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, and just about every tiny place to hide if you need a moment to yourself.

“I don’t mean to sound rude– but shouldn’t you be out on the field training with the others? Showing me around can’t possibly be more important with the Euro Finals coming up,” you say as you arrange your med bag for practice. The rest of your things are now stored in your brand new Arsenal locker you were shown, your name enraged into the gold plate marking your future. She laughs at that, pointing down towards her ankle that you now see is wrapped up. “Sprained it a week ago, so i’m benched. Swelling is still up so Coach won’t let me play on it yet, not even at practice.”

A laugh now comes out of you at her frustrated tone near the end. “Well, I have to agree. Until the swelling and all pain is gone you need to let it properly heal. We don’t need you hurting it worse!”

You feel a shove to your shoulder at that, zipping up your pack as you turn towards her now.

“Spoken like the true new head AT! See you're falling into place here already,” You give a shove back to her shoulder. Careful to do it lightly and not push her off balance with her injury. “Ready to meet the girls?”

You let out a sigh before nodding your head, “If they're all as nice as you I think I’ll be just fine.” And then you two are off, Alessia leading the way to your new team. You can feel your hands sweating as you get closer to the field in sight. All the girls training, the coaches, the other medical trainers under your watch…it’s all facing you at once as the past leaves your mind step by step. Like the shedding of skin on a snake, you're letting your anxieties fall from you as your passion for the job kicks back in. Like a flicker of flame– just waiting to ignite higher.

Your confidence is gaining with every blade of grass that passes beneath your feet. You know you're good at this. Hell you’re fucking amazing at this. Not many trainers could switch clubs– let alone countries for said club, in the middle of a season and still be Head AT…but you are that good. No matter what might’ve happened in Barcelona, you’re going to make sure you thrive here in London.

Well that is until your eyes meet hers. It’s like the wind gets knocked out of your chest– hers quite literally. The blonde’s eyes stay on yours, a furrowed brow taking over her face as she keeps running blind. Until she smacks face first into the goal post at full force, bright hair tumbling to the ground in a loud, harsh collapse. Your feet work faster than your brain, running over and immediately separating her from the net. You’re assessing her body, eyes frantically searching for any blood, bruises, cuts, or abnormalities. Your hands come to her ankles, pressing down as you look up at her face. “Does anything hurt? Stay lying down right now, your adrenaline might be blocking it out!”

“I'm Leah!” It’s rushed out, loud and with a voice crack. Her wide eyes staring up at you as she snaps a hand over her mouth afterwards.

If her teammates weren’t laughing before– they definitely are now.

A blush overtakes your cheeks as you put an arm around her waist, hoisting her to stand up with you. She throws one of hers around your shoulders as she regains her balance. “I’m taking her to the Med Room! Want to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion!”

You’re practically dragging her at this point, racing to get somewhere private because what in the actual fuck. "I'm Leah," She repeats her words from the field. "Yeah, I fucking know that!" you snap lightly on her. Mind still racing as you drag her down the building for a more private place to fully speak without worry. There is no way this is happening! Not to you– NOT NOW!! You push the Med Room door open with your back, and sit Leah up on the bed as you finally create some distance between you two. An accusing finger launching itself towards her as you move back to the middle of the room, “SINCE WHEN DO YOU PLAY FOOTBALL?”

“Nice to see you again, too, darling,” She’s smiling at you. That same one that got you hooked in Ibiza and agreeing to spend three weeks with a stranger. You almost get lost in it again– but you start shaking your head. “Oh no! No, no, no– don’t you darling me right now! How could you not tell me your-” your hand comes to pull at the band around her arm, “CAPTAIN! Of one of the best teams in all of Europe? And after spending all that time alone together, really?”

“First of all, we are not one of, we are the best in the world– thank you. Second of all, I don’t remember us talking much when we were together, if I can be honest. My mind tends to remember the more important details,” she licks her lips as she says it, eyes racking over your body as she recalls the memories to her mind. “And third of all, I don’t exactly remember you telling me you’re the highest paid AT in the sports field, so I guess we both kept some secrets. Huh, darling?”

“You are insufferable," you say as you take out your tiny flashlight, checking the reflexes of her pupils with it.

“Oh but that’s not what you were saying during those few weeks we spent together.”

“Leah!” Your face scrunches up as your fists ball up at your sides. Giving her the best glare you can muster up.

“Y/N! Don’t do your face like that– it’ll get stuck,” a laugh breaks out of her mouth as she says it. Poking at your face to relax your muscles there.

“Can you be serious for like two seconds, this is bad!” You rub your hands down your face. Trying to relieve the headache starting to form between your eyes.

"Oh calm down, would you! No one knows, okay? I didn't tell anyone about our time together. I swear!" She sticks her pinky out towards you, and you somehow find yourself laughing back this time as you extend your own to interlock with hers. It's then you know you've messed up. Her skin lights yours up the same way it did a year ago— you two hidden away on the tropical Spanish paradise. Days were spent exploring the island and endless nights spent exploring each other's bodies.

You don't even notice how close you two have drifted until her thighs are closing in around your middle, trapping you against the medical bed and her upper body. Your face flushes as you freeze in place, brain already too fuzzy for you to register that you should pull away. You can’t stop thinking back now– flashes of memories whizzing by in your head as you zone out, eyes lingering on her lips subconsciously. She must think that’s an invitation, because after a few seconds one of her hands comes to the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. You kiss her back at first, chasing the spark that ignites from her lips.

But then you remember where you are, and more importantly why you are even here. You got to pull away, hands coming up to her chest to push and create some space. She doesn’t budge though, a tiny moan slipping from your lips as you remember the depths of her strength. She smiles into the kiss at that, and you take the opportunity to breathe the words out against her lips. “Le-Leah we shouldn’t be d-doing this. We c-can’t…”

Her other hand tickles the waistband of your shorts, a light chuckle vibrating her chest as she pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I’ll stop if you really want me to, but I think we both know you want this more than me. Don’t you, darling? Otherwise you wouldn’t be humping the edge of the bed like a bitch in heat.”

You look down, not even realizing how you'd started rubbing your covered cunt against the medical bed. Your hips stutter to a stop as you try to back away from the cot, embarrassment filling your body at her catching you red handed. A finger lifts your chin up as her eyes lock to yours, a chill running down your spine as you cling to her every move. She runs her hand still sitting at your waist down to your hip, slipping under your shorts as goosebumps break out across your skin from her touch. “Don’t get shy on me, now. Not after I’ve seen you cum from grinding on a shoe.”

“Okay! Don’t act like you didn’t tell me to do it– no DEMAND it!” you move closer, pointing your finger into her chest now as you argue the claim.

“Mhm you’re right, Y/N…but you’re the one that did it. Got down on your knees,” she grips the hair at the back of your neck as she yanks your head back. “And rubbed your slutty pussy all over my Louboutins until you ruined them with your cum.” She brings her face down closer to yours, “Now open your fucking mouth.”

You do as she says, and you're met with a glob of her spit landing on your tongue. You swallow it before she even has to tell you, groaning out as you thank her for giving it to you. Her hand on your hip starts slipping around to your front after she feels you grinding forward again, giving you her fingers instead of the small spring mattress. You moan out as soon as they glide across your clit, an electric feeling breaking out across your body. You know this is wrong, and you’ll definitely chastise yourself later…but until then you’re gonna beg her to fuck you.

“Please give me your f-fingers! W-wanna cum for you, Le!” The distantly familiar nickname falls from your lips effortlessly and it fuels a fire inside Leah’s chest. She slides her hand farther into your shorts, instantly slipping two fingers inside of you at the start. Her palm is fitting your clit perfectly, and after a few minutes you can hear the squelching of your pussy from underneath your shorts. You can feel her curling, scissoring, and twisting the fingers inside of your cunt. Your legs are about to shake as you feel your orgasm start to build, moans increasing as your chest rises and falls faster. You can’t focus on anything other than Leah. That’s all your mind can think of: Leah, Leah, Leah…

Thank god she’s paying attention though. Because next thing you know she’s pulling her hand out of your shorts and pushing you back away from her so hard you fall on your ass. You let out a yell of shock as you go tumbling backwards, landing with a pretty loud thud onto the cold tile floor.

Before you can scream at her to explain what the fuck her problem is– the door is swinging open. Alessia barging in as she runs over to Leah. Stopping in her tracks as she almost topples over you. She comes to stop in a screeching halt, sticking a hand out to help you up. “What the hell are you doing on the floor?” She says as she drops your hand once you're back standing. “Well if you must know, Leah’s being stubborn and wouldn’t let me sit on the med bed with her because I’m benching her for practice until she gets her head checked by a CT scan.”

“YOU'RE BLOODY WHAT?” She screeches out at the realization.

“See she can’t even remember I already told her that! Definitely needs a ct,” you know you’re lying through your teeth…but fucking with Leah is too fun. No way you were telling her she’s benched when she had you on the verge of the first orgasm you’ve had…well, since the last time you saw her.

“What the hell even happened out there, Leah?” Alessia asks, a laugh busting out of her chest as she recalls the captain’s wipe out.

“I was lost in my head and just..oh god I’m never living this one down am I?”

“Oh god no! You should’ve heard the noise you made when you hit the pole– I've never heard that come out of a human being before, or any living thing for that matter!” She has tears welling up in her eyes now as she recalls the events.

You sneak out as the two blonde’s get lost in their laughs and conversation. The locker room is empty as you collect your things, humming a song under your breath as you make quick work of packing up. You’re walking out to the parking lot when you finally let yourself think of what just happened, fingers coming up to brush against your lips. You find yourself smiling, wiping it off your face when you notice. No, Y/N. Stay professional. This. cannot. happen again. Push it down.

You pull out your phone to order a new cab before a familiar voice grabs your attention. “I’m afraid there aren’t many cabs on this side of town at this time of night. I can give you a ride though. Only if you want, of course…But such a gorgeous girl as yourself? You really shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You turn, forgetting the words you told yourself not even 5 minutes ago. Nodding your head before you fully process the request. You’re going to be alone in a confined space with her? FUCK. You folded quicker than a lawn chair for the blonde footballer not even 10 full minutes ago….Lord give you strength for this 20 minute drive.

She opens the door for you, holding an intense eye contact as she closes it as well. Her car smells like the leather seats and the piney notes of her perfume. A perfect mix that has you rubbing your thighs together, trying to dull the ache she never got to quell. She climbs into the drivers seat, setting up her aux before she's handing you her phone open onto her maps app.

You quickly type in your new address before the navigation is breaking through the speakers and leading you to your destination. The ride isn't awkward, filled with easily flowing conversation. You're so lost in it you don't even notice you've made it to your flat. Not until the gps is yelling out "Arrived at Destination."

You try to hide your disappointment as you grab your bags, saying a thank you as soon many questions hang in the air between you two. "Can I walk you up? Promise I won't make a move, just want to make sure you get inside okay." She throws her hands up in a defensive mode.

"Yeah, I'd like that," you push down the large part of your brain that is telling you to stop this dynamic. To kill it before it can manifest…but you don't listen to it. You let her take your hand as she walks you into your buildings elevator, and you let her kiss you soft and slow as the floors ding past you both. It's different from any kiss you've shared before, and that kind of scares you.

It scares you even more at your door, where she tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and kisses you like that again. She's kissing you like she has something to prove…you're not quite sure what that is just yet…but you sure as hell want to find out. The first time Leah blew into your life, it was at a time of transformation. It was brief but truly wonderful, and now the universe is sitting her right in fucking front of you for a second time.

She's the first one to pull away from your lips this time. A smile pulling at her lips as she ducks back in to steal one more peck, and then she's backing away slowly. Her hands pulling yours with hers as she tries to leave you as slowly as possible. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You can't help the smile you break out into at the gesture, looking down as you blush slightly from the innocent statement. She's playing with your fingers now, and you're trying to memorize hers for the foreseeable future. "Goodnight, Le. And thank you for today. Always the gentleman…when you want to be."

She pushes your shoulder at that, "Oi! I'm always a gent!"

You blush as you think more about the Ibiza trip, "I would beg to differ."

She genuinely laughs at that, picking your hand up to her mouth to leave a kiss on your knuckles. You say goodnight to each other one last time before she leaves down the hall, watching her disappear into the elevator before you go inside your apartment. You both don't know it yet, but you end up finding the same resolution to your problems tonight.

As you both lay awake drowning in endless thoughts of each other, you can't help but slip a hand into your shorts. You're rubbing at your over sensitive clit, imagining it's Leah as you work yourself up. You haven't had time to buy any toys since you moved here, but you don't need them right now. Not when she's got you so wound up from barely any touch.

Meanwhile the blonde captain is slipping her trusty vibrator between her legs to stimulate her clit, the pretty pictures she has of you from Ibiza currently being viewed in her hand. From the one of you being blind folded in her hotel bed to the one of you bent over the railing of her private yacht— she can't stop the new filthy images of you from popping into her head. She's got to have you again, and not just for sex this time.

Leah hasn't stopped thinking of you since the trip, mind clouded with day dreams of you two creating a life together. She's been laughing it off, thinking she's delusional because she'll never see you again…but that disappears when you come waltzing back into her life. She knows now she can't waste this second chance. No matter how long or what all it takes: Leah Williamson is going to make you her girl.

#l.williamson 6 #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso x reader #woso writers #leah williamson x y/n #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut #leah williamson fanfic #woso x y/n #wlw smut #wlw x reader #BMB.daph

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aethon-recs · 3 months ago

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This Week in Tomarrymort (23 – 29 August 2024)

An exciting week in Tomarrymort land! 🎉 Some highlights and news:

aurora polaris (E, 217k, Voldemort wins AU with a side of amnesia!Harry) by @aglassroseneverfades finished with a 2-chapter update.

A Dangerous Game (E, 316k, Diary Tom in Harry's time) by @cybrid updated with a 9-chapter drop, and we are one chapter (only the epilogue!) away from the end.

AO3 user beetaker dropped a 135k completed fic this week alone??? (Dulce Et Decorum Mori - E, 135k, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle grow up together) It’s rarer than a blue moon that we see huge drops like this in Tomarry, so be sure not to miss it, as the whole fic posted all in this week.

The @tomarryverse Discord server is running a fest (AO3 collection link).

See below for a list of either ongoing Tomarrymort fics that I’m subscribed to or one shots that I found while browsing that were updated in the last week.

