#A little bit of what was going on within his heart with them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

narrans · 2 days

Text

My Borrowed Son | 18 | Concerning Claims

Chapter Eighteen | Concerning Claims

Parker woke the next morning from a startling dream. He was running from something that he couldn’t see, nor did he want to see. He was sprinting for his life. Lungs were burning. Tears streaking down his cheeks. Everything felt big and menacing.

Clouds darkened the sky within seconds. Rain came pouring down from the darkness high above his head. There was someone’s voice calling out to him. It sounded so familiar, and yet not at the same time. Waves and water threatened to choke him, filling his mouth and nose as he gasped for air.

When Parker opened his eyes, he sat bolt upright drenched in sweat and chest heaving as he looked wildly around the room.

It had been a while since he had that dream.

It was a reoccurring nightmare where the details felt too real, too close, just to be a dream.

But that’s what they were.

Dreams.

Heaving breath after breath, Parker leaned back and let his heart pound and race until it finally quieted. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and stared at the space sticker above his head while his mind processed the dream.

The digital alarm clock, right on cue, began buzzing against the far wall. It was the alarm humming away without a care in the world. The boxy numbers on the green lit screen illuminated the room in a Matrix like glow, making the waking world fell like it was still part of the dream world.

Parker gave himself ten more seconds before hoisting himself up out of bed. He pressed the hand-sized button on the side of the watch to turn it off before falling into routine. Comb through the hair. Face washed. Teeth brushed. Clothes on.

The familiar padding of his mom’s footsteps came into the room right on cue followed by the signature tap tap tap on the edge of the wall.

“Parker?” His mom’s melodic voice was followed by the sound of the creaking hinges as the wall pulled away.

“I’m up,” Parker called. The wall stopped moving but remained cracked ever so slightly. Parker took the opportunity to head into his classroom and get everything turned on.

Parker’s mom tapped the top of the opening for a moment before asking, “Do you want anything specific for breakfast? I know you’ve got a lot of presentations today. Just some jelly toast?”

Parker smiled. His mom knew him so well.

“Yes, please,” he called. “But in a little bit. I want to go over my notes again. I’ll eat during third period. Thanks mom!”

For whatever reason, Parker didn’t like eating first thing in the morning. In fact, he tended to do better throughout the day if he ate scarcely. It seemed to contradict the behavior of many of his fellow students and friends. Many of them were ravenous in the mornings recently, but not Parker. There were also a few other interesting things that were developing, but Parker wasn’t going to think about it right now.

First things first – notes.

It wasn’t until Parker leaned forward and began flicking on all of his devices that he noticed the drill bit he had brought with him the night before. He had scurried back to his bed so fast that he had almost forgotten that he had brought it with him and threw it on the ground by his computer gear.

The events of last night felt like his dream – real and not real. It was more like a memory than a dream, and this dream was staring him right in the face. The rusty flat head drill bit just laid there as if trying to tell some silent story Parker couldn’t translate.

Where did it come from?

Where did it belong?

An odd sensation of kinship came over Parker as he stared at that drill bit. Some days he felt like those questions could apply to him. Those were thought that usually happened during bouts of loneliness Parker experienced from time to time in the dark nights when he heard about his friends hanging out or going places he knew he could only dream of visiting one day – and never alone.

“Parker? Are you online?” the voice of Parker’s teacher snapped him out of his temporary distraction. He tore his eyes away from the rusty drill bit and focused on the webcam.

“Yes. Yes! Sorry. The connection was acting a bit squirely. Can you hear me?” stammered Parker. The initial startle eventually calmed, and class proceeded as normal. Parker unfortunately had to go first in his presentation because of the initial worry about his internet connection issues, but nothing like that happened.

Tests finished and papers submitted, he and his friends waved a quick good-bye since Parker decided to have lunch with his mom.

“See ya spaceman! Don’t forget! Gaming after school. If you’re late, I swear I’m coming through the screen to get you,” Billie threatened playfully as the screen went to “Please Stand By,” a screen Parker created to pan over his face when he needed to step away.

His bones ached as Parker stretched and stood up from his desk. It was finally time for lunch, and his nerves finally dissipated enough for him to feel it. For whatever reason, Parker was feeling hungrier when he did eat. He knew he operated better without it in the mornings, but recently he always felt hungry.

It was probably something to do with what his mom said about his body starting to change, but that was still on the back burner of Parker’s mind.

Now, another series of questions was keeping the teen preoccupied, and it was making him nervous. It wasn’t like there was anything wrong about what he did. Sure, he didn’t want to say anything about using the line because he knew it would worry his mom and she would probably make him take it down. At the same time, the curious things he saw by the electrical cover and the wall made him squirm in ways he hadn’t before.

