#to know out of pure curiosity though i can see how answering something like this might be spoiler territory this early into beyond canon

[r0semultiverse]

Hey, Jake & Jack fans, is this anything?

Both men imprisoned (literal & metaphorical).

Both offered an out from their current predicament by an outside force (arguably in the case of Brain Ghost Dirk).

Both have loose ties to Lord English visually.

Yellow initial glow & Gamzee involvement too.

Sometimes a guy just needs to explode (same pose too).

Both dual wielding weapons.

That same said weapon type (for Jack Noir) having killed Jane Crocker.

It's really looking like Jake is going to do her in.

I would also like to point out that we've had interactions involving these three (Jane, Jake, and Brain Ghost Dirk) before that consisted of similar topics & themes.

Brain Ghost Dirk implying that he's just there as moral support, a manifestation of Jake's powers, and as a coping mechanism. Jane also talking about ruling an empire with him while talking down to him, similar to how she saw and/or still sees him in Beyond Canon's Candy timeline. Jake also being uncertain about doing anything to harm her despite all the bad things she's doing.

Brain Ghost Dirk going away tells us that Jake's more hopeful than he's ever been. This is the moment where he is the most sure of his decisions than he's ever been in his life, whatever those decisions may be in regards to Jane and how to handle this situation.

He is probably going to shoot Jane down, quite literally. I would also argue that after all this time, the lad isn't beating the Lord English allegations. We might as well have a parallel of him killing Jane much like how Jack Noir killed her right before he got possessed by Lil Cal & given some of Lord English's immense power.

Alternatively maybe we'll get to see what the power of hope or hope bullets can do to someone whose done so much wrong & come so far off the deep end in terms of moral wrongdoings. Maybe with every shot that hits her, she'll begin to be swayed to the side of good & start to self-reflect.

I'm still not fully convinced that Gamzee actually cured Tavros' peanut allergy, I mean just look at the panel.

This could absolutely be interpreted as Jake injecting his hope power into the epipen and by proxy injecting both his power & the epipen into his son! If younger Jake is strong enough to defeat Grimbark Jade, then adult Jake might just be strong enough to defeat a peanut allergy is all I'm saying! In fact, now that I'm rambling about it, this seems like the more likely outcome is Jake's hope power swaying or (in the very least) confusing Jane mid-fight. Hope bullets, they would look cool & would be pretty strong!

The power of believing in others & wanting things to change can be a strong tool indeed, Mister English.

If there's one person who still believes in changing Jane's mind (or bringing her back to proper canonicity depending on how you interpret the recent lore), it would be Jake English, the believer.

Okay, maybe this is something! Tally ho!

[chrrybbmb]

HEARTWEAVE

STARRING ... SPIDEY!J. JUNGKOOK X READER

WORD COUNT ... 9.0K

SUMMARY ... in which jungkook realises his heart is caught in your web.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... PATHETIC KOOK ALERT!! cringefail!jungkook, mostly pure fluff. unrequited(?) love if you blink. slow burn(?). unresolved crush. idk i had a lot of fun writing this tho!! not proofread, so there may be mistakes 🫣

taglist. next.

jungkook doesn't know how to approach you.

he's seen you in passing countless times, walked your path because the two of you share the same class. he's considered saying hi, or asking if you need help with schoolwork, or literally doing anything else other than following you and staring like a creep.

the only genuine interaction the two of you have had was during freshman year when jungkook asked you to point out the lecture hall for chemistry, and you laughed and told him you were headed the same way — and just as lost as he was.

he thinks about that moment more often than he should. not because it was anything significant, but because it was the last time talking to you felt easy—effortless. before he let hesitation sink its claws into him, before he started overthinking every glance, every opportunity to speak.

now, jungkook just watches from a distance, caught somewhere between curiosity and cowardice. he wonders if you remember that day at all, if you ever think about him in passing the way he does you. probably not. he wouldn’t blame you.

still, the thought lingers. maybe tomorrow, he tells himself. maybe tomorrow he’ll say something.

jimin always makes fun of him for it, saying he’s fought villains before and yet one girl makes him shy?

“bro, you’ve literally been thrown through a building,” jimin snickers, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. “but god forbid you say hi to a girl in your chemistry class.”

jungkook rolls his eyes, staring down at his untouched burger. he doesn’t pay jimin’s teasing any mind—he never does. it’s easy for jimin to talk; he’s never had to hide a whole second life, never had to balance midterms with stopping armed robberies. he doesn’t get it.

(though, to be fair, jimin is right. jungkook has gone toe-to-toe with some of the worst criminals in the city. yet somehow, the idea of talking to you makes his palms sweat.)

“it’s not that simple,” he mutters, picking at the edge of his tray.

jimin snorts. “right, because saying ‘hey, what’s up?’ is way harder than getting launched off a bridge.”

jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face. he doesn’t have a good rebuttal for that. mostly because jimin’s right, and he hates that.

“it’s different,” he insists, even though it really isn’t.

jimin raises an eyebrow. “how?”

jungkook opens his mouth, then closes it. then opens it again. “because—” he starts, but the words get stuck in his throat, tangled up in excuses that don’t make sense even to him.

jimin grins, sensing victory. “you’re scared of her,” he sings, dragging out the last word obnoxiously.

jungkook scowls. “i’m not scared of her.”

“you so are,” jimin laughs. “like, imagine this. you’re mid-battle, bad guy’s got you in a chokehold, and suddenly—boom! it’s her. she’s watching. do you still pull your usual show-off stunts, or do you fumble and get your ass kicked?”

jungkook doesn’t answer.

jimin gasps, slapping the table. “you’d fumble.”

“i would not.”

“you so would.”

jungkook glares at him, but it’s weak. because, again, jimin is right. jungkook has had guns pointed at his head, has dodged death more times than he can count, but somehow, the thought of you seeing him trip over his own feet is what keeps him up at night.

jimin waggles his brows. “just talk to her, dude. it’s not that deep.”

but it is. it is that deep. because talking to you is different. talking to you is real, not some masked-up alter ego that people only half-believe in. and if he messes up as spiderman, he can hide behind the suit. if he messes up as jungkook—well.

there’s no hiding from that.

jungkook stabs at his fries with unnecessary aggression. “it’s not that simple,” he mutters again, knowing full well jimin won’t let it go.

“bro, it’s literally that simple,” jimin says, leaning back in his chair like he’s exhausted by the sheer weight of jungkook’s awkwardness. “just go up to her, say—i dunno—‘hey, you dropped this’ or something, even if she didn’t. instant conversation starter.”

jungkook squints at him. “so, lie?”

“not lie,” jimin corrects, “strategically mislead. big difference.”

jungkook exhales through his nose. “you are the worst person i know.”

“and yet, i’m the only person willing to help your pathetic ass,” jimin grins, stealing one of jungkook’s fries.

jungkook should be used to this by now. the teasing, the dramatic reenactments of how he supposedly looks when he freezes up around you (jimin does this thing where he goes stiff as a board and stares blankly into space—it’s completely inaccurate, by the way). but today, it gets under his skin more than usual. maybe because he knows he’s been avoiding this for way too long.

“whatever,” jungkook grumbles, shoving jimin’s hand away from his tray. “it’s not like i have time for dating, anyway.”

jimin rolls his eyes so hard his whole body moves with it. “oh my god, it’s not about dating. just be normal for once. be her friend. say more than two words to her that aren’t ‘thanks’ or ‘sorry’ when you accidentally bump into her in the hallway.”

jungkook hates how easily jimin reads him. it’s not like he hasn’t considered all of this before. but the thing is—he’s not good at the whole “normal” thing. he doesn’t know how to balance both sides of his life, how to let himself want something outside of the web-slinging and late-night bruises.

because what if he lets you in, and you see everything? what if you see the real him, and you don’t like what’s underneath?

“just think about it,” jimin says, shoving back from the table and tossing his empty tray onto the pile near the trash. “but not too hard. your brain might overheat.”

“ha ha,” jungkook deadpans.

but later, when he’s walking home with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he thinks about it. he thinks about it way too hard.

today is the day. jungkook is going to do it. he’s going to walk up to you, give you his biggest award-winning smile, and he’s going to ask if you want to study together.

he’s going to do it. he’s going to do it.

he’s not going to do it.

because now you’re here—actually here, walking straight toward him, completely unaware that he’s been psyching himself up for this for the past fifteen minutes.

his heart stumbles over itself.

he keeps walking, like a normal person. normal people walk. normal people breathe. normal people don’t panic just because the girl they like is getting closer with every step.

you’re looking at your phone, scrolling absentmindedly, your brows pulling together in a way that makes jungkook wonder what you’re thinking about. your bag is slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, and you look—god, you look good. not in some over-the-top, magazine-cover way, but in the kind of way that makes his stomach feel weird and his feet feel heavier than they should.

he was not prepared for this.

his brain short-circuits. every pre-planned conversation starter he practiced disappears into the void. his feet slow down before he can stop them.

he’s close enough now that he could just say something. one word. one syllable. literally anything.

you look up, and jungkook stops breathing.

and then, like the complete disaster he is, he stops walking altogether.

which is unfortunate, because you don’t.

he realizes his mistake half a second too late, just as you get close enough that you nearly crash into him. nearly, because at the last second, you sidestep smoothly, like it’s no big deal, like you totally meant to almost collide with him just to keep things interesting.

and then you smile.

“oh! hey, jungkook!”

your voice is bright, cheery, like this is just another normal interaction between two normal classmates, not the catastrophic event jungkook’s body is currently treating it as.

his brain goes static. you said his name. you’re smiling at him. did you always smile at him like that? did the hallway lights always make you look this—

“you okay?” you ask, tilting your head. “you kinda just froze.”

jungkook blinks. words. say words.

“i—uh.”

good start. solid foundation.

you don’t seem fazed by his awkwardness. instead, you just grin and shift your bag higher on your shoulder. “what’s up? where are you headed?”

this is it. this is his chance. the perfect opportunity to say something cool, something casual, something that doesn’t make him sound like he’s barely holding it together.

jungkook swallows. “library.”

…right. just one word. like a total weirdo.

but somehow, you don’t seem to notice, nodding along like that was a perfectly normal response. “same! i have a psych paper due, but i was procrastinating, so now i have to power through. you too?”

jungkook should say something. something about school, or studying, or—oh, right, the reason he even stopped you in the first place.

ask her to study. ask her to study.

his mouth opens. what comes out instead is:

“you look… happy.”

he immediately wants to throw himself into the sun.

you laugh. a surprised, airy sound that makes jungkook’s chest feel tight. “thanks? i try.”

he nods. good. cool. nailed it.

(jimin is going to clown him so hard for this.)

you shift your weight, still standing in front of him and obviously waiting for him to contribute something meaningful to this conversation. as if he’s capable of that right now.

“so,” you continue, oblivious to the fact that jungkook’s brain is actively short-circuiting, “are you studying for midterms, too? or just, like, catching up?”

this. this is his moment.

just say it, he tells himself. it’s so easy. just ask if she wants to study together. worst-case scenario, she says no, and you move on, and you never speak again, and you have to drop out of school and move to a remote island where no one knows your shame—

“yeah,” he blurts out. not an answer to your question, exactly, but something.

your smile doesn’t waver. “cool, cool.” then, as if the universe is giving him the easiest possible setup: “wanna study together?”

jungkook’s entire soul leaves his body.

because—what? what?? that was supposed to be his line. that was the whole plan. but now you’re standing there, looking at him expectantly, like this is a totally casual, no-big-deal offer.

he should say yes.

he should absolutely say yes.

“uh.”

your head tilts. “you don’t have to,” you add quickly, as if you think he’s the one who might not want your company. “i just figured, y’know, since we’re both headed there anyway…”

this is so much worse. now you’re giving him an out, and if he hesitates any longer, he’s going to look like an idiot. more than he already does.

“yeah,” he says, a little too fast. “i mean, yeah. let’s—uh. let’s do that.”

you beam, like this is the best news you’ve heard all day. “awesome! let’s go.”

then you turn and start walking, fully expecting him to follow.

and jungkook? jungkook thinks he might actually die.

not from a supervillain attack, not from getting thrown off a building—no, it’s worse than that. he’s dying because you just asked him to study, and now he has to actually go through with it.

he forces his feet to move, catching up to your side even though his entire body feels like it’s running on autopilot. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. he was supposed to be the one taking the initiative, proving to himself (and to jimin, unfortunately) that he could be normal about this.

instead, he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy, barely keeping up with the conversation.

“so,” you say, tucking your phone into your bag, “what class are you studying for?”

jungkook opens his mouth, then immediately panics because he didn’t think this far ahead. he is studying, technically, but he didn’t have a specific subject in mind. his only plan was talk to you and try not to embarrass himself.

which—so far? not going great.

“uh, chemistry,” he says, because that seems like a safe bet.

you hum in acknowledgment. “oof, rough. you started on that assignment yet?”

“yeah,” jungkook lies, because sure. why not.

you wince sympathetically. “brutal. hope you’re not failing as bad as i am.”

jungkook lets out a weak laugh. hope you’re not failing. if only you knew the things he actually had to juggle on top of school. but no big deal—he can totally pretend to be a normal college student for a couple of hours.

the library comes into view, and suddenly, it hits him—he’s about to spend an actual study session with you. at the same table. breathing the same air.

“you good?” you ask, shooting him a curious glance.

jungkook clears his throat. “yeah. just—uh. mentally preparing.”

you snort. “for studying?”

“yeah.”

you shake your head, laughing. “you’re a little weird, huh?”

jungkook nearly chokes.

but you don’t say it in a bad way. you’re smiling as you say it, like you find it endearing. like it doesn’t make you want to walk away. jungkook has no idea what to do with that.

his brain is still buffering by the time you step through the library doors, pushing them open with ease. this is just another regular day for you, like you didn’t just tell him—straight to his face—that you think he’s weird.

and that you don’t seem to mind.

he follows in a daze, letting the cool, quiet atmosphere of the library settle around him. there are plenty of empty tables scattered throughout the study area, but you don’t hesitate, making a beeline for a spot near the windows. sunlight spills over the wooden surface, and you plop your bag down, evidently having claimed this space a hundred times before.

“this seat good?” you ask, pulling out a chair.

jungkook nods dumbly. “yeah. good.”

(why does he sound like he just learned how to talk?)

you don’t seem to notice his internal struggle. instead, you pull out your laptop, sliding into the chair with the kind of ease that makes him jealous. how are you so normal about this? why does it feel like this is just a casual, no-pressure situation for you, while jungkook is actively fighting for his life?

he sits down, trying to regain control over his body. trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that he can smell the faint scent of your shampoo from here.

(focus, he tells himself. be normal.)

you glance at him as you open your laptop. “do you need to charge anything?”

jungkook blinks. “huh?”

you gesture toward the outlet beside the table. “your laptop? phone? charger?”

right. yes. because normal people bring chargers to study sessions. normal people actually bring their school stuff.

slowly, with the painful realization that he is so unprepared for this, jungkook unzips his backpack and stares into the absolute void of nothingness inside.

no laptop. no charger. no notebook.

just… snacks. and, for some reason, an extra pair of gloves. his stomach sinks.

you peer over curiously. “uh—did you forget your stuff?”

(lie. lie, you absolute idiot.)

“yeah,” jungkook says, forcing a laugh that does not sound normal. “guess i left it at home.”

you blink at him. then, without missing a beat, you shrug. “that’s fine! we can just share.”

his brain nearly explodes. “what?”

you gesture toward your laptop. “i mean, if you’re studying chemistry, i have my notes from last semester. we can go over them together?”

together.

as in, sitting close. looking at the same screen. existing in the same breathing space.

jungkook swallows. he is not ready for this.

but somehow, he forces his legs to move, pulling his chair closer so he can see your laptop screen. the metal legs scrape lightly against the floor, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet library, but you don’t seem to care.

you rest your elbows on the table as your laptop boots up, fingers tapping absently against the keys. “so, chemistry,” you say, glancing at him with a playful smirk. “you’re totally failing, huh?”

jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “i mean. define failing.”

“oh my god.” you laugh, shaking your head. “yeah, okay, you definitely need this.”

your screen flashes on, illuminating your face as you navigate to your files. but jungkook isn’t looking at your notes.

because just before you click away, his eyes catch something else.

an open tab. a news article.

Spider-Man: Hero or Menace? City Officials Weigh In.

his heart jumps straight into his throat.

he doesn’t mean to react—doesn’t mean to tense up, doesn’t mean for his fingers to curl against his jeans—but it happens before he can stop it.

you don’t notice right away, too busy sorting through your documents. “i think i have an old study guide in here somewhere,” you mumble, scrolling. “oh! do you wanna—”

then you pause. jungkook can feel the exact second you realize where his attention is. you glance at the screen, then back at him.

“oh,” you say, blinking. “you’re a spider-man fan?”

he should lie.

he should lie, laugh it off, make some offhand comment about how everyone is at least a little curious about the city’s masked vigilante.

but his throat feels tight, and his brain is still processing the fact that you—of all people—were reading about him.

his hesitation must look weird because you tilt your head, smiling lightly. “i mean, i don’t blame you. he’s kind of cool, right?”

(kind of cool.)

jungkook swallows. “uh. yeah. i guess.”

you glance at the article again, then back at him. “i was just skimming,” you say, feeling the need to explain yourself. “some people in class were talking about him, and i realized that i don’t actually know much about him, so—” you gesture vaguely at the screen, “—research?”

jungkook’s head is spinning. “research,” he echoes.

you nod, chin resting in your palm. “it’s kinda crazy, though. no one even knows who he is.”

he forces himself to breathe. to relax. to be normal.

“yeah,” he says, voice even. “crazy.”

you huff out a laugh. “what do you think? hero or menace?”

jungkook blinks. “what?”

you nod toward the article, eyes bright with curiosity. “the headline. do you think he’s a good guy? or is he, like, actually sketchy?”

he should say something neutral. something vague. something that won’t give him away.

but for some reason, looking at you—sitting there, genuinely wondering, genuinely curious—he can’t stop himself from asking:

“what do you think?”

you blink, surprised by the question. but you consider it, eyes flicking back to the screen as you chew on your bottom lip.

then, finally, “...i think he’s just trying his best.”

jungkook’s stomach flips.

you shrug, scrolling absently through the article. “i mean, yeah, the whole vigilante thing is kinda illegal, but—” you pause, then shake your head, like you’re struggling to find the right words. “i don’t think he’d do all this if he didn’t care, y’know? like, he doesn’t have to help people. but he does anyway.”

you turn back to jungkook, smiling softly. “so yeah. i think he’s a good guy.”

jungkook is silent.

because suddenly, sitting here, right next to you and hearing you say that, he’s pretty sure you just turned him into an even bigger mess than he already was.

jungkook doesn’t know what to say. he just sits there, staring at you, heartbeat in his ears, hands curled into fists beneath the table.

he’s just trying his best.

he swallows hard. you have no idea.

but you don’t seem to notice his internal crisis, already clicking away from the article, pulling up your notes like this conversation didn’t just make his brain short-circuit.

“okay, so, chemistry,” you announce, stretching your arms over your head before settling in. “i have, like, three different study guides, so take your pick.”

jungkook is still trying to remember how to function as a person.

he clears his throat, shifting in his seat, eyes flicking away from you as if that will help him not think about what you just said. “uh. yeah. sure.”

you hum, scrolling through your files. “oh, also—before i forget.”

he glances up. “huh?”

you flash him a grin. “you should totally tell me your opinion on spider-man sometime.”

jungkook chokes.

he should’ve seen that coming.

his reaction is immediate—too immediate, too obvious, and you blink at him like you weren’t expecting that much of a response.

he forces himself to play it off, coughing into his fist. “uh—why?”

you tilt your head, amused. “you just seemed interested, that’s all.”

interested? yeah, that’s one way to put it.

you shrug, tapping at your keyboard. “not now, though. we’re totally studying. no distractions.”

(no distractions. funny.)

jungkook nods, gripping his pencil a little too tightly. “right. studying.”

but as you start explaining your notes, flipping through equations and diagrams, jungkook isn’t paying attention, because all he can think about is the way you looked when you said it. like it was obvious. like you didn’t even have to think twice.

"i think he’s a good guy."

yeah.

he’s so not ready for this.

the next time jungkook sees you, he’s in the suit.

he doesn’t expect to find you all the way across town, so far from campus—especially not here, where the streets are rough and the people are meaner. and he definitely doesn’t expect to see you sprinting full-speed down the sidewalk.

his stomach drops. and then he sees why.

before he can think, before he can second-guess, his body moves on instinct.

jungkook swings down without hesitation, landing hard on the pavement just a few feet ahead of you. the second you see him, you skid to a stop, sneakers screeching against the concrete.