Previous Tomarrymort weeklies: 7-15 August 2024 | 15-22 August 2024

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapters 38 and 39 (complete) of aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades

Chapters 1 through 10 (complete) of Dulce Et Decorum Mori by beetaker

One Shot | Big Things by @dividawrites

One Shot | phases of the moon by @jjaegerb0mb

One Shot | fundamentals of internet safety by @cindle-writes

One Shot | New Category: Pining Homosexuals by kcg07

One Shot | The Snake Speakers by sparrowshellcat

One Shot | Dawn Over Dust by Wolf_of_Lilacs

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapters 52 through 60 of A Dangerous Game by @cybrid

Chapter 6 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 6 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 31 of Part One - The Solitude of Suffering by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 6 of Like we were before by tzutzutrain

Chapters 1 and 2 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapter 5 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 32 of Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites

Chapters 114 through 116 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 14 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 9 of Lovely and the Lion by @skellington24

Chapter 13 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 9 of Unfamiliar Recognition by @karnage-tsurugi

Chapter 8 of A Snake in the Grass by @teaandsweaters9

Chapter 3 of the silence in between by ermineah

Chapter 19 of What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes

Chapter 1 of In My Lover's Room (i am free) by @bunnieblair

Chapter 7 of we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee

Chapter 2 of quid pro quo by marshall_1300

Chapter 6 of His condition by @ciacconne

Chapter 16 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapter 4 of These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain

Chapter 1 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 3 of Cane Sugar by @blogalinda @cindle-writes @reggieblk @telectronique

Chapter 1 of before the day is done by @midsummersins

Chapter 3 of midnight train by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 5 of God is a Wizard by @onehitpleb

Chapter 4 of In a world where you and I dance by thelxiepeia

Chapter 19 of Occultation by TimaeusKosmou

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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lololollywrites · 2 months ago

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New fic alert! Wasteland, Baby (FTH 2024)

Whew. I finally posted Chapter 1 (out of a planned five). It turns out that waiting for it to be completely finished was unreasonable for me; I was just procrastinating too much. I've completely finished three chapters, and the final two are outlined. For that reason, once-weekly updates should allow me to write and revise in time, though I apologize in advance if the final two chapters come a bit later. I hope this keeps me in line! Thank you for the generous prompt and bid, @shakespearelovedladymacbeth, and your patience is truly appreciated! (Note: This isn't tagged as graphic depictions of violence, but Sherlock doesn't have a great time starting at the very end of Chapter 3 and into Chapter 4. It's all pretty canon-typical, but I wanted to warn you anyway!)

Summary:

Things hadn’t felt right in 221B since John and Rosie moved back in. Everything was off. Wrong. If only Sherlock knew it was about to get even worse. But, for vegetation to return to a barren wasteland, rain from thunderstorms is necessary. A brushfire, even, to burn away the old and provide nourishment for the new… and to expose a truth that’s been present all along.

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

He stumbled as he was yanked backwards by the chain of the handcuffs, Mr. Morrison’s cruel hand having snaked under his Belstaff to assert his control. John met his eye. He nodded once, almost harshly, in the regimented yet reassuring manner of a soldier. Sherlock knew he was painfully squeezing his hands together behind his back as if to punish himself; lips bitten red and a tightly clenched jaw also betrayed the worry behind his steely façade.

“I’ll kill him,” John said, terrifyingly calm. “I’ll kill him and bring you home. I will.”

@johnlocky, @totallysilvergirl, @discordantwords, @jrow, @missdeliadili, @battledress , @helloliriels , @mxster-jocale , @cortinita , @calaisreno , @mydogwatson , @original-welovethebeekeeper, @dragonnan , @winterdaphnejpn-blog , @kettykika78 , @algyswinburne , @7-percent , @peanitbear , @sgam76 , @ehuether , @inevitably-johnlocked , @naefelldaurk

#my fics #fth 2024 #wasteland baby #bbc sherlock

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silkscream · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER 7: TOO YOUNG TO GROW WINGS

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, face sitting, blowjobs, cum eating (lol) lots and LOTS of angst, gore, blood, graphic descriptions of injuries, bullying, satoru being......... himself

ੈ✩ wc: 8.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wasnt gonna post this but then i was like well. i start a new job on monday so who knows if i'll be able to keep up the weekly update thing. this is also prob my fav chapter so i couldn't hold back OOPS enjoy the yaoi btw <3 title from angel by omar apollo

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

April, 2009

Jujutsu Technical College looks lovely in the springtime—the golden light hits the room in a specific way that makes your body warm. You’re calm, nearly dozing off until three people barge into the classroom, taking up as much space as they can. When you open your eyes, you see Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko smiling at you as they take their seats.

The boys had convinced you to attend (with the help of Shoko) after informing you there was a generous stipend included with your education. Despite the scholarship you’d gotten from the college you’d meant to attend, they had easily persuaded you. You hadn’t had friends you were so close with before, after all.

“Suguru. Switch with her.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it. I want her to sit next to me.”

You lift your head, realizing that Satoru is talking about you. Suguru laughs nonchalantly and stands up to switch with you, and you move to replace him when you notice Satoru’s baby blues searing into your skin. He grins at you brightly as you roll your eyes.

It’s been like this for weeks – Satoru possessing you, claiming you, even though you never ask for it. Truthfully, it pools your stomach with ardor. You’ve never felt as wanted as you do when you were within a close radius of him.

It dwindles eventually when you realize that the boys’ strength is so far beyond yours. In combat, they’re flawless, beautiful in their movements as they spar. You’re happier to watch than join—Shoko thinks the same, often rolling her eyes every time the two of you are assigned to practice hauling cursed energy for the sake of fighting. It’s nice when you can get her alone, studying healing techniques and watching her reversed curse technique grow.

Sometimes, you don’t even know why you’re here. Shoko is talented and you aren’t. You’re useful enough for superficial wounds, but you can’t do a reversed cursed technique. You doubt you could even heal something of a higher caliber than what you’re used to. You fear the prospect of this revelation on a mission that you know Yaga will eventually send you on.

“Do they ever fight over you?” Shoko asks over a cigarette.

“Wh-what?”

“You know,” she drawls, smiling. “Satoru’s such a brat. Suguru is more open when you’re around. They’ve gotta be possessive, right?”

You shrug. You don’t know the extent of what she knows, but you can assume from the boys’ behavior that it was written all over their faces. Satoru’s hand on your waist, Suguru’s point to tower over you. Unspoken proximity wars between them with you in the middle.

“I don’t know about that. They’re overprotective for sure,” you admit, taking a slow drag of her cigarette when she offers.

“Twigs! Not you, too!” Satoru bellows. “Don’t give my girl your cancer sticks, Ieiri!”

Shoko laughs at that, grinning with the cigarette in between her teeth as you fold your hands into your lap.

My girl.

Satoru hovers over you and holds out his hands. Curiously, you take it, which you regret immediately when he pulls your body and hauls you over his shoulder. You thrash a bit as he laughs until you’re stumbling onto the grass. When Suguru throws a staff in your direction, you catch it reflexively.

“Ready?”

You roll your eyes. You’d gotten better at sparring, though you still choose to hang back and concern yourself with areas of Shoko’s expertise. She had become a mentor to you despite being a peer. Meanwhile, the boys had been trying to get you to practice combat, thinking you would do well with a cursed weapon.

You remember the first time you had tried to fight, watching Satoru and Suguru wrestle in the grass shortly after. Their raspy grunts, the skin of their waists underneath ridden-up shirts. The memory makes you flush.

“Yes,” you sigh.

You focus on Satoru’s eyes, saturated like a lightning strike. You were rather well-versed in the language of his body – you think that your intuition often matched Satoru’s rather equally. He was still much taller and larger than you, but you exceeded in your efforts to dodge. He didn’t often bother with hand-to-hand combat much anyway, much more focused on perfecting his inherent techniques.

You gasp when he decides to close the distance between you. The touch of his fingers on your skin is a jolt to the senses as his legs sweep you when you’re too occupied with dodging. You hit the ground with a thud, groaning.

“Sorry, babe,” he chuckles, leaning down to take your hand. When he does, you pull him backward so that he tumbles.

“Hey!”

“Payback,” you shrug. You maintain a fighting stance once again, staff in hand.

Suguru often took you more seriously, offering to teach you martial arts when Satoru was off on solo missions. You breathe heavily as Satoru takes his first swing, which you dodge by a hair.

Focused, you move with the grace of a ballet dancer, halting his movements with your staff the way Suguru had taught you. When you kick a leg high in the air, Satoru catches you by the ankle just for you to fall again. This time, you’re sure you’re bruised.

“There’s still time for you to give up,” he teases.

You groan in irritation, rising to your feet and walking closer to him. He smiles, enjoying seeing you pissed off and breathing so hard. He’s so wrapped up in looking at you that his senses are hit with whiplash – your fist gets through his Infinity easily and socks him square on the jaw.

“You little–”

“Why didn’t you have your Infinity on?” you exasperate, but he’s already pushing you to the ground and struggling with you the way you used to when you were children.

“I’m soooo gonna get you for that–”

You end up kicking him again, this time in the ribs as he groans. When you pin his wrists above his head, he merely stares at you with wild eyes and heaving breaths. His face is red and cherubic, and when he squirms, you squeeze his waist in between your thighs.

You lean down close to his face, your breath tickling his ear.

“I win,” you whisper. You flick him on the forehead and he flinches. You wonder again why he’s letting you touch him like this.

“Letting you pin me down isn’t me letting you win, sweetheart,” he rasps lowly, only for you to hear. He rolls his hips slightly and it makes your eyes widen, much to his satisfaction. You frown and crawl away from him just in time to hear Shoko beckoning you.

“Lab time!” she calls after you. Without a second look at Satoru, you follow her inside.

Satoru is lying on Suguru’s stomach, frowning because it isn’t as soft as yours.

He’s also without entertainment since Suguru has been hogging his DS for the better part of an hour, which Satoru had only let him do because he claimed he wanted to take a nap. But, as per usual, he can’t sleep. He’s still roused from sparring with you, slightly sweaty still from the warmth and the mustiness of the dorm room, and his cock is getting hard again just from thinking about you on top of him.

“Fuck,” Suguru swears under his breath, caught up in a game of Pokemon Emerald.

Satoru lifts his head to scoot his body higher, chin resting on Suguru’s forearm to peek at his progress.

“You’re doing terribly.”

“I know that, thanks,” Suguru groans. “I have like, two backup Pokemon left and they’re both level 30.”

“Do you use the same technique with your curses?” Satoru teases. Suguru makes another agitated noise again in response.

“You should’ve brought your Game Cube from home.”

Satoru shrugs, sighing as he sits up. He snatches his DS out of Suguru’s hands, interrupting the boy’s protest with a wet kiss to the mouth. Suguru kisses back immediately, tongue peeking into Satoru’s mouth before he pulls away.

“You haven’t kissed me in months,” he chuckles. Satoru shrugs.

“Maybe you haven’t kissed me in months.”

“I would’ve thought you’d count it as cheating.”

Satoru is quiet for a moment, rubbing Suguru’s jawline with his fingers gently. He’s been rather gluttonous lately, and he thinks Suguru is starting to catch on. He’s been clingier to the both of you, obnoxiously so, acting more of a nuisance to you specifically for the sake of attention. His heart is aflame whenever he sees you interact with Suguru in ways that are both good and bad, but he doesn’t prefer to dwell on it for very long before he nearly forces you to give him attention.

“Having withdrawals?”

“Huh?”

“She’ll be back soon,” Suguru laughs cruelly. “Whenever she’s gone for a bit, you act like you’re fucking dying.”

“No, I don’t,” Satoru frowns. But he knows he’s lying.

“Don’t mope. C’mere.”

Suguru sighs, seemingly out of pity. He grabs Satoru by the face and sticks his tongue in his mouth – a rough kiss out of spite, out of unbridled passion. He’d dreamt about Satoru and you for weeks, always sneaking glances.

He’d considered taking both of you months before when you and Satoru and Shoko threw him an impromptu surprise birthday party despite his refusal. He had seen you tipsy, squirming in Satoru’s lap while Utahime set up karaoke on the television, and decided he’d let you come to him when you wanted to. You were still a shy thing even after New Year’s, never asking again for his touch.

Satoru groans, palming his dick over his slacks as he leans back. He could feel his cock leaking in his boxers already just from the roughness of Suguru’s knuckles grazing his skin. There was a manic buzz in his head, thrilled by the slight power imbalance he was allowing.

Suguru hadn’t touched him since before he started seeing you, and even then, it was mostly rudimentary teenage lust. Jerking off to magazines together. Seeing how much they could take in their mouths before gagging like it was a competition.

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts, feeling Suguru’s tongue on his clavicle.

“You thinking about her?”

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Suguru chuckles darkly, biting harder at the bone. “She was so hot today. I taught her those moves, y’know.”

Satoru makes a mumbled nose, eyes fluttering shut as Suguru palms him. He unbuttons his slacks to reveal the snowy trail of hair above his pubic bone, Satoru’s cock flushed and weeping as Suguru holds it.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Use your mouth,” Satoru pants. He knots a fist in Suguru’s dark hair. “Want it like this.”

He hisses when he feels Suguru’s mouth. His jaw slackens at the feeling, gasping for air when Suguru hollows his cheeks to suck tightly. Satoru shoves him down further.

His body feels tight when Suguru motions a finger towards his hole, pausing to spit on his fingers beforehand. With two fingers stretching him open, Satoru pants and gasps. His thighs twitch, hips rolling upward into Suguru’s mouth like it was a cunt.

Your face flashes in Satoru’s mind and it makes his insides careen. Brain like pulped fruit. He opens his eyes to see Suguru’s, narrowed and golden and taunting. It’s similar to the way you look at him, sometimes.

The fist in Suguru’s hair tightens now, knuckles white. Satoru grunts brutishly, overwhelmed by the stimulation in his hole in tandem with Suguru’s tongue pressing on the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, gonna cum–”

Suguru moans, jaw aching only slightly. Satoru could feel his dick inside Suguru’s mouth, heat building up until he spills onto the boy’s tongue. His head falls back. Breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

“You need a better appetite. Shit tastes like battery acid.”

“Doesn’t all cum taste like that?” Satoru frowns. His hand is still in Suguru’s hair.

“You tell me.” Suguru kisses him, licking the inside of Satoru’s molars. His lips move against Satoru’s mouth slowly, listless so he can take himself. When he pulls away, Satoru wipes the slick off his mouth, plump and bitten.

“You’re exaggerating.”

May, 2009

The sky is oddly grey this afternoon despite the pleasant morning. Yamanashi prefecture is as beautiful as ever with cherry blossoms blooming, but as you approach the cursed site, you continue to feel a chill down your spine.

It’s your first real mission. One that Yaga had at least approved you for after you had nailed your physical assessments, able to imbue enough cursed energy into a katana to swing around without slicing yourself. Still, you were meant to act as backup for Suguru, which Satoru hated.

“Why don’t we just both go with her?” he had wailed to Yaga days before, to which Yaga grunted in dismissal.

“You have a solo mission.”

“But–”

“That’ll be the end of it, Satoru.”

Admittedly, you do wish he was here. Suguru is a comforting presence, though, calmer in demeanor but much less talkative than what you’re used to. You walk with him through overgrown grass and lengthy vines.