Something about the darkness of the wall and how it seemed to beckon him forward startled the young teen, and hopefully his mom would know what he was talking about.

So, packing up the drill bit into a backpack, Parker headed out of his little house and, like a good little boy who didn’t want to get in trouble, climbed down the stairs. The distance from one side of the room to the other felt like an impossible distance and made the hair on the back of Parker’s neck.

The space just felt so empty.

There was nothing to climb on.

There was nothing to hide under.

Parker shook his head as he processed what he had actually just thought.

Where did that come from?

It was ridiculous. Why would he need to hide? There was no reason to hide in his own home. While the sensation of being completely exposed in a mostly empty room loomed in Parker’s mind, he elected to walk calmly across the wooden floor.

He had just made it to the door when he heard a little tap tap tap on the door high above him. Parker’s heart hit the top of his throat and he backed toward the trim, but stopped halfway and corrected his course back toward the door.

What was with him today?

“Parker? Are you finished with class?” his mom called softly as she cracked open the door.

“Hey momma! Down here! Yeah, we’re breaking for lunch,” called Parker. His mom’s eyes flicked from the little house to the floor where she immediately spotted him. He waved as big as he could and stepped back a few steps as she knelt and held out her hand to him.

“Well, perfect timing then,” his mom smiled. Parker clambered onto his mom’s hand and noticed the faint scent of cheese and butter accompanied by the faint smell of spices. If he was right, she made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch. “How did your projects go? Good so far? Feeling confident?”

Parker folded his legs crisscross style and braced as the hand beneath him lifted him high into the air. There was always an exciting yet nauseating sensation that came with his mom picking him up from the ground.

He thought about the questions and eventually shrugged as his mom rested her hand on the table for him to disembark.

“I think I did well. I had to go first most of the time since I was worried about my internet connection,” Parker replied. He felt something inside of him squirm uneasily.

“Yeah? Well, better to get it out of the way and then you get time during class to just relax,” responded his mom. Parker had heard that line before, and he knew she was right. Though he didn’t tell her, he had been using some of his spare time in class to work on his own writing.

Now wasn’t the time to think about his in-class activities, however.

Parker sadly had no inkling of how he wanted to go about asking, but the direct approach generally worked out for him. So, that’s what he decided to do.

“Um… actually… mom? Could… I ask you something?”

“You can always ask me anything and I’ll answer as best as I can.”

His palms suddenly felt clammy. Something in the back of his mind felt deceptive, like he wanted to keep this thing about the power and the drill bit a secret.

But why?

Why would he feel that way?

“Parker? You okay sweetie? You look a bit pale all of a sudden.”

Parker snapped out of his temporary stupor and looked up, realizing his brow felt a bit clammy too. He reached up and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, shuddering as he realized he had a light cold sweat on his brow.

“Yeah… yeah… I’m fine. I just… well… I got a bit spooked last night from the lights and that whole thing was just… in my mind just now,” stammered Parker.

“Oh… sweetie… I’m sorry. Did you have a nightmare about it?” At his mom’s question, Parker remembered more fragments of his dream. He remembered a hand reaching out and grabbing him. He remembered a voice shouting something at him as the rain pummeled the ground around him.

“N-no. I had a… different dream. Well. Nightmare. It’s the same one… about the storm.”

Amanda’s face immediately filled with sympathy. She knew about the reoccurring nightmare Parker experienced about some raging storm and darkness coming at him from all directions. In her heart of hearts, Amanda suspected her tiny, adopted son was catching glimpses of the past of where he was before, but she didn’t dare bring anything up – not yet.

When he asked the questions, she would answer them.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. You could’ve come and gotten me. Or rang the bell. I would’ve gotten up. You can wake me at any time,” said Amanda. Her heart ached as she thought about Parker shivering sad, frightened and alone in the other room.

“I know, but I wasn’t that scared. It was just a dream,” mumbled Parker as he averted his eyes. Amanda watched as Parker reached into his makeshift backpack and, to her heart sinking surprise, produced a rusty drill bit.

Immediately, a thousand thoughts ran through her head.

Where did he get that?

That doesn’t look like one of mine.

Why is it so rusty?

Wait… if he didn’t get it from me… where did it come from?

Parker’s question, raised by his thoughtful, tiny voice, brought her thoughts to a screeching halt.

“Mom? Is this one of yours?” Amanda set her jaw and held out her hand for Parker to place the drill bit. He surrendered it willingly and looked up expectantly for an answer. Amanda lifted it up, pinching it between her index finger and thumb, and rolled it around. The flathead had small scuff marks that she was sure Parker noticed along the tip which had scraped away parts of the rust.

It had been used – and recently.

What was worse was that she didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t part of her tool kit; but if it didn’t come from there, where did it come from?