“whoa—” you breathe, wide-eyed, chest rising and falling from the sprint.

but jungkook isn’t looking at you. his focus is already behind you, on the two men barreling toward you from the other end of the street.

his web shoots out before they can get any closer, yanking the first guy clean off his feet and sending him crashing into a lamppost. the second guy isn’t any smarter—he reaches for something in his jacket, but jungkook is faster, spinning and kicking the guy square in the chest before he even has a chance to react.

it’s over in seconds. too easy.

but the part jungkook wasn’t prepared for—the part making his heart pound harder than the fight itself—is you.

because when he finally turns back around, you’re still standing there, staring at him like you’ve just seen a ghost.

he swallows. he should leave. he should web them up, say something cool, and leave.

instead, he says, “you good?”

you blink at him. your breathing is still uneven, adrenaline still high, but... you smile.

“yeah,” you say, nodding. “that was… really cool.”

jungkook has been shot at before. he has been punched through windows, thrown into walls, nearly crushed by collapsing buildings. but somehow, this—you, standing there, grinning at him, eyes bright—is what almost knocks him on his ass.

he clears his throat, trying to regain control of his entire existence. “uh. yeah. just—y’know. doing my job.”

you huff a laugh. “well, thanks for that.”

(you’re thanking him. you’re actually thanking him.)

jungkook knows he should leave. he knows this.

but instead, his eyes flick to your bag, then back up to your face.

“what are you even doing here?” he blurts.

you blink, surprised by the question. “uh. getting very nearly robbed, apparently.”

jungkook exhales sharply. great. real smooth.

you shake your head, adjusting your strap. “i was just picking something up for my friend. obviously didn’t think that one through.”

jungkook doesn’t say anything, just clenches his fists at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been here. if he hadn’t been on this side of town tonight.

“seriously, though,” you continue, tilting your head at him. “you okay?”

jungkook freezes. “what?”

“you just… looked kinda tense for a second.”

his brain short-circuits. because what kind of person almost gets mugged and then asks if their rescuer is okay?

he shakes his head, stepping back, forcing himself to get it together. “yeah. i’m good.”

you don’t look convinced. but you nod anyway, shifting on your feet.

“…guess this is where you do the whole mysterious-hero thing and disappear, huh?” you joke lightly.

jungkook should, he needs to. but he hesitates. because for the first time, standing here, watching you look at him like this, he wonders. if he took off the mask right now...

would you still look at him the same way?

jungkook needs to leave. he should web up the guys groaning on the pavement, throw out a quick “stay safe,” and disappear into the night like he always does.

but he doesn’t.

because you’re still looking at him. really looking at him. and for some reason, that makes it impossible to move.

he swallows, gripping his fingers into fists at his sides. don’t be stupid. don’t linger. don’t let yourself wonder. his fingers twitch and he almost—almost—reaches up.

but then you sigh, shaking your head with a small, amused smile. “well, thanks again, spider-man,” you say, rocking back on your heels. “i should probably get going before more weirdos show up.”

just like that, the moment shatters.

jungkook blinks, the weight of reality crashing back in.

right. spider-man.

not jungkook. not a guy who shares your chemistry class, who has spent so much time psyching himself up just to talk to you like a normal person.

just a masked stranger you’ll forget about by morning.

he exhales, finally forcing himself to take a step back. “yeah,” he mutters. “probably a good idea.”

you nod, gripping the strap of your bag. “guess i’ll see you around?”

jungkook hesitates. he shouldn’t answer that. he shouldn’t make promises. but then—because he’s apparently the biggest idiot alive—he hears himself say,

“yeah.”

your lips twitch, eyes flicking over him one last time. and then, without another word, you turn and walk away.

jungkook watches you go, his chest tight, his heart pounding like he just walked out of a fight.

and that—the way he feels right now, standing frozen in the middle of the street, watching you disappear around the corner—is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced.

after that first time, jungkook just keeps running into you.

you’ve been caught up in a gas station robbery. your train got derailed. been a victim in three separate mugging attempts.

either you’re trying to manifest him showing up, or you might actually be the unluckiest person jungkook has ever met.

and the worst part is you don’t even seem bothered.

the first couple of times, sure—you were a little shaken up, a little breathless, wide-eyed and gripping your bag like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. but by the fourth time he drops out of the sky to save you, you barely even flinch.

“oh,” you say, blinking up at him as he lands in front of you, cutting off yet another guy who thought it would be a great idea to corner you in an alley. “you again.”

jungkook stares. you again?

he webs the guy’s wrist before he can bolt, yanking him forward just enough to knock him out cold with one clean punch. then, once the guy is down and sufficiently tied up, he turns back to you. arms crossed. head tilted.

“...okay,” he says slowly. “you have got to be doing this on purpose.”

you snort, shaking your head as you adjust your bag strap. “oh, totally. i go wandering through crime-infested areas just hoping you’ll show up.”

he points at you. “see? that’s exactly what someone who’s doing this on purpose would say.”

you just roll your eyes, amused. “do you think i want to be constantly in danger?”

jungkook narrows his eyes. “...i don’t know. do you?”

you laugh, and something about the sound makes his stomach do something weird and annoying. “trust me, spider-man,” you say, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. “if i had it my way, you and i would never be seeing each other again.”

for some reason, that makes his chest tighten. he should let it go. he should web this guy to a fire escape for the cops to find and leave. but instead, he hears himself saying, “what were you doing here, anyway?”

you blink. “going home?”

“through an alley?”

“it’s a shortcut.”

jungkook throws up his hands. “it’s also where people get mugged!”

you squint at him like he’s being dramatic. “not all the time.”

jungkook lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “oh my god.”

you snicker. “relax. i’ll take the long way next time, okay?”

he doesn’t believe you. not even a little bit. but he can’t exactly force you to change your entire route home.

he exhales, shaking his head. “if you say so.”

you smirk, tilting your head. “aww, do you worry about me, spider-man?”

jungkook nearly chokes. “what— no. no, i—” he shakes his head aggressively, backing up like that will help him recover. “i worry about the crime rate.”

you nod, way too entertained. “right. of course.”

he glares. “i do.”

“sure, sure.”

he groans, already regretting everything about this conversation.

and then—because he really needs to get out of here before he embarrasses himself any further—he steps back, flexing his fingers before shooting out a web.

but just before he swings away, he hears you call out:

“see you next time, spider-man.”

he freezes. that almost sounded like a promise.

“dude.”

jungkook sighs. “no.”

“dude.”

“jimin, no.”

“duuuude.” jimin is vibrating in his seat, practically buzzing with excitement as he leans across the cafeteria table. “you know what this means, right?”

jungkook takes an aggressive bite of his sandwich, staring him down. “that i have terrible luck?”

jimin gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like jungkook just personally offended him. “terrible luck? bro, are you hearing yourself? this isn’t bad luck—this is literally fate.”

jungkook makes a face. “it’s really not.”

“okay, so let’s go over this one more time,” jimin says, ignoring him entirely. he starts ticking off on his fingers. “you meet this girl in class. you like her. but you’re too much of a coward to do anything about it—”

jungkook glares. “thanks.”

“—and then, suddenly, the universe just keeps throwing her in your path. over and over and over again. and not just in normal, everyday ways—no, no, no. she gets into highly dangerous situations that just so happen to require your heroic intervention.”

he wiggles his fingers dramatically. “it’s like magic.”

jungkook takes another bite, chewing slowly. “or, and hear me out—maybe she just has bad luck.”

“bad luck doesn’t land you in the same masked superhero’s path five different times,” jimin says, slapping his hand on the table. “this is literally the plot of, like, half the romcoms i’ve ever seen.”

jungkook groans, dropping his head onto the table.

“you’re actually insane,” he mumbles into his arms.

“insanely right,” jimin corrects, grinning.

jungkook lifts his head just enough to squint at him. “you’re telling me that if you got randomly mugged three times in the span of a month, you’d consider it romantic?”

jimin shrugs. “depends on who’s saving me.”

jungkook groans again, slumping further into the table.

jimin, unbothered, just leans in closer. “look, bro, all i’m saying is—you clearly have some cosmic connection to this girl. so use it.”

“use it?” jungkook repeats, deadpan.

“yes. as in, maybe instead of waiting for her next near-death experience, you actually talk to her for real.”

jungkook scowls. “i have talked to her.”

jimin makes a face. “you’ve talked to her as spider-man. that doesn’t count.”

jungkook hesitates.

because… yeah. he has technically talked to you. but barely as himself. hardly without the mask.

and the worst part? he kind of likes it that way. because spider-man isn’t awkward. spider-man doesn’t trip over his words, or overthink every interaction, or panic every time you smile at him.

spider-man is confident. quick. easy.

but jungkook? jungkook is an absolute mess.

he presses his lips together, staring down at what’s left of his sandwich.

jimin watches him, expression shifting slightly. “look,” he says, voice a little softer now. “you don’t have to do anything. but… don’t you think it’s a little crazy that she keeps showing up in your life like this?”

jungkook doesn’t answer. because yeah, it is crazy.

but what’s even crazier is the way he already knows this isn’t the last time it’ll happen.

jimin squints at him. “wait, hold on.”

jungkook braces himself, because he knows that look. that’s the i’m about to make your life hell look.

“didn’t you guys, like… study together once?” jimin asks, tilting his head.

jungkook shifts uncomfortably. “uh. yeah.”

jimin slaps the table. “exactly. so that means you already had an in.”

jungkook sighs, rubbing his temple. “what’s your point?”

“my point is,” jimin says, voice heavy with dramatic exasperation, “you had a perfectly normal, non-life-threatening interaction with her before all of this. meaning, you had every opportunity to follow up—y’know, send a text, sit next to her in class, act like a human being.”

jungkook stares at his sandwich, avoiding eye contact.

jimin’s grin sharpens. “...so?”

jungkook exhales, slumping back in his seat. “i, uh… didn’t actually talk to her again,” he mutters.

jimin blinks. “after studying?”

jungkook nods, already regretting admitting anything.

jimin’s jaw drops. “not once?”

jungkook shrugs helplessly. “i was gonna, but then—”

jimin points an accusatory finger at him. “but then you saved her as spider-man and decided that totally counted as interacting with her, didn’t you?”

jungkook opens his mouth. closes it. scratches the back of his neck.

jimin gasps. “oh my god,” he says, full-body flopping back in his chair. “you absolute loser.”

jungkook groans. “i know.”

“no, you don’t know, because if you did know, you would have done something about it.”

jungkook buries his face in his hands.

“i tried, okay? but it’s—” he groans, dragging his hands down his face, “—it’s just easier this way.”

jimin levels him with the flattest look imaginable. “easier?” he repeats. “easier how?”

jungkook hesitates. because if he says it out loud, then it’s real. but jimin is staring at him, waiting, and—well.

he’s already lost his dignity at this point.

“…spider-man is cool,” jungkook mutters finally, eyes glued to the table. “spider-man doesn’t get nervous, or embarrass himself, or say dumb shit and then want to throw himself off a building.”

jimin snorts. “oh, buddy. that’s cute. you think you haven’t embarrassed yourself?”

jungkook glares. “shut up.”

jimin is grinning now, full and unrestrained. “bro. do you realize how weird you probably sound to her? imagine getting rescued by the same guy five times in a row and every time he acts progressively more awkward about it.”

jungkook groans. “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” jimin says, smug.

jungkook drops his head onto the table again. because, unfortunately, he’s right.

jungkook groans into the table. “okay. fine. let’s say you’re right—”

“i am right.”

“—and i have been weird about it—”

“super weird.”

jungkook lifts his head just enough to glare. “jimin.”

jimin grins, unrepentant. “continue.”

jungkook exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand down his face. “whatever. what am i even supposed to do now? just waltz up to her in class and pretend i haven’t been awkwardly saving her from disaster every other week?”

jimin shrugs. “yeah.”

jungkook stares. “you cannot be serious.”

“why not?” jimin says, stealing a fry off jungkook’s plate. “you already know she’s cool. she doesn’t freak out around you, she doesn’t think spider-man’s a menace, and she definitely isn’t scared of you—”

jungkook scoffs. “yeah, because she doesn’t know it’s me.”

jimin points at him with the stolen fry. “exactly! you have nothing to lose!”

jungkook squints. “that’s not how that works.”

jimin waves him off. “look, bro. i love you. i do. but you overthink literally everything.”

jungkook frowns. “i do not.”

jimin gives him a look so flat it could be legally classified as a murder weapon.

jungkook shifts. “…okay, sometimes.”

jimin nods approvingly. “glad we’re on the same page.” he shoves the fry into his mouth before pointing at jungkook again. “so, let’s think about this logically.”

jungkook groans. “oh, now we’re thinking logically?”

jimin ignores him. “you already know she likes talking to spider-man. you’ve literally heard her say she thinks he’s a good guy. and you also know she was cool with studying with you before you started avoiding her like a total dumbass.”

jungkook winces. “ouch.”

jimin grins. “so, what does that tell us?”

jungkook crosses his arms, scowling. “that i’m a dumbass?”

“correct. but more importantly,” jimin leans forward, voice going annoyingly dramatic, “it means you’re already in.”

jungkook blinks. “what?”

jimin gestures vaguely. “she already likes you. not just spider-man, but you-you. maybe she doesn’t have a crush or anything—”

jungkook’s face burns at the mere mention of the possibility. “dude—”

“—but at the very least, she doesn’t hate you,” jimin finishes, undeterred. “so, all you have to do is act normal for once in your life, and maybe you can stop making things harder than they need to be.”

jungkook stares at him.

jimin stares back.

“…that’s it?” jungkook asks, skeptical.

jimin shrugs. “that’s it.”

jungkook exhales.

because—okay. it does make sense. maybe he is overcomplicating things, like he always does. maybe he really is just making his life ten times harder for no reason.

but then he thinks about actually doing it. about sitting down next to you again, about saying hey like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t been a complete coward for weeks.

and suddenly, he’s panicking all over again.

“…okay,” he mutters. “sure. i’ll talk to her.”

jimin beams. “hell yeah.”

“eventually.”

jimin’s smile drops. “no.”

“yes.”

“jungkook—”

jungkook shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and stands up. “gotta go, bye.”

“jungkook, don’t you dare walk away from me—”

but jungkook is already halfway across the cafeteria, ignoring the way jimin’s voice follows him, loud and accusing.

because, yeah.

maybe he’ll talk to you.

but eventually sounds a hell of a lot safer than right now.

it turns out you end up talking to him first.

jungkook barely has time to process the end of the lecture before you’re suddenly there, standing next to his desk, shifting on your feet like you’re nervous about something.

which is weird.

because you’re never nervous. not when you were nearly mugged, not when a guy pulled a knife on you, not when you looked spider-man in the eye and grinned at him like it was just another tuesday.

but now, standing here, looking at him?

you’re fidgeting.

and jungkook’s brain immediately starts malfunctioning.

“hey,” you say, voice a little softer than usual.

jungkook stares.

then, realizing that yes, this is real, he forces himself to swallow the dumb why are you talking to me that nearly slips out.

“uh. hey,” he says instead.

you shift your bag higher on your shoulder. “so, um.” you clear your throat, glancing around the emptying lecture hall. “this might be kind of random, but… do you, uh. know anyone who tutors?”

jungkook blinks. “tutors?”

you nod, still looking strangely hesitant. “yeah. for chemistry.”

chemistry.

the subject he lied about needing help with.

jungkook can feel the irony punching him directly in the face.

but beyond that, beyond the fact that he is absolutely not qualified to help you with this, there’s something else creeping into his mind.

the fact that you came to him.

out of everyone in this class—hell, out of everyone on campus—you chose to ask him.

his stomach flips.

it has to be fate, right? this is too much of a coincidence. after all the near-misses, after all the nights he spent convincing himself to just talk to you already—you end up coming to him first?

it doesn’t feel real.

but you’re still standing there, watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

jungkook swallows. “uh. yeah. i mean, i—” he clears his throat, scrambling to make his voice sound normal. “i can ask around.”

your shoulders drop a little, like you were bracing for rejection. “oh. cool. yeah, that would be great.”

you pause, glancing at him, hesitant. “and, um… if you hear of anyone good, could you maybe… let me know?”

jungkook nods so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. “yeah. of course.”

your lips curve into a soft smile. “thanks, jungkook.”

his breath stutters.

(oh, he is so screwed.)

and then, just like that, you wave and disappear out the door, leaving him sitting there in the empty lecture hall, gripping his desk like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

he doesn’t move for a solid minute.

his heart is still hammering, his brain is still catching up, and all he can think is jimin is going to have a field day with this.

and jimin fucking does.

“you’re actually kidding me.”

jimin is staring at jungkook like he just confessed to being an alien.

they’re in jungkook’s apartment, controllers in hand, some game running on the screen—but jimin has completely forgotten about it, pausing mid-match to turn and gawk at him.

jungkook, on the other hand, is doing his best to act normal. which is hard, considering his entire life has just been flipped upside down.

“i’m not kidding,” jungkook mutters, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. “it happened.”

jimin lets out a loud, incredulous laugh, tossing his controller onto the couch. “so let me get this straight. you—who have been avoiding this girl like she’s an actual fire hazard—you were literally just sitting there, minding your own business, and she just walks up to you? and asks for a tutor??”

jungkook grits his teeth. “yes.”

jimin cackles, grabbing a pillow and whacking him over the head with it.

“bro, fate is spoon-feeding you a love story and you’re just sitting there like a fucking brick!”

jungkook groans, shoving the pillow away. “okay, first of all, relax. it’s not a love story.”

jimin scoffs. “it could be.”

“it’s not.”

“it could be.”

jungkook sighs aggressively, running a hand down his face.

jimin flops dramatically against the couch, shaking his head. “so? what did you say?”

“i said i’d ask around.”

jimin blinks. “you said you’d—” he stops, eyes narrowing. “...ask around.”

jungkook shifts. “…yes?”

silence.

“you idiot!” jimin yells, smacking his arm.

“ow!” jungkook jerks away, scowling. “what? what was i supposed to say?”

“literally that you could tutor her yourself!”

jungkook’s stomach flips. “i can’t tutor her, dumbass, i'm barely passing chemistry myself.”

jimin throws up his hands. “bro, she doesn’t know that! just pretend!”

“pretend?”

“yes! look up some notes, re-learn a few things, do what you need to do!”

jungkook shakes his head aggressively. “no way. i am not tutoring her when i don’t know shit.”

jimin levels him with a deadpan stare. “so instead, you’re just gonna, what? let her go find some other guy to tutor her?”

jungkook freezes.

jimin grins. “ah.”

jungkook clenches his jaw. “fuck you.”

“no, no, let’s think about this,” jimin continues, voice full of fake contemplation. “some dude, sitting real close, explaining things all smart and helpful. maybe he’s got nice hands. maybe he’s charming. maybe he’s better at chemistry than you—”

jungkook throws a pillow at his face.

jimin laughs as he catches it. “so? what’s the move, lover boy?”

jungkook scowls, but deep down, he already knows.

he sighs, letting his head fall back against the couch.

“…i’m gonna have to tutor her, aren’t i?”

jimin claps a hand on his shoulder, shaking him with excitement.

“yes, you absolutely are.”

jungkook hasn’t seen you in days.

which is weird, because ever since this whole thing started, you’ve been everywhere. in class, in study sessions, in the middle of very questionable situations that require his immediate intervention.

but now, you’ve just vanished.

he’s checked the usual places. your usual seat in lecture, the library, even the coffee shop on the corner where he thinks he saw you once. nothing. no sign of you anywhere.

he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much.

(yes, he does.)

but he pushes it out of his mind. or at least, he tries.

because right now, he’s got other things to focus on—like swinging through the city at just the right angle to catch the breeze, flipping effortlessly between buildings, scanning the streets for trouble.

except there is no trouble. not tonight. it’s weird. quiet. almost peaceful.

and then he sees you.

not running. not being chased. not clutching your bag like your life depends on it.

just… standing there.

paintbrush in hand, clothes speckled with color, entirely focused on the massive mural in front of you.

jungkook nearly crashes into a building.

he just barely manages to recover, swinging onto a rooftop ledge, crouching down to watch from a safe distance.

because what the hell?

you’re supposed to be in a classroom. or getting into some ridiculous situation that requires his immediate assistance. not this. not standing in the middle of an empty lot, surrounded by paint cans, filling an entire wall with streaks of blue and gold.

you look… calm.

you step back, tilting your head at your work, lips pursed in thought. then, with a small nod, you dip your brush into another color and go right back to it.

jungkook stares.

because somehow, in all this time, in all the chaotic ways he’s seen you before—he’s never seen you like this.

focused. steady. completely lost in something you love.

he exhales, watching the way the city lights catch in your hair, the way your brows pinch slightly when you concentrate.

for once, he doesn’t have to worry about saving you. for once, he just gets to watch. before he can help himself, jungkook is swinging down.

it’s instinct, like muscle memory. one second, he’s crouched on the ledge, watching from a safe distance, and the next, he’s mid-air, descending toward you before his brain can even catch up.

he lands a few feet away, boots hitting the pavement with a soft thud.

you don’t even flinch.

just glance over your shoulder, brush still poised against the wall, and say “hey, spider-man.”

no startled jump, no wide-eyed what the fuck?, no immediate questioning of why a masked vigilante just casually dropped into your art session. just… hey, spider-man, like you expected him to show up.

his brain malfunctions. “uh.”

you smirk, finally lowering your brush. “you always this quiet?”

jungkook clears his throat, scrambling to pull himself together. “uh—no, just… wasn’t expecting you to be so—” he gestures vaguely, “—chill about this.”

you tilt your head. “should i not be?”