“What kind of curse are we supposed to find?” you question out loud.

Suguru shrugs. “It’s difficult to tell exactly, but I’m assuming the cursed spirits roaming around here will be, er, women-shaped? Maybe. It should be Grade 2 at most."

“What do you mean, women? What happened here?”

“You don’t know? This place is super haunted.”

“So we’re ghost-hunting.”

“Ghost exorcising,” Suguru grins. “There used to be gold mines here in the 16th century owned by the Takeda Clan. They also ran brothels for the miners. After the Battle of Nagashino, the clan had to give up the land, but not before they killed all the prostitutes to keep them from spreading information about the gold mines.”

“H-how did they kill them?”

“The miners had the women dance at a farewell party, then they hacked the vines that kept up the bridge they were on. They fell into the waterfall.”

“That’s horrible,” you frown. Foreboding swells in your chest.

You can’t sense any cursed energy around you other than Suguru’s. You’re too busy ruminating to watch your step, accidentally tripping over a thick root. You fall forward into Suguru’s arms.

“You okay?” he croons. His face is inches from yours and you forget how to breathe.

“Y-yes. Sorry.” As you untangle yourself from him, your body jolts. You gasp when you hear the hint of a wretched, bloodcurdling scream in the far distance that makes your blood run cold. It isn’t very loud, but it almost sounds muffled, like someone was screaming from another room.

“What? What is it?”

“Did you not hear that?” you whisper.

Suguru frowns at you in confusion, his expression seemingly genuine. You blink, trying to shake off the horrible feeling in your body.

“I think I just heard something. It sounded like a scream.”

Suguru waits, prompting you to elaborate. The forest seems darker now despite it being midday, the curl of the trees billowing in a way that feels uncanny. A girl-shaped forest.

“Maybe we should split up.”

“Absolutely not,” Suguru protests, his mouth set in a firm line. You hold his hand in yours, stroking it gently with your thumb.

“Suguru, you can’t expect to protect me the entire time. I need to learn how to handle things on my own–”

An inhuman gurgle rumbles from behind you. The curse looks similar to a reptile, yet human-like with webbed hands and sharp incisors slick with algae. The stench of mud is apparent in the air now. It drools green sludge before it bows.

You stand in shock, unsure of what to do as you lock eyes with Suguru. Warily, you draw your sword, and the curse’s eyes roll back in agitation as it lets out another gurgle.

“Oh, shit–”

You dodge a projectile of slime, but it crawls towards you at a faster pace than you expect. A slice of your katana dismembers one of its arms, but it easily grows back. Within seconds, a giant curse rises from the ground and swallows it up, teeth mashing on gooey flesh in a way that makes you want to hurl. Suguru’s ringworm curse is dismissed once the riverbank is cleared.

“What was that about not needing me to protect you?” Suguru sneers.

“I still mean it,” you exasperate, heart hammering out of your chest. “You barely gave me time.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you have the next one, I swear.”

He smiles genuinely. Satoru must’ve gotten to him – he’s not nearly as neurotic as Satoru in that way, but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if you got hurt. It was less of a possessiveness thing and more of a selflessness thing. Suguru had always been the one to be reliable. He was also more perceptive than Satoru in the way that he could practically feel the tightness of the leash he held on you.

If you were going to be something in the Jujutsu world, you wouldn’t be held back. Suguru thought you could be something ever since he saw you.

You continue to walk with him, knuckles brushing as the air turns thick. Suguru thinks that maybe you’re sulking in his periphery, so he pokes your cheek.

“Yes?”

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you mutter.

The katana feels heavy on your back. You had never thought of yourself as a particularly strong person, growing up to be obedient. A maid’s daughter. Hands a little rough from housework and the dirt of the Earth when you were wild, once.

“Let me walk around in that little brain of yours,” Suguru murmurs, always charming.

You pause, swallowing. You realize you have never spoken your insecurities out loud. When you were on the brink of it, it would always be during petty arguments with Satoru, who had a way of shutting you down dismissively. He was always a bit of a control freak, even with you.

“Do you think I’m weak?” Your voice sounds almost frail.

“Of course not. I think you’re very talented, actually,” Suguru says. “Satoru and I– we just care a lot.”

“I’m not sure if talented would be the word. It’s not like he thinks so, either.”

“He does. He just doesn’t know how to express his feelings.”

There seems to be something lingering in his tone that gnaws at you. The way he sighs. You decide not to pry, attempting to steer the conversation away from Satoru altogether.

You hear a wail again. Something in the shape of a girlish scream but only the echo of it. Suguru gives you that confused look at him and you aren’t sure if he’s just messing with you at this point. He touches your hand again and the motion makes you wince.

“What’s wrong?” He looks genuinely worried now as he looks at you, holding a hand to your jaw. That alone is mildly unnerving for some reason, even though you think that in any other environment, you’d welcome it. You place your hand over his palm.

“Do you really not hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That woman screaming!” you hiss.

“Are you sure it isn’t some wild animal?”

You blink at him blankly.

“You don’t hear it.”

When he shakes his head, you hear it again. You begin to walk towards the source of it while Suguru stalks behind you, but you stop him.

“Maybe I should handle this.”

He grimaces, clearly unhappy. You raise your brows, challenging him. Suguru wants to hold you back but he knows he shouldn’t.

“Hey, another fucking– river monster could show up, and you’d be able to handle it. Maybe this is something that only I can see or hear. We’ll be too conspicuous with both of our cursed energy.”

He says your name with a hint of desperation and discipline, but you hold your gaze firmly.

“Okay,” Suguru sighs. “But if anything goes wrong, just yell for me, okay?”

You nod.

The tall grass tickles your legs as you move, which makes you thankful you decided to wear trousers instead of your usual skirt for the mission. Your hand grips the strap of your sword bag with anxiety. As you get closer, it’s as if the air is permeated with a smell that you can only describe as being in between sex and blood.

The scream you hear is louder now. You aren’t sure if it’s truly a hallucination, but it seems like the forest laughs back at you after. If you were a smarter person, perhaps you’d return to your partner. But you also assume that if you were to do that, you’d be a weaker person.

You walk over a wooden bridge that feels like it’s holding on by the barest thread. The creaking of the bridge beneath your weight adds to the unease that has settled in your gut. Every step forward feels like a gamble, a test of your bravery. The forest seems to close in around you, the trees whispering secrets you can't quite decipher.

A scream rips through the air and this time, against your better judgment, you follow it.

It’s punctuated with sobs and whimpers, getting louder and louder as you walk along the path. Cursed energy flickers in the shape of a girl. When you get closer, you see her.

A girl is sitting in a fetal position behind a tree, clutching her shoulder as she wails in agony. Her long black hair is matted and damp. She doesn’t seem to notice you yet, so you swiftly move to hide yourself between shrubbery to get a better look.

“P-p-please… help me…” she sobs. You choke up at the sight of her torn dress, hands and shoulder crimson with blood. She looks younger than you – no older than fifteen.

You grasp the strap of your sword bag tightly and cautiously as you walk towards her. Her eyes widen when she sees you. You aren’t sure if it’s a look of relief or fear.

“Hi there,” you say with a tremor in your voice. “What’s your name?”

“Akane,” the girl whimpers. Her face is pale with bruised lips.

“Akane. Are you lost? How did you get this injury?” You crouch down to meet her at eye level.

“Th-there was a man… I was trying to run away from him… but I’m in t-too much pain to keep going,” she breathes. “Please help me.”

You furrow your brows. You’re surprised that there was anyone in this forest besides those grotesque cursed spirits considering how abandoned and desolate the place was. The girl must’ve run far.

“Where are you from, Akane?”

“Tabayama.”

“That’s not too far from here,” you smile softly. “Let me heal you and my friend and I can get you back home, okay?”

You reach for her arm but she flinches and looks at you with unease.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “I’m a healer, see?”

Your cursed energy waxes and wanes within your palm like a luminous mist. You hover it over a superficial cut on your hand that you’d gotten from dealing with thorns earlier and the skin patches up like new. Akane watches in awe.

“I want to help you. Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nods her head apprehensively. You unwrap the saturated cloth from her shoulder, cringing at the sight of the gore and blood. You can’t quite envision the type of violence she’d just been through from the vagueness of her words, but you don’t want to make the poor girl explain in the midst of her trauma.

It’s more effort than what you’re used to – the wound is so deep that you fear that you’ll overexert yourself. You’d spent enough time in the lab with Shoko to improve your technique, but this time, it seems as if everything you’re doing isn’t enough. The skin on the girl’s shoulder is healing very slowly, and when you think that her condition is improving, another area of her body seems to bleed out.

“Maybe I should get my friend to help. He could take us to a hospital.”

“He?”

You look up to see Akane’s eyes grow cold. Almost lifeless, as if she’s looking through you. You hear the visceral sound of a limb breaking, the squelch of her organs. It seems as though her face is transforming right in front of your eyes, but it feels like an illusion – the way her skin looks decayed, the way her teeth grow sharper.

Akane – or what was Akane – cackles cruelly. Her cursed energy is overwhelming now, suffocating you. There’s a warbled cry that falls from her mouth.

“I’ll kill him.”

This is not a fucking Grade 2 curse.

You immediately get to your feet and swing your katana, but the curse blocks your attack easily. She’s also growing exponentially, no longer the size of a teenage girl and more like the river monster you’d seen earlier. She grabs you by the ankle, tripping you. A hack to the wrist with your katana makes the creature scream even more. You watch in horror as thick, black blood seeps out.

You yell Suguru’s name at the top of your lungs.

You see the Rainbow Dragon first, flying through the forest around you and the curse, but the nails on her other hand are strong enough to slice through the dragon’s hide. When you turn to lock eyes with Suguru, the curse lets out something in between a sob and a scream, shrill in your ears.

It seems as though she forgets you entirely, running head-first towards Suguru.

“I’ll… kill…. youuuuuuu!”

“No!” you screech, pulling her backward by the leg with all the strength you can muster. You slash the curse’s skin with your katana, making her wail, but she pins you down in retaliation with cuts to your arm from its sharp nails.

You hiss at the pain. You notice that her hair has transformed into its own entity, tentacle-like and razor-sharp as it slices through one of Suguru’s hound-like curses. She directs her attention back at him and aims for his neck, but you hold down a bloody hand onto her back as your hand pulls one of her sharp hairs back.

You cry out at the wound it makes in your hand, but your other stays pressed to the slimy flesh of her body. Your cursed energy ignites something unfamiliar in your body, something painful, but you imbue it into your touch with all you have.

She’s screaming. Or maybe you are. You can’t tell anymore – your head is dulling from expending more cursed energy than you ever have. It’s all dissonant to you. A horrific cacophony. You feel blood drip from your nose.

The curse’s flesh is rotting. As if the wounds she had when she appeared as a human were only rapidly progressing into decay, cells rupturing, body degenerating the harder you push.

It’s like she turns to mush. The corpse of the curse is barely recognizable anymore, just a puddle of chunky purplish-black blood.

You breathe heavily, looking up to see Suguru staring at you in shock. You try to give him a weak smile, but you don’t feel anything other than sick. Or maybe it’s numbness, at least for a few seconds as the forest is quiet again.

You double over and vomit. Your vision blacks out.

As a surprise to no one, Gojo Satoru is fucking livid.

He’s about to open his mouth but stops himself when Suguru gives him a look of disdain. There’s no one to yell at, except maybe Yaga, because why the fuck would he put you on a mission that could potentially involve a Special Grade?

“She’s fine,” Suguru affirms.

Satoru merely exhales through his nostrils, curling his hands into fists as he slumps down on the bench next to Suguru. He can’t help but envision your corpse, his brain reeling a horrific supercut of all the ways you could’ve been disfigured, maimed, bruised. Changed.

He realizes that the protectiveness over you he feels has turned into something ugly now that he knows you’re in the infirmary, something akin to fear, which is foreign to him.

It sinks into him like teeth down to the marrow, parasitic. He thinks of a faceless curse that he wants to tear apart with his bare hands. Satoru had tried to get over the desire to keep you in a cage, to keep you so unbearably close to him out of his own selfishness, but the feeling came back. He doesn’t know where to keep it other than lodged in his chest like a bullet.

“Did you absorb it, Suguru? Because I might need you to summon it later so I can get my fucking hands on it myself,” Satoru says, his voice low and seething through gritted teeth.

“No,” Suguru sighs.

Satord nods dumbly. Silence ensues.

“She killed it herself.”

You have dreams while you’re passed out. The curse you killed transforms its face from its teenage girl form and into others. You see Shoko, Suguru, Satoru. Everyone you’ve ever known. And when the skin of its face starts to rot the same way it did when you used your technique on it, you end up staring at yourself.

When you wake, it’s slow. The fluorescents in the infirmary don’t help. From outside of the room, you can hear hushed voices.

When you attempt to lift your body off the bed, you see Shoko sleeping in a chair next to you. Your bones ache, your skin stinging with the ghost of a wound. The cut on your palm from being slashed by the curse is a scar now.

You drop your head again, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to rest more. It’s too fucking bright in this room. Your breathing stills when you hear the door creak open.

“For fuck’s sake,” a voice bristles.

You hear another whispering Shoko’s name. Waking her, you assume.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s okay,” Shoko yawns. “Just sleeping. Her wounds were kind of deep, but I took care of it.”

A hand caresses your jaw gently, fingers stroking through your scalp. Your eyes blink open slowly to see Satoru grimacing above you. From the way the overhead light illuminates the back of his head, you think he almost looks like an angel. A makeshift halo shining on moonlit hair.

You notice the way he holds his fist tightly and the iciness of his gaze. It’s a fraction of rage, which makes you feel nauseous again. You’d seen that look on his face before, during the night of Shoko’s party. You wonder now, vaguely, what he looks like when he kills.

“Hey,” you mumble weakly.

“Hey,” he scoffs. “Wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“Satoru, let her be–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. You rise, wincing at the soreness of your muscles. “Um. I… killed the curse.”

“So I’ve been told,” Satoru deadpans. His jaw is tense, but his eyes soften. He looks up, flickering his gaze between Shoko and Suguru.

Shoko clears her throat. “She used her technique. The healing part of it is based on cell regeneration. Apparently, it can also be used… the opposite way. It must've been activated by adrenaline, and then it was too much. Passed out from exhaustion.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, our technique is like a muscle, right? And she didn’t use hers very rigorously until now, so…”

“Right,” Satoru sighs, his voice clipped.

“I need a smoke,” Shoko rasps. “Do you need anything, baby?”

You smile weakly, shaking your head.

You can’t help but feel guilt snaking its way into your body. Even though you had exorcised a curse, your first actual achievement in Jujutsu sorcery, the bloodshed you’d experienced feels fruitless. You don’t feel very powerful at all, only monstrous.