“Where did you find this?” she asked as she felt her hands starting to shake, her thoughts now kicking back into high gear.

“By the electrical cover, which was a bit loose,” replied Parker. “And… there was something else too…”

Amanda swallowed dryly.

What was Parker going to say?

Was there any way to stop it?

Was it happening? Right here right now?

“Oh?” Amanda prayed Parker couldn’t hear the strain in her voice.

“Yeah. There was a weird mark on the wood. I… well… I went down to double check that the power cord wasn’t going to blow in the middle of my presentations and everything. I went down and found that by the electrical cover that we replaced. And I know you have a flathead, but it doesn’t look rusty like this so I looked at the cover and it was off slightly.

“So, I gave it a nudge and it came loose and there was this weird pencil mark on the wood. I can show you. It’s kinda small and looks like a little house with a checkmark on the inside. So, anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you know what it is and if this was yours.”

When Parker finished, Amanda felt completely sick to her stomach. Parker’s questions about where this mystery thing came from was part of her worst nightmares, and it was dangerously close to the truth.

Because, ultimately, Amanda’s thoughts went wild and made the dangerous leap that Parker might not be the only small person living under her roof.

If the tool piece wasn’t part of her kit and wasn’t there before when she was working with Parker, then someone had to leave it there; and that someone couldn’t have been much bigger than Parker.

It was only logical.

It was the only thing that made sense.

But… if that’s the case… does whoever it is know about Parker?

Are they going to leave him alone?

Are they going to talk to him?

What if they try to hurt him?

How long have they even been he-

“Mom?”

Amanda took her first breath in a moment and looked down into Parker’s thoughtful brown eyes. There was something in those sweet, innocent eyes that sent a pang through Amanda’s chest.

How?

How could she do it?

How could she tell this wonderful little boy that he wasn’t hers? At least, not entirely.

More importantly, why hadn’t this mysterious other person, if they were still around, come and talked to Parker? Or her for that matter?

Amanda took another deep breath and looked at the drill bit, making the decision of a lifetime.

Ultimately, Parker didn’t ask about himself or where he was from.

He only asked about the drill bit and the markings he found.

Answer the questions he’s ready for. If he didn’t ask, he’s not ready. If he asks follow-up questions after this… so be it.

“It’s weird,” she said after clearing her throat a few times. “I don’t recognize it. I don’t know where it came from. I can put it with my things if you’d like. Maybe it did come from an old kit of mine.”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I don’t need it,” replied Parker. “And the markings?”

“I can’t say without seeing it myself. They don’t look like carpentry marks or construction marks?” Parker shook his head to his mom’s questions.

“Nope. It’s just weird,” Parker stated. When her son didn’t ask any additional questions, Amanda put a pin in the conversation and decided to change the subject.

“Well, we can discuss this a bit more after you finish school. Until then, you need to get some food down. Your lunch break is almost over. Goodness, they don’t give you any time at all,” suggested Amanda as she picked herself up from the table and brought over the grilled cheeses and tomato soup she had made.

“Yeah, right. Thanks mom,” smiled Parker. He took his bowl and plate graciously and began eating his food in little bites, his appetite stunted by this interaction he had with his mom.

There was something in the air that lingered around like a bad smell. There was a tremor to her voice and a tremble to her hand. Parker wasn’t sure what it was. His mom seemed just a little frazzled.

But why?

Parker glanced back up at his mom and noticed her frequent nervous glances in his direction. That little curious voice in the back of his head forced him to surrender and ask once more, “Mom? You sure you don’t know where that came from?”

Parker watched as him mom’s fingers fumbled on her spoon, dropping it with an ear shattering clang as it fell back into the bowl. It made both of them jump out of their skin before Parker’s mom cleared her throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she claimed before biting her lower lip and slowly making eye-contact with Parker. “Where do you think it came from?”

Parker averted his eyes and shrugged, embarrassed to say he didn’t have an answer. That curious part of him wondered once more about what he saw last night when he stepped out of his room.

Was what he saw really a shadow? And, if so, what made it?

Was that what left the drill bit? The shadow?

One thing was certain, and it was that Parker knew shadows didn’t make themselves – and his mother’s curious claim of not knowing wasn’t sitting well with him.

Was… his mom… keeping something from him?

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Beginning

24 notes · View notes

nathantheauthor · 2 days

Text

"𝙃𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙖𝙢. 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚."

Toby by Madame Macabre.

Y'all were desperate for him, he won by a massive majority vote... So I present my take on Ticci Toby, as well as some of his relationships and what he's doing now, and fair warning, it's HEFTY. I do have to lay out a couple things before we actually get into his rewrite, because they are important for his character in the long run, especially to understand his story and themes.