“i mean, most people don’t just greet me like i’m their next-door neighbor.”

you hum, considering. “well, most people don’t run into you five times in a row, either.”

jungkook exhales sharply. “true.”

you grin, then turn back to your mural, wiping your hands against your paint-stained hoodie. “so,” you say, glancing at him. “what brings you here? crime’s looking pretty low tonight.”

crime is low. there was literally no reason for him to come down here. he just saw you. and… well.

you smile knowingly, like you can see the wheels turning in his head. “you were watching me, weren’t you?”

jungkook chokes.

“what— no. no, i—” he shakes his head aggressively, backing up like that will help him recover. “i was patrolling.”

you arch a brow. “patrolling from a rooftop directly above me?”

he groans. “oh my god.”

you laugh, bright and easy, and jungkook swears his entire world tilts for a second. “relax,” you say, dipping your brush into a new color. “it’s kind of flattering, actually.”

jungkook short-circuits. “it’s what?”

you just wink. “so, you sticking around, or was this just a quick check-in?”

jungkook should leave.

he knows that.

but then you turn back to your mural, completely at ease, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re casually talking to spider-man like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

and jungkook, against all logic, against all common sense, sits down on the curb.

“guess i’ll stick around.”

you glance over when you hear him sit, eyebrows raising slightly. but you don’t question it, don’t make it weird. just hum, like this is normal, like masked vigilantes dropping into your painting sessions is a completely regular thing.

jungkook doesn’t know what to do with that.

you dip your brush into another color, dragging long, confident strokes across the wall.

for a while, neither of you speak.

it’s… oddly comfortable.

jungkook watches, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted as he tries to figure out what you’re painting. it’s not quite clear yet, but the colors blend together in a way that makes his chest feel weirdly tight. like something about it is important.

finally, he clears his throat.

“so… what is it?”

you pause, glancing at him before looking back at the wall. “not sure yet.”

jungkook squints. “you’re not sure?”

you smirk. “it’s a process.”

he huffs a soft laugh. “so you’re just winging it?”

“more like… feeling it out,” you correct. you step back, tilting your head, eyes scanning over the patterns of color like you’re looking for something only you can see.

jungkook doesn’t know why, but that makes sense.

for a while, he doesn’t say anything else. just watches as you paint, as your hands move with purpose, as you fill the blank spaces with something real.

and then, before he can stop himself, “why do you do it?”

you pause, brush still hovering over the wall.

jungkook feels his stomach drop. “uh—you don’t have to answer that, i was just—”

“because it’s mine.”

he stops.

you’re still looking at the mural, voice calm, steady. “it’s something i can make real. something i can create, and leave behind, and know it’s mine. even if someone paints over it later.”

jungkook stares at you. he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. just watches as you pick up where you left off. and that’s when it hits him. this is the first time he’s ever spent time with you since the library without worrying about saving you. the first time he’s seen you just be.

and it’s terrifying, because suddenly, jungkook isn’t sure what scares him more. the thought of you getting hurt again, or the thought of you never looking at him the way you look at spider-man right now.

jungkook hates this. hates the way his stomach twists every time you look at him—at spider-man—like this. open, unguarded, like you trust him. like he’s someone worth trusting. hates the way he wants you to keep looking at him like that.

because he knows this isn’t real. or at least, not fully real. not like it would be if it were him sitting here beside you, mask off, just jungkook.

(but would you even talk to him if you knew?)

he exhales slowly, pressing his palms against his knees. you don’t seem to notice his internal crisis, still completely focused on your painting, eyebrows furrowed just slightly in concentration.

“you’re staring,” you say after a moment, not looking away from the wall.

jungkook jolts. “what? no, i’m not.”

you smirk, finally glancing at him. “you totally are.”

he crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “you want me to lie?”

“i want you to at least try to be subtle about it.”

he scoffs. “okay, and what exactly am i supposed to be staring at? the back of your head?”

“or my art.” you gesture to the mural dramatically. “y’know, the thing that’s actually interesting here.”

jungkook huffs a quiet laugh. “yeah, okay. so what’s it supposed to be now?”

you step back, surveying your work. “dunno.”

he stares. “so you still don’t know?”

you shrug. “told you. it’s a process.”

jungkook exhales, shaking his head. “yeah, well. not every process ends up making sense.”

“maybe not right away,” you say, glancing at him. “but eventually.”

eventually.

the word sticks in his head, clinging to something deeper, something he doesn’t want to think about right now. so instead, he sighs, shifting to stand. “well, don’t get mugged while you’re doing your whole process thing.”

you grin. “what, no more rooftop patrols?”

“depends,” he says, adjusting his gloves. “you planning on wandering into any more dark alleys?”

you pretend to think about it. “maybe. depends on who's gonna save me.”

jungkook groans. “i hate you.”

you just laugh, waving your brush at him in a mock salute. “see you next time, spider-man.”

jungkook’s fingers twitch. he lingers—just for a second. because for the first time, he knows something you don’t. he knows he’ll see you again. not just like this, not just as spider-man, but as himself.

because eventually isn’t good enough anymore.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 2] Arrangements

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI Sukuna joins reader bath without permission (nothing crazy), Nudity

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re still in the process of retaining all that has happened while your arms and feet are being washed. You’re smelling a fragrance that is way out of your means and while it does smell nice, you want to puke. This is all too much for you. You weren’t even given an option, you were simply just dragged away as if you weren’t your own person.

“Can you stop, please?” Your voice comes off as weak, and it’s easy to dismiss. You feel as if you’re drowning, even though the water doesn’t reach past your breasts. They’re being gentle with you, not wanting to damage the skin of the mistress that will carry King Sukuna’s heir, though their hands feel so rough for you. 

“Can you stop?!” You yell, which makes everyone come to a halt. They’re all staring at the ground, not daring to make eye contact with you. You have yet to realize the power you have in this situation since it’s quickly overshadowed by the fact that you’re… Expected to carry a monster’s heir. You can’t afford to look at them, simply telling them, “Leave, please.”

They got strict orders to bathe you and not leave you alone, but the orders were from Uraume. Right now, they’re more terrified of you than anything; even when you’re frail and soft spoken, they don’t see you as your own being but rather an extension of King Sukuna. They end up leaving you alone per your request.

This is the perfect opportunity to run away– No, you can’t. You came here for a reason, and while you’re still shell-shocked, you can’t leave. You sigh, knowing that even if you wanted to, getting caught would result in a gruesome death. You begin to wonder if you’re able to reproduce with him, Sukuna is one of his kind. He’s not exactly a human… What would he be considered?

Too lost in your own thoughts, you fail to listen to the heavy footsteps that approach you. You only notice his presence when the water reaches your collar bone, and suddenly your chest feels too heavy for you to breathe. He’s decided to join your bath. You divert your gaze, scared of what he might do if you look directly at him.

“Look up.” Sukuna tells you, and you don’t waste a second before staring at his unusual face. He truly isn’t like anyone you’ve seen before, but you don’t think that’s bad. The longer you stare at him, you realize that there’s something charming about his face, you’re not quite sure what it is though. “The servants outside are lucky to be alive. You don’t get to come in here and order people around, Uraume relays my word and you have no say against it.”

“Will you kill me if I do?” You ask, purely out of curiosity. His eyes are practically burning into you, wondering how to answer the question. His immediate answer would be a yes, but he really wouldn’t, at least not when he wants you to carry his heir.

“I’ll kill everyone that’s involved.” He answers, knowing that with that look in your eyes won’t let you allow it. You give him a slight nod, not daring to question him further on the matter. He’s joined you for a reason. Either he joined simply because of you dismissing everyone, or he wants to begin the heir making process.

“How is this going to work?” You ask, but you're not specific enough. You’re thinking about producing an heir. You aren’t a fool to sex, you have somewhat of an idea of how it works; Sukuna isn’t a man though. He has aspects of a man, but he isn’t one. Four eyes, four arms, a tummy mouth, and twice the size of any human being, he’s truly one of a kind.

“You will carry my heir, and I will heal your brother.” He answers, and you let out a low laugh, making him frown. “What’s so funny?”

“I was referring to something different.” You respond, and he rolls his eyes. “But… What will you do with me after I have your baby?”

Sukuna takes a moment to think about his answer because he hadn’t thought that far ahead. After he’s ruined you in each possible manner, what does he want to do with you? He’ll already have his successor, he has no need for you. What do humans do?

“You’ll nurture it until a certain age, then I’ll take over.” Is the best answer he can give. What happens then? He answers all questions you may have by saying, “And if I see fit, you’ll be having more.”

He doesn’t want to let you go, even after you’ve fulfilled your agreement. You’re giving away your freedom for your brother’s health and wellbeing– It’s fine though, it’s not like you had much going for you. Though you don’t want to be someone’s breeding mule for the rest of eternity. You don’t want to be someone that’s easily forgotten.

“Can we get married?” You blurt out, and of all things you could say, he certainly wasn’t thinking that. A marriage proposal from you is certainly… Odd. He smirks though, intrigued..

“What for? You know you won’t be the only one.” He tells you, although you aren’t all that interested in his love affairs. He knows it’s not that though, you aren’t bothered by that. You’re splashing the water, unable to look at him as you answer. You’re too embarrassed.

“I want to be someone, not just the mother of your child.” You respond, and he scoffs at the pitiful request. You were no one before, so why do you suddenly have the need to be respected? He doesn’t care enough to ask.

“If you expect loyalty, you won’t receive it.” He warns you again, but that doesn’t spark your interest whatsoever. You really just want the title of being his wife, and he doesn’t see it as a title of much importance, so he’ll grant it. “I’ll speak with Uraume for the arrangements of a traditional wedding then.”

You hum in response, your eyes looking back up at him. He looks bored. Though your next question does make a smirk appear on his face, “Do you have traditional male genitals?”

“What is a traditional male genital, please enlighten me.” He sounds as if he’s about to burst into laughter at any moment, which makes you want to bury your head under the water. You know exactly how it is, you haven’t been sheltered from the world since you weren’t born into an aristocratic family to be protected– Although you hear the stories, the aristocrats are anything but pure.

“A penis.” Your answer is short and correct, but you can’t even look at him as you say it. Your hand sways in the water, feeling yourself calm down with the sound that it makes. “I used to work near a brothel so naturally I befriended some of the women that worked there.”

“It will be similar to what you’ve been told.” He says, and you can’t help but notice his choice of words. Similar. Now you’re worried. 

“Uraume!” Sukuna yells, and within a second they’re in the room. Sukuna rises from the water, finally giving you a glimpse of what you missed when he got into the water. Your eyes couldn’t get any wider, and your face burns up when you realize why he said the experience will just be similar; he has two of them. “Finish getting her ready.”

Uraume’s hands go to your shoulders and they lift you up from the water. You’re unable to say anything, shocked at what you just discovered. Uraume dries you off with a cloth, acting as if they hadn’t seen the same thing as you. They’re more than likely used to it but it’s weird. He’s referred to as a deity for a reason, he isn’t like anyone you’ll ever meet. Four eyes, four arms, a tummy mouth, and twice the size of any human you’ve ever met, that alone should explain everything.

You still can’t help but question, “Why does he have two?”

It feels hard for you to breathe with all the layers of clothes that you have on. You thought that with the place and Sukuna being unusual, you would have some wiggle room in your attire. However, you’ve been proved wrong. You have six layers of clothes on, for the first time in your life feeling like a noble. There’s too many layers, but at least it’s silk.

“The king will be here soon.” Uraume tells you before sliding the door to the room shut, leaving you to kneel on the tatami floors. You click your tongue as you look down at your attire. All of these layers of clothes for nothing. You wonder if he’ll get mad at the fact that he has to remove each garment. A smile comes to your lips, knowing that he’s definitely not the patient kind. 

You try not to think about what’s to come because you’re nervous. The thought of having sex for the first time is enough to make your stomach churn, thinking about what you just saw makes the nerves even more prevalent. You try to take a deep breath, though the action is unnecessarily difficult due to your attire.

You hear his loud footsteps as he approaches the room, your body slowly trembling out of pure nerves. Your breath gets caught up in your chest as the door opens. He walks into the room, and his eyes stare you down. You try to remain composed, but it’s hard when you know what’s about to happen.

You’re scared… Yet, you can’t help but feel excited at what’s to come. Though your fear is what reflects through your body language. It’s going to happen either way so you try to calm yourself down.

“Where’s your makeup?” Sukuna crouches down to be on your level, one hand going under your chin and lifting your face, forcing you to look at him. You thickly swallow, finding it hard to speak now. He’s impatient, though he won’t raise his voice now because of what’s to come, so he repeats the question, “Where’s your makeup?”

“Uraume said I looked better without it so they wiped it off.” You tell him, and he rolls his eyes. He won’t argue with Uraume though, he trusts their judgment. “Next time–”

“Next time you won’t do anything. You’re going to listen to them.” He’s quick to cut you off, and you nod in response. You’re still shaking in his hand, and he finds himself annoyed. But there’s also this unusual feeling at the pit of his stomach, something that he’s never felt before… Pity? “Have I done something to you? Why are you trembling like a mouse?”

“I’m nervous.” You confess, and he scoffs. Nervous, and he has yet to do anything to you. You have a multitude of layers on, you have no reason to shake as if you were naked. You weren’t acting like this when he was in the bath with you, he doesn’t know what’s changed.

“I haven’t even properly touched you.” He practically whispers. He inspects your face before letting go of you. He has no interest in having fun when you’re this pathetic. You’ve successfully killed his mood to do anything. 

Sukuna loves when his prey fears him… But you aren’t considered prey anymore.

“Uraume has arranged everything for tomorrow. We’re getting married.” He announces. He’s given in, and this is another task he must complete before having his heir. He sighs before saying, “You’re so pathetic, I can’t even touch you.”

“Sorry.” You blurt out while he stands up.

“Don’t embarrass me. My wife will never apologize for anything, not even to her king.” He scolds you before opening the door and exiting the room. He’s announced your wedding and left as if it isn’t a big deal, and you guess it’s not a big deal to him.

You can finally take a proper breath, proving that the clothes had nothing to do with your inability to breathe properly. Uraume walks into the room within a minute of Sukuna leaving. They don’t have to ask what happened, he simply just didn’t want to engage with you yet.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.” They say, and you stand up from the floor. You wish you could follow behind them, but they drag you out as if you were a child. 

It’s your first day amongst the walls, you haven’t gained their trust yet, nor do you have a title to have any say in how you’re treated. It will all soon change though, tomorrow you’ll be King Sukuna’s wife. 

[robo-writing]

Toxic ex-boyfriend Simon 🫠🫠

It’s the same routine ever since you broke up with Simon. Call after call, decline after decline, you’ve changed your number twice now and he’s still managed to find you.

He doesn’t take no for an answer, though I suppose you knew this already—The break-up was a pretty big indicator of that, or in his words, your “break.”

“You’re just a bit overwhelmed,” he said to you, not budging a little even with your full weight on him, trying and failing to push him out of your apartment. It’s as if you weren’t even there. “Never had a man treat you like you need to be treated, scared of new sensations?”

That certainly wasn’t the problem, but it was in one ear and out the other with Simon. Honestly, you’re not even sure if it even managed to go in one ear.

“Please, don’t make this difficult,” you begged, giving up on your attempt to push him out. “Just…leave. I don’t want to call the cops.”

At the mention of police he laughs, almost mockingly. It almost scares you.

“Alright then, I’ll entertain your little tantrum for now,” he says, stepping out into the hallway. “But when you’ve finally come to your senses, know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

A pause, and then: “Of course I’ll have to teach you a lesson about being a brat when you do, but you always love my lessons don’t you pet?”

Weeks later his words still ring in your ears.

Weeks later your phone still rings in your hands.

You don’t need to check the caller ID—it’s always an unknown number, but you always know who it is. You let it go to voicemail like usual, but today is a first—a small notification being visible from the corner of your eye.

One voicemail left by: Unknown Caller

Your curiosity peaks, with stubbornness quelling it soon after. It’s a voicemail from your ex, what could he possibly say to you that you haven’t heard a million times before.

Still, it eats away at you. It wasn’t like him to leave a message when he could just call. Hell, knowing him he’s more likely to show up at your door.

It lingers in your mind. You think about it for the rest of the day and it’s now you truly understand the plight of the cat when curiosity seems so enticing.

You relent when you lie awake restless, a losing battle as you find your inbox and hit play.

Your ears are greeted with ambient silence, unsure if maybe Simon left his voicemail open on accident. The moment the thought crosses your mind you hear it, the distinct rumble you know as wholly and purely Simon. There’s a shuffle, then his voice cuts through the empty air.

“Hey there pet. Missed ya.”

You find your eyes rolling as he continues.

“I know, I know, you want to keep me away,” he says breathlessly. “But I’m not sure how long I can keep playing this game.”

There’s a rustling, a deep inhale followed by the sound of something squirting.

“Had to take a minute, forgot I had these,” he says, then takes a moment to laugh. “I’m talking like you can see me, so lemme paint you a nice, clear picture.”

A rather familiar sound of skin against skin has your face growing hotter. You’re in disbelief, willing to deny what you think you’re hearing until Simon confirms it for you.

“Hear that, pet?” He growls. “That’s all me. Could be yours too, if you’d stop being such a fuckin’ brat.”

The sound of his hand is slow, methodical in his purpose. “Nice and wrapped up in those panties I love so much. Pink and satin, the ones you got for valentines—you know the ones.”

A sigh, as if he’s reminiscing. “God, you were a real animal that day. Purred so nicely when I stuffed that cunt of yours.”

Whatever anger you have towards him for stealing your underwear is soon replaced with lust, the sound of the fabric in sync with his hand enough to have you squirming in your bed. His voice like gravel echoes through the speaker, even worse is the slick sounds of what you’re certain is your panties stroking his cock, stained with pre-cum.

More noises, his breathing getting faster and faster. “So fuckin’ soft. Feels good wrapped around me, reminds me of when you’d get so needy you’d need to grind yourself on my thigh.”

Long stretches of time where all you can hear are his breathless moans and his hand moving faster. On instinct your thighs close around nothing as you listen to your ex-boyfriend jerk off in your ears.

“Should see me right now, nice and hard just for you,” he gasps.

Your pussy throbs as if on instinct.

One of your favorite traits about Simon was his undeniably large cock, how it would blush the prettiest shade of rouge at the sight of you, how you struggled to take it every time and how you could feel it in your chest when he fucked you. It’s all you can think about now, any reason you had for breaking up seemingly lost to you.

Another laugh drags you from your thoughts. “You were thinking about me just then, weren’t you?”

Embarrassment burns through your body. You have half a mind to turn off your phone, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You can practically hear the smugness in his tone.

“Don’t worry, I’m thinking of you too.”

You hate the fact that he’s right. You hate the fact that he knows you so well. You hate the fact that you’re still listening.

You especially hate the fact you want him to do something about the increasing wetness in your panties.

“Just the thought of you, your body—that tight cunt of yours…” He cuts himself off with a moan, the distinct sound of slickness echoing in the speakers.

“God, just thinking about how hungry you must be for my cock…the things I’ll do when I get my hands on you.”

The laugh that emits from him is unhinged, animalistic. It excites you, as guilty as you feel for admitting it.

The sound of his hand speeds up as he talks. “You been taking good care of her in my stead? Touching yourself, getting her nice and prepared for when I come back? I’d hate to re-train her back into my shape.”

He’s so damn vulgar and you love it.

“Just remember, when you’re awake at night, and your thighs are pressing together so pretty, begging for something between them..”

His voice is clear as day, dark and unchained. It sends a full-bodied jolt through your own body, just barely resisting the urge to call.

“…That my cock will always be better than your hand.”