It’s difficult to gauge what Satoru is thinking. He’s clearly upset about the fact that you got hurt, but you wonder if there’s more. If he resents you pulling a stunt like that and nearly killing yourself in the process—because what would you be if not his? Are you still his with bloodstained hands? Would he like you better now that you could prove to be strong?

It didn’t matter. He would always be stronger.

You hate the tension in the air. You can’t bear it. Maybe they’ll disperse once you get on your feet. There wasn’t anything left to do with your treatment since Shoko had tired herself with your wounds.

When you swing a leg over the cot and attempt to sit up straight, an invisible wall stops you. You glare at Satoru holding his hand out, palm outstretched inches away from your chest.

“No,” he snaps.

“Don’t do that,” you grumble. “I’m fine.”

He laughs but there’s no amusement in his tone. His eyes are cold again. Pools of ice.

“Right. You’re in fucking pristine shape.”

“Satoru,” Suguru warns.

“I– I can walk–”

“No,” Satoru repeats. “You’re hurt. Stop it.”

You look between Satoru’s hard gaze and Suguru’s frown and roll your eyes. You’re so tired, and overwhelmed with pain that transcends the physical kind. You can’t even put a name to it, the amount of emotions spilling out of you as you look at the two of them with mild desperation. You want to sleep for another twelve hours.

Irritation flares behind your face. You aren’t sure if you want to scream or cry for catharsis, but you stay quiet, trembling.

“I want to be in my bed,” you mutter.

Satoru lets out a breath as if he’s been holding it for a while. Gently, he touches the nape of your neck, Infinity down. Laces his fingers in your hair in a sort of compromise. He moves his arm underneath your back with the other under your knees and lifts you, kicking off the blankets.

You curl into him, head on his chest. It made it hard for Satoru to breathe, for some reason, like something was stealing the air from his lungs. He nods to Suguru as a voiceless confirmation, watching his cursed energy flare. I’ll take it from here.

When he gets you into your room, Satoru releases you, placing you gingerly on the floor. Part of him wants to shake you by the shoulders, have you slap him across the face for reasons unknown to him. Something, anything other than the despondence of your limp figure. He can’t stand it.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “I’m sorr–”

“Don’t,” he strains. “Do you even know why you’re apologizing? Or is it just second nature to you?”

You say nothing.

He strips off your uniform, torn and battered. Still reeking of copper blood, the stench all too familiar, but not on you.

“I’m sorry for being mean. I was just worried,” he says. “I’m… proud of you.”

“Proud?” You look at him, dazed, as if this is the last thing you expect him to say.

He nods curtly, a sad smile on his face. “I always knew you had it in you.”

He picks you up again despite your futile protest, walking you to the attached bathroom. After turning on the faucet, he sits next to you, hand stroking your thigh gently in silence. He doesn’t look at you. He’s not sure if he can.

“C’mon. Up.” He taps your thigh once.

You’re still dizzy as you enter the bath, sighing at the warmth of the water. As you sink into the bath, a sense of relief washes over you, momentarily easing the tension in your body. A much-needed respite.

You feel Satoru trail his fingers around your collarbone, rising to feel your pulse. The rhythm seems to calm him as he soothes his palm over your shoulders and back. His touch is less urgent than it usually is.

He squeezes shampoo in your hair and threads his fingers through it, scratching your scalp gently, untangling the mess of you. He saturates a washcloth with soap, rubbing small circles over your limbs, lifting you like you’re a doll. It was funny—he had never had to take care of anyone other than himself before, but at the moment, he’s indulged in the small hums of pleasure you make, reveling in your comfort. Your trust.

He likes taking care of you. It makes him feel like he has a sense of control. He doesn’t want to indulge too far into it, knowing it’ll smolder a nasty part of him in some way. But the steam of the hot water makes his cheeks ruddy, and when you open your eyes at the feeling of his hand on your jaw, he can’t help but want to keep you.

Satoru turns your face toward him, cupping your chin as he leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens like a flower blooming, ready for him like always. He tries not to be rough despite the moan you tease out of him. Your skin is soft after he bathes you. His hands know carnage, but they also know you.

You break apart, looking at each other for a few seconds before he kisses you again. He pecks your mouth, nose, and cheeks, leaving you to scrunch your nose by the end. Laughing, he rinses your hair.

“Feel better?” he asks lightly. You nod.

“C’mon, baby. You’re gonna get all pruney in there.”

You’re perfectly capable of drying yourself off and putting on clothes, but Satoru seems eager to do it for you, so you stay limp in his arms. He’s being oddly affectionate as he babies you, which he never does. It’s usually the other way around.

With his hands on your waist, a dangerous thought flits through Satoru’s mind, but it dissipates when he fixes your hair to see you fresh-faced. You look young, innocent. Untouched by violence like he had known you before.

He takes you to the bed, where, despite the size of it, he manages to slot his body next to yours so he can curl into you. Head on your chest to listen to the murmur of your heartbeat.

You stay like this for a while, listening to each others’ breaths. You’re on the brink of sleep when you think you feel tears on your chest. Dampness on your cotton shirt, but only a little. Satoru exhales heavily, squeezing the meat of your side. You’re feeling a little too warm from the proximity but don’t have the heart to untangle yourself. You close your eyes.

“I love you.”

You aren’t sure if it’s a whisper in your dreams or not.

June, 2002

You both had matching bruises. Green and yellowish like snot.

The summer was changing you and Satoru in a way that held gravity. Satoru’s body was growing more and more, handsome like the beautiful child he’d been when you first met him, and you were a purgatory. Something girlish. Something ghostly.

Your mother had reprimanded you last week for coming back with a bloody knee, scolding you for rough play. The expiration on your youth seemed to be ticking from the way she chastised you about your shared misbehavior with Satoru – you were meant to grow into something polite and womanly.

Satoru had scoffed at the notion when you told him. He liked that you weren’t obsequious to him like everyone else in his life who treated him like a little prince.

Unfortunately, you’d pave the road of your abjection all by yourself later on.

He still thought of you as the only person who understood him. He was your first friend, your only friend for a while, and you were his. You’d count stars with him. Catch fireflies and make wishes on them. Wear each other’s clothes before his growth spurt.

You’d clung to each other for years—it was difficult to tell which one of you was the parasite. Despite this, sometimes you think Satoru hates you. Sometimes he makes you cry, especially with how apathetic he can be. You blame his stoicism on his upbringing, but there are times that you feel like an afterthought, only exacerbated as he grows older and into something of worth.

At age twelve, it’s difficult for you to believe that you could be anything similar.

Your young ferocity gets minimized to meekness at school. There’s hair-pulling, harder than Satoru’s ever done to you. Stolen lunches. Spitballs to your back. Your face kissing pavement.

“What happened to you?” Satoru asks, narrowing his eyes at the sight of your split lip.

“I fell.”

He’s forceful when he drags you to him. He’s too tall for his age, towering over you with cold blue eyes staring down at you. You flinch when he touches your cheek with his hand.

“You’re lying,” he frowns.

“It’s fine,” you mumble.

He doesn’t pry after that, but he does force you to clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide, which is ironic considering how little he cares about his own cuts and bruises from his private training.

On the playground the next day, you’re targeted again, reaching desperately for your backpack that’s stolen straight from your hands. A kick to the shins has you scraping your palms when you try to ground yourself. Your hands sting as they bleed. You gasp when you feel another kick to the stomach, a cruel round of laughs taunting you.

But then, you hear them gasp. The sound of knuckles hitting bone.

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Satoru lifts you up by the hand and holds you by the shoulders. He picks the debris out of your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs. He ignores the tears on your cheeks. He’ll wipe them away later along with the dried blood in your palms.

You’ll shower in his bathroom, mind blank under the hot water. He’ll see your silhouette through the peek in the door, and his stomach will lurch in a new way. He won’t be able to look at you for a week after.

June, 2009

He comes to you at night a little drunk. You’re surprised Satoru didn’t warp this time – you’re used to seeing him in the blink of an eye right before you go to sleep just because he doesn’t want to sleep in his own room. Sleep is hardly a thing for him anyway – his insomnia has gotten a bit worse over the years, so he prefers to play on his Nintendo DS quietly as he strokes your hair.

“You actually knocked?”

He shrugs as he moves past you to flop his long body onto your twin bed. You look at him in question. He doesn’t answer, only gesturing for you.

“Come over here,” he slurs.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not–” he hiccups, “at all.”

“Satoru,” you berate.

“Okay, maybe I went a little crazy with the Dirty Shirleys. Needed a drink after the stupid fucking mission Yaga sent us on.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking this much. It’s a weekday.”

He mocks you and settles a hand over your waist. You notice the calluses on his hands, ironic considering he can never let anything touch him. But you can.

He sits you on his lap, rubbing your shoulders carefully. “How’s your night been?”

“Shoko made me watch Audition,” you frown.

“Oh. I love that one.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh, “Nothing scares you.”

You aren’t wrong. After assassination attempts and countless wretched curses thrown Satoru’s way, nothing could make him flinch anymore.

“You scare me,” he pouts, undressing himself. Always staking his claim on you in this way – he wouldn’t leave if you asked, and you know that you won’t.

“I highly doubt that.”

“You should yell at me more. It’s kind of a turn-on when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes as you turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness if not for the light of the moon and the annoying brilliance of Satoru’s eyes. Even his hair seems to glow in the dark, head dipped in starlight.

As you lay on your side, you feel Satoru’s palm undulating your bare thigh, tickling you under the hem of your t-shirt. He breathes in the scent of your neck.

“You have goosebumps,” he mumbles against your hair. “Gonna get nightmares from the movie?”

“No.”

“I’ll protect you,” he giggles boyishly, body overheating with want.

He sucks on your neck, hand parting the plushness of your thighs. You keen at the feeling of his teeth and tongue, gasping at his large fingers sliding your panties to the side to prod your cunt.

“This is all I could think about today.”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “Kept thinking about all those sounds you make. Kept thinking about your face.”

“You shouldn’t—ah—let yourself get so distracted on your missions.”

He laughs. “Whatever. Killed all those fuckers in less than ten minutes anyway.”

Satoru keeps you pressed to his chest, his other hand grasping your breast. You feel his dick hardening behind you as he plays with your cunt, fingers knuckle-deep inside you. It didn’t take him long to find your spot the way he had you memorized. Your eyes shut tightly as you moan. Stars knock around your head.

He turns your face toward his and licks at the seam of your lips, tongue roughly licking the inside of your mouth. Your body tingles at the sound of his groans. He holds you by the chin, hand slipping around your throat to hold you in place so he can take in every detail of your face.

You flush under his gaze, how his blown-out pupils outweighed the ocean blue. His pink mouth is parted and breathing out, zephyrs of maraschino cherry tickling your face.

You cry out when he pins you down, sinks his cock into your wetness. A wounded sound. It makes him shiver, makes him think about you on that dingy cot a month ago in the infirmary. Satoru was about ready to avenge you in any way he could, back then, even when you weren’t even half-dead. He’d reshape mountains. Drown the whole city of Tokyo with his bare hands.

In the way he holds you with bruising force, rutting into you like a devoted dog, he decides that he will be the only person to hurt you. The only one who should, knowing that even with his regrets and jagged ways of caring, no one else should lay a finger on you except him. He’d never hurt you in a violent way, unless his passion had counted. If devouring you counted, which it probably did, he would be content with his selfishness if it meant you were safe.

He needed to learn how to stop being so goddamn obsessive. He’d work on it later, maybe. He’d try not to speak curses into existence from the way he felt about you.

At the moment, he wants to make this good for you. Something like love.

“Made for me,” he whispers. “You were fucking made for me.”

“Yes,” you gasp.

He splits you open, spearing into your gut as he mumbles praises lowly into your ear. Your cunt pulses at the sound of his voice. He thrusts into you harshly, making blood rush to your head.

“You make me feel insane,” he grunts. “Used to think about you like this in high school. You were so fucking stubborn, refusing to give me attention.”

“You were a brat,” you flush. “Still are.”

“Your brat.”

“Mine,” you hum.

He groans at that. He’s so deep in you, drowning in syrupy velvet. He liked it when your body made him feel like this, like he was levitating. He wasn’t Gojo with you, always Satoru, always just a boy. He’d be content in this infinite spiral, swapping spit in between tongues and fucking into you until you cried. Your body is sacred. You made him forget himself when he needed to.

You like when he carves you out like this, your cunt a shrine for him at this point. You moan at the loss of him, watching through glassy eyes as he stumbles, fixing your body in between his knees.

“Wanna see my pretty girl’s face,” he groans. He’s annoyingly rough when he enters again, but you love it. He says your name like it’s a prayer.

Your head buzzes as he thrusts into you faster this time. His hair sticks to his face, tickling your cheek as he bites into your neck. Midnight vignettes blur your vision.

“Wish you’d let me have you earlier,” he pants.

“Fucking me for the past year wasn’t enough?”

He shakes his head. “Wish I lost it to you. I was thinking about you during it, too.”

“Satoru,” you whine.

He means it. He was already blunt as could be, but alcohol made him over-honest. He liked that his candor made you blush.

“Would you have let me fuck you?” he teases. “When we were fifteen?”

“No. You were even stupider then.”

“So mean to me,” he chuckles, rolling his hips more aggressively. He revels in watching you squirm. “I would’ve worshipped you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. Nails cross-hatching the length of his back.

“I would’ve.” I will.

He kisses you open-mouthed like it’s a promise, pulling your hair in the process. The room was starting to get hot, that June humidity unforgiving, even at night. You’d have to open a window later. His body makes yours swelter, skin melting into skin like he’s trying to fuse the both of you into one thing. Like that Greek myth about two halves of a soul.

“Fuck, ‘m so close,” he whimpers. “You feel too good. Shit, I wanted to make you beg.”

“Sounds like you’re the one begging,” you exhale.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Want you. You’re killing me. Fuck.”

He spills inside of you at the same time you cum, the heaviness of his low groans making your brain break. He’s still drunk, head swimming with every part of you. Above you, he sports that fallen angel look again, eyes gleaming with rapture. Prodigious as he was, he worships you instead, blessed with love bruises adorning his shoulder.

Satoru always liked to fuck you like it was the last day he’d ever have you. Tonight is no different.

He exhales at the juncture of your neck, soothed by your hands in his hair. He lifts his body up, kissing your collarbone before he descends to your belly. You tremble at the feeling of his hand cupping your cunt.

“Satoru, I can’t–”

“Please?” he pouts, his breath tickling your clit. “Wanna taste you. All mixed up with me.”

Heat rises to your face violently. “You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“You made such a mess,” you grumble.

“I’ll clean it up,” he grins.

You let him. His sharp mouth never lets up, anyway.

“Wait! Sit on my face.”

“I can’t even feel my legs,” you pout.

He whines your name. “I had such a tough mission today, baby. You don’t think I deserve it?”

“Spoiled,” you mumble as you switch positions with him. Below you, he looks feral in the eyes, over-eager. Hungry like a wolf even after fucking you hard.