The first of these articles that I have to lay out first is the concept and existence of Ripper Inc, as that is where he is currently aligned. The concept of Ripper Inc is the closest thing to the Creepypasta Family you will get in this universe, I found family and sort of reformation program for serial killers and monsters, pointing their homicidal tendencies and destructive capabilities towards those more deserving. Jack Revver (oc), the living skeleton behind it, has also turned it into a safe haven and protection for those hunted by or once influenced by cosmic entities such as Slenderman, Zalgo or even The Rake and HABIT. it's essentially giving characters that would have been better people under any other circumstance that chance to be better. Pastas who hunt pastas in a way. It also makes them celebrities, but I'm not going to get into that aspect as I'll see the faction itself for its own blog post.

The other main thing we need to get out of the way is that this variant of Toby was very much made out of spite for what the fandom did to him, and has also since become spite towards his creator. This doesn't mean his original origin is very much intact, but there are several changes that neither would have expected or planned out, in fact I don't even call him "Ticci Toby" at all, he's just... Toby. And I'll get into that and why later on in this post. But I present a more faithful reimagining of Toby Rogers.

Now! Let's actually get into it, and I want to start with something that does affect his design a little bit, and that is his equipment!

My Toby comes strapped with dual holsters and two sheathes, as well as two ammo belts wrapped around him. The reason for this being while he's still sports his iconic hatchets that reside within the dual sheets, the holsters and the ammo belts contains flare gun and a sig sauer P365, as well as their ammo.

Kind of the reason for the guns is because I always felt it a little bit weird that proxies mostly were given only melee weapons, especially in a world where any house you can break into you can just get shot. So, of course, Toby adapted and got the Sig Sauer, the flare gun was something he picked up afterwards, which out of universe is a reference to the burning of his house, but in universe it is a tool for hunts and just... Yeah, he won't hesitate to shoot somebody with it. Does he prefer melee? Yes, but he knows he's always going to be able to get close.

I've kind of made Toby into the asshole with a heart of gold archetype, he's a tsundere. Toby is rude, brutally honest, snarky and has sassy, but somewhat dry sense of humor. He's prone to depressive episodes, he's an overall conflicted person, one that's not even sure that he deserves redemption. I'm writing him that's how I see the natural progression of the original Kastaway Toby as a person.

I should also note that Toby does in fact have a small list of powers, as these are the baseline abilities I gave every single proxy. Toby has Captain America levels of strength, speed, agility and durability, as well as a healing factor that allows him to heal from minor wounds in a matter of 10 minutes and substantial damage in a couple hours.

One of the key distinctions between him and a lot of variants is the fact that when we first see him he's already been a proxy for years, he's in his mid 20s now, hell, he was already legally an adult by the time he was proxified, he was 19 during the events TICCI TOBY. I wanted to be more accurate to his source material for his age, as he's constantly getting shoved into the younger brother type role among a lot proxy interpretations, but he's not THAT young, he's at least a grumpy middle child.

Toby by the time we meet him is not a good person, but he can't be described as truly evil either, he's a victim of the world's darker side, from the cruelty of children to manipulators, a lot of his life was decided for him. But that doesn't excuse the things he's done, cuz ultimately, doing the things he's done are still, maybe out of necessity, but that doesn't make it any better.

Toby absolutely hates being referred to as Ticci Toby, the reason for this comes from the fact that this has been a name used throughout his life growing up to demean and mock his tourettes, to break him down, it's a nickname synonymous with bullying. This is something I've always kind of disliked the fandom form, using the story title as his code name instead of giving him a new one, so for this rewrite... During his team as a proxy, well, they call him "Matchbook". A permanent reminder the scorching fire he left his old home in, and a nod to the end result of a lot of his missions. However, nowadays he merely goes by "Toby", wanting to distance himself from his past and start anew.

Now, I'm sure this is what you're waiting for, the actual meat of his character, how I've completely restructured and rewritten his years as a proxy and what comes after. And we'll close out the thread with a lot of his relationships with those around him.

Toby's early time is a proxy was very much constant work, hit jobs, information scrubbing, stalking, and even stealing from police stations. A mind controlled pawn willing to do any odd job, he had nothing but orders left. It wouldn't be until after the first month that he would be brought to the "mansion", a dilapidated manner on the outside, but the interior was absolutely pristine, and it seemed to stretch on forever. In fact, it did, but other oddities were present as well, such as a door quite literally growing a name plate for him, or the living doll and undead nurse running around. Not that he could really feel anything towards it all other than cold and difference, that was the blessing of this situation, it was no longer just the physical pain that he didn't feel, but matters of the heart either for a time.