[moonstruckme]

Hiiiiii mae 🥹 I have a prompt if you might be interested? First prompt not-anon, second request total 💃🏻

At work they play the radio and I heard in an interview that humans are born with only 2 natural fears: falling and loud sounds. Those fears are universal and the only things people are born fearing - every other fear is learned!

I couldn’t help but think of sweet Spencer explaining this when placating (or trying to placate) reader who is anxious/has a phobia/is feeling nervous! Hope it inspires something but no pressure xoxoxoxoxo love you long time

Hey babe, thanks for requesting!!

cw: public speaking anxiety, criminal case in court (case details not discussed)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 573 words

You’re cold with sweat and trembling in your fingers when Spencer sits down next to you. 

“Hi,” he says. He sounds nearly as nervous as he makes you. His voice, you’ve noticed, is as gentle as his disposition, unchanging regardless of who he’s speaking to. And you’ve heard plenty of Spencer Reid’s voice throughout this case. 

You keep your arms stuck tight to your sides, wary of what you suspect to be atrociously large pit stains. “Hi.” 

“Do you want some water?” 

You take the bottle he holds out to you, not because you do want it but because you’re too nervous to contradict anyone about anything right now. You wonder if that makes you susceptible to suggestion. If so, that will probably not hold up very well in literal court. 

If Spencer’s dissatisfied with the tiny sip you take from the water bottle, he doesn’t say so. 

“You seem nervous,” he says, somehow both kind and matter-of-fact at once. “Is it because of the defense?” 

You shake your head, though that’s not untrue. The defense attorney is only one of the myriad of people you’re going to be expected to speak in front of in a few minutes. Your heart is a squirrel in your chest, scampering wildly

“I don’t really like public speaking,” you say. 

Spencer nods pensively. He’s good at this, at making you feel like he’s really absorbing what you have to say. You’ve wondered on occasion if it’s part of his training. 

“You know, it’s interesting,” he says. “There are actually only two natural fears that humans are born with; falling and loud sounds. Everything else is learned, we pick it up somewhere.” Spencer sets his elbows on his legs, slouching so he can see your face. He’s so handsome it’s unbearable. “Where do you think your fear of public speaking came from?” 

It has the makings of a personal question, but Spencer’s curiosity seems so pure it’s hard to hold it against him. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “It’s just always made me nervous.” 

Spencer’s mouth purses. “It might have been so early or subtle that you don’t remember. For a lot of people it comes from feeling like they’re going to be judged.” 

Your lip finds its way between your teeth without your permission, and when you look over Spencer’s gaze is knowing. 

“Everyone is here to judge the accused,” he says gently, “not you. You’re important as a witness, and we’re lucky to have you here, but no one is going to care if you mess up. Their job is to pay attention to what you say, not how you say it. All you have to do is tell the truth.” 

“Yeah.” You try to breathe in, but the air won’t settle in your lungs. “Yeah, okay.” 

“There shouldn’t be any loud sounds or falling in there,” Spencer goes on. If he wasn’t such a professional, you’d almost think he was joking with you. “So nothing’s going to hurt you. You’ll be okay, okay?” 

You glance at him again, and the profiler’s lips are curved in a small smile. You don’t know how he can do it, stay so good when he spends his whole day knee-deep in the minds of bad guys. But despite what he does for a living and all he’s certainly been through because of it, there’s a lightness about Spencer. It feels like peace. 

“Yeah,” you say again. “Thanks.” 

[amerricanartwork]

ok fine since you asked so nicely

*provides more cookies*

dont eat too many or else you'll become round

or- roundER anyway

Now that's what I call answering two asks with one post! Featuring more silly superstructure creatures!

Okay, in all seriousness, while I decided to go with the silly and very non-canon drawing idea, if you don't mind I would actually like to leave some ideas related to these asks in a more serious manner with rough descriptions of how I think the Local Group would react if they were offered them some cookies! This is assuming it's the puppets you're talking to, since I actually do have concepts I plan to employ in my AU for a hidden mechanism allowing the iterators to legitimately consume and gain energy from organic matter as "food" when they're off-the-string. If you don't care for these, I don't mind, but they just popped into my mind in response to this ask, and I couldn't resist adding them too!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Looks to the Moon: "Oh, don't worry about me. All I want is to know you and the others have had enough for yourselves, and that you enjoyed them! I'll simply take whatever is left." — Looks to the Moon sees it as her duty to always look out for others first, so if the Local Group were offered any kind of gift, she'd first make sure everyone else got a satisfying share of it, even if it meant she had to miss out. Though she would be rather tempted by the delicious smell of baked goods, the growling of her stomach, and the curiosity to explore something she's heard of and observed many times yet never tried herself before, she'd tell herself (once again) that sacrificing her own satisfaction for others' is The Right Thing To Do™, and therefore she should be glad to give up all the treats to her friends if that was what made them happy. It's perhaps only Sig who would be able to convince her to try some for herself or save her some in secret, at which point she'd savor every bite once assured it was just the two of them and she was allowed to indulge herself without guilt.

No Significant Harassment: "Hey guys! You've gotta try some of these! They smell so good, don't you think, Pebbles?" — Even if he isn't the one who actually makes the cookies himself — whether purely to see if he can, or as some sort of prank towards a friend — if Sig ever managed to obtain some cookies he'd be the first to try them out. Though being a considerate and amicable person who highly values his good relationships, he'd waste no time in sharing them with his friends, making sure to take no more than his fair share. If he were sharing with just the Local Group, he'd definitely make some time to tease Pebbles, Suns, and Wind about their refusal to try them by waving them in their face, making exaggerated noises while savoring the taste, and doing anything else he can to really emphasize just how much they're missing out. But even more so, he'd be the one urging Moon to get some for herself before they're gone, reassuring her that she deserves to enjoy them just as much as any of the others do. And heck, if half the group isn't gonna get any, it would make those three more "happy" for the two of them to eat the rest themselves and rid their friends of the bothersome treats!

Five Pebbles: "Cookies? What use do I have for these? Even with the mechanisms to consume food, I have better means of getting sustenance than to resort to something so useless, yet dangerously addictive. If you were an intelligent creature, you'd dispose of them as well." — Even after he discovers that iterator puppets can consume food, Pebbles is far from happy about it. He already wants to minimize the frequency and amount with which he has to eat, and the thought of succumbing to the Fourth Karmic Urge from a sugary food that's especially easy to overindulge in, combined with Sig's unrelenting teasing reinforcing the "danger" of indulging in the cookies, would be more than enough to make him quickly yet firmly reject it. He would stay committed to remain "above" the simpler creatures of the world who would gladly gobble up such an offering in an instant, no matter how enticed he too would be by the scent and delectable appearance or how much hidden envy he'd feel from seeing the others enjoying them.

Seven Red Suns: "I cannot believe it! You truly thought a divine being like myself would ever succumb to the temptations of a small confection? It's clear you've lost sight of the Great Problem! Quick, we must provide you a new means of sustenance to cleanse you of your worldly attachment to these treats!" — Suns is perhaps even worse than Pebbles when it comes to "worldly attachments". Not only would he immediately refuse the idea of betraying Transcendental Ascensionism by indulging in something so basic, yet so easy to grow overly attached to, but he'd give anyone who offered them a long lecture about how they must have succumbed to "sin" and "temptation" to even have thought about giving him some, then try to be their savior by urging them to "separate" from these attachments. He would demand they not just immediately throw away every one of the cookies, but that they permanently revoke any and all but the most light, plain, and flavorless forms of sustenance from their diet as soon as possible, if not also immediately. And while he would definitely be slightly less condescending and forceful on the surface with them, don't think the Local Group would be spared if he caught any of them enjoying cookies either. Most likely he and Sig would end up in an argument about it, with Sig teasing and exploiting the flaws in Suns's logic and Suns doing his best to maintain his assertion that cookies will doom all but the very highest of creatures to suffer in the Cycles forever.

Chasing Wind: "... You disturbed me for these? Is that all?" — Chasing Wind would be utterly unimpressed by an offer of almost anything that isn't a rational solution to an important problem, which includes cookies, and would be unable to understand why Sig — and Moon, once she'd pick up on it — seems to enjoy them so much. In fact, she'd most likely assume it was a prank from him, yet either way would be mad at whoever else interrupted her work just to bother her with something so "useless" and unimportant. Perhaps the only reason she'd even try them would be if someone were to be especially annoying and beg her over and over to give them a try, after which she'd give it one taste and consume one piece just to shut them up, remain utterly unimpressed and additionally upset at the anticlimax, and scoff before returning to her previous work, with a mental note to ignore future inquiries from whoever had the audacity to waste her time with cookies, of all things.

Unparalleled Innocence: "Those look really good... Uh, um... I-if it isn't, I mean... I hope it's not bad... but, uh... c-could I, um... could I have one...?" — Innocence is always curious about new things, and would probably be the first of the Local Group to notice and take interest in the cookies as soon as she sees them or smells them. However, her biggest problem would be working up the confidence to try one for herself, fearing that the rest of the Local Group would be too busy indulging themselves to even hear her ask for some, let alone actually agree to share some with her of all people when they could just as easily continue sharing them amongst themselves. It'd probably have to be either Sig or Moon explicitly giving her permission to take some (and then to take more than one) to convince her to actually try one. Though rest assured, of all the Local Group she'd perhaps savor them the most of all, having read stories about such treats countless times and simply cherishing the chance to finally experience their deliciousness for herself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once again, this was just something that came to my mind after seeing these asks, but I thought it was cute! I hope to get back into the swing of making longer posts about my headcanons and whatnot for these characters! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this!

[luvvictoria]

Let the world burn

+ pairings. sukuna x f!reader

+ tags. romance, dark romance themes, age gap, Heian era Sukuna

In a world drenched in chaos and blood, Ryomen Sukuna stood at the center, a cursed king feared by all. He thrived in destruction, relishing the terror he inspired and the ruins he left behind. Love, for him, was a weak emotion, something beneath the might of a cursed being like himself. He never imagined that anyone could pierce through his hardened soul.

But then, there were you. You were a light in the darkness, a woman of warmth and kindness in a world that seemed to be falling apart.

In a cruel twist of fate, the day you crossed paths with Sukuna was a day of carnage. Sukuna had laid waste to an entire village in his pursuit of power. The streets were littered with destruction, but amid the chaos, you stood—unwavering, not in fear but in sorrow for the lives lost.

Sukuna’s blood-red eyes fell on you, and instead of finding another trembling victim, he saw a girl standing tall, your gaze soft yet determined as you helped those around you, despite the destruction all around you. You didn’t run from him, didn’t scream or cower. Your kindness in the face of such darkness intrigued him.

“What are you doing?” Sukuna’s voice was a low, menacing growl as he appeared before you, towering like a demon from hell.

You looked up at him, unafraid. You eyes, deep and soft, met his deadly gaze. “Helping,” you said simply, as though his presence didn’t matter, as if the carnage he caused was just another storm to endure.

Sukuna was taken aback by you audacity, the strange way you weren't pressed or terrified of him. The cursed king smirked, finding amusement in your innocence. “Do you not know who I am?” he asked, his voice laced with dark amusement.

“I know exactly who you are, Sukuna,” You answered, your voice calm. “But even monsters deserve compassion.”

Sukuna didn’t know what compelled him to spare you that day. Maybe it was the fire in your eyes, or maybe it was the challenge you posed by not breaking before him. Either way, you had intrigued him in a way no one had in centuries.

He began seeking you out, watching you from the shadows, always lurking. He was the storm, and you the calm within it. Wherever he went, destruction followed, and yet, you remained constant—always kind, always caring for others, even in the face of ruin. Your resilience fascinated him. You were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

Soon, he stopped watching from afar and began confronting you. Each time, he tried to provoke you, taunt you, hoping to see you break. But you never did. Your kindness never wavered. You spoke to him as if he were just another person, not a cursed king with blood on his hands.

"Why do you continue to help people who will only die?" Sukuna asked one evening, his tone laced with dark curiosity. You two stood in the remnants of another destroyed town, the sky above you painted with the fiery glow of the setting sun, mirroring the devastation below.

You looked at him with your calm, steady gaze. “Because it’s all I can do in a world like this.”

Sukuna scoffed, but something about your answer gnawed at him. It was madness, this need to care for a world that was doomed. And yet, it was that very madness that drew him closer to you. Your compassion, your refusal to succumb to fear or hatred — these were things he didn’t understand, things that made you seem untouchable, even to him.

Against his better judgment, Sukuna began to fall for you . He didn’t understand it at first. How could someone like him, a being of destruction and hatred, be drawn to someone so gentle and pure? He found himself wanting to know more about you, wanting to see what lay beneath that calm exterior.

You, too, felt the pull. You knew what Sukuna was—what he had done. But there was something in him, something broken and lost, that you couldn’t turn away from. Beneath his cruelty and his cold exterior, you saw glimpses of a man who had been consumed by his own darkness, a man who, at his core, was fighting against his own nature.

Your relationship was fiery and dangerous, a dance between light and shadow. Sukuna would destroy, and you would heal. He would taunt you, and you would calm him. The more time you spent together, the more you became entwined in a toxic yet irresistible pull.

Sukuna, for the first time, began to see the world through your eyes. He didn’t change — he still embraced his nature as a curse, but you made him feel something different. You were a flame that burned in the center of his cold world, and though he knew it would destroy you both, he couldn’t pull away.

One night, under a blood-red moon, Sukuna found himself standing beside you. The world around you was in flames—another town he had destroyed. But in that moment, as the world burned, it felt like you were the only two who mattered.

"Why do you stay?" Sukuna asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored the destruction around you two. “Because even in all this darkness, I see the man you could be.”

Your words stung, a sharp contrast to the brutality of his existence. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever cared to.

“If I let the world burn, will you still stay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost like a plea.

You smiled softly, “I’m not afraid of the fire, Sukuna. I’m not afraid of you.”

And so you remained, two opposites bound together by fate. Sukuna, the cursed king who let the world burn, and you, the woman who stayed by his side, unflinching, even as the flames consumed everything around you.

It was a love that was never meant to be—a dangerous, twisted bond that could only end in tragedy. But in the end, you both knew that you would let the world burn just to stay by each other's side for one more moment.

Because even in the ashes, you had found something worth holding onto.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

professor sharp x star student reader with a praise kink.

reader takes sharp up on some after class advanced potions lessons && sexual tension/ teasing ensues when he figures out how she feels.

Office Hours | Aesop Sharp x Reader

WHOAAA ANON. NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS BEFORE. BUT I DID MY BEST. I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE LOOKING FOR <3

Words: ~4,300

Tags: Smut-Adjacent, Praise Kink, Age Gap, Teacher/Student, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Pining, Angst

You linger as the rest of the class files out, quills and parchment rustling, chairs scraping against the stone floor as your classmates shuffle toward the door. Their voices fade into the corridor, leaving only the steady sound of footsteps as Sharp moves about the room, putting things away.

This has become a routine. Your routine.

At the start of the year, you were the only one who ever stayed behind for office hours, a habit born out of ambition—a desire to hone your craft under the guidance of someone who truly understood it. Not just a professor, but a Master: Professor Aesop Sharp.

In the beginning, your motives were purely academic. His knowledge was unparalleled, his methods rigorous, and his feedback unforgivingly honest. You wanted to learn. You wanted to impress him.

You don’t know when it happened—when the careful admiration turned into something dangerous. Perhaps it was the way he’d lean over your cauldron, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his voice low as he corrected your technique. Or maybe it was the rare instances when he praised you, voice edged with the kind of approval that left your pulse hammering in your throat.

Not that you ever let him see. It’s inappropriate. Unthinkable. You tell yourself this every single time you sit here, waiting for him like a fool.

Tonight, though, you have an actual excuse to be here beyond your fascination with him and need to impress—your essay.

Sharp had handed them back during class today, and you hadn’t gotten the grade you expected. Not bad, but lower than what you knew was your best. It had bothered you enough that you planned to bring it up tonight, to discuss it with him, as was expected of a student striving for excellence.

Sharp moves through the room with practiced ease, methodical, silent but aware, and you remain quiet, waiting—just the way he likes.

A few minutes pass before he flicks his wand toward the door, and with a deep thud, it swings shut, the lock clicking into place. The sound is enough to send a faint, ridiculous shiver down your spine.

He turns to you, finally acknowledging your presence, and something in his sharp gaze says he’s already decided what tonight’s lesson will be.

“Tonight,” he says, voice smooth and commanding, “you’re brewing the Draught of Living Death.” His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Think you can handle that?”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to nod. "Of course, Professor."

His lips twitch—just the faintest ghost of approval, gone as quickly as it came. "Good."

That single word should not send heat curling through your stomach the way it does. But you push it down, focusing instead on the way he moves toward the supply cabinet, pulling down ingredients with his usual efficient precision.

"But first, you had something on your mind," he remarks, not even looking at you. "Tell me."

Of course, he noticed. Sharp notices everything.

"My essay," you say carefully, rising from your seat and stepping toward him. "I was hoping to discuss my grade."

He turns then, eyeing the parchment in your hands before meeting your gaze. His dark eyes hold no sympathy—they never do. But they hold something else tonight. Interest, maybe. Curiosity.

"Did you think I was unfair in my assessment?" he asks, stepping aside to give you room as he sets a small vial onto the worktable.

"No," you answer quickly. Too quickly. You take a breath. "I just—I want to understand what I could improve."

His head tilts, watching you for a beat too long. Then, he gestures for you to set the parchment down on his desk.

"Let's have a look, then."

You place the parchment down beside the vial, smoothing out the edges as though the act alone might steady the rapid beat of your pulse.

Sharp steps in beside you, his presence a weight you feel more than see, and he leans over your essay, scanning the lines with a critical gaze. The sleeves of his robes are pushed back just enough to reveal the corded strength in his forearms. His hands, scarred but steady, move over the parchment with the same precision he uses when handling delicate potions.

The subtle scent of clove and worn leather lingers in the air between you, mixing with the faint traces of crushed valerian and asphodel still clinging to his robes. You shouldn’t find it intoxicating, but you do. It is entirely unfair for a man like him to be this distracting.

"You argue your points well," he murmurs, causing your heart to stutter. "But you lost clarity here—" he taps against a line of your writing, and your stomach tightens at the briefest brush of his knuckle against your wrist, unintentional but devastating. "There was a lack of specificity in your discussion of infusion times."

You swallow. "I—right. I see that now."

His eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. He leans back then, finally stepping away, and the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding leaves you in a slow exhale.

"You’ve proven yourself capable of better," he says simply, his voice low, even. "I marked you down because I expect more from you. And you expect more from yourself, don’t you?"

You nod, feeling strangely like you’re being examined in a way that has nothing to do with academics.

His mouth curves into the ghost of a smirk. It’s barely there, but you see it. "Then prove it," he says. "Brew the Draught of Living Death. If it’s flawless, I’ll reconsider your grade."

A challenge. A trap.

The Draught of Living Death is advanced, a potion that requires an unshakable hand, patience, and mastery of technique. One wrong move, one miscalculation in the number of stirs, the precision of slicing the sopophorous bean, and the entire brew will be ruined.

But hesitation is not an option. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Not when the air between you is thick with something dangerous, something that curls beneath your skin and settles low in your stomach.

“I’ll do it,” you say, and your voice does not waver.

Sharp holds your gaze for a beat longer—like he’s searching for something. Then, with the faintest nod, he steps back toward the supply cabinet.

"Good."

It should be nothing. A simple word of acknowledgment, an approval of your determination. But the way he says it—low, slow, deliberate—makes heat lick up your spine.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself before setting into motion. You need to focus—really focus—because if you let your mind wander, if you let yourself think too much about the way he's watching you, you’ll slip. And you can’t afford to slip.

So you fall into routine.

You move to the side table first, methodical, tying your hair back to keep it from falling into your face. You push your sleeves up next, rolling them neatly to your elbows. Every movement is practical, part of a process you’ve done countless times before. But still—you feel him watching.

You don’t look up. You don’t dare. But you know.

He hasn’t moved far, standing just a few paces behind you, arms crossed, silent, patient, present.

You want to impress him. You want to please him.

You flip open your textbook with, letting your fingers brush across the instructions. You don’t need them—not really. You know this potion. You know what to do. But having them open gives you something to ground yourself, something to look at instead of the weight of his gaze.

Still, you pretend to read, taking a moment to steady yourself before moving toward the cauldron, lighting the burner beneath it with a flick of your wand. The soft whoosh of the flame should settle you. It doesn’t. Not when you can feel the weight of Sharp’s gaze, steady, assessing.

You ignore it. Or, at least, you try.

Instead, you move. Measure. Pour. Stir.

The first ingredient is Infusion of Wormwood, followed by Powdered Root of Asphodel. Your fingers are steady as you measure it, dusting it in with careful precision, watching as the mixture thickens slightly, deepening in color.