You gasp when he pulls you down, slotting your thighs on each side of his head while he starts to taste you. Licking up into your cunt, moaning at the taste of himself and the sweetness of you. He grips your ass, guiding your movements like the ebb and flow of a wave. You shake above him.

“Jesus.”

You feel him laugh, the vibrations tickling your clit.

“Annoying slut,” you call him. He seems to enjoy it, thinking of it as praise considering how loud he groans. It almost embarrasses you.

That familiar feeling twinges in your core again.

“Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. He latches his mouth on your clit and you think you might burst. Maybe crumble and fly away in the wind like a dandelion.

He continues to suck on you as you ride out your orgasm, your thighs trembling. When he gets up for air, his eyes are blown out wide, drunken smile on his face as if he’s peaking. Chemical reactions in his blood.

“So good for me,” he grins, kissing you on the mouth. Your heart flutters.

His gaze is still searing into you. Looking at him hurts, sometimes.

Satoru presses into you, curling into your neck again. His heartbeat reverberates throughout the room. Tenderness floods the both of you, bodies slotted together like he wants to make a nest out of you.

You’re exhausted with heavy lids. Satoru strokes your skin until you fall asleep, careful fingers soothing the places his mouth had been. Divine wounds. Like a devotional dog with teeth too sharp and love larger than his body, Satoru will be the only one to hurt you.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you #satosugu smut #gojo x geto

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i-wanna-write · 2 months ago

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If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic

Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Chapter Warning: mentions of violence, cussing, dirty talk, SMUT! Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: Excited to post this one!!!

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You think about your last run in with James often. It always leaves you blushing, thinking of his lips on your own. The feel of his chest underneath your fingers. You haven’t seen him in six months since he saved your life but you think about your kiss weekly. Specifically at night after a bottle of wine. Or in the shower when you’re feeling specifically stressed.

You fantasize about his lips leaving your own to find that spot on your neck. You think about them traveling down your neck, to each of your breasts. Down your stomach to where you want him most.

You fantasize about how he would feel above you, his larger body covering your own. What he would feel like when he was inside of you, your claws elongated and trailing down his back. You wonder what his face would look like when he cums, if his own claws elongated and shredded the nearest object.

A month ago you found a secluded cabin in North Dakota and moved in with your now small library. You have about twenty seven books and went to the nearest town to stock up on the necessities: eggs, bread, booze. You’re now prepared to hunker down and spend the winter alone and secluded, just how you liked it.

Only fate had other plans.

You are seated in front of the fire place, a fire cracking and alighting the living room. Your favorite book back in hand, nursing a whiskey as you continued to annotate it for the umpteeth time. You nursed a whiskey as you found more lines that you liked and spoke to you.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley was a book you found yourself reading so many times. Its theme and message resonated with you as you felt like the main character Marx. Being a mutant, you were born for rejection and as your years on Earth increased, so did the hate your kind received. Yet you believed it was due to those who were simply conditioned to believe so.

You take another sip of your whiskey, allowing it to burn down your throat when you hear a thump from outside your front door. Your ears listened as the wind traveled through the air and took a breath in through your nose to determine if someone was near the cabin.

That's when you smelt blood.

You place your book on the coffee table and rise, quickly growing your claws. You tried to scent who or what it was but could only smell the blood. You quietly made your way to the front door before breathing again.

A familiar scent hit you.

You opened your door and it revealed James, body slumped on the porch and unconscious. He was dressed in only jeans and a tank top as if he wasn’t expecting to venture into the snow. His shirt was torn, holes littering it and dried blood showing. Your eyes trailed his handsome face and noted dried blood there as well. His usually kept hair was wild and out of place, also full of blood.

What you didn’t expect to see though, was his claws. Or rather what was left of them. They were somehow still sheathed, but instead of standing at their usually long 12 inches, they appeared to be cut down - only about 5 inches remaining.

A gasp left you and you immediately knelt down, feeling for his pulse. It was steady and strong beneath your fingers, a gracious sign that despite this horrific injury, it wouldn’t kill him

Not knowing how he got here or where he came from, you reached down and lifted him up, your enhanced strength easily allowing you to do so. You closed the door with your foot behind you and brought him to your couch, laying him down.

The man still did not stir with being moved so you sighed, assuming he’d heal and wake up eventually. So you grabbed your discarded book and drink, curling up in your usually vacant chair and resumed your annotation.

Five minutes later a popping sound is heard and you look up to see bullets spilling out of James chest. A total of seven pop out and fall to the ground with a crash. You watch amazed, having never seen another heal the exact same way as you.

Despite the bullets leaving, his healing seeming to kick in, his claws continue to remain the same as does James - unawake. You stare for a moment before turning back to your book, reading your favorite part.

You continue for another five minutes or so before a gasp brings you out of it. You lower your book to see James shoot up from his lying position on the couch. His breathing is heavy and his chest seems to move with each breath. You immediately discard the book and go to him, kneeling down and carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

“James?” You say quietly. “It’s Y/N. I found you passed out on the porch so I brought you inside.”

The man immediately looks up, his brown eyes meeting your E/C. Recognition slowly seemed to make its way into them before he looked away, eyes catching his broken claws which now appeared to be about 8 inches long.

“Fuck.” He growls out, clenching and unclenching his fists as he examines them.

“Yeah… you looked like absolute shit when I opened the door and I noticed that your claws were - well that. What the fuck happened?” You question, arm not leaving his shoulder.

“Another mutant. Some guy the size of a train. Got into a scuffle and well, it seems he took a piece of me with him.” James explained, not adding any details.

“Where’s Victor?” You question, eyebrows furrowed at his brother not being here.

“He’s been hunting’ some other mutant for a fight he lost. Wants revenge.” James scoffs, showing his displeasure with the action.

“Okay…” You drift off, rising from your position to think of what to do.

With the snow storm starting to brew outside, you knew that it was more than likely James would be stuck here for a day or two - not that you were complaining.

“While that doesn’t explain how the fuck you ended up on my front porch, I have to ask - do they grow back? Cause I swore they were shorter when I brought you in.” You were dying to know, eyes locked on his claws.

Though you’ve now run into more mutants since those years ago when you met the brothers, you still know very little about their mutations. You were dying to know more. Perhaps if his claws grow back, your own would if, God forbid, they were cut off too.

James raised them into the front of his face, once again clenching and unclenching as he too examined them.

“Huh.” He started. “Guess so Sweetheart. Never had ‘em broken before.” With that, the claws sink back into his knuckles and the wounds heal over as if they were never there.

You nod, seeing the reason but a little upset more information wasn’t given to you. If his mutation was just like yours, which you understood it was, his body heels and regenerates faster than an average person. So why couldn’t his claws do the same.

“Well, since you're here, want dinner?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

James nodded.

…

After dinner you told him about the storm and how he probably shouldn’t leave until it died down. You both knew the snow and cold wouldn’t bother him - that he could’ve left as soon as he awoke, neither one of you acknowledged that.

Instead, you ate on the couch next to each other, recalling the past few months since you’ve seen each other. You were glad to just spend time with him, for once not having to deal with a mutant, Victor, or some other issue that seems to get in the way.

Once you were both finished, you washed the dishes before pouring yourself and him a glass of whisky, bringing the bottle with you as you resumed your seat next to him. He thanked you with a nod - not a man of many words.

You sat in silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he raised it to sip his drink. If he noticed the goosebumps appear on your arm every time he did so, he didn’t say anything.

Your thoughts ran wild since you brought him inside. The silence has you thinking. You came to a realization after he saved you from the Mutant.

You felt comfortable around him, natural.

You weren’t used to it. You weren’t used to being around someone else for so long. You could only last a few hours. You could bear having a drink in a bar but that was it. You loved being alone. You hated being around people, mutants or not. You were a solitary creature and preferred it that way.

But with James, it felt different - it felt natural that the two of you could sit in silence when you were with each other and didn’t need to fill it. You could just relax around the other and not worry about all the other people around.

This fact startles you.

You hated being around others.

“Are you reading Brave New World?” James' question cuts you out of your thoughts.

You see his gaze has traveled to your now abounded book on the chair. You nod, turning to him and realizing now just how close the two of you have gotten.

His right leg is pressed against your left, his head almost entering your personal bubble. Your eyes meet when you turn to look at him, the brown dark and the fire reflecting off of them.

“Yeah.” You answer. “It’s my favorite. I think it kind of relates to how we live now if you think about it. Without a mutation, people have the same thought, but that thought was engraved into them and they never knew differently.” You state, trying your best to explain why you like it so much.

“If one’s different -“

“One’s bound to be lonely.” You finish the quote, surprised he knew it. “You’ve read it?”

James nods, his eyes quickly flashing to your lips before back to your eyes. You almost think you imagined it.

“I didn’t know you could read.” You tease, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Smartass.” James states, shaking his head and growing a smile of his own.

You smile back, just staring at him as his eyes are locked on your own, as if searching for something. You’re not sure who leaned in first, maybe you both did and met in the middle. But before you knew it, your lips were touching his.

You couldn’t explain. You’ve kissed others before. You’ve fucked others before. But it never felt the same when you kissed James. This was different, better. Natural.

His lips fit perfectly over your own, moving gently, almost hesitant at first this time, before throwing caution to the wind and adding more force. His lips were surprisingly soft as they formed against yours.

His tongue pried your lips apart easily and you almost fell apart. He tasted just as you remembered, like the whiskey he was drinking but also like tobacco from a cigar he probably smoked hours prior. It was a taste you couldn’t get enough of.

You moan as his stubble scratched against your cheeks as you moved, the dominance in both your mutations not wanting to give up easily. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt as they traveled up. They finally reached their destination: the little tufts on either side of his head.

This time you didn’t think about the fact that you were in a fight with another mutant. That your home was destroyed and you had to move again. This time you were truly able to take in the moment, focusing solely on his lips on yours.

You grabbed his hair tufts into your hands, pulling tightly which released a groan from his mouth. You pressed your thighs together, your core beginning to ache as you think of what other sounds you could get out of him.

James seemed to notice that you’re trying to lead things and he quickly sets you straight. His own hands travel down to your waist, gripping your hips before pulling you towards him.

Somehow he’s able to maneuver you without breaking the kiss so that you’re laying with your back on the couch. Your hands are still entangled in his hair but he’s on top, his hips pressing into your own and his cock saying hello.

This is way better than your fantasies.

You try to buck up - to get some type of friction where you desperately need it but he’s having none of that. As if he enjoys teasing you, he lifts his hips away from your exploration to deny you that friction.

Sooner than you’d have liked, you need air. So with great reluctance you pull away from your favorite kiss ever, mouth parting from his.

“Fuck.” James groans quietly, his breath fanning your lips. “Been wanting to do that since you pulled away last time.”

You laugh - you can’t help it. Because you felt the exact same way. You tell him that.

“Seeing you there - truly you with no Victor around, it was like seeing you for the first time.” You revealed to him, suddenly nervous at your admission.

But James doesn’t tease you or mock you. No. He smiles, showing all his teeth and appearing happy.

“I’m glad you saw me Sweetheart.” He says before leaning back down to capture your lips again.

This kiss is sloppy, tongues immediately meeting and teeth smashing against each other. You’re tongues battle for control over the kiss, neither relenting.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You rely solely on your instincts. On your mouth meeting his, tongue fighting his. His entire being consumes you. His large body is covering yours, his scent of tobacco, whiskey, and something entirely just James invading your sense of smell.

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and pulling another moan out of you. This time he’s the one that pulls away first, lips kissing along your jawline before reaching your pulse point.

You know it’s racing beneath his lips and you buck your hips as he begins to suck. The sensation shoots right down to your core and need some type of friction between your legs.

“Fuck.” You moan, the feeling unlike any other.

Thankfully he doesn’t pull away this time, grinding down into you so you can feel his hardened cock. You sigh at the feeling, finally having some relief. His hands travel from your waist to the bottom of your shirt, silently saying he wants it off. His mouth leaves your neck as you push him away, watching as he leans back so you can quickly discard your shirt. Already up, you make quick work of taking off your bra.

“Fuck.” James says lowly, his eyes darkening.

He licks his lips and goes to discard his own shirt in one go. You don’t get a chance to admire him like he did you as he immediately pushes you back down, lips now attacking your breasts.

His lips attack your right one, his hand going to your left. His mouth immediately finds your nipple, sucking and biting. You moan at the sensation, eyes closed and moving your hands to travel up and down his bare back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath.

Your claws elongate and they continue to trail up and down, creating scratches on James’ back that seem to heal the moment they appear. The action causes the man to groan, hips grinding harder down on you.

His lips leave your breast and you want to cry at the lost but they don’t leave your body, trailing down your stomach with open kisses. He reaches your waistline, and hear a schlit, opening your eyes to meet his brown ones.

You catch his gaze and see his right hand has elongated his claws- now fully healed. You realize he’s asking your permission to remove them. You nod, wanting nothing between him and your core. His claws quickly slice through your pants and underwear, James grabbing them and tossing them over the side of the couch.

His lips return to your body, your hands back in his hair. He places kisses on the inside of your right thigh, traveling up and over your mound before moving to the other. He finds one spot that elicits a moan from you and bites down, causing you to buck up into his face.

“Ugh fuck.” You moan breathlessly

One of his arms finds its way across your stomach to hold you down. He seems to be everywhere except the one place you want him to be.

“Been wanting to taste your juices sweetheart.” James says, his warm breath fanning your core and bringing goosebumps to your skin.

Finally, after what feels like forever, his lips find your clit and he places a kiss there before running his tongue along it.

You through your head back at the new sensation. “Fuck James.”

The man uses that as motivation, starting to suck and sometimes adding his teeth in the mix. You’re core is soaked at this point and jolt slightly as he travels down and licks along your slit.

“So sweet baby.” He groans against you.

His tongue prods in and out slowly as you try to buck up to get him to go deeper but his hand prevents you. His mouth travels back to suck your clit and he suddenly presses a finger into you, giving you no warning. You immediately tighten around him, trying to buck your hips again but to no avail.

“Ughh.” You moan, feeling as his finger slowly, torturously, moves in and out of you.

He soon adds another finger, setting a slow pace. “That’s it. Look at you squeezing around my fingers like a good girl.”

You nod, feeling yourself get more turned on at his words. His fingers move occasionally to curl up, hitting the spot you need most and your hand in his hair try to push his mouth further to your clit.

You start to feel the familiar feeling set in your stomach, pulling and gripping his hair tighter. The fire starts to spread in your stomach, reaching your throat like you can’t breath and pulsating at you’re core. He seems to get the hint, immediately stopping his motions and pulling back entirely.

Your eyes snap open, looking down to see James sitting back on his knees, just watching you. He chuckles lowly at the state you’re in and you know what he probably sees. Skin flushed, breathing heavy, hair mused. Face annoyed.