Of course emotional numbness didn't stay forever, and some of those around him began to become like family, a clawed entrance guard, a stoic tunnel dweller, a crimson artist, a fallen cop and even a missing soldier, they were the first things he's had to emotional connections since he vanished that night. He finally and fully settled into his life, knowing there was no way back for him and nor did his slender sickness riddled mind want to go back, he was a proxy to the end, a puppet on strings dancing to the static beat.

And it would be that way for the majority of his time as a proxy, mission after mission, and time spent with the few proxies he had gotten close to. Eventually it culminated into what would be his final day as a proxy for a long while. Thinking that Toby's ties had been completely broken, and that his missing memories we're finally and fully lost. During the final year as a proxy Toby was given a single mission, to hunt down and kill a woman who'd been close to figuring out his identity, an ultimately he did track her, and with pistol drawn... He found himself unable to fire, because what stood before him was his mother and everything came flooding back.

It was after this moment that Toby went on the run, taking his mother with him, and for months they were constantly moving, trying to throw off any of their would be hunters. A miracle fell into they're laps, as he saw her for the first time, Jane Phoenix. With the two of them brought before the skeleton, Jack Revver, their days of being hunted was over, as well Toby did not have the context for it at the time, deals were pulled to guarantee his safety.

The trio together, Toby Rogers, Jack Revver and Jane Phoenix, formed the organization known as Ripper Inc, Hired guns that handle contracts that I wanted Dead or alive, jobs that are usually considered suicide missions. It was because of a public incident regarding them that the world found out about the existence of monsters, but the veil of secrecy around the paranormal and supernatural have been truly shattered.

And this was his life for a while, he became a celebrity, he was free from the reign of the Slender Man, and most importantly, he'd found family and saved his mother. But nothing good lasts, and ultimately, in the same year, there would come again that shattered him once more. Didn't always been a hot shot, for all the months you've known her, but he never expected her to chase down Jeffrey Forester by herself, and there were three things that happened that night. Jane with ultimately be slain by the very man who made her what she is, a grieving Revver would be cited carrying her body through the streets in a vain attempt to get her help... And Toby returned to the proxies, he sought emotional numbness once more. How could he not? She was 19, she was the very age that he started at. A twisted mirror of sorts.

So yeah, that's all like pre-story open, that's all set before 2017. So this is where we first meet him, this is where we first pick up. In September of 2017, Jack Revver tracked him down once more, pulling him out alongside Heather Marshall, and with the choice to take one more. See unbeknownst to Toby, a truce had been formed, an agreement reached for reasons that only a couple years later he would find out.

There was a new found family, made of three familiar faces and a new one, he he hadn't ever met Bethany (Nina) before, but it heard about what Forester did to her family once they reach the offices, he felt... A sort of responsibility. Years have passed since then, and we're currently in the year of 2025. He has found a new family fully, been able to spend time with his mother, befriended other people like him, and even been on talk shows. Toby's.... Living a future he could have never seen. Often times he's still not even sure if it's deserved, he's killed countless, burned and destroyed homes and lives, but he's basically living the high life now.

He's in a high position the boot, as a founding member and one of the highest ranking members of Ripper Inc, and he almost gets the feeling, he's going to be the next head. Revver always told him of bright future, and often times Toby gets the impression that Revver is talking like he's going to die.

So, yeah, that's kind of where we are and where we leave him for now, so let's get into character relationships and dive into what his relationships were with his fellow proxies and the Ripper Inc family.

Proxy relationships:

Slenderman is probably one of the people he hates the most, if not his most hated. He is his a manipulator and abuser, the creature that's quite possibly the one who orchestrated his entire life to be as miserable as it has been. His freedom from the creatures control is something he's never going to give up again.

One of his most iconic dynamics, we'll dive into how he feels about Masky. He hates him. Toby and Tim often fight, Toby often pointing out the hypocrisy and arrogance in Tim's words, and Tim is often quick to point out Toby's lack of teamwork and rude attitude. Toby considers Tim to be a self-righteous and self-serving bastard. He hopes they never cross paths in a professional line of work again.

Hoodie is also rather hated Toby, and a good portion of this is due to the fact that hoodie does not care about people, he's begun to only focus on the mission. His indifference frustrates and worries Toby, making it so he'd deny in mission that he has to work with him.

His dynamic with Kate is probably one of the most healthy he has amongst the proxies, having formed a sort of sibling dynamic over the years. And even now, they're rather close, meeting up at the tunnels Kate spends most of her time every now and then. She's often one of the people Toby invites to the Christmas parties and ALWAYS shows up for his birthdays.

Toby and Own Allastar happy weather unique dynamic, much like Kate, he feels a sibling role, however he was the first to encourage Toby to pursue his hobbies outside of the missions, that a weapon wasn't the only thing he had to be. He was probably one of the most true friends Toby had ever had, and still is. The Red Artist's artistic depiction of Toby hangs within his bedroom.