Good. Perfect.

You force yourself to ignore the fact that Sharp's eyes are still on you. Your movement is measured as you reach for your spoon and stir twice clockwise. The liquid shimmers, turning a beautiful lilac, exactly as it should. You should feel satisfied, but it’s not enough.

Not yet.

You move to the sloth brain next. The texture is viscous, slightly gelatinous, and you add it swiftly before stepping back.

Then, the Sopophorous Bean.

You reach for your knife, ready to cut—

You hesitate. A memory flickers in the back of your mind—crushing the bean releases more juice. It’s not in the textbook, not something he taught in class, but you remember reading it somewhere, a theory proposed in an old alchemical manuscript.

Sharp notices.

“You paused,” he remarks. “Why?”

His voice is smooth, laced with something unreadable. A test.

You lick your lips, shifting your grip on the bean. “Crushing releases more juice than cutting,” you say evenly, flipping your silver knife on its side.

There’s a beat of silence. Then—

“Hm.”

It’s not praise. Not exactly. But it’s not dismissal, either.

You press down firmly, and the bean gives under the pressure, splitting and releasing its juice. Carefully, you let it drip into the cauldron, watching as the potion’s color begins to shift.

Then, the final step.

You reach for the spoon, feeling the weight of it in your hand, and stir—seven times anti-clockwise.

Each movement is deliberate, controlled, and with every pass of the spoon, the potion begins to transform, taking on that deep, endless black hue—the unmistakable, perfected shade of the Draught of Living Death.

And yet, you hesitate. Your hands remain steady, but inside, everything is tight, coiled—waiting. Because you aren’t just waiting for his assessment.

You’re waiting for his approval.

Sharp moves then, slow and measured as he steps toward the cauldron. He looks first at the potion itself, then at you, expression unreadable, his presence a force in the quiet tension of the room.

You should step back. But you don’t.

He reaches for a clean glass vial and dips the edge into the potion, watching as it glides into the container with the exact viscosity expected of a successful brew. His gaze flicks briefly to you before he lifts it to eye level, tilting it against the dim torchlight, assessing.

You know it’s perfect, but his silence is unbearable.

Finally, he sets the vial down with a soft clink and steps back, arms crossing over his chest.

“Near perfect,” he muses.

Near. Not entirely.

You don’t allow the disappointment to show, but you feel it, sharp and hot. A quiet frustration that tightens in your ribs, not at him, but at yourself. You should have been flawless.

His smirk is subtle, almost imperceptible—but it’s there. Amused. Calculating. “You hesitated before crushing the bean,” he says.

It isn’t a question, but you answer anyway. “I was considering my options.”

A pause. Then, he tilts his head slightly, watching you. Too closely.

“And do you often hesitate when making decisions?”

Your fingers flex slightly at your sides. “Not often.”

Another moment of silence.

“Then why did you?”

Your pulse stumbles. It’s not an academic question. Not really. There is something else in his voice, something threading just beneath the words. You feel it, but you step forward anyway.

“I wanted to make the right choice,” you say carefully.

Sharp doesn’t move, doesn’t break his gaze from yours, but something shifts in the air between you.

“You like proving yourself,” he murmurs.

It’s not a question.

Your breath catches in your throat, the heat crawling up the back of your neck before you can stop it. Your heartbeat is suddenly too loud, your skin too warm.

“I like to be accurate,” you answer, voice even.

His gaze lifts, slow and knowing.

“Hm.”

Sharp is still watching you. You can feel it in the weight of his silence, in the slow tap of his fingers against his forearm where his arms remain crossed.

Then, he turns slightly—just enough to angle his head toward the small potted plant resting on the windowsill.

"Fetch a leaf," he says. "We’ll test the potion."

It is an easy request. Simple. A task so unimportant that your stomach shouldn’t be tightening the way it does.

And yet your stomach does tighten.

Because he is standing right beside the plant. His hands are right there—steady, capable, within reach of the leaves. He could pluck one himself, could test the potion himself.

But he doesn’t. Because he wants you to do it. Because he wants to see you obey.

You swallow hard, heart rattling in your ribs as you step forward, keeping your movements measured, controlled—deliberate. You do not hesitate, because hesitation would reveal too much. You do not rush, because that would betray your nerves.

The moment you come close, you reach out. Your fingers brush against the edge of the plant, the surface of the leaves soft under your touch. You pluck one with careful precision, just as he instructed, your pulse knocking violently in your throat as you straighten and turn—

Only to find yourself impossibly near him.

Sharp hasn’t moved back. Hasn’t stepped away. His presence presses into you without ever touching, the nearness enough to send a pulse of electric tension licking down your spine.

Your throat tightens, breath shallow as you force yourself to meet his gaze. “The leaf,” you murmur, holding it out for him.

Sharp does not take it.

Instead, his gaze flickers—just briefly—to your hand, to the careful way you offer it to him. There is something unreadable in his expression, something quiet, something entirely too knowing.

And then, finally, he moves. Not to take the leaf from your hand, but to take your wrist. It is nothing, barely a touch. Just his fingers closing over your skin with the lightest amount of pressure, steady and warm.

A slow inhale catches in your chest, unsteady.

Sharp turns your hand slightly, adjusting the angle, his fingertips grazing along the inside of your wrist before he guides your hand over the potion vial.

The moment stretches too long, something slow and sharp unfurling in the air between you. The quiet tension that has been building all year, all those lessons, all those moments of careful restraint, now concentrated down to this single point of contact.

Then, just when the air grows too thick to breathe, just when your pulse thrums too loudly in your ears, he releases you.

“Drop it in,” Sharp says smoothly, his voice entirely too composed.

You blink, still feeling the ghost of his grip on your wrist. Then, as though forcing yourself out of some terrible, exquisite haze, you drop the leaf into the vial.

The potion reacts immediately, the liquid swirling and darkening before settling back into stillness.

Sharp studies it for a moment, then exhales, satisfied.

"Flawless."

It's just an assessment. A passing remark. A professor's acknowledgment of his student's skill. But the moment it leaves his lips, heat licks up your spine, curling at the base of your stomach.

Because it's not just the words. It’s the way he says them. Slow. Deliberate. Measured. And you—fool that you are—want to hear him say it again.

"So," you say over the lump in your throat. "My essay?"

A beat of silence.

Sharp’s gaze lingers on the potion for a fraction of a second longer, then, with his usual methodical grace, he steps back nd gestures toward the parchment still resting on his desk.

"Right." His voice is smooth, even. Almost mocking in its composure. "Your essay."

Sharp leans against the desk, arms folded as he studies your parchment with an air of measured ease—too relaxed, too composed. Too aware.

"I’ll admit," he says, dragging the words out just enough that something coils low in your stomach, "you did very well."

There’s an infuriating, calculated slowness to the way he drags a fingertip along the margin of the parchment, tracing one of his own red ink marks, as though considering something deeply.

"You constructed a strong argument," he muses, tilting his head just slightly. "Your thesis was compelling."

A flicker of something too warm coils low in your stomach.

"Your phrasing—" he pauses, exhaling through his nose, as though considering, as though drawing this out intentionally. "—was refined. Articulate."

You swallow hard. "Thank you, Professor."

His mouth curves, the barest hint of something smug. "But what I found most compelling," he continues, "was your attention to detail."

The air pulls tight. Because the way he says it does not feel like an academic critique. It does not feel like anything that belongs in a student-teacher discussion.

"That’s something I’ve noticed about you," he goes on, and his voice is quieter now, softer in a way that steals the breath from your lungs. "You don’t just do the work. You perfect it."

The words should make you proud. Instead, they make you burn.

You force yourself to breathe, to steady your voice. "I—I appreciate that, Professor."

Sharp hums, low and considering. "You're thorough," he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. "Diligent."

Your pulse stumbles.

"Precise."

Your breath catches.

"And," he exhales, his voice dropping to something dangerous, something just this side of indulgent, "you take feedback well."

The words knock the breath out of you. Your heart is a frantic, stuttering thing in your ribs. You hate how warm you feel, how obvious it must be, how your body betrays you.

And then, Sharp moves, the space between you disappearing, inch by inch, until the heat of his presence is nearly brushing against you.

Until he is looming over you.

The breath leaves your lungs too sharply, and you force yourself not to step back. You won’t. Because that would be a retreat. That would be acknowledging whatever this is. And you can’t do that. Not when he’s watching you like this.

"That’s why I expect so much from you," he murmurs, his voice smooth as honey. "Because I know you’ll meet my expectations."

He leans down, just slightly, enough that his breath is almost brushing the side of your temple.

"Won’t you?"

You can’t breathe. Can’t think.

You fight the way your body betrays you—the way heat licks at the back of your neck, the way your pulse pounds in your ears, but Merlin, the space between you is almost nonexistent. His presence is a force pressing against you, the warmth of him just shy of touching, and it’s unbearable.

Your fingers flex against the hem of your sleeves. You swallow, but your throat is dry. “Of course, Professor,” you manage, but it’s too soft. Too breathless.

Sharp hums. Approving. Amused. Knowing.

He leans back just slightly—just enough to allow air to exist between you again, but the absence of his nearness is almost worse than the proximity.

"In fact," he says smoothly, the deep timbre of his voice sinking into your skin. "You very often exceed my expectations."

Your throat closes. Your fingers twitch against the hem of your sleeve, gripping the fabric too tightly, willing yourself to breathe—to recover—to not completely fall apart at the single, devastating utterance of those words in his voice.

“I do my best,” you say, feigning composure, feigning detachment.

Sharp watches you for a beat too long. Then his mouth curves, just slightly. A smirk. Small. Subtle. Infuriating.

“I know. You're such a good girl."

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Heat licks up your spine, sinking deep, pooling low in your stomach—too much, too hot, too consuming. Your breath stutters, your lips part. You need to say something, anything—

"Th—Thank you, Professor."

Sharp smirks. Smirks like he’s just uncovered something dangerous. Something vital. Something he has every intention of using against you.

And you?

You’re drowning.

Your pulse is a frantic, stuttering thing, hammering against your ribs, surging so loudly in your ears that you almost miss the way his gaze lingers, the way he watches you like he’s just confirmed a theory.

Your fingers tremble at your sides, and you force them still, desperate to regain some shred of composure, to steady your breath, to not completely fall apart beneath the weight of his attention.

Because he knows. He knows about your desperate need for his praise and you are completely fucked.

You need to say something. To do something. Anything to break the tension, to reclaim some semblance of control, to pretend that his words didn’t just shatter you.

But you can’t.

Your mouth is dry. Your brain isn’t working.

Because he said it. Because he called you a good girl and you loved it.

Sharp exhales slowly, as if savoring your reaction. "You're welcome," he muses, deliberately slow, watching you the way one watches an experiment unfold.

Then he steps closer.

Not much. Just enough. Enough that his presence is all-consuming, pressing in from all sides, boxing you in—until the edge of the desk digs into the small of your back, an unyielding barrier that he has deliberately backed you into.

Fuck.

Sharp tilts his head slightly, considering. Calculating. His gaze drinks you in, moving from your flushed face to the subtle tremor in your breath, down to the hands you are desperately trying to keep still.

"Something wrong?" he asks, voice smooth as velvet. Mocking.

You swallow hard. “No, Professor.”

Sharp hums. His gaze flickers over your features, sharp and assessing, before settling back on your eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”

Your fingers tighten at your sides. “I assure you, I’m fine.”

Sharp smirks again, tilting his head slightly, as if to study you from a different angle. "Hmm. If that were true, then you wouldn't be holding your breath right now."

Your lips part—sharply exhaling, realizing too late that he’s right.

Shit.

Sharp watches your breath stutter out of you, and the slight twitch of his smirk tells you everything. He shifts again, placing his palm on the desk beside your hip. The shift is subtle but absolutely calculated, because now, he has you caged in.

"You know," he muses, voice low and smooth, "you really are a remarkable student. Dedicated, hardworking..."

Your breath is too shallow.

"And so obedient."

The word is like a spell cast directly into your bloodstream, molten and devastating.

Sharp leans in, his breath a ghost against your temple, the space between you nonexistent. "Tell me," he murmurs, voice like silk, smooth and slow. Dangerous. "Is that how you are in all things? Or does this particular brand of obedience—" his gaze flickers down, then back up, dark and knowing—"only extend to Potions?"

Your brain short-circuits. Every thought, every coherent response, every ounce of reason, completely evaporates. Your lips part, a sound barely escaping—not quite a breath, not quite a whimper—and Sharp catches it.

Of course he does.

He sees it all. Sees the way your pulse pounds visibly at your throat, the way your chest rises and falls too sharply, the way your fingers twitch at your sides as though resisting the urge to reach for him, to cling to him.

His fingers tap once against the desk, measured. Patient. Waiting for you to say something. To answer.

But you can’t.

Because your mind is mush. Because you want him to keep talking. Because you need more. Because every praising syllable out of his mouth does something to you, something ruinous, something you can’t name but don’t even care to fight anymore.

The moment your breath shudders out of you, the moment your lashes flutter just slightly, the moment your knees almost buckle, his smirk deepens.

“You’re not answering,” he observes, voice low, velvet-smooth.

Your lips part. “I—I…”

Sharp exhales—mocking, amused. “Hmm.” His gaze lazily drags down your body, assessing, lingering on the subtle tremor in your fingers, the sharp, uneven rise and fall of your breath.

“I think,” he murmurs, “that means I already have my answer.”

A sharp, impossible sound gets caught in your throat. Your fingers grip the desk now, white-knuckled as Sharp leans in even further, just slightly, just enough for his breath to ghost across your cheek, for his presence to press down on you, for his voice to sink into your skin .

“You really do like being told how good you are, don’t you?”

Your breath hitches—

That’s it.

That’s the breaking point.

Because he’s right. You do. You do. You would do anything—anything—just to hear him tell you again how good you are.

Sharp sees it. He feels it. And he knows you would. Because the moment your lashes flutter, the moment your breath stutters, the moment your grip on the desk tightens, he grins. A slow, devastating, entirely too pleased.

“I thought so.”

Your whole body burns. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything except stand there, trembling, helpless under his gaze.

Sharp watches you for a beat too long, drinking in the wreckage he’s made of you. Then—

Mercilessly, cruelly—

He steps back.

The loss is staggering.

Your knees almost buckle from the sudden absence of his warmth, of his presence demanding every part of you. But Sharp? He exhales, slow and composed, as if none of this ever happened. As if he didn’t just ruin you. As if he didn’t just unravel you to your very core.

Then, with infuriating calm, he turns toward his desk and picks up a piece of parchment, flicking his gaze back to you as though this is just another day.

“You’ll have your next assignment by Friday,” he says, voice smooth, mockingly casual.

And you? You can’t speak. You can’t do anything but stand there, barely holding yourself together, every inch of your body burning from the inside out.

Because he knows. Because he saw. Because he made you fall apart.

And worst of all?

You want him to do it again.

[sachiko6243]

You are ours to please

Summary: just pure smut, not much plot. This is the epiloge of a fanfiction I have written on Wattpad. Its called "the prophecy of the elven warrior" A fanfiction dealing with Visha the main character drawn between the Commander of the marchwardens and the prince of Mirkwood. Feel free to check it out, as it is finished now when I posted this. 😉🥰

Word count: 4521

Warnings: smut, threesome, rough sex, dom! Haldir, dom! Legolas, sub! reader, double penetration, anal, blackout and aftercare. This contains adult content. Minors DNI!!!

I found myself in the bathroom of Haldir, Legolas and my room in Imraldis. The three of us managed to sneak away as the festivities of Legolas and my wedding were on a high, hoping that our disappearance would go unnoticed. It would be very unlikely between all the elves, but I couldn’t help myself but hope. Now I was naked in the big bathtub, that had more in common with a pool than a bathtub. It was embedded in the ground, deep enough that I was covered up to my chest when standing.

Legolas had joined me in the tub, while Haldir was sitting on the edge, watching us with his usual strong gaze. Like a predator, Legolas had slowly stalked me down, until I found myself pressed against the edge and between Haldirs legs. His naked thighs caging me in, hands holding me by my shoulders as if he was presenting me to Legolas.

Soon the other ellon was standing in front of me, a sly smile on his lips, as he saw in my eyes how much this position turned me on. “You like that, don’t you?” He asked and I couldn’t help but blush, looking aside to hide my embarrassment. Haldirs callused fingers tilted my head back to look at Legolas. “Answer him, meleth. How much do you like this?”

“Very.” I softly whispered, not really able to get much more out of my mouth. Legolas grin turned wolfish, as he took another step towards me. “By Valar how much I love it, when you are a little slut for us…” He turned to looked at Haldir. “Isn't she beautiful like this? Flustered and riled up. Ready to take us as we please?” A growl grew behind me, the grip on my shoulders reaching lower, weighing my breasts. “Indeed, it is, gwanur. Makes me want to take her right here. See how much she is able to take.”

His words felt like they had a double meaning. And when Legolas ears perked up, I knew they had planned something. “Well… there are ways to test how much she is capable to take. I wonder if she is willing to do it.” Them speaking about me, as if I wasn’t in the room, set something free in me, that I didn’t know I had. Immediately, I melted into Haldirs hands, not really thinking about where I was and what they had planned. All I could think about was them filling me up. Marking my body and fucking me senseless.

That’s why I nearly missed Haldir speaking up again: “Look at that. She is already a goner and we haven’t really started. Are you sure you want to do this, gwanur? She doesn’t look like she can handle much more…”

“Please…” I begged. “I want to do it.”

“You don’t even know what it is, nin iell.” Haldir whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to spread over my body. “I don’t care.” I whimpered. “I need you. Both of you. Now. Please. Make the heat go away… I cant… I need…” My sentence got interrupted with the sudden moan that rang through the room, when Haldirs fingers squeezed my nipples between them.

Legolas closed the distance between us, pressing me against the cold stone tiles on my back. Even though the water was hot, it suddenly felt cold compared to the heat that rose in my body. “You wanna take us both? At the same time?” He asked, speaking out what both of them had in mind. I froze at the offering, my eyes widening in shock, snapping between the two men. There was no uncertainty, no tease in them. Just honest curiosity and honest worry about me. “You don’t have to, nin galad. We don’t want to pressure you.” Legolas quickly added, misreading my silence as fear.

“Okey.” I said, trying to make my voice sound strong, but I failed miserably.

“What?” Legolas asked.

“I wanna try it.” I repeated, clearing what I wanted. “You made me curious and now I wanna know.”

Both men exchanged a look, before the sly smiles crept upon their faces once again. “You are such a good little slut for us, do you know that?” Haldir asked, close to my ear and his tone send shivers down my spine. “Such a greedy little girl. So desperate to be fucked, that you don’t care about anything else, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, letting my head lull back against his stomach. “I want you to take me. Please. I need you!”

“Start it!” Haldir growled and Legolas didn’t hesitate for one second, catching my lips in a searing kiss.

As my hands lifted, one to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of hair, and the other to his biceps, Legolas shoulders relaxed. His body was impossibly warm, skin searing beneath my palms as I pressed myself forward, reveling in it. Legolas soft and warm lips curved into a soft smile as his free hand found my waist. My heartbeat feeling too fast, too heavy for me to comprehend anything else.

When his tongue pressed to the seam of my lips, eager to deepen the kiss and sink entirely into it, the reprieve of the water was lost. There was only heat; the wall of muscle that was his body, the soft press of his hands as they gripped my hip, his mouth as he swallowed the noises of my pleasure eagerly, his heavy groan as I pressed even closer.

It silenced every thought that raced through my mind. I had imagined this a thousand times before, dreamt about it more often than I dared to admit. Having them both take me at the same time was something that had wandered my mind a long time, but I was always too scared to asked them to do it. Fearing they might be taken aback by it, or worse lose their respect for me.

With every swipe of his fingers, touch teasing as he brushed along the expanse my stomach, up my sides, just beneath the swell of my breast, my body grew warmer. It was all dizzying, more than I could have ever asked for.

Any thoughts of the future, the past, the moments in between, all ceased to exist as Legolas nipped at my bottom lip, biting into it, and dragging a loud moan from my throat. And when I broke the kiss to catch my breath, he simply redirected. His lips brushing along the curve of my jaw, down my throat, marking the soft skin of my shoulder and neck. Warm hands trailed lower, fingers wrapping around my thighs and lifting to hitch me over his hips as his teeth nipped at my pulse point just beneath my ear. “We thought about this a long time.” He whispered; his voice strained in harsh self-control.

“You’ve…?”

Luckily, he managed to follow my train of thought where my voice failed. “We have lost track of how often, meleth.” He admitted, pausing only to mouth at the valley of my breasts. “It has been a deep wish for both of us. Have you take us at the same time. Caught between us, nowhere to flee, nowhere to hide. Forced to take the pleasure we give to you.”