“You’re not cumin’ on my fingers sweetheart.” James says, before reaching down to remove his jeans, revealing to not be wearing underwear. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You core tightens at his words, your gaze taking him in. His hair is all over the place from your gripping. His stubble is drenched in your juices, own skin flushed and chest heaving up and down.

You can’t help yourself as your gaze travels down to his cock. Your eyes almost pop out of your head. He’s large, there’s no denying that. Probably 8 inches, and his girth is the largest you’ve seen. His head is red and angry, precum leaking from his tip.

Next time you’re gonna have a taste.

But you don’t get to tonight as he moves back on you, returning to cover your body with his. His lips meet your own again and you moan as you can taste yourself.

You wrap your hands around his neck and move your legs wider apart, trying to make room for his legs between your own. He seems impossibly larger now and you relish in the feeling of his bare chest against yours.

You feel his hand slide down your body, gathering some of your juices. He grunts, seeming to be pumping himself before you feel his tip against your entrance.

He rubs it over your slit, continuing his teasing form earlier as he moves his hips forward, allowing just his head to enter you before pulling back. He pulls away from your mouth, breath on your face and eyes staring into yours.

You stare into the dark brown, seeing only lust and trust in his eyes. He looks almost vulnerable, if not for the fact that he’s a very large man, in every aspect.

Before you can kiss him again, his hips shoot forward and his cock is sheathed in you. You gasp at the intrusion, his fingers not at all preparing you for it.

“Fuck you’re so tight.” James mumbles before leaning forward to catch your lips again.

You’re tongues continue to lazily dance together. He sets a slow but brutal pace. His hips pull back slowly, agonizingly, before he slams them back into yours, filling you up.

You try to meet each thrust, bucking your hips every moment to drag him closer. Your claws continue to drag up and down his back, creating more bloody scratches that heal.

His own hands are gripping each of your hips now, their strength forming bruises that you know will heal once their pressure is gone. He pulls you into him everytime he enters, your eyes seeing stars everytime.

He pulls his mouth from yours, moving to your neck to kiss, suck, bite anywhere he can. At one point you’re sure he draws blood before he’s sucking it again as it heals.

You never imagined it would feel like this with him. His large body covering yours, sweat mixing with your own. You’re senses filled with nothing but him, his scent, his blood, his body, his cock.

It’s perfect.

“Fuck James, don’t stop,” you say, moving one hand from his back to rub your clit, feeling the pressure start to build.

One of his hands leaves your hip to grab your own, bringing it up to the right side of your face to pin it down.

“That’s my job sweetheart.” He grins wolfishly at you before letting your hand go to find your nub.

He immediately does and pinches it hard before rubbing in circles that somehow match each thrust.

“Fuck baby you feel so fucking good.” James praises into your ear. “You gonna cum on my cock? You been wanting this since you saw me, huh?”

“Mhm.” Is all you can ge tout, nodding along to the dirty words he’s spewing. “So bad James. Moment I saw you. Every instinct was to fuck you.” Your reveal the truth.

“That’s a good girl.” He grunts, his hips picking up place as his hand moves faster. “Want you to cum my cock. Wanna smell you for days.”

You moan at that, the words doing something deep in you. Your pressure continued to build and build and you’re almost at the edge.

“Fuck James I’m gonna-“

James cuts you off my moving faster then you think anyone can move. His fingers press harder into your clit and soon you’re seeing stars, entire body tensing and core squeezing him tight. Your claws dig deep into his shoulders, holding tightly.

“Ungh Fuck”

It’s enough to send James over the edge too, his own body tensing and breathing heavy. You hear a schlitt and then he’s groaning in your ear and you feel himself empty into you.

“Fuck sweetheart.” James breaths, slowing the movements of his hips.

You can’t say anything, mind completely blank. You never imagined it would be this good with James. You knew it would be good, but this was beyond any fantasy.

His body stills above you, hips still planted firmly against your own and cock still deep inside. His entire weight is pressed onto you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You didn’t see him as the rough type, or dirty talker. But the words that came out of his mouth only made him hotter and more appealing to the animal inside of you.

You retract your claws and run one hand up and down his spine in a soothing manner as both of you try to gain control of your breathing. Your other hand scracthes his hair at the base of his neck, noticing that it’s surprisingly soft.

James carefully exits from you but doesn’t move his body beside that, content to just lay there. His face is pressed into the right side of your neck, occasionally kissing you. His right hand comes up and carresss the other side of your neck, moving up and down your pulse point.

You didn’t take him as a cuddler.

“Fuck James.” You whisper, eyes staring at the ceiling as you relish in what just happened.

You feel James body vibrate with a chuckle. “Feel the same sweeheart.”

He pulls away slightly from your neck and you turn to look at him, eyes meeting.

“Never had ‘em come out like that before.” He reveals, referring to his own claws.

You look down and see identical puncture marks on either side of you hips. This couch has definitely reached its finish line.

You shoot him a soft smile, liking this vulnerable side of him. “It’s never felt like that before.” You share with him.

Your eyes stare into his brown ones, neither of you relenting. His are back to trust but there's something else there this time. Something you’ve never seen in another's eyes before when looking at you.

“I leave for vietnam in a week.” James whispers to you.

You stare into his eyes, seeing something vulnerable at his admission to you. You’re not sure what to say. You guys aren’t together or anything. Just a few run-ins and this amazing night together. But you’d be lying if you didn’t think it would change something between the two of you.

Maybe more run-ins. Maybe more of tonight. Maybe moments together that are a week long rather than a day.

“Visit when you come back?” You whisper, hope in your voice.

James leans forward, capturing his lips with yours. “I plan on it.”

\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///

Tag List: @randomblogzsblog, @sebastianstanblog, @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @somiaw

#logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #fanfic #james howlett x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett imagine #james howlett fanfiction #smut #james howlett smut #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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jisungchan · 1 month ago

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kiss me right! park sunghoon (written and smau story)

about ᝰ.ᐟ park sunghoon, a stubborn yet unbothered music composition major who has put his entire life on the line for his dreams. y/n, a dance team leader and choreographer who studies neuroscience, putting her aspirations on the side for a secure career. these two have spent the last 3 years not knowing each other, so what happens when their paths finally cross? sunghoon is stuck in his ways of believing things will just work out. y/n faced early the harsh reality that has forced her to believe the world is out for her. when these two met, they clashed. will someone's way of living come out to be right, or will they both fall victim to their righteousness?

tldr ᝰ.ᐟ park sunghoon and y/n go through college without knowing each other until senior year. their friend groups are menaces, and many obstacles arise their final year before graduation.

genre ᝰ.ᐟ university au, partially written and smau, fluff, angst, poor attempts at comedy, coming of age-ish, may be suggestive at times

stars ᝰ.ᐟ all of enhypen, all of kiss of life, chanhee (new) from the boyz, some other players to be added...

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ probably some of everything, kys/kms jokes, julie is gay (and the friend group jokes about it), reader is bisexual, swearing, may be suggestive at times, I AM DYSLEXIC SO PLEASE BARE WITH MY TYPOS😭each post will have chapter specific warnings.

now playing ᝰ.ᐟ keshi kiss me right, boynextdoor 20, enhypen your eyes only, p1harmony late night calls, kiss of life r.e.m, pryvt mona lisa, chase atlantic angels, hojean over 85, arctic monkeys no. 1 party anthem, waterparks closer, jaehyun completely, taeyong long flight, patty painted blue, chase atlantic call me back

upload schedule ᝰ.ᐟ first chapter drops november 1st, weekly updates after

enhau's hot girls💥 + virginity gang💯

written chapters are in pink!

: ̗̀➛ intro: since when was this a polyamorous relationship

: ̗̀➛ chapter one: so you were just going to gatekeep my wife...?

: ̗̀➛ chapter two: (scary) men

: ̗̀➛ chapter three: johnnie guilbert

: ̗̀➛ chapter four: exposure therapy!

: ̗̀➛ chapter five:

: ̗̀➛ chapter six:

: ̗̀➛ chapter seven:

: ̗̀➛ chapter eight:

: ̗̀➛ chapter nine:

: ̗̀➛ chapter ten:

...

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ open! comment or send a message if you would like to be added :)

disclaimer: throughout the series, main character will be 'creating' dance choreographies. however, it is FICTIONAL as it is referencing real life songs and choreographies made by REAL people. my goal is NOT to take any credit for their hard work, i am just using it for the plot and for this FICTIONAL story. also, none of these pictures are mine or belong to me. if you own any of content used in this story and would like it to be removed, please let me know and i will! k thanks for understanding.

#park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon smau #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #kiss me right #nephele is normal

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teastainedprose · 7 months ago

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Play With Fire, Chapter 3 (Homelander x Reader)

Homelander finds your apartment empty and Homelander is going to be a creep about it. This chapter is a fluff break and an extra one from what I'd originally planned. 1.7k words, No sexual content. Female, plus-sized reader. Slight warning for hints of animal abuse. [AO3 Link, Chapter 1, Chapter 2]

You’re not home. This is new. Homelander frowns as he drops to his usual perch a building away as he surveys the area before scanning through your apartment building. It’s past lunchtime and normally you’d be settled at your desk working away on your PC, but the chair is empty. The laptop is closed and shut down. Where has his little bug scurried off to?

His frown further sours as Homelander scans your usual haunts around your apartment, but he doesn’t catch sight of your plump little figure anywhere. He blinks, reorienting his x-ray vision back to your apartment for another glance before his eyes snag on the whiteboard above your desk. It’s a weekly planner where he’s often seen notes of chores, appointments, or what meals you plan to have quickly scribbled on it. It’s Monday and on the planner is scribbled ‘FIRST DAY’.

He puzzles over that before it hits him. A new job, that must be it! He’s so clever. Homelander has certainly seen you scroll job postings and even caught you coming home from an interview in the cutest little businesswoman get-up. So fetching, he could have eaten you right up.

Now what sort of new job did a worker bee like you get? Something to research later, Homelander mentally notes as he glides quietly down to your balcony. There’s a better use of his time right now. You’ll be out for a few more hours yet, of this he’s certain. First day and all. Better make a good impression, little bug. Homelander chuckles to himself at the thought as he peeks into your apartment.

Today is the perfect opportunity to indulge, and Homelander has never been one to hold back.

The balcony door isn’t locked and opens quietly under his hand as Homelander smiles to himself, stepping inside. He already knows the layout, walking briskly across the wooden floor as he takes everything in from this new perspective. Being inside, instead of a silent observer of your apartment from above is a new experience for him. Now he gets to experience your world in truth. Homelander takes everything in with a new eye as he walks about, pausing to straighten a photograph or trace his fingers across the spines of your books. You’ve built a cozy little den here. It’s nothing compared to his opulent penthouse, but it reflects a creature such as yourself well enough. None of it is to Homelander’s taste, but he won’t hold that against you. The trinkets and baubles you’ve decorated your nest suit you and he approves of that fact.

Homelander pauses at the couch, plucking up the throw blanket discarded there. He’s seen you snuggled up in this very blanket many a night, tucked in with a book or watching your little shows. He brings the plush fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. Homelander closes his eyes, savoring the scent there. Your scent. He hasn’t smelled you before, not really. The elevator encounter had been so brief and surprising that Homelander never registered what you’d smelled like at that moment. It had been all anger and stress radiating off you at the time.

He inhales again, breathing deeply with the blanket still held against his face. There’s the citrus scent of fabric softener, but also something undeniably human and undeniably you. Homelander finds that he likes it very much. A moan escapes him as Homelander presses the blanket harder to his nose as if he could imprint the smell of you in his senses. Idly, he wonders if you’d smell the same when he buries his nose in the space between your neck and rounded shoulder. Soft and warm and sweet like the hint of you on this blanket? Homelander sighs at the thought, the longing making his cock jump as he straightens.

Reluctantly, he drops the blanket back onto the couch as his boots take him deeper into your home towards the bedroom. The door is shut, which Homelander finds curious. Normally, it stands open as he’s watched you wander from bedroom to living room to kitchen and back again while your mind keeps you elsewhere as you putter about doing whatever little bugs like you do. He doesn’t pause as Homelander opens the door, confidently stepping into your bedroom with the eagerness of a child given free rein in a toy store. Homelander expects to paw through your dresser and give the toys he’s seen you use on yourself a thorough inspection.

What he doesn’t expect is the sudden attack from a black blur pouncing onto his foot with a delighted chirrup. Homelander drops his gaze, watching in a detached way as the kitten tries to dig its claws into his boot while kicking back feet furiously. He feels none of it, of course. He doubts even a mere mud person would feel anything from such a pathetic assault, yet the kitten is determined. The little creature squirms about, bottom over front briefly before it twists and promptly scampers off in a confusion of fur.

Homelander frowns. When the fuck did you get a cat? He should have noticed such a creature despite its diminutive size. The little thing is barely a mote of soot as it scrambles under the bed, green eyes wild and wide. The creature pauses, making a sound Homelander would call an undignified squeak ill-suited for a predator before it rushes forward again. His lip twitches, annoyance settling over Homelander at this animal disturbing his tour of your apartment.

Still, he makes no move toward the kitten as it stalks around behind him to inspect his cape. Homelander turns and the cape goes with him, fabric fluttering in such a tantalizing way that no kitten can resist. The little beast pounces or attempts to.

The frown on Homelander’s lips tugs further down now that he’s eye to eye with the green-eyed imp as in an instant he snatched it up to keep it off his cape. Homelander has never been one to interact with animals often, let alone young ones. The most would have been with such animals sulking away from him in the bad room, hissing and spitting while a doctor looked on behind bulletproof heat vision-resistant glass. Back then he’d been instructed to take care of the creatures to show how much he’d learned of control with his powers, but he can’t do that to this fluffy shadow.

A small purr emanating from the kitten draws Homelander from his memory as he blinks. His eyes refocus on the animal who now is trying to gnaw at one of his fingers through his glove eagerly as it thrums away. Poor thing has no idea who it’s facing. “Charming,” He mumbles before shutting the bedroom door behind him as Homelands steps into the room proper. He gingerly places the squirming animal onto the bed.

Homelander casts about the bedroom with fresher eyes, taking in a plastic mat with food and a water dish atop it. He doesn’t even need to sniff the air to discern the faint aroma of ammonia and cat litter coming from the open bathroom door. The little beast has been properly set up in your bedroom. A new acquisition. The creature is yours and confined here with purpose, so he can’t risk it suspiciously going missing. At least not yet. A cracked window later down the line will fix this little problem. There’s no need for you to house this extra distraction. Not when he’s so close to getting his claws into you. Homelander smiles to himself.

“Your days are numbered.” He points out, even going so far as to waggle a finger at the black kitten as it rolls about atop the bed.

In reply, the kitten promptly drops onto its rump atop the comforter and sticks a leg out. This it began washing intently. There’s a slight charm to such a fragile thing being oblivious to the danger present. Homelander cocks his head, watching the animal a beat longer before a sound catches his interest.