Toby has very mixed feelings about Cody, this boy was made to replace him, he had been indoctrinated during Toby's months away. Ultimately, he believes X-Virus to be a good kid deep down, but can't bring himself to look the boy in the eye. He can't stand looking at his reflection, it makes him sick to his stomach.

His dynamic with Nightmare Ally is certainly a strange one, well they aren't on negative terms, he wouldn't consider them friends either, even if she still does occasionally help him, it's more of work acquaintances. And Toby is rather thankful she's one of the ones that often shows up as aid thanks to the truce.

His relationship with Ashlie is. . . Unique. They were briefly an item, he can safely say he's dated the boss's daughter. Although, the relationship died due to the lack of expression and communication on her side.

His relationship with Gregory Blaine is probably one of his most important, he was the small injections of morality back into Toby throughout his years as a proxy. Archive was, and is an essential part of Toby's foundations for the present. The former cop wasn't like the rest of the proxies, is frog's vacation wasn't made out of a choice to save the woman he loved. . . Toby respects that, maybe even envies it.

Probably the most surprising one, was Eric Watson, a former soldier who served in the Middle East after events of 9/11. Wildcard as they called him, was the very man that taught Toby how to shoot. The friendship they've shared is one Toby never could have predicted, and in recent years. . . He's lost contact, he's unsure where he went.

Tooru Jirou is someone Toby has VERY conflicted feelings towards, they get along well, and he does feel sympathy for her situation. . . But at the same time you can't exactly deny but it's all her own fault, play stupid games and you win stupid prizes. Adrenaline is definitely living with her stupid prize, whether she wants to or not. Regardless, they do often work closely together, she's even convinced him to appear on her streams.

Ripper Inc relationships:

Jack Revver is sort of the father Toby never had, a source of guidance and often the first to help him pick himself back up. Revver has shown Toby levels of kindness he's rarely seen outside select people, an unmatched sense of generosity and patience towards him. They'd start Ripper Inc together with Jane Phoenix, and it's made the two's bond unbreakable.

Toby's friendship with Jane Phoenix was like that of siblings, they bickered and fought, but deep down they always cared for the other. He still feels a sense of responsibility for what happened to her, despite knowing it wasn't his fault.

Bethany Gent (Nina Hopkins) is another he has found himself quite close with, as if using his sense of guilt and responsibility over what happened to Jane as a building block to protect Nina despite everything. She's a victim, just like him, and just like Jane was. Nina is one of the few people that can get him to go out shopping, acting as a sort of little sister dragging her older brother around. He'll never admit that it's kinda fun, he'd rather die first.

He's known Heather since their days as proxies, she'd served as a secondary motherly figure, somebody he could always depend on, one of the few cornerstones. Even now, he's still close with her, often going on missions together. Their bond has become inseparable. Rouge is one of his closest friends.

Liu Woods is, well, they get along alright, but he can't exactly really tell how he actually feels about the man, they haven't exactly going out of their way to befriend each other. Their relationship is strictly professional.

Nurse Ann used to greatly scare Toby, her methods we're far from humane or rational, but nowadays, he's doing quite close to the undead nurse, Annabelle Mia being his most trusted medical professional. They bonded over a shared distaste for Tim.

Jane and Mary Richardson have quickly become some of his closest friends, the two serving as elder sisters to him, with Mary often checking up on his mother for him while he's on a mission, and Jane serving as his personal trainer in hand to and combat. He's forever grateful to have met the married couple, they've had a positive impact on his life.

Eyeless Jack. . . Frankly scares him, such an unpredictable individual and one he could never spot unless he made his presence known. Sure, he'd trust EJ with field medical work, but just how literally talked and how hard it was to tell he was there in the first place. . . It just rather makes Toby uncomfortable.

His relationship with Korbyn JumpingEagle is one with a lot bumps, as initially she didn't truly understand his personality and who he was, and instead would opt to nag him and hit him with her trademark sass. Of course, overtime is they've become friends, given a couple near death experiences, it tends to bond people. They both pulled a better understanding of each other nowadays, even occasionally joking with each other.

Sally Williams and Lazari Swan are like the annoying youngest siblings to him, much like corbin, they were under the protection of Revver... And he's often found himself begrudgingly joining their tea parties or playing pretend with them. He for some reason just can't bring himself to be as mean as usual with them.

His relationship with scarecrow can best be summoned up as enemies to friends, they did try to kill each other in their first encounter. Once the circumstances had changed, they bonded rather quickly over there shared trauma with cosmic horrors, he with Slender, and her with Zalgo. They work rather well on the battlefield together as well.

Zero frankly weirds him out, the tulpa's bizarre antics almost never make sense to him and he's begun to learn not to question it. They get along all right, but he can't help getting the feeling that somebody's always crying for help when he looks at her.