As difficult as it was to formulate a coherent sentence, I blinked through the blurry vision that started to form in front of my eyes. “Thought about it too.” It was breathless, as Legolas hands lifted to my breasts, his touch certain as he kneaded the soft skin. “Wanted this. Both of you the same.” I added to make clear that I was consenting to this.

“We know.” Now it was Haldir that took lead of the conversation, enabling Legolas to fully concentrate on what he was doing. “You’re not subtle, nin iell.”

I gasped, not knowing if it was because of Legolas suddenly sucking on my nipple, or Haldirs confession that they knew I wanted it the whole time. Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. They had a way of making me feel as if I was the only person in the world, the only one worthy of their time and attention.

“Please.” The plea was muffled, breathed into the night, but Legolas understood. His hum of acknowledgement was accompanied by one last sharp tug on my nipple, making me gasp. “I know, nin galad.” His hand dipped between my thighs, fingers ghosting along the sensitive inner skin as he met my eyes. “We are going to give you what you want.”

Soft hands ghosted along my thighs, pressing closer and closer to the aching center as Legolas leaned in to nose at the hinge of my jaw. A plea for more was on the tip of my tongue, a request for him to just touch me where I wanted it the most, but before I could ask, his fingers swiped through my folds. His thumb caught on the sensitive bundle of nerves and sent a jolt down my spine.

Legolas mouth curving into a grin, eager to hear just how good he made me feel. I imagined he would tease, take his time to work me into a frenzy. But his touch wasn’t rushed, there was no need for him. He knew he had all the time in the world.

There was a deliberateness to the swipe of his fingers through my folds, a sharp precision that had my vision turning blurry at the edges as he finally sank a finger into my heat, my body arching into his as he shifted even closer. Haldirs grip of his fingers pressed me against his abdomen, holding me upright as Legolas blue eyes searched my face. The grip would likely leave a bruise but I couldn’t wait to see the outline of his touch in the morning. Giving evidence of what had happened.

Focused on my pleasure, I felt the press of his cock against my hip growing more noticeable with every swipe of his fingers. The hard, heavy appendage twitched with each moan that escaped my mouth, with every gasp, as his fingers brushed against the spot that had me seeing stars.

Though the water and dimmed fair light made it difficult to see much, I could clearly see the size of him as my fingers swiped at the sensitive head. The thought of feeling him, of taking all that he had to give, made me clench around his fingers causing him to groan: “Careful of what you are setting in motion, because if you think that’s going to distract me from ruining you, you are wrong.” Behind me, I could hear Haldir chuckle lowly at his words, his fingers finding their way once again to my breasts and lower.

Slowly pushing me forward, he sunk into the water behind me, his hot and hard body pressing against my back and I could feel how turned on he got by just watching. When he had reached low enough to take a hold of my knees, he lifted me from the floor. Now I was hanging in his arms, unable to do much more than twitch, while Legolas worked me relentlessly.

The press of his fingers growing more insistent with every swipe of my hand, with every brush of my thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, and with every gasp that left my lips. He mouthed at the damp skin between my breasts, breath fanning over my hard nipples and leaving me with goosebumps, as his thumb circled my aching clit.

“Please.” He hummed at my pleads, as my fingers tugged at his hair. “Want to feel you. Need to feel you.” I pleaded, eager to finally feel them after spending so long imagining this moment. “Please.”

A small part of me expected a taunt, a tease from at least one of them, that called me a needy slut, but they seemed just as desperate as I was. “Whatever you want, nin iell.” Legolas acquiesced, hand leaving my center after a final circle to my bundle of nerves. Even as I whined at the loss, he shushed me. “Its alright, little one. We are here to take care of you.” Haldir shifted his position, tapping my leg to encourage me to wrap it around Legolas waist. The younger ellon smirking at the shaking of my limbs, as I waited to finally feel him. He kept his eyes trained on my face as he took a brief moment to tease.

The head of his cock caught at my entrance, pulling a soft gasp from my mouth as my hands wrapped around Haldirs neck to gain some sort of stability. I tipped my head to kiss the man holding me, desperate to kiss him for a long time now, as Legolas began to press forward.

Every inch of Legolas filling me felt incredible, too much but not quite enough at the same time, and I allowed myself a moment to revel in the feeling, moaning into Haldirs mouth. Having both of them so close, and being full of Legolas, was overwhelming in the best way. Haldir eagerly swallowed my noises of pleasure, took them in stride as he gave me a moment to adjust to the feeling of Legolas buried deep inside my core.

Legolas didn’t move, waiting for us to break our kiss. Slowly Haldir loosened my grip around his neck, wrapping my arms around the other elf instead. I wanted to argue, but the words I wanted to speak falling out of my head, when I felt Haldirs hands move. He started to stroke my sides, slowly making his way lower and down my back, gripping my ass tightly. I twitched in anticipation, my walls fluttering around Legolas cock, making him growl slightly. “Are you still sure about this?” Haldir asked and I nodded. “Words, nin ithil. I need you to say it.” He demanded, quickly dipping into his commanding voice.

“I am sure. Please. I want to feel you both.” I whimpered, clinging on to Legolas, split in fear and hot anticipation that run through my veins.

“Okey. Than stay like that. Its going to make things easier.” Haldir said and I could feel him move around. “Try to relax as much as possible. You are going to feel pressure. Just tell me, when its getting to much, or you want me to go slower, okey?”

“Okey.” I shut my eyes, searching for my safe place inside of me. Then I could feel the cold tip of his fingers press against my anus. Out of reflex I tensed up, whimpering. “Easy, little girl. We are here. Relax. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He murmured, kissing up and down my back, making me moan, when he bit into my shoulder. Before I even knew it, he had pushed one finger in and I was overwhelmed with the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I breathed out, arching my back instinctively.

“Good?” He asked, lips still pressed against my skin.

“Yes… More please, Commander.” I whined, desperate to feel more.

He was going slower this time, pumping his finger in and out and when we reached a certain point, I knew why. A second finger putting slight pressure against my hole. “Breath, meleth. You are doing so good.” Taking his advice, I filled my lungs with air. “Hold your breath.” He ordered. “I am going to push, when you breath out, okey? When you are ready just do it.” I nodded, holding my breath a few second, before relaxing every muscle in my body and letting the air go. I could feel the next push to be wider, stretching me to a point that was just sharp for me to tap out, but then it was over. His two fingers sitting snugly inside of me and I couldn’t help but moan at the feeling.

Haldir was biting my neck in a split second to distract me from any pain, pressing me closer to Legolas, while smothering me with kisses and praises. “You did so good, nin galad. So, so good for us. I am proud of you.” Suddenly his fingers were moving once again, slowly fucking in and out of me.

“Yes… yes.” I mewled, arching into his movements, pressing my back against his chest. “Don’t stop, Commander. It feels so good.” He groaned at my words, capturing my lips with his, while he guided another finger to my hole. This time I was quicker to relax, making it easier for him to fill me up even more. Again, it shortly felt like it was too much, making me wince in pain. Both men stopped what they were doing, searching fear in my body language or my eyes, but there was none. Just pure lust and desire that were washing through my body.

I relaxed once more, allowing Haldir to move his fingers, stretching me and making me ready for his cock. Legolas tried his best to keep his face straight, but I could feel that the pressure Haldirs finger produced and the strokes he could feel through my wall made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.

“This feels even better than I imagined.” Legolas admission lingered on the edge of breathless, words nearly slurred. “Feels like heaven, bereth nin.” Him calling me his wife for the first time, made me rear up, a desperate yell on my lips. I nearly missed the possessive grin that formed on his lips. “Wife? That word is what makes you so needy? I thought us calling you a greedy little slut, made for only us to use and filled with our cum is what usually gets you going.” I whimpered even more, closing my eyes and falling back onto Haldirs chest, who just chuckled, keeping his act up on preparing my other hole for his cock.

“I think it still does, gwanur.” He growled. Legolas voice as smug as his, when he answered: “Oh I feel the same. So not only do you want to be a cock hungry slut, but a cock desperate wife? Is it that? Us possessing you not only by law but by the way we treat you? Use you to our pleasure only?”

“Yes!” I mewled, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. “I want you to own me. Mark me. I want to be used by you and nobody else.”

“That’s right, bereth.” Legolas kept on talking sinful words into my ear. “There will be only us who are fucking you. No man will ever be good enough to have you. Because there simply is no man capable of giving you what you need. Only your prince and your commander.”

“Oh god!” I cried out, my limps starting to shake with anticipation. “Please. I cant… Please take me. I need you to take me!”

“Hmmm you are begging so beautiful.” Legolas hummed, looking above me at an equally smug Haldir. “I think she deserves some relieve, doesn’t she mellon?”

“That she does.” I heard Haldir groan behind me, slowly pulling his fingers out of me and pressing the tip of his cock against my entrance. When I gave him the green light, he carefully pushed in and the unknown feeling had me seeing stars in seconds. Both of the men held still, letting me catch a breath and get used to the feeling of being fully stuffed. They waited until I gave my okey, setting a slow and sensual pace that soon turned into hot torture.

I didn’t know how they managed to hold and fuck me, but I wasn’t able to spent a thought on it anyways. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body. I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Haldirs shoulders, nails gripping and scratching Legolas shoulders. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth of their chests caging me in, the sting of Legolas fingers digging into my thighs, and Haldirs bruising grip on my hips.

Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. One of Haldirs hands sneaking around my body, settling between my legs and on the bundle of nerves. Slowly he started to circle it, tugging a string of curses out of me, when the heat in my body started to rise even further.

I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than their names. They didn’t seem to mind, however, every cry that left my lips spurred them on. “We got you.” Haldir promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. Legolas hips moved faster, sending water sloshing around us, matching the speed of Haldirs fingers on my clit. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my own pleasure. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Legolas mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would alarm everyone close by. Haldir had his lips on my neck, sucking dark marks onto my skin, soothing the stinging pain with his soft tongue. Their actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around both of their cocks. That had Legolas nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging Haldirs hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” He growled behind me. “Because you take what we give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Commander!” I cried out. “I will take whatever you give me.”

At my words Legolas growled deeply, the grasp on my thighs turning painful, as he tried his best to keep him from coming right then and there. “I will never get over the feeling of your tight little pussy gripping my cock so hard. Because you are doing it so good, like a forsaken vixen.” Grabbing my throat, he pulled me in for a harsh kiss, interrupting the things I wanted to say.

“Yes, nin ithil?” He asked, speeding up his tempo, riling me further into Haldir.

“I forgot.” I mumbled, fingers grabbing anything they could feel. He laughed out at my words, letting go of my throat. “Already forgetting yourself? And we haven’t even been going that long.”

“I don’t care.” I whined. Relishing in the fire in my core. “I want more. Please, give me more.”

“Of course, meleth. Everything you want.” He answered, now thrusting as deep into me as he could. I let myself completely go. Not spending one thought on anything else than being fucked. “Kiss your Commander!” Legolas ordered, and as quick as I could, I turned my head. Switching my arms from Legolas shoulders to Haldirs neck, I let myself fall into the harsh kiss of my first husband. He gripped my neck, cutting off the air from filling my lungs and I knew that he was close to coming, his actions set on tipping me over the edge one last time.

I relished in the feeling of how they filled me up to the brim.

How Legolas stretched me with every move, hitting my sweet spot over and over again.

How Haldir forced himself against the rhythm of Legolas, massaging me as well.

The lush sounds they drew from me filled the room, mixing with the water splashing around us. I was a goner. Theirs, the moment Legolas decided to kiss me. That little loss of self-control he had, leading to this incredible constellation. I tapped Haldirs hand, to signal him I needed air. Desperately I sucked a breath down my throat, the sudden allowance of blood to my head, making my vision spin around. “I love you. Both of you!” I cried out, my body shaking between them and I wondered how I was still upright.

And all of that possession they had over me, fueled the heat in my core to the point I wasn’t even sure if I wasn’t already burning alive. “Promise me to never leave me.” I whimpered, clenching and shivering around their cocks. “Never, nin galad. We are never going to leave you. You are our bereth and we will give you the world. By Valar, we would kill for you, if it meant you will stay safe.” Haldir growled, gripping my hair, and turning my head once more to kiss him.

I could feel Legolas bending down to suck on my breasts, a hand I couldn’t identify sneaking between my legs again, pinching my sensitive pearl softly between two fingers. I arched my back against Haldirs chest, clasping onto Legolas arms. The knot in my core now under so much tension, that he threatened to snap any moment. Of course, they knew. They always did. Holding me by my neck with a bruising grip, Haldir stopped the kiss, forcing me to look at the other man, growling in my ear: “Cum. Now!”

And I did. Screaming out in pure bliss, I shuddered in their arms. My walls rhythmically flickering around their cocks. I didn’t know if my eyes were open or not, because my vision just went black, causing me to slump against a hard chest. The last thing I felt was hot seed shooting up my holes.

The next thing I saw, was the ceiling and the bathroom faucets being painted in soft yellow lights from the torches on the wall. Slowly my senses came back to me and I could feel Haldir clean me up softly. Concentrating on the feeling between my legs, I noticed, that Legolas kneeled beside me, holding a glass of water. “Hello there, meleth.” He softly said, helping me sit up. Handing me the glass of water he watched me closely, ready to catch me again.

“You blacked out for a few moments. We cleaned you roughly and got you some water.” He filled me in, taking the empty glass from my hands, steadying my frame, when I tried to get up. But once he saw how I tried to get towards the bedroom on wobbly feet, he just picked me up, carrying me through the door and setting me down on the bed. Soon both of my husbands joined me under the sheets, securely wrapping me up between them.

[seresinhangmanjake]

For the drabbles!

I saw this tik tok where a toddler was meeting her baby brother for the first time and she thanks her mom which is something I feel like Eve would do

It is absolutely something Eve would do! 🥰

Oh, Baby Series

Words: 941

Alright, manic brain has been in full force again, so it's not perfect. My bad. It's also the slightest bit different from the ask.

---

You're about four months pregnant. Not so round as to be incredibly noticeable to the common stranger, but round enough at this point that, for Eve, looking at your stomach has become a daily curiosity. She knows there's a baby in there even though you haven't told her. She just knows it. She's smart for her age and watched her preschool teacher's tummy grow with a baby of her own, so when you get the slightest bump, you realize her eyes are now more often on your midsection than not.

She hasn’t asked yet (because you'd taught her it's not polite to ask people if they are pregnant), and you haven’t officially told her, either.

It feels wrong, though. She’s your daughter. She deserves to know she’s going to be a big sister, but you and Jake both know Eve has held every scrap of your attention for four whole years. From the moment you discovered you were pregnant again, you’ve been worrying about her reaction. She’s a bold kid. Opinionated. Stubborn. And therefore, occasionally unpredictable in her emotions. Yes, she’s wanted a sibling, but like any other child, it’s very possible that amidst her incessant begging for a baby brother, she neglected to consider that having another child in the house means that Mama and Daddy's attention will soon be divided.

That alone makes Jake terrified to tell Eve. Lingering guilt over missing her first few months of life has snuck back to the surface and he doesn’t want to disappoint her or make her think she’ll be any less loved. He can’t stand the thought of seeing her little face lose its smile, and doing anything to fill her eyes with big fat tears has always brought on bouts of nausea. So, the topic has been avoided.

But with each day that passes, the crueler it’s become to not share what you’ve known for months. So you and Jake pull your courage together and sit Eve down one morning to tell her the truth.

Jake's beside you on the couch, Eve nestled in his lap when you explain she's going to be a big sister. You expect an array of emotions—you and your husband being so prepared that you’d gone so far as to imagine the moment playing out in a very specific way: a look of awe then a wave of excitement followed by the potential settling in of pure jealousy.

On all counts you are wrong.

Your daughter is quiet as she stares at your stomach post news. Then she tilts her head back to receive her father’s encouraging smile before looking to you.

"He's really in there right now?" she asks.

And you answer: "Yes."

She takes a beat to consider your confirmation, her head tilting to the side. "But when did he get there?"

Jake looks at you with panic on his face. Oddly, no matter how curious your daughter has proven to be, your husband always finds himself blindsided by the unexpectedness of her questions. You, however, tend to manage just fine, and more often than not are willing to be rather honest with her. But you can't exactly tell Eve her baby brother "got there" during fifteen-minute shower sex in the hotel at Disneyland.

"Um,” you chuckle, “not too long ago."

She pulls away from Jake's lap and moves onto yours, and you lift your shirt up a bit so she can put her tiny hands to your belly. Her fingers are spread wide, as if covering as much of your skin as possible might mean her brother can feel her too.

"He isn't moving, Mama," she notes. "What is he doing?"

"Resting up," you reply. "It takes a lot to join the world."

She remains that way, just staring and feeling. And you glance at Jake, as unsure as he is of your daughter's next move, or thought, or word, until she mutters a quiet "Oh" and her face falls.

You cup her little chin and stroke her cheek with your thumb. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

With her lip worried between her teeth, she turns her head away from your gentle grasp and begins to fiddle with her fingernails. Like mother, like daughter, you think.

"Will he like me?” She asks so softly.

It only takes that brief moment to break your heart for the little girl who has never once had to worry about not being loved.

“Oh, baby girl," Jake sighs.

He runs his hand down the length of her blonde curls, then tucks strands behind her ear so he can have a clear view of the side of her face. "Of course he will."

"But how do you know, Daddy?"

"Because you're his big sister. And you're the only big sister he will ever have,” your husband stresses. “You will love and protect one another because that is what brothers and sisters do.” Then he squeezes her hand, smiles, and says “Ok?”

Despite his lovely argument, it's clear Jake hasn't fully convinced her.

She looks up at him. "But–"

"Baby girl, how often is Daddy wrong?"

Eve quickly turns her head so her eyes can meet yours. "Mama, how often is Daddy wrong?"

"Not very," you say through your laugh. "You can trust him."

Her lips quirk to the side. A beat passes, then she nods. "Ok."

She takes a breath before leaning forward to rest her ear against your belly. Jake grins at you as you rub your girl's back.

“Thank you," you suddenly hear in that sweet voice.

“For what, sweetie?"

“For getting me a baby brother.”

---

@wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

[king-candybug-backup]

I saw a post recently about Roadblasters feeling like an NPD collapse for Turbo, and it got me thinking of a couple things I wanted to ask you, if that's ok? So 1, how do you do your research in regards to writing about NPD? I've done some casual googling about NPD before (just out of curiosity) but vast majority of the answers I get look like they're from people who blanket-statement the whole disorder or smth, like they appoint themselves an expert because of having experienced narcissistic abuse, but feels like they don't actually know what they're talking about. Example being smth like say I'll google "Can person with NPD change" and all answes will be along the lines of "No, they'll be awful forever because they're evil and incapable of love or improvement" (extreme example, but that's the underlying vibe coming off from a lot of what I see but it feels like a very shallow and uneducated take on it)

And 2, what would you say is the most challenging part about writing a character with NPD?

GHFGFGDSFCHG I SAW THAT POST TOO, OP is so based 😂

Okay, so, for the first question, I've had a lot of the same issues before while researching, as NPD is unfortunately still extremely stigmatized, as are pretty much all Cluster B disorders, so there's a looot of misinformed people out there throwing out random bullshit as if it's fact. Hell, even in the medical/psychology field, there's a lot of demonizing going on with Cluster B folks, so it's really about filtering out the obviously-demonizing stuff to try and find sources that are legitimately wanting to be helpful/educational. One thing I'd say for sure is, do not use Quora for this topic lmao, I'm assuming Quora is where you're getting a lot of those kinds of answers because Quora is FULL of that sorta BS. While there can sometimes be helpful answers over there, it's mostly just full of people who want to brand the entire disorder as "evil" because of their own negative experiences. And I don't say that to try and discredit the experiences of those who've suffered abuse at the hands of people with NPD, it's just that painting the WHOLE disorder as "pure evil" because of it helps LITERALLY NOBODY. All it does is worsen that stigmatization and make it WAY harder for people with NPD to actually get help if or when they need it. In a convo I've had about this with a few moots, they also made some GREAT points that, like, turning the disorder into some "boogeyman" that you can blame all the abuse on just makes people wrongly assume stuff like "Only people with [x] disorders can be abusive, therefore if I see these behaviours in people later on they must have [x] disorder" EVEN THOUGH THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS AT ALLLL, ANYBODY WITH ANY KIND OF DISORDER OR NONE AT ALL CAN BE ABUSIVE, STOP TURNING IT INTO A LABELS THING I BEG OF YOU, anyways I'm getting side-tracked, sorry lmao

One thing I would HIGHLY recommend is checking out the r/NPD community on Reddit, that community is specifically for folks that actually have NPD, and there's a lot of good discussions in there that can be helpful in understanding how it works a lot better. So like, next time you google an NPD question, try adding r/NPD into your search or something, and it should show you discussions about those topics more specifically. Listening to discussions about the disorder from people who actually have it is about as good as you can really get when it comes to this stuff, lol. I'm also lucky in that I have a friend who has NPD and has felt comfortable enough with me to open up about their struggles with it, as well as knowing an extremely talented and well-educated writer that is very well-versed in Cluster B disorders that was willing to help me out with some of the things I'd been struggling with. (I talked a bit more about that and about some general Turbo NPD stuff in this ask) Also it's important to note that people with NPD, just like anybody else, are all different and may interpret/react to things differently. (I know that may sound painfully obvious, but you would not BELIEVE the amount of people that actually think "You HAVE to behave exactly like [x, y, z] or else you don't really have NPD" unironically, lmfao)

You're also probably better off using Google Scholar search results for NPD rather than vanilla Google, since the scholar version has a higher standard of research and education involved in the kinds of results it shows you. (That being said, as I mentioned before, there's still a lot of stigmatization towards NPD even in the professional fields, so always take what you read with a grain of salt, and take into consideration the way in which people talk about NPD.)