There’s the unmistakable rattle of keys too close that takes Homelander by surprise, too lost in his thoughts to notice the approach of footsteps down the apartment hallway. Your footsteps. He’s instantly on high alert, quietly opening the bedroom door and closing it behind him to not let the little beast escape and alert you of something amiss. He waits a beat, eyes on the door as he watches you on the other side while you fumble with the keys. The lock sticks as he’s observed and you never seem to remember to bring it up to the landlord. Forgetful little bug.

Homelander’s form is a patriotic blur as he rushes right across the room, to the balcony, to yank the door open, and dart out to the open sky in a woosh of air. It all happens in a blink as you click the key into place and the lock slides free of the deadbolt.

You pause as you open your apartment door, a slight frown on your face. Something like a breeze seems to have disrupted your apartment as a tapestry on the wall flutters back to rest. You shake your head as a glance about shows nothing amiss. All is well and now you’re smiling to yourself. Your first day at your new job has been a success!

Dropping your purse on the kitchen counter, your feet are quick as you move to your bedroom door to yank it open. There sits your stray kitten you’d taken in only the other day. He’s mid-lick while grooming his leg. You grin wide, quick to cross the room to scoop the bundle of fur up into your arms.

“Adrien, did you miss me?” You coo to him, burying your face into his fur as Adrien purrs up a storm. Indeed, he did. You laugh at his enthusiasm as Adrien promptly starts to lick your cheek as if you’re the one in need of a bath. Your smile doesn’t falter as you drop onto the bed before gently laying down to let him settle beside you.

“It’s nice to be back doing something, you know?” You confide in him. “This charity work is doing wonders to soothe my soul.” Being a kitten, Adrien’s only response is to purr as he curls himself up as close as he can get to your neck.

High above your apartment, Homelander lets himself linger a moment longer. Charity work? Interesting. He watches still, taking in your smile as you cuddle that obnoxious ball of soot. He rolls his eyes, a huff escaping him before moving on.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander writing #homelander #homelander x fem!reader #plus-sized reader #x you #The gif its 300% Homelander near the end of this scene #GEE I WONDER WHAT THAT NAME REF IS #I DUNNO WHY DOES HE KEEP CALLING HER HIS BUG #someone slap me if I make Homelander call her Buginette #I amuse myself #🍵 play with fire

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 months ago

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A Misdemeanor Of the Heart, Chapter 8 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: aftermath of domestic violence, jealousy, domestic abuse

AN: Bonus chapter to celebrate the new welcome post and cleaning up my masterlists <3

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Hurry up,” Laurence snapped, his voice little more than a harsh hiss as he leaned into your side. His hand rested on your waist, fingers flexing one at a time, digging into you in a rhythm you knew well.

“I’m trying.” Whimpering, you hoped he didn’t take your words as back talking. You didn’t want to move slowly, it’s just he didn’t let you take anymore aspirin before leaving for lunch and your muscles ached.

It was a near weekly standing lunch date between you two, a trip to a cafe or a bistro. It was important to be seen, and these weekly lunches served that purpose, just like the trips to the cinema. There was rarely any care for your enjoyment of the dates in it.

Calling it lunch today was a big generous. Laurence didn’t allow you to order anything more than biscotti and coffee. After spending the morning washing laundry and hanging it out to dry, you were starving, but that would have to wait.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet as Laurence pushed you to shuffle faster. Whispered warnings dripping with venom were dropped into your ear as Laurence helped straighten you with a kind smile on his handsome face. You pulled your lips into a smile to match. A picture perfect couple as you made your way slowly to the car.

Laurence slammed the door to the car once you were nestled inside. The sound made you flinch as the force of it rocked the car. You’d messed up again. You’d done something wrong. It was your fault he was in a bad mood and you’d pay for it later. If only you knew what you could have done better, so you could be a better wife to him.

Maybe it would get you out of going to the cinema.

“I don’t have time to drop you off at the house,” Laurence slammed his door after settling into the driver’s seat. “You’re just going to have to come with me. Be on your best behavior and do not embarrass me.”

“I’m sorry,” you looked at him pleadingly. “I can walk or take the bus if you’d rather.”

Laurence struck you with the back of his hand, slamming your head back against the seat. It wasn’t as strong of a blow as he was capable of, even in the confined and awkward space of the car and you were thankful for that. Pain flared, but it was manageable, more of a sting.

“Just shut up.”

You nodded, tears gathering in your eyes. You grabbed the handkerchief from your bag, not your good one, but the one stained with splotches of blood, and dabbed at your lip. It was bleeding again, not having had a chance to heal. While the car roared to life, you held pressure on the reopened wound to your lip, trying to decode what you had done wrong.

Scott, the marketing manager, paced the hallway between offices. Alastor’s annoyance rose with each of the man’s passes by his office door. His unsightly haircut bobbed past the window and drew his attention, distracting him from working on the scripts for that evening.

There were murders he needed to focus on the reporting of. He had to get it just so, report all the details without saying anything he shouldn’t know about them.

Alastor groaned in frustration as he pushed back from the desk. If willing the man to stop would not work, Alastor may as well take a break from watching his head pass by the window in his door again and again.

“Oh!” Scott nearly walked into Alastor as he stepped out of his office. “Sorry Alastor, must have been stuck in my head.”

“What troubles you, ol friend?” Alastor asked, not really caring.

“I vouched for this marketing firm,” Scotty started, following Alastor down the hall and even further, trailing behind him as he descended the stairs. “They were supposed to expand our market. The guy’s been putting off delivering the marketing materials for weeks and then when he did, they were rubbish. Total rubbish.”

“Oh dear,” Alastor hoped walking out of the building would end the conversation, but Scott followed him still.

“Right?” The man threw his hands up as Alastor walked down the sidewalk, thinking more of how to get under Laurence’s skin than Scott’s ranting.

What colors would you like? Alastor pondered the question as Scott went on and on about the meeting and how much he dreaded having to end the contract. Purple? Purple sounded nice. Alastor picked a few purple flowers from the beds lining the sidewalk. Yellow too, he decided.

“What you cutting flowers for? Gotta lady to impress?” Alastor resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“An associate and his wife had me over for dinner. It is only proper to present the lady of the house with a token of my gratitude.” Alastor stopped in front of the rose bushes at the side of the building.

“I suppose,” Scott’s voice trailed off as Alastor pulled a larger than expected knife in a leather sheath from his pocket. “A bit excessive, no?”

“I was working on some things before heading in,” Alastor shrugged, slipping the leather from the blade as he looked at the different deep red roses. They were almost an unnatural shade of Burgundy and would contrast nicely with the brighter flowers.

Adjusting his grip on the antler handle, he reached out and pulled forward the first rose. The blade cut through the woody stem as if it was nothing. The blade was honed to a razor edge. Alastor selected three more roses, just in the early stages of their blooms, and cut them free as well. It wasn’t a large bouquet, but it was thoughtfully put together.

“Well, good luck with the meeting. Pacing the hall likely won’t help you much, however,” Alastor excused himself with a nod.

“Mr. Latimer should be here soon anyway,” Scott grumbled to himself.

Alastor froze, turning on his heel to face Scott again. “Who now?”

Alastor leaned against the railing on the second floor, overlooking the station lobby. He should be finishing his script, but this was a once in a lifetime chance to get under Laurence’s skin and save himself a trip as well. Efficiency was a virtue his mother had instilled in him, and he wouldn’t let that slip now.

Alastor had wrapped the bunch of flowers in some old newspaper, folding the corners down to expose the blooms once he had gotten back to his office. He tied it all together with some hemp twine, wrapping it around the stems until it was nearly as wide as his hand before tying it off in a clumsy bow.

It didn’t look half bad, if he said so himself.

Now all he had to do was wait. There was a solid chance you wouldn’t be with Laurence when he got there. It was not common for men to bring their wives to business meetings, but there was a chance. On the off chance that you did grace the station with your presence, he wanted to be ready to strike.

Alastor didn’t have to wait long at all. In less than ten minutes, the front door opened and Laurence shuffled his meek little wife inside, much to Alastor’s delight. He watched as Laurence directed you to the chairs and you sat in a heap.

From his place high above you, Alastor watched as you looked around. There were no magazines or newspapers anywhere within reach for you to read. Your bag was small today. Clearly you didn’t come here prepared to pass the time.

Alastor watched as Scott lead Laurence away. After counting down from ten, Alastor pushed himself back from the railing and made his way toward the stairs. Just as he intended, he met Scott and Laurence in the hall.

“Oh,” Scotty paused, “Here we have our leading host at the moment, Alastor. Alastor, this is Mr. Latimer of Latimer Marketing Solutions.”

“We’ve met,” Laurence said harshly.

Alastor’s smile only grew wider. “We share a mutual acquaintance. I’ll let you get into your business. I was just stretching my legs for a moment.”

Alastor’s grin split his face as he walked down the empty hall and toward the stairs. It would be a frightening sight, such a ghastly smile if anyone had been around to see it.

Oh, this would be fun. What a delightful way to have some pre-broadcast fun. As he came into view, Alastor pulled his smile in. It wouldn’t do to be grinning like a fool as he came into view.

Alastor took you in as he crossed the lobby. Your eyes were trained on your lap, doing nothing but counting the stitches on your dress as you waited. Did you know your shoulders were slumped, or that you had begun to curl in on yourself?

“Well, hello darling!” Alastor called out, a peaceful smile on his face.

You startled at the sound of his voice, head shooting up. Wide eyes met his as you jerked your shoulders up and into place. He was impressed to see your spine straighten. You didn’t hold the position long until it slowly slipped again, the weight of something dragging your shoulders down.

“Hello again,” your voice was soft as you glanced around, looking for Laurence. You know the building was for broadcasting but you hadn’t realized it was for radio or that Alastor would be here. Perhaps this was where Alastor and your husband had become acquainted.

“I had thought I spotted Laurence earlier, I hadn’t expected him to leave his darling wife just wasting away in the lobby,” Alastor chuckled to himself, holding his hand out for you. “I was just stretching my legs before I sit down for the show later. Why don’t I give you a tour?”

“Oh,” you held your hand up in protest only to have Alastor snag it in his as if you had offered it, “I really couldn’t, it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Nonsense,” Alastor pulled you to your feet where you stumbled, “What wouldn’t be proper would be letting you waste away in the lobby. Besides, I’ve got something for you I had planned to drop by after the show. No time better than the present!”

With a guiding hand placed just below the middle of your back, Alastor left little room for protest. What would Laurence want you to do? He wouldn’t want you anywhere near Alastor but he also wouldn’t want you to make a scene and Alastor was right. It wasn’t improper for him to give you a tour.

Your heels clicked against the polished wood floors, old, rich and warm in a way you liked but knew Laurence would loath. It was just a matter of time before the similarly rich floors in your own home would be ripped out and replaced with something more to his taste.

At least if Alastor was right and money was tighter than believed, it could be a few more years before you’re parted from your home’s rich floors. Eventually, Laurence would ruin them, though.

Alastor’s charming voice was the background music to your thoughts, allowing you to simply nod and listen as you walked alongside him. His large hand was ever present on your back, sometimes sliding lower as he showed you an award or framed newspaper clipping before he seemed to catch himself and pull it higher again.

Though his hand constantly drove you forward, he never rushed you, unlike Laurence. The pace the two of you walked was peaceful, meandering, and relaxed. It allowed your pained shuffle to feel almost normal.

“And here,” he said, wide smile pulling in to become something far more charming that made your heart pound, “Is my office.”

You were not sure what to say as the ever present hand on your back guided you inside the dimly lit room. The blinds were pulled closed, filtering out most of the harsh sunlight. Dust glittered as it floated through the air, lit up by the few rays of light that fought through the slats.

The hand was gone suddenly as Alastor moved deeper into the room, effortlessly navigating the dark space with ease that told of countless late nights spent in the room. He switched on the lamp on his desk, bathing the room in a soft warm light.

“This isn’t proper,” your voice came out closer to a whisper than you intended.

“Nonsense,” Alastor laughed as he picked up a bundle of something wrapped in newspaper. “The light’s on. The door’s open. Nothing to be worried about.”

You hated how your heart beat harshly in your chest. Why did this man, his soft eyes and charming smile, make you feel like taking risks? Why did he make you feel this way? Why did he make you feel anything at all?

“I don’t-”

“These are for you, my dear,” Alastor presented the bundle, a bouquet of fresh flowers wrapped in newspaper, to you with the soft smile you were catching yourself thinking about more and more.

“I couldn’t possibly-”

“A perfection appropriate expression of gratitude from a dinner guest to his hostess,” Alastor assured you as he placed the flowers in your hands.

“They’re lovely,” you settled for saying instead of protesting anymore. “You shouldn’t have spent the money on them,”

“I didn’t,” Alastor’s smile spread wider as he watched you examine his offering, pleased with the soft smile that had taken up residence on your face. Had he ever seen you smile, truly? He didn’t think so. It looked good on you. “I picked them earlier.”

A slam of a fist against the door frame scared you out of your skin. “There you are!”

“Laurence!” Startled, you clutched the flowers to your chest and turned to your husband. He was read faced but clearly composing himself. “Alastor was just giving me a tour-”

“Of his private office?” Laurence bit out, clearly in a terrible mood.

Alastor laughed, fearlessly walking up to your husband and patting his shoulder, “Hardly at all, my dear fellow. I simply had some flowers for your dear wife, a token of my thanks for the lovely dinner she prepared. Since she was here, sitting all alone in the lobby, I figured why not eliminate the trip and give them to her now?”

Scott had said the meeting went poorly. Laurence didn’t take the news well and threatened legal action to challenge the canceling of the contract. There was nothing the station needed to fear. The promised services had not been delivered and what was delivered wasn’t near the quality promised. It was a shame. Thethe Latimer name was well known for marketing success through the changing times.

Such a spectacular failure by a well-known company would be the talk of the town. Even if they tried to keep things private, word would get out. Their reputation would take a hit. Alastor shook his head, performing the required show of dismay for Scott as he made his way back into his office.

As Alastor opened the blinds in his office, he was already thinking about the ways he could drop little nuggets of the recent failings around town. It wouldn’t do to run his mouth about their shared business, but this business failing had nothing at all to do with him.

Alastor stood at the window and watched the scene unfolding below, eyebrow cocked and smile tight. He was witnessing left his hands curled into fists, knuckles white. Cold rage he knew well rolled through him. It was the very same rage that sent him hunting in the deep darkness of night.

What he saw was far beyond the reaction he had expected. Laurence had his hand wrapped tightly around your arm, your sleeve bunching on either side of his hand. Even from a distance, Alastor could see how you stumbled over your feet, dragged along behind Laurence, who seemed uncaring of how close you came to falling.