Sadako is probably one of the weirdest dynamics he's had, I mean, there's not really much proper planning you can do around a media ghost who can now just travel anywhere she wants to the internet. They are in fact friends, but it does tend to lead to awkward moments and comedic situations half the times she appears. But alas, there's nothing to do, if she's the information relay.

Samantha Revver has shown that much like her husband, she quickly took on a parental role, and even became quick friends with his actual mother. The vampire has been nothing but kind to him, even going as far as to teach him how to cough to help him be even further self-sufficient.

Jana Revver has shown as well, that kindness. She's playfully picked on and teeth toby, but at the end of the day they act like siblings, she acts like an elder sister and almost reminds him of. . . Lyra. The entire Revver family has been like a second family to him. He wouldn't trade their bond for anything.

Jeffrey Hodek is somebody that Toby can't help but pay, before joining up with the group he was just a washed up and retired killer I wanted to live a normal life, but of course, as Toby knows well. . . Normal isn't an option for people anymore. They've got a rather friendly relationship, but ultimately they don't talk too much. Hodek is much more likely to hide up in his room and rewatch shows and movies the 80s and 90s.

Clockwork is... Natalie Oulette is an individual that greatly concerns him with her behavior, and yet... He finds himself strangely wrong to her, and ultimately they have gotten together. More than once. They're dysfunctional, sure, but they're actively working to find a way to make it work. If any song would describe their dynamic, it'd Your Stupid Face by Kaden MacKay.

Wow, this took so much longer than I thought it would but welcome to the end of the Toby information! Hope ya like this ramble!

20 notes · View notes

onbearfeet · 3 days

Note

kat my dear if you are in fact taking requests i am placing the lost/stranded wedge from the wheel of torment at your virtual doorstep like a cat with a dead mouse

Oooo, a present!

(Disclaimer: please do not take literally anything I say in this story about the Sierra Nevadas OR wilderness survival to heart. I am a dumbass, and I received my extremely limited wilderness survival training from suburban fundies who literally didn't know which end of a match to light, so the only bits of it I bothered to keep were "don't stand where a giant pinecone might fall on your head", "mountain lions are not your friends", and "here's how to check for rattlesnakes". Any information about bears, however, may be taken as semi-reliable because ... bears.)

Jack had never woken up in a tree before. Apparently, there truly was a first time for everything.

The shivering was what actually woke him. He was shirtless, as usual for the morning after a full moon, but the cheap sweatpants he'd pulled on before locking himself in the evening before were still intact, notwithstanding a snag near the left knee and a few new stains he preferred not to examine too closely. So everything between his hips and his ankles was at least bearable, but everything else was numb or shaking violently.

A dull poking against his right side roused him before he could slide back into a restful coma. He looked down. The spar of a broken branch was jabbing him in the ribs, and his shivering against it wasn't doing him any favors.

Then he looked farther down.

"Chingada madre," he breathed.

He was at least fifty feet up. Far below, a light mist rolled through the pine forest, hiding the roots of his tree from view.

What could have happened last night? He hadn't thought the wolf could jump this high, and it had never shown much interest in climbing.

"What were you thinking?" he muttered to it as if it would listen. "There's no--no food up here, no female wolves. Did you watch a Tarzan movie at three in the morning or something?"

Jack had never been especially afraid of heights, but the sudden sight of a long drop jolted him with enough adrenaline to wake up fully. He gripped the limb beneath him with half-numb fingers, took deep breaths of chilly morning air, and tried to think.

The last thing he remembered was lying down on the floor of the little cabin he and Ted had built in the Sierra Nevada mountains. He'd completed his full-moon ritual just like always: doors and windows shut and bolted, long chains on his wrists and ankles, a stash of werewolf-friendly food already out of its wrappings and within reach, and a big pile of blankets and old clothes rich with his and Ted's scents. It was as close as he could get to a den without risking the lives of every human being for miles around. His other side was never happy with the arrangement, exactly, going by the gouges in the walls and floorboards, but at least he usually woke up indoors.

The wolf couldn't open locks. Couldn't REACH them, usually, with the chains on. Wasn't clever or dextrous enough to open the puzzle lock on the bear-proof chest containing the manacle keys, a change of clothes, and the means to make coffee.

He looked down at his wrists, then his ankles. There were no manacles left, no sign of broken cuffs, not even the usual raw skin or bruising that would fade by midday. He hadn't fought his bindings at all.

Someone had let him out.

Dios santo, someone had let him out.

There was no one around to hear him, so Jack took a moment for himself. Slowly, taking care not to dislodge himself, he pulled his knees up to his chest, put his head down, and sobbed.