As for the second question, tbh, all of it has been pretty hard, it's really difficult to write a character from such a different mindset that I myself have never experienced, but that's what the researching part is for, ofc! I think the hardest part for me is like, writing the "extremes" of NPD thinking in an accurate-feeling way? Like, the extremities between "narc high" and "narc crash", I feel like sometimes I put Turbo in too much of a middle ground, which isn't super accurate to how NPD generally works. 😭 (It can be easier to healthily cope with those extremes for those who've been formally diagnosed and given the proper tools and support to handle navigating this stuff more healthily, but given that I'm writing KCB from an undiagnosed/uneducated-about-it kind of angle, it doesn't quite match up as well as it probably should) Another thing that's also been kind of difficult to work with is like, Vanellope being pretty much the only one willing to hear him out and (try to) support him, because like, she is nine and should NOT be taking on that level of emotional labour, especially for somebody who wronged her so badly, and I don't want it to seem like I'm making it, like, her "responsibility" to deal with this dude's mental health problems, because it's also important to note that she really REALLY does not owe him ANYTHING and has already been WAY too gracious, all things considered asghdfjvh..... Like, yeah, part of her motivations are selfish in that "This guy is basically the only thing stopping Sinistar from eating me, I should probably stay on his good side" lmfao, but even still, it's like... yeah, just not an ideal situation, she should not have to be worrying about this stuff, lmfao. Anyways, idk man, I'm still likely getting a few things wrong here and there, I am certainly not an expert by any means, but I'm gonna do my best the whole way through, that's for sure

[hanaruri-tunes]

Humiliating Leviathan (Levi x reader)

My first try at some smut, so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. And here are the warnings I could think of: Degradation, crying, masturbation, usage of underwear, usage of sex toys, going down on MC, two dicks (I gotta follow the common agreement that Levi has two dicks haha), snake tongue (again, common agreement), petting, praising

OKAY. I think that's it. Don't hesitate to tell me if I forgot something. I know all those warnings might make it seem hardcore but I promise it's actually quite a cute fic. Subby and pathetic Leviathan is the cutest. PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO LEAVE COMMENTS please please this is my first try at smut in the obey me fandom (if ever, actually) I would really appreciate the support.

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You knocked on his door three times. No answer. Knowing Leviathan he was either passed out in his bathtub after binge-watching an anime or playing games non-stop... Or he miraculously decided to go out somewhere. Probably to buy some merch from a limited-in-time store that has no official website from which Leviathan can order. Although he could definitely find some second-hand merch online he refused to do that. He would go on and on about how buying second-hand isn't supporting the franchise thus he MUST buy it directly from the source.

Seeing how there was still no answer you decided to go in. Usually his door had a spell on it that would send intruders into another random place in the devildom but he lifted that spell for you specifically. You were the only one who could enter at any time without any disturbance.

As you did so, there was no Leviathan in sight. Not in front of his gaming set-up, not in his bathtub, not passed out on the floor. So he's out, huh? You wonder why he didn't invite you or at least warn you that he'll be out today. Usually, especially if it's for a limited time anime café, you're always the first one invited. Well, you probably shouldn't pry but as you're about to step a foot outside his room... You stop. This is a pretty rare chance to look around his room without him pestering you.

It's not like you'll pry *too* much though. Just a bit, for curiosity's sake. (That was a lie you told yourself.) You inspect his figurines more closely. He's mostly into magical girl shows and moe blob shows. How cute of him. But you've always expected that he might have some secret sexy figurines as well. Or else why would he be so protective of some of the packages he orders from Akuzon? He's usually so unenthusiastic and slow when getting out of his room for breakfast or dinner and yet he rushes to the door when it's for a delivery.

After checking some of his drawers you find the fabrics and materials he uses for his cosplays. It's all mostly different hues of pink since he prefers cosplaying female characters- how cute. At one point you also accidentally come across his underwear in one of his drawers, it's all mostly black with some funky colors mixed in from time to time. He even has one of a limited edition HanaRuri-tan underwear collection.

And just as you think that you've struck gold... it's just some old stuff. Probably from some of his past obsessions. That includes precure dvds, aikatsu cards, manga magazines, et cetera. Again all cute shows mostly targeted to young audiences. Really, you can't see Leviathan as anything else than a completely adorable dork. People often don't get him for his specific tastes and hobby but all you see is a pure little guy who's still in touch with his inner child and who loves mostly light hearted shows. Surely anything he might hide won't probably be even THAT bad. Or even if it is... that's still cute in another way.

After looking in all of his drawers, no sign of any sexy figurine, of any sex toy or even erotic manga... This is way too suspicious. But then again Levi is smart, he probably wouldn't dare hide any of this stuff in his drawers knowing that Lucifer frequently comes to his room begging him to clean it, only to start off doing it by himself before Levi hurriedly joins him and kicks him out. If he had to hide something dirty where would he... ... You look under the bathtub. Nope. Too easy? Then...Reaching for his blanket and sheets inside the bathtub, you raise them, uncovering some sort of trapdoor?You slide it open and there's a huge box inside of it. If you had to guess, he used the same spell as the entrance of his room. Except this one always leads to the same space: the place where his hidden box is, wherever that is.

You pull it out, open it and there it is. Almost all of the stuff you had imagined him hiding was in here. Sexy figurines, erotic doujins, even some sex toys. Two in particular were bigger than the others. Fleshlights... But why two? Looking at it closer one's a smaller size and the other one is bigger. Did he get the size wrong the first time he ordered so now he has two of them? But more than that, there was something you really didn't expect to find here. A pair of panties. *Your* panties. You thought that maybe you had just forgotten it while moving back and forth between the devildom and human world but here they were, in Leviathan's precious box.

In some way this awakened something in you, a strange feeling of amusement while you realized that the cutest and purest guy you knew turned out to be a filthy underwear thief who most likely used it to jerk himself off.As you started to think that, a loud noise came from behind you. It sounded like some object had fallen to the floor- ah. Probably Levi who just came back and dropped his phone after realizing what you were looking at. Quickly, you wiped off the amused smile you had on your face before turning back to face him. You faked a look that was a mix of disappointment and worry.

"Levia-chan..."

The poor guy looked frightened, as if the sky had fallen on his head, as if his life was over. Even that pathetic part of him, you found it just so cute.

"Ah... ah... That- uh. I-"

Not even taking the time to close the door behind him, he dropped on his knees in front of you, lowering his head.

"I can explain! S-So please don't- please don't freak out o-or agh, I mean-"

His heart dropped when you walked past him. "It's over." He thought. The friendship you guys had built was done for. There's no way you would ever love him now or even want to look his way. There's no way a kind, beautiful, strong person like you would ever even spare him a glance. No way an amazing girl as pretty and genuine as you would give a second chance to a gross creepy piece of shit like him.

As the worst possible scenarios started to play in his head, he came back to his senses slightly as he understood that you had just closed the door in order to have more privacy in here. You slid his seat in front of him as he was still on his knees, sat down and crossed your legs, taking on a haughty tone. Almost commanding.

"So? You said you could explain but I don't really see what is possibly left to explain here. It all speaks for itself. All this filthy shit and even two fleshlights weren't enough to satisfy your dick so you just *had* to have a go on my underwear, huh? You slutty thief."

As you said that last bit you flicked his forehead that he was trying so very hard to keep fixated on the ground, but it was almost impossible anyway since you had your bare legs crossed right in front of his eyes. You know Levi loves it when you wear short skirts, it's hard for him to not look, even in a serious situation like this one.

"Agh. Well, uh. Ahh..."

After about twenty seconds during which he couldn't come up with anything plausible or even any attempt at an excuse he started to tear up. Completely lost, he lowered his forehead to the ground, bowing and apologizing profusely.

"I'm- I'm so *hngh* s-sorry *hic* please don't hate me. Y-You're right, I'm a pervert but please, I beg you for forgiveness *hic* at the very least please don't ignore mee- *hnghg*"

You felt chills down your spine. Was it horrible of you? While this little baby thought that his entire life was over just because you might hate him, you were just thinking how fucking cute he sounds when he's crying while genuinely in distress. You were feeling conflicted. One part of you wanted to pat his head and raise it, kiss his cheeks full of tears and caress his back while assuring him that you don't really find him that gross or creepy. In fact finding this dirty side of him made you giddy.

And yet, the other side of you wanted to play around with him a bit more before giving him ultimate bliss.

"Levi... Are you serious my darling?"

You gently pressed your heels on the back of his head as his forehead was still stuck to the ground.

"You really think such a lousy excuse will cut it? You know just how outright creepy this is, right? You went out of your way to steal underwear from me so you could rub it all over your dick and cum in it and yet all you have to say for yourself is just "I'm sorry, please don't hate me"? You'll have to do better than that."

Still sniffling, you could feel Levi taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"Y-you're right. Crying about it won't solve anything. I know just how much of a disgusting lame little fuck I am, it's already a miracle how someone as beautiful and amazing as you even considered me your friend. I've been blessed a-and so honored to be called that. So please, please give me a second chance Y/N. I'll do anything, really."

You took your heel away from him. Full of expectations on what the two of you were about to do if you played your cards right.

"Anything? No way. That's just empty words."

"It's not! I'll really do anything. I'll even be your b- um. B-Bitch if I have to."

You command him to raise his head up, he does. His eyes and cheeks are still wet from the tears he just shed and his face is all red from embarrassment.

"A bitch, really? So you'll even accept corporal punishment? If I tell you to lay down on your stomach on my lap, you'll do it? You'll let me spank you?"

For a split second you see it his eyes, this little fucker really feels like he'll get a kick out of this. "It's not a punishment at all!" He must be thinking. He would love to be treated so poorly by you. In fact, one of his occasional turn-ons was to imagine you degrading him, insulting how much of a perverted little shit he is.

"I- I'll do it. Anything you want to do to me, I'm fine with it so..."

You lightly tap on your thighs two times, telling him to get on. Obediently, he does... and immediately receives a slap on the ass.

"You're supposed to at least lower your pants idiot. Or else it won't even hurt that much."

"A-Ah, yes."

You saw it again. That glint in his eyes. He's excited and is just so barely managing to not display a shit eating grin on his face.

As soon as he does as you told him to, you spank him again. Harder this time. He lets out a little yelp. And as he does you grab his hair with your other hand to pull him up a bit and whisper into his ear.

"You think I didn't notice that? The corners of your mouth keep rising upwards you fucking pig."

Finally he completely gives up on the façade he is trying so hard to keep and lets out a huge unrestrained grin, the kind he has when you hug or kiss him on the cheek suddenly. Looking dumb and genuine, though this time it looks cuter as he's obviously enjoying the pain you're inflicting on him.

"Aaahh. I-I couldn't hide it after all, you're right Y/N. I'm a dirty fucking pig who even enjoys it when you're being mean to me. Bully me, hit me, spit on me. I don't care, if anything I love it. I'm so sorry for not even being able to be properly punished ahh I'm so so sorry~"

He says while not looking sorry at all. Pretending to ignore his stupid monologue you spank him again.

"Slut."

"Hnghh~"

He shudders and keeps grinning widely.

Only does he get a bit nervous when you decide to pull down his underwear.

"Ah- wait! ACk-"

You spanked him again, this time your hand made direct contact with his skin.

"Shut up you filthy bitch. Isn't that what you promised? You even said that you'll be my bitch so that's just what you are right now."

Rapidly the nervousness he had displayed a second ago dissipated.

"Ahhh~ y-yes, I'm your bitch. You can use me whoever you want, I'll even drink your spit if you ask me to ehehe- OW-"

"Quiet. Or- No. Actually, keep moaning. It's cute."

"Ehehe I'm sooo happy you said I'm cute Y/N."

"Master."

"Master~ ehehe..."

He was really digging this roleplay type of set-up you had invented. But while he thought you weren't performing and really wanted to punish him, you on the other hand were truly aware that this is all a sham from your part just to turn him on.

As you continued to spank him a couple more times, you noticed something odd. It wasn't that you felt poking against the side of your thighs since you had fully expected him to get a hard-on. It was that the poking sensation was double.

"... Levi, get up for a second."

"Um, w-wouldn't it be better to continue to punish me?"

Another slap made him yelp.

"Don't be difficult."

And so he did, and you finally realized why he owned two fleshlights. It wasn't that he had the size wrong and had to order a second one, it was that he has two dicks. One on top of another on his crotch, with a pair of balls for each. You can't help but wonder just how much more sperm he can produce than an average "person."

As you closely observe his two rods, Levi can't help but squirm under your gaze. Elated at the amount of attention and your focus on his private parts as his pants and underwear are now out of the way.

"It's weird isn't it? I'm so fucking gross that even my genitalia isn't normal. I'm impressed you can even look at it directly haha."

Silently, you keep staring. Utterly turned on by the many ways you could use this part of him when you'll inevitably fuck eachother. Seeing how you're keeping quiet, Levi keeps degrading himself, obviously wanting the same treatment from you.

"I mean what kind of weird monstruous fuck would have two dicks, right? S-So you can tell me, tell me just how fucking gross and creepy it is..."

He keeps smiling, his face flushed by the titillating humiliation he's feeling by having his cocks out in front of you, the girl he loves the most in the world. So you decide to humor him a bit.

"Hmm... So you constantly hide these? Is it why you always try to wear baggy pants? So people won't notice how much of a creepy fuck you are."

"Y-yeah haha. T-Tell me more..."

He's so docile and pathetic, you can't help but strive for more.

"No. That's enough. Even after a couple of seconds looking at it, it makes me sick of it. I'm bored. Won't you show me how you play with them when I'm not around?"

Leviathan's eyes light up at your suggestion. He can't believe a day would come when you or anyone for that matter would ask him to masturbate in front of them.

"R-Really? You wanna see that?"

"Well, you don't want me to be bored right? And you really reaaaally want my forgiveness for being a gross fuck."

Excited yet mortified, Leviathan takes two of the fleshlights and rummaging through the box, he finds some lube. You watch him start off by filling the two holes with lube, all while both of his dicks are still erect from earlier. You're honestly still amazed at how they look.

Just before Levi sticks his first cock into one of the fleshlights you get an idea.

"Wait a sec. Hand it over."

Obediently, he hands the sextoy over. You spit into it, your saliva mixing with the lube and you give it back.

"Here. Hopefully it'll enhance the experience?"

"Ah- S-shit! Had I known I wouldn't have used the lube at all..."

He looks down, disappointed but still ecstatic. He carefully places the tip of his shaft on the entrance of the toy and slowly starts pushing it in, his dick opening up the walls of the toy as he shudders from the sensation and your piercing gaze. He jerks himself off like that for a little while before you ask him if he's not going to play with his second shaft.

"Well... I can either use the other toy or... I can show you how I do it with your panties..." Seeing how silent you are he retracts his statement. "-JUUST kidding ahaha it's already gross enough to see me jerk myself off so disgustingly with a sex toy, n-no one would like to see their own clothing used like that..."

You smile, uncrossing your legs and leaning in.

"No, that's a good point. Show me how you've been using my underwear all this time you dirty fuck."

"A-ah! Yes... ahaha~"

Taking your panties carefully, he wraps it on his other dick and starts pumping it with his free hand. As he does, he starts explaining.

"A-at first, I would only sniff them but I couldn't resist the urge to use them like this. And now that I've used them too much your sweet smell has completely been overwritten by my disgusting stench so there's no use sniffing it anymore ehehe. That's so fucking creepy isn't? I-I'm such a creepy bastard."

There he goes again, degrading himself while expecting a follow up from you. But you give him none of that this time. Instead, you look at him with anticipation and give him a challenge.

"If you do a good job of putting on a show for me I'll let you go down on me."

The air surrounding him turned to a deep purple as he took on his demon form, his scaly tail wagging around like the one of a dog's. Then he started to pant like a pup as well, elated by your suggestion.

"Ah. Ahh. N-no way? Seriously?! I'll do it, I'll seriously do it. So please watch closely!"

All this time he was on his knees, but now he stood up, making sure you have a close look at his dicks. They were right there in front of your face and you had to hold yourself back from taking one of them into your mouth. He kept mumbling and stammering some intelligible stuff, but you're pretty sure it was something along the lines of "I'll do it" and "look at me."

As he was getting close to release, you could feel him lose himself in the pleasure as his knees looked like they were about to fold from the lack of strength he was putting into them. Probably not used to jerking off standing up, he most likely does it either sitting or lying down like most people. In an effort to keep him standing in front of you, you placed your hand on one of his knees then slowly brought it up, caressing his thighs.

"Do your best to stay standing~ I'll be disappointed if you fall."

"Ah! Yes, of course!"

A literal couple of seconds later, the fleshlight was leaking of his cum and your stolen panties were dripping with his seed. Not only was the quantity overkill but the texture and thickness of the liquid looked quite rich. It was like warm condensed milk. As if on instinct, you placed one of your hands under the dripping liquid, allowing a couple of droplets to land on the palm of your hand.

"Y-Y/N??"

You lick a droplet off, tasting it. Seeing you do that, Levi's knees finally give in and he falls to the ground again, looking at your lips and mouth closely while wagging his tail, overly fixated on how your mouth moves while your tongue is probably pressing those drops of *his* cum on the walls and ceiling of your mouth. Savoring it.

Despite it looking like condensed milk it tastes more like a nectar, sweet and unnaturally good. Is it a special characteristic for a demon's cum to taste sweet and good? Maybe it's to push each other to fall into lust... makes sense. Delicious cum would easily push demons or humans alike to fall deeper into the sin of lust.

"W-wah... I can't believe I just saw you do that. Am I in heaven? N-no that sort of erotic scene would never happen in heaven. Aha I'm so glad I'm a demon and that we're in the devildom..."

Satisfied, you open your legs and raise your skirt.

"It tasted pretty good, surprisingly. But I'm sorry to say mine probably won't taste as good as yours."

Levi crawls towards you like an obedient puppy. He closely looks at the small stain that had formed on your underwear due to his performance. He feels like one grateful and lucky bastard that you're allowing him to do that to you. Frozen for a bit by the sight, he drools slightly before snapping out of it and placing his hands on the side of your underwear. Sliding it down as the stain leaves a bead of your warm liquid behind. Levi looks at it stretch and break as he pulls the panties further down, up to your ankles. You get your feet out of them and kick them to the other side of the room, allowing yourself to open your legs better than if they had stayed around your ankles.

Placing your hand on his head, you gently push him towards you and pet his head.

"Will you start or are you too busy drooling?"

Not making himself be begged any further. He starts by so very gently kissing your clit, it's so soft that you can barely feel it. He wraps his hands around your thighs, preparing himself to eat you out. He's so adorable. As he sticks his tongue out you notice how he has the tongue of a snake. Not that you hadn't noticed before, he would try to hide it from you at first but when you told him that it was so unique and cool he wouldn't try to keep it away from you anymore, boldly opening his mouth when he would yawn or when he was complaining about something. Now there he was using his devious tongue on your sweet spot.

He was greedily tasting you, it made you wonder if you actually tasted as good as he was making it seem. Though you're pretty sure you don't have enchanted cum like demons do. He would sink his fingers into the soft skin of your thighs, feeling you up, probably wishing that you'll let him hump your thighs next if he does a good job at making you feel good. You start to mewl and as you do, you can feel his tongue double down on his efforts, desperate to make you feel better just so he can hear you whimper and cry out his name.

You look down, a bit overwhelmed at how good his tongue is at exploring your insides. You see him looking up at you expectantly, a happy glint in his eyes, full of love for you. It's funny how one moment he begs you to degrade him and the next he asks for praise with his shiny eyes. Appreciative of his efforts, you place one of your hands on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb.