Alastor had every intention of provoking a reaction in Laurence, but what he was witnessing was excessive. For someone so concerned with appearances, he was causing a scene. His rage and jealousy made him sloppy.

Laurence shoved you toward his car. He threw the door open with so much force that the whole car rocked enough for Alastor to see it at a distance. Alastor watched as your husband threw you into the car, clutching the flowers Alastor had spent time picking, trimming, and wrapping for you to your chest.

Liquid iron rolled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach as he watched the car door slam shut, catching the edge of your shawl. No longer could he see you as the sunlight reflected off the window. Laurence stomped around the car and dumped himself into the driver’s seat. There was nothing for Alastor to do as the car pulled away from the radio station.

Next? Masterlist

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#Alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hazbin x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x oc #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor #human!alastor #human!alastor x reader

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safyresky · 1 year ago

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Crystal Springs Chapter 18: now up on ao3!

Time for Jack to confront the MOMMY ISSUES! Read all about it HERE.

Chapter 18: Market Day

Winter and Jack make a ruckus at the annual holiday market. Jacqueline visits a fellow Legate.

A very fun, and very LONG chapter! We've got BLAISE AND JACK CHATS! JACQUELINE BEING A POUTY LIL MIDDLE CHILD! WINTER SLAYING! JACK AND WINTER CAUSING TROUBLE! OTHER CHRISTMAS SPIRITS! A GR8 FIERA ONE LINER! A MARKET (I love me a good market, holy HELL) WE MEET SANDMAN'S LEGATE, XANDER?!?!?!?

AND, OF COURSE, JACK AND WINTER FINALLY TALKING! WOO!

For tonight's excerpt, I give you my favourite part! I love Winter. She's so funny 🥰🥰

"And given the year you've had, I can see why," Winter said, with a sad smile. "Oh, my poor baby boy." "Mom, stop! I'm not a baby." "You're my baby," Winter emphasized. "I know," Jack admitted, grumpily. "But I wasn't completely alone this year! Santa was really very kind when he really didn't need to be. And Carol, oh, she's been an absolute sweetheart, really! And, y'know, the elves warmed up to me and the Council was very supportive too. And I lost count how many times Mother Nature went up to bat for me. You'd think, given his fluffy nature, Easter Bunny'd be a little bit nicer." Winter laughed. "That's why he's so fluffy. He's full of spite." "Oh, that's good!" Jack laughed. "I've gotta remember that one for the next council meeting." He paused for a moment as they entered the clothing section, thoughtful. "And you know, from what I've heard, parents usually make the worst mistakes with the first one. So when number two, or, y'know, three AND four come around, they don't repeat them. I mean, seems like they turned out a lot better. And I'm sure they have you and Dad to thank for that." Winter laughed. "Oh, they were troublesome in their own ways. I don't know how Jacqueline had so much energy all the time. And she had this horrible feud with one of the school teachers, that was a rough go! And I don't even want to think about what nonsense she may have run into while she was out and about amongst the ordibeings." Jack chuckled. "You really don't." "And the Twins! Lady of the Springs, those two are always causing trouble. Wild animals in the house at any given time; far too many fires for me to keep track of. They're very sneaky. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that they may not be as bad as you were, but they've had their moments," she said with a fond smile. "You've all had your moments, the four of you. Don't go singling yourself out, Jack dear," Winter finished, wagging her finger. "I'll try not to," Jack said, stopping at one of the stalls and browsing the spools of thread. They were very vibrant; he was fairly certain that some of the colours weren't normally seen by the ordibeing eye. And they looked sturdy—that was promising. "But you need to stop being so dismissive of yourself! You've been plenty supportive since I got home," Jack continued, moving over to the next stall as Winter followed steadily, letting him browse. "Don't think I didn't notice the matching outfits yesterday. Or all the times you defended me from the other seasons. Or how you tried to delay them coming over. Amongst other things." "Oh good! You noticed!" Winter said, cheerful. "I was having such a rough time telling, I figured I'd try showing, first. I'm always here for you, Jack dear. Even if I can't say it." "Thanks Mom," Jack said with a soft smile. "I appreciate it." "Of course," and, before Jack had time to process, she pulled him close in a very, very, very tight hug. "I've missed you very, very much Jack," Winter said, squeezing tighter. Jack smiled softly, squeezing her back. "I've missed you too, Mom." "This is all very touching, but could you maybe take it somewhere else?" the stall keep in front of them said, disdainfully. Winter whirled on the man, absolutely furious. "I haven't seen my son in fourteen HUNDRED years," she said, sternly, jabbing an accusatory finger at him. "So I will damn well hug him wherever I please! Understood?" She glared so hard at the shop keep that his clothing was beginning to look a little frosty. "Yes ma'am!" the shop keep squawked, jumping back. "I'll take a spool of the black and white each, please," Jack said, trying to bite down the laughter as he watched the shaken elven looking fellow rush to grab the spools for him, as though his life depended on it.

Want to see what ELSE these two do at the market? READ ON TO FIND OUT.

Want to start from the top? Here's the Prologue: An Encounter on ff dot net and ao3! Story summary below the cut (as per the ush):

It’s been almost a year since Jack Frost thawed and things are looking…well, not so great. Jack’s powers are seemingly gone. Without them, the Dome that keeps the North Pole safe from the cold and its magic controlled is melting, putting everything and everyone magical at risk.

Unable to hide his power shortage any longer, Jack is forced to admit the truth. Thankfully, there is a solution: enacting the Legate Law, bringing Jack and the sister that he hurt so many centuries ago back together again. But when Jacqueline starts experiencing destructive blackouts, the pair are forced to head back home to Crystal Springs, bringing Jack face to face with the rest of the family.

Needless to say, between getting his powers back, helping his sister figure out what in the FROST those blackouts even were, reconciling with his parents, meeting the two even younger siblings he didn’t even KNOW he had, NOT TO MENTION the ancient threat that’s had it out for the ENTIRE Frost family finally making a move?

Saving Christmas (regrettably) is looking to be a little bit…complicated.

ALSO. IF UR STILL HERE.

Hey, hi, how's it going?

ONE MORE THING I wanted to mention! Befana in this chapter was plopped in there with Belsnickel about a month or two before the series actually aired. I got the chapter out JUST BEFORE it started airing, bc I feared what they'd do to Befana and wanted to have my own interpretation of her.

Surprisingly, they did an okay job with her! She's not TOO different from my portrayal, lol. anyway, that being said, ur absolutely welcome to picture her as she was from the series, but please know sahe's not QUITE the same iteration :3

Anyway! Enjoy!!!

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buckys-little-belle · 1 year ago

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Chapter One - The Blue Crayon

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

Warnings - Reader cries, first meeting jitters, brief talks of Bucky’s ‘old life’, mainly fluff

Word Count - 1,836

Note - Releasing this is really scary, and nerve wracking. I'm worried people will hate my new writing style, or won't enjoy the slight changes to the plot/pace/overall creation. Please know that this means a lot to me, and has really given me back a piece of me I thought I lost. Enjoy, and I hope you love this as much as I do <3

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★ Prologue ★

After years of feeling out of place no matter where he went, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter what he did to fit in, Bucky took a trip to a Cafe he remembered from his old days in Brooklyn.

The interior looked the same as it had decades ago, the soft blue and green diner furniture was in pristine shape. The metal of the counter looked slightly more scratched and worn, but the whole place had the same feel it did when he first walked in years ago.

While most cafes offered the same types of coffee and treats, none of them were anything like Cafe BigNSmall. Instead of being on a busy street open to just anyone, it was hidden away from prying eyes on a calm street, and was catered towards Littles and Caregivers.

It was founded before Bucky was even born, a group of people looking for a place to meet up comfortably, but also create a safe space for other Littles and Caregivers that might also be in need of a community.

Bucky had stumbled his way into a conversation years ago about Littles and Caregivers, at first he didn’t understand what the conversation was about, but after asking a few questions and being given the address to the hardly known, yet also famous, cafe his whole idea around the topic changed. And after a few visits with his best friend by his side the two of them realised that the community they had accidentally found was one they fit perfectly into.

Bucky half expected the well hidden cafe to be gone, or at least moved to a different location after all these years, but as he walked along the familiar sidewalk and stopped in front of the building he used to visit weekly, a warm feeling spread along his chest. The feeling of finally finding someplace he knew, and some place that knew him, was the best feeling he had felt in a while.

Even the ding of the welcome bell was the same, the coffee just as good as he remembered it, and the crunch of the leather covered diner booth sounded just as he had remembered it.

The feeling of sitting at a table alone though was new, his days spent here were always spent with Steve and other people they had met along the way. But now he sat in his favourite booth with a bag full of activities, and a heart in need of a purpose. He realised that even though the building had stayed the same, he hadn’t.

Weeks went by as he watched groups of Littles and Caregivers sit around tables and talk, colour, and laugh. He understood why people avoided him, if they knew who he was they had reason to walk away, and even if they didn’t know him as ‘The Winter Soldier” he was still dressed head to toe in black, stood at times a foot above everyone else, and always had an easily read as angry expression plastered on his face.

It had been a month before anyone talked to him, and although he wished that he could have felt included sooner, he was happy that Y/n was the first person he met, even if it took weeks of waiting.

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The sun was shining brightly through the wall of windows, Bucky’s booth drowning in light, the small plant that sat with a basket full of sugar and cream was no doubt enjoying the nice weather.

Bucky’s coat sat next to him, his phone buzzing from time to time though he ignored it. Instead of calling Steve back, or making sure Sam didn’t need something he surveyed the room, making sure all exits were secure, and danger wasn’t present.

He, in a way, had given up the idea that he would meet a Little, or even a friend, but decided that in the absence of someone he would spend his time as - unwanted, and unneeded, as well as unofficial - security for those who spent their days here with friends.

As his eyes drifted to make sure his car parked on a side street was still in tack he heard a small shuffle next to him, then a small voice spoke. “Um, Mr?” He turned his head to see a girl with tear marks down her face staring at him. Her green shirt’s sleeves covered in wiped tears, her overalls slightly off her one shoulder.

Bucky just stared at her for a second, waiting for her to fizzle away and reveal herself as a dream, or run in fear when she saw his face, but she didn’t. “Hi.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a neutral tone and facial expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked, shuffling in his seat slightly, his nerves evident.

“My, um.” Her left hand covered in her sleeve came back up to her face, rubbing her eye before she continued. “My crayon broke.” The girls lower lip wobbled now, bringing up what must have happened clearly causing her distress. “The nice cash lady said you, you migh’ have some crayons?” Her voiced lowered to a whisper now.

Bucky smiled, the warmth he felt when he first stepped inside a month ago finally coming back. His backpack was filled with Little friendly activities and supplies for this reason exactly. “I do.” He answered, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his carton of 96 crayons. “What colour do you need, Bub?” The nickname slipped out on accident, but the girl in front of him didn’t seem to notice, too awe struck by the box of crayons in front of him.

She sniffled before answering. “I need blue.” She said with a little more confidence. “Hold on.” She whispered, jogging back to what Bucky assumed was her table. “This one, please.” She pulled out two halves of a blue crayon from her box. Her crayon box was smaller than Bucky’s, only a handful of crayons inside, unlike his though her’s had a small sticker on it that read “Y/n.”

“Y/n?” He asked, the girl snapping her head to him, her eyes wide. Bucky tapped the sticker on her box, Y/n flipping it over and realising how he now knew her name. “There’s too many blue crayons in this box to know what one you want.” He said, hoping it didn’t come off mean or like he was showing off his ‘better’ supplies. “Why don’t you take the box back to your table and use any of the crayons I have for the day.” He offers, hoping that his generosity could help earn Y/n’s trust over time.

“Can I jus’ sit here?” Y/n asked, her hands fiddling with the box in her hands.

“You want to sit here?” Bucky parrots her words back to her, hardly believing that she would want to sit with him.

“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Her lower lip began to wobble again as she took a step back. “Unless, I’m sorry, I can go.” She said quickly, clearly taking Bucky’s surprise as anger.

“You can sit here.” Bucky’s words were also spoken quickly, worried if he didn’t say anything right away she would run from him. “No one’s wanted to sit with me yet, I’m just surprised.” Y/n nodded her head and put her small box down on the table before walking back to hers.

In a minute she had gathered all her things and made her way back to Bucky, her backpack now sitting on the other seat. “You sure that I can sit here?” Bucky noticed her slight change in speech, a clear sign of further regression.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, Y/n sitting down but still holding her colouring book to her chest, her back straight as a pin. “I’m glad you came over.” He says in hopes to reassure her he wants her here. “It’s nice to have a friend.” Y/n smiles at that, placing her book down, showing a half done colouring page.

“I agree, bein’ lonely is sad.” She frowns. “Do you wanna colour with me?” Her tone is hopeful, looking at Bucky with a smile.

“I’d love to.” He smiled back, pushing his coffee to the side and accepting the page Y/n tore out for him. The two of them colouring their respective pages in silence for an hour before Y/n sat up straight with the biggest smile Bucky had seen so far.

“Done!” She practically yelled. Bucky had been done for a while now, adding his own doodles around the actual lines of the drawing. “Look.” She slides the book towards him, a coloured picture of a princess and her wildlife friends surrounding her staring back up at him.

“This is really good, Bub.” Bucky coos, surprised at her ability to stay mainly in the lines of the original lines.

“You can keep it.” She quickly squiggles something on the bottom, Bucky assuming it’s her form of a signature.

“Thank y-” His words are cut off by the shrill of an alarm, Y/n digging her phone out of her backpack to turn it off, frowning as she places the phone on the table.

“I have to go home now.” She frowns as she starts to pack up her bag, pausing to turn to Bucky. “Will you, can you.” She stumbles over her words. “Are you coming here tomorrow?” She eventually asks, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s.

“Are you?” He counter asks.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow.” She smiles and finally looks at him.

Y/n spends a few more minutes packing up her things before she stands. “Thank you Mr.” She holds her hand out for a handshake, Bucky’s back straightening as he realises he’ll have to shake her hand with his left. Instead of doing so he grabs her left hand with his right and shakes that one, her giggles worth the awkward situation. “Bye Mr.” She says, turning to leave, but Bucky keeps a hold of her hand.

“Why don’t you keep these?” He says, pushing the box of crayons closer to her near the edge of the table.

“Borrow them?” She asks.

“No, I want you to keep them.” He nudges them her way a little more. “I think you’ll get much more use out of them than I ever would.” He smiles as he watches her’s grow bigger. Picking them up she does a little jump, her backpack jingling as she does.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She spins before whispering a ‘thank you’.

Before Bucky could say goodbye, or ask for her phone number, she had already walked out of the building, walking down the sidewalk looking at the box of crayons in awe. The broken blue crayon still sat on the table, he smiled, picking it up and placing it in his pocket. The small thing a reminder of the best day he’s had in a long time.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #age regression #little!reader #bucky #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes age regression #bucky barnes x little!reader #little fic

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