He'd had centuries to learn not to hate himself when he cried, and sometimes weeping was all he could do, so he let himself shudder and keen and wallow in self-pity for a little while. God knew he tried not to hurt anyone. He never wanted to wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth again. But people--pinche hunters, well-meaning fools, it didn't matter--always seemed to find a way to make everything worse.

He had moved his safehouses farther and farther from human settlements. Begged Ted to watch over him whenever he could. Tried every kind of lock and cage and chain and drug and spell to keep himself contained.

And now he was lost in the woods, halfway up a--he sniffed--black pine, probably, with no idea where he was or who might be looking for him or whether they would try to cut his throat with a silver blade when they caught up to him.

And there wasn't even coffee.

After a while, his sobs died away, and he realized he was shivering more than crying. He'd have to get moving if he wanted to warm up.

But where to move to?

He craned his neck, trying to scan the surrounding terrain, but he was only halfway up the tree, and that meant his view was mostly canopy. He could see the land sloping gently down and away in front of him, and based on the angle of the shadows, that direction was probably west. (Assuming he hadn't slept the entire morning away in a tree, but he didn't want to think about that.)

Assuming he was still in the Sierras--which the black pine strongly suggested, and it wasn't like the beast could run all the way to another mountain range in one night--there would be a substantial snowpack at the peaks for at least part of the year, and the meltwater would run downhill. There might be a creek or a stream downslope. All he'd have to do was find it, follow it downstream to whatever larger waterway it joined, and keep following until he found a landmark or something to eat.

At least there would be water. Probably.

He was just beginning to think about how he was going to get out of the tree without breaking anything important when he heard the scratching noises.

He leaned forward and looked over the side of the limb that was holding him up.

There was a large black shape swarming up the trunk, all flashing claws and gleaming eyes, and he yelped in terror and it didn't seem to notice--it just kept coming--

And then it halted, about ten feet below, and made a noise like a locomotive venting steam, and the smell wafted up and flooded his nose.

"Mierda," he breathed, unable to take his eyes off the bear.

It was skinny for a black bear at this time of year, and something about the way its ears and paws looked too big for the rest of it told him he was looking at an adolescent. Probably in its first season away from its mother, looking to establish a territory of its own.

The usual procedure, from what he could remember, was to look as big and intimidating as possible--stand up, wave his arms, shout--and try to frighten the bear into retreating. There were, unfortunately, two problems with the usual procedure.

The first was that Jack was physically smaller than even a teenage black bear, and he was currently huddled in a ball, shivering and smelling like he'd just been crying. Not the best position for intimidation, he felt, even if he could stand up on his limb and shout, which he wasn't too keen on in any case.

The second was that the most common reason for black bears to climb trees in a hurry was to escape something on the ground that had frightened them.

If the bear was scarier than Jack and whatever was on the ground was scarier than the bear, then the transitive property of wilderness survival suggested that he didn't want to meet whatever was on the ground.

The bear huffed at him again.

"Don't you take that tone with me," Jack snapped through chattering teeth. "I was here first."

The bear groaned.

"Go around if you're in such a hurry!" he told it. "You're the one who's supposed to be so good at climbing!"

The bear opened its jaws wide and bawled, giving him a view of its gullet.

"I don't care what your pinche plan was!" Jack shouted back. "You think I chose this from a menu of delightful options?!"

"Jack?!"

He froze.

He knew that voice. It was the most beautiful and terrifying voice in the entire world. It was salvation and damnation tangled together and swathed in red leather and softly curling black hair.

It was also a voice that was supposed to be in Europe.

Jack leaned over the side of his limb. "Elsa?" he called.

The bear grumbled at him, but that was inconsequential compared to the sight of Elsa Bloodstone in her full hunting leathers, standing knee-deep in morning mist and staring up the trunk at him with a sheathed machete on her hip and an unreadable expression on her perfect face.

"Jack?" she called again. "Bloody hell, what are you doing up a tree?"

Jack made a few incoherent noises before he got his mouth to work again. "What are you doing in North America?!"

"Saving your sorry arse! Don't you remember?"

Jack flapped his hands to vaguely encompass everything--the tree, the bear, his state of semi-undress, the general condition of the universe. "Obviously not!"

He could hear her snort from fifty feet up. "Come down, idiot. I promise it's safe."

The bear huffed.

"You and I have very different definitions of safe," Jack grumbled, but he pushed his back against the tree and began sliding to his feet anyway.

The bear squalled a little, but didn't swipe or try to lunge.

He supposed he couldn't blame the bear for being out of sorts. The first time he'd encountered Elsa unexpectedly, he'd wanted to climb a tree, too.

The trunk was big enough for him to work his way around to the opposite side before he began descending. The bear took advantage of the break in traffic to surge past him with a steam-boiler huff and a scrabbling of claws, but at least that meant they were no longer in