"Good boy Levi."

He wags his tail and his eyes light up some more as he hardens his tongue, pushing it further than you thought he could. You let out another whimper, this time mixing in his name. And as you do, you realize how close you are to climax. You grab his horns and cross your legs around his head, trapping him in front of your pretty pussy. Not that he minds, in fact he wouldn't like it any other way. Feeling you come while you call out his name some more, he suckles on your juices, gladly letting it spread all over his tongue before swallowing it all.

As you let him go, he rests his head on your right thigh, his cheek against your bare skin. He keeps looking up at you in awe at how pretty your face looks just after you've come. He rubs his cheek against your thigh hoping to get your attention back at him.

"Did I do a good job? I can um, I can do other things as well~ Oh if the idea of taking me back as a friend immediately is too gross for you I can keep being your fucktoy for the time being ehehe..."

You smile at him kindly and scratch him under the chin. He wags his tail again and displays his signature wide grin. His laugh is so cute. As he did a good job you figure it's time to stop the charade and let him have a real go at you.

"I wasn't really mad at you by the way."

He lifts his head up from your thigh, eyes wide open.

"Huh?"

"I was just fucking with you, I'm not grossed out or anything. You're still my cute little Levia-chan."

You pat him on the head. His eyes well up in tears from relief.

"R-Really? You won't abandon me?"

"No baby, I just thought this was the perfect excuse to push you to do dirty stuff for me. You're not mad right?"

Leviathan jumps into your arms, crying.

"I'm so grateful that a perfect girl like you would choose *me* to make you feel good. H-Had you not forgiven me, I would even be okay with being your sex slave if you'd like to."

"Don't be stupid, I'll let you be my one and only boyfriend. What about that?"

Levi lets you go, then while still grabbing your shoulders he looks at you, his eyes full of hope.

"Really? You'd allow me? You would take a lame fuck like me as your boyfriend?"

You pull him back in, kissing him on the cheek, near the corner of his lips.

"Don't say that. You're my cute little baby boy. Everyone has an ugly and filthy side to them, but beyond that you're a sweet cutiepie who watches magical girl shows, sews cosplays and easily cries at any sad scene in an anime. I mean, look at me, I just tricked you into thinking that I find you gross and pushed you to jerk off then suck me off. Isn't that objectively pretty terrible of me?"

Levi stays silent for a while before you can feel his two dicks poking at your stomach and pussy.

"N-Now that I know you weren't mad, that was probably one of the best moments of my life."

"Perv."

You kiss him again.

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Was initially planning on making them fuck at the end but it got too long. Though I'm not against making a part two if people like it ahah. AGAIN please don't hesitate to comment, I would love to read your thoughts!

[bomber-grl]

Hiiii! Can I make a Hiro hc with an s/o who can talk to/see spirits??? Like, I had this idea on Halloween but my phone was broken

(Sorry if it sounds stupid 😔)

Hiro Hamada x reader who can see/talk to spirits!

Pairing(s): Hiro Hamada x Gn!Reader

A/n: this isn’t stupid at all! Have some more confidence my friend 😭

Lil bro is a person of science and is definitely skeptical of your claims when you tell him

Not that he doesn’t believe you, because he really wants to but still doubting it

Also think it’s noteworthy to mention that he probably likes ghost stories and stuff so he’d also be intrigued

He’s half and half in terms of believing you until one day that you’re over at his room

You keep staring at the corner of his room and just squinting at it, while also trying to ignore whatever was there altogether??

To say he was confused was a severe understatement and soon enough he couldn’t take the curiosity and just asked you

Hiro liked ghost stories sure, though they never really scared him

But for some reason, when you told him you saw some creepy ass figure that gave dark vibes?

Yea goosebumps appeared all over his arms and he couldn’t deny the chill that went down his spine

For the first time ever he was actually spooked out and became sort of paranoid, he even asked if you’d wanna chill downstairs near Cass instead 😭💀

After that he doesn’t really have an opinion or view on your abilities

Just that it creeps him out a bit and that’s all there is to it

Until, in a moment of vulnerability, he asks if you’ve ever seen any spirits around him

He isn’t the type to believe in spirits (despite being scared whenever you mention seeing any) but there’s some hope and maybe even fear of finding out if he’s still around

If you tell him that he doesn’t have any, he’ll be disappointed despite telling himself that it wasn’t likely

He just couldn’t help but feel hopeful

(But also relieved in case what he was doing with his life- albeit not bad- wasn’t great)

Yknow how I said he gets scared if you point any out at his house? Well he’s the exact opposite when you’re at public places

He’ll ask especially if you pass a graveyard and the answer is almost always, yes

Sometimes it’s fun to mess with him

I mean, he’s nice most times but others he can be kind of sassy to an annoying extent

So just imagine you’re walking back home from an outing and you stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

Hiro is so confused and asks what’s up but then you whisper very lowly about how there’s a spirt attached to him and following you guys home

Yea he’ll lose his shit

Other times he’s just walking into the lab and sees you chilling there only to see you talking to something (rather someone) that isn’t there

That’s actually how he found out of your little gift (?) in the first place

Likely saw you yapping away to just pure air and snuck up on you

Full on asks if you’re hallucinating and then it just comes out that you’re talking to a spirit

Definitely side eyes you at first but with the experiences that he witnesses next, there’s really no point

Also not a great thing to admit if you’re somewhere he spends a lot of his time in because he will be paranoid and get self conscious from then on

If you’re friends(?) with some of the spirits so much so that they become a regular in your and Hiros lives then Hiro will be accustomed to it

…from a distance

He likely doesn’t tell anyone else of your thing even if you don’t care because he knows people will think you’re both crazy and he’d rather just not deal with that

[elliesfavbae]

Are you nervous, flower? - first kiss with Ellie, part 1

synopsis: Your more experienced at kissing best friend helps you out

Pairing: Ellie Williams x unexperienced!reader

warnings: just a fluff, my first fic too (how do i crop a pic)!

part two, part three

wc: ab 1500

It was a hot summer day. Like 32 degrees celsius outside. The sweet space of your room was no better. You were BOILING, everything sticking to your skin. Ellie could’ve said the same, sitting next to you in your room. It was like she was a part of your room’s scenery at this point, she was there almost all the time. You have been friends since you remember, spending every while with each other. Ellie recently broke up with her girlfriend and she was ranting about it:

“I let her be my girlfriend for two months for what?! So she can cheat on me WITH A MAN?” She emphasizes the last three words

It seemed like she wasn’t upset about losing her, just was frustrated she “wasted” so much time, as she describes it.

“I’m telling you, she wasn’t worth it” You try to comfort her. But the amount of times she has told you about her break up within the last week is uncountable, and you can’t think of any good responses anymore.

“Yeah, I know” Ellie rolls her eyes at your answer and groans, throwing her head back.

“It could’ve been worse though. Like, you could’ve been together for a year or something” You try again but it doesn’t seem to work well and Ellie sighs.

“Two months is a long period of time anyways. You don’t understand, you’ve never had a girlfriend” She whines, throwing herself next to you on your bed.

“Hey!” You throw a pillow at her. “I still have time” 

“Okay, okay” She puts her hands up in a defensive gesture. She’s making fun of your lack of romantic relations whenever she can. “But you can do like, a lot of things in two months in a relationship“

“A lot of things? Like..?” You look at her, curiosity in your eyes as a thought occurs in your mind “Like… have you done the deed?”

“What? No! Ew, don’t say it like that” Another groan escapes Ellies’ lips and she hides her face in hands. “We just… Kissed. A lot. Unlike you” She smirks as she finds another reason to make fun of you.

You don’t say anything because you know it’s true. Yeah, you haven’t kissed anyone yet. It’s not like you didn’t want to, you just… Never had a chance.

“Actually, why have you never kissed?” She turns right to face you. There is no malice in her voice, just pure curiosity.

You drop your gaze down “I don’t know I just… I haven’t had a good opportunity, I guess?”

“Bullshit. If you wanted to do it, you’ve already done it. Seriously, with that pretty face of yours?” She jokingly strokes your cheek

Your gaze is still running away from Ellie’s inquisitive irises. Suddenly, it feels like the temperature just increased by another 32 degrees.

“I guess I am just too nervous to do it. I have, like, no idea how to kiss” You admit

A chuck escapes Ellie’s lips “Sorry, shouldn’t be laughing but it sounds ridiculous. You’ve never kissed because you don’t know how? Yet you don’t even want to try” Ellie really tries not to laugh but can’t help a giggle which she tries to cover with a cough

“It’s just not that easy as it sounds. Not for me” Though she is laughing, you don’t feel amused. You realized it’s true, you’re actually scared to kiss.

“Listen, I’m really sorry” The girl says when she sees your serious expression. Ellie puts her hand on your arm “What if someone… showed you?” Her lips curl into a playful smile

I finally let my gaze meet your eyes “Like a movie?” You awkwardly chuckle, trying not to jump to any conclusions.

“No dumbass, like a person would actually… teach you. Would that make you less nervous?” Ellie suddenly sounds kind and now it’s her gaze that runs away from your eyes.

I gulp. It’s obvious what Ellie means now “Like… you want to kiss me?” You ask, a ray of hope creeping into your voice

“No, I, uh. I don’t necessarily want to, I just want to be a good friend and help you out” She sounds so nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, yeah sure, you can steal my first kiss” I say sarcastically, but to be honest you actually want her to help me out.

“Alright, come here” Ellie’s confident again, she pats a space on your bed in front of her, inviting you to sit closer.

You take a deep breath as you change your position, fake yawning to check for bad breath hoping Ellie didn’t notice that. But she did.

“I don’t care about your breath, really” She chuckles again but it doesn’t sound annoying. Not anymore.

“It's not like I thought you would, I know you won't judge me and-” I start mumbling because of the nerves “fuck I don’t even know what I’m saying” I admit with a sigh and an awkward smile.

“Are you nervous, flower?” She brings her hands to your cheeks and gently strokes them and you feel dizzy as if the blood left your whole brain, but in reality it’s quite the opposite. A blush creeps on your cheeks. Ellie has never called you a name like that before.

“I promise it will feel nice” Your best friend half-whispers and you feel like the whole world is spinning. You must have a real stupid look on your face but you don’t even care at this moment.

“So,” she starts “It’s all about what you do before the kiss” She puts her hands down and looks you into the eyes. Then her gaze lands on your mouth and your eyes again.

“You should look them into the eyes, at their lips, and into the eyes again.” She bites her lip “Extra points if you do that.” You are so lost in this moment you don’t really listen to her anymore. You can smell her cologne and shower gel. You can feel how hard your heart is pumping, too.

“And if you’re bold enough” She stops to bring her hand to your ear and she tucks a strand of hair behind it “You can do this. Trust me, it works” But you’re a living proof it works, as well as the damp spot on your underwear is.

“So? Are you ready?”

At first, you forget words in your throat. You clear it, and answer, your voice just a whisper “...Yeah”

She puts her hands on your cheeks once again and pulls you closer. You watch as she closes her eyes, so you do the same. And then you feel her lips on yours. It doesn’t feel like you imagined, it’s wet and slippery. But she was right, it feels really nice. She sucks gently on your lower lip, tilting her head, so you do the same to her upper lip. You feel so many things at once, yet you feel numb at the same time. Butterflies in your stomach going crazy, the smell of her warm skin, soft lips against yours, confident fingers holding your cheeks, her saliva mixing with yours, throbbing between your legs. The only sound in the room is this wet kissing sound you are making and your heartbeat. And, did you hear that right, a whimper from Ellie? The kiss lasted about five seconds, but it felt like eternity to you. 

Ellie pulls away from the kiss. She keeps her hands on your face and you already miss her soft lips.

“So? How did your first kiss feel?” That’s all she says as if nothing has happened. As if she didn’t just kiss her best friend for the first time.

You touch your lips with your fingers, like you are checking if it actually happened. You are speechless at first, but finally manage to say something, it doesn’t even make sense. “Wow.. It was.. thanks Ellie”

“What?” She furrows her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips. “Um, you want advice? Another try? Anything?” She suggests, slightly amused by your reaction

“Yeah, right, advice or kiss me again or something” You start mumbling again

“I would say… Just don’t tilt your head so much. And don’t stress, princess.” She does it again, calls you a name that makes your face red “But to be honest, it was adorable how nervous you were.”

You finally regain your attitude but your voice is still low. You roll your eyes at her “So… Can you kiss me again?”

pics credits on pinterest: ambar, vic

[luminiamore]

𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖑𝖚𝖔𝖚𝖘

a stefan salvatore love story.

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

belladonna

Walking along the misty street of Mystic Falls was, ironically, a mystical woman. She walked without shoes, relishing the sensation of the ground beneath her feet. Her white dress flowed with the movements of the wind. Belladonna has just returned from the deep woods, where she had spent time practicing and creating new spells. Resurrection of the dead was her latest discovery, and that was over a hundred years ago. Her boredom was existentially intense.

She thought to herself as she walked. She could create a new species. Do banshees exist? She put a stop to her walking as she thought of an answer to her own question. They do, she remembers encountering an offspring of her first creation.

Ghouls? Since the fifth century. Demons? Been there, done that. Unicorns? Despite being on a different level of consciousness, they still exist.

She wanted to continue contemplating, but something else caught her attention. She walked by a boy who was sitting on the ground in front of what seemed to be a restaurant. The Mystic Grill? How original. Belladonna is not very fond of human interactions, but this boy seemed far too young to have that lost look in his eyes. It caused her stomach to churn, and she couldn't stand it for some reason.

She stopped right in front of him, but he didn't even seem to notice her.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you were alone. Would you like some company?"

His eyes brimmed with tears as he finally looked up. He gave a shrug and shifted himself from his spot on the floor, allowing her to sit. They remained silent for a moment. Belladonna didn't force him to speak until he felt ready to do so. He was grateful for that, for the motherly vibe she exuded.

He broke the silence, albeit defeatedly, "Why are you willingly keeping me company? Is there something you want? Because if you're looking for drugs, I'm all out."

She snorts, "Sweetheart, I have access to drugs you don't even know exist."

Jeremy gives his own laugh, thinking she's joking.

She actually wasn't.

He started up at her with anticipations, and so she sighed, giving him an honest response.

"You appear as though you could use some uplifting. I thought I might be the one to provide that for you."

"Why?" He doesn't ask this offensively but out of pure curiosity. Why? Why him?

"You remind me of someone I once knew. He had that same look in his eyes, a gaze lost and empty. You seem far too young to carry such a weight in your expression." She leaves it at that.

Jeremy is aware that she won't go into detail, but truthfully, that was enough to make him cry and lean against her shoulder without delay. How comforting. He has never had such a feeling before. She wraps her arm around his shoulder, and in that split second.. she feels it. She sees it, actually. She has a vision of his entire life flashing across her mind, like a T.V. show. Strange.

The hardships this boy has gone through, his attempt to numb everything with useless pills, and his depression. She can feel it- see it all. She couldn't handle the fact that this boy was not happy.

"Believe it or not, I know exactly what you've been through." She whispers against his ear, arms tightening around him.

"How?" There's a crack in his voice when he questions her. She finds it unbearable.

Belladonna ponders an answer. She has a feeling that she can trust. So she doesn't hesitate much before responding.

"Do you believe in the supernatural?" She hums.

"Been interested in that stuff my whole life, really. What, are you gonna tell me you're a witch or something?"

He smiles as if he were telling a joke, but it slowly dissipates when she doesn't offer any rebuttals. Silence. Certainly noticeable. When Jeremy gazes up at the woman, he sees her struggling to prevent an endearing smile.

"..You're a witch?"

"The very first, if we're being specific." A smirk graces her full lips.

His surprise makes her release a beautiful laugh, and Jeremy can't help but follow after her.

"But you look.. no offense, no older than 20. How is that even possible?"

"That is the furthest thing from offensive. I am immortal, which means I am untouched by the passage of time and therefore cannot die."

"How long have you been alive?" Jeremy never once separated himself from her shoulder during their conversation, as he feels truly at ease in her embrace.

"For eons now. I was born in the A.D. period, somewhere around the year 222, if I recall correctly. The exact date has, admittedly, slipped my mind a few times." However, by her expression, Jeremy noticed she didn't seem too bothered by this.

Jeremy pauses before responding, taking in the information she just shared with him. Sitting next to him was an anchor immortal witch. You don't see or hear that every day.

"May I pose a question to you?" She whispers, slowly lowering her head to lean on his. Belladonna feels incredibly protective of this kid she's met less than thirty minutes ago.

"Sure."

"Why are you sitting here, alone and seemingly on the verge of tears?"

Jeremy's breath shook, and he suddenly recalled the exact reason for being outside the grill in the first place. He was surrounded by loneliness. Today was his first day back at school, and he has a strong dislike for it beyond words. He had a habit of reliving his sister's overbearing and judgmental behavior toward him because of his coping choices, as if it was a broken record. He longed to end it, and he longed to get rid of the strange ache in his heart. It appears to him that he has no will to keep living.

He breathes out, steadying his thoughts as he responds, "Today was really exhausting for me.."

Knowing it was safe to do so, he proceeded to tell her everything. In their brief twenty-minute encounter, he felt seen, more than he's ever been ever since his parents died. Belladonna merely listens, rubbing his shoulder to provide comfort, humming to reassure him that she is here and not going anywhere. To reassure him that she's not making judgments but rather just listening. She thinks that's what he needs—someone who is willing to listen.

"Thank you for that." He finishes off.

"For what?"

"For not saying anything. For just listening." It feels like it's only the two of them right now. The steps and the chatter from the people coming in and out of the grill are almost nonexistent.

"Of course, Jeremy."

"Y'know, I never told you my name."

"Witch, remember?" Bella chortles. She looks up at the stars, and they immediately tell her that she needs to leave. The ball was happening soon; she had to get ready.

"I should take my leave now, but I must say I enjoyed your company." She begins, and she can feel the tenseness Jeremy is now harboring at her words.

"Or, you could accompany me to my destination. It's a ball, an event I presume you have yet to experience." She continues with a light, teasing tone.

"It's the 21st century, and people still have formal balls?"

"Now, that is something which I find offensive." She utters with a smile as Jeremy wipes his tears and gives a hearty laugh.

"My sisters and I are of the belief that this town could benefit from a touch of refinement, so we decided to host one."

Jeremy slightly lowers his head in embarrassment, " I don't think I could. I don't actually own a suit."

"Nonsense. I'll procure one for you en route. Now, up you go. We have but an hour to ready ourselves."

Jeremy heeds her words and rises onto his feet at the same time she does, and just before they start walking, he speaks once more, "You may not look ancient, but your way of speaking sure gives it away."

"My, aren't you perceptive. It seems even the youngest among us can recognize the weight of centuries in one's words. How charming."

"..Was that your attempt at sarcasm in ancient speak?"

"Truly, your perceptiveness knows no bounds."

chapter three. chapter five

[fangdokja]

I'm a nosey person. I can't help it. If you're comfortable sharing, I'd love to know how old you are! I'm 100% sure you're older than me. I'm 22, going on 23 this June. That's not old at all but young kids are starting to call me Auntie and things like that. Wow.

Also - what's your star sign and MBTI???? I wanna say you're an INFJ but I'm not too sure. I also went into your about me posts hoping to learn something more but THERE WAS SO MUCH! 😂 I wasn't prepared for the fact that I would have to SIT THE FUCK DOWN and just LOCK IN! I'll get to them eventually, I'm sorry!! 😂😂👹

Hahaha, I don’t mind at all. When people ask, I simply do my best to answer. I’m also used to people being nosey, so I understand the curiosity. That said, I had a feeling this question would come up eventually—I just didn’t expect it to be now or from you. Inbox messages always find a way to surprise me.

To answer your questions:

Age: My husband has made it clear that I can’t share my age, so I’ll have to respect that. Personally, I don’t mind, but he insists, so unfortunately, I can’t say.

Star Sign: I don’t follow astrology, but for the sake of curiosity—and because you asked—it's Virgo.

MBTI: I want to see the poll results first if people can identify my MBTI. For curiosity and fun. And hope you don't mind waiting for a week, before I give my answer.

As for being called "Auntie," I understand how that can feel. It can feel strange, weird, and all. Though, in my case, I tend to get called "Big Sister" more often. Lastly, your reaction to my "About Me" posts made me laugh. It’s fine—please take your time with them. I’m honestly surprised when people read through this kind of content. I'm just a human, after all, haha. Though your last comments like, “Sit down and lock in”—made me snicker out loud. But please, do take your time. Those are usually long posts; because I just want to give comprehensive answers for each Readers' efforts, not really meant to be read all at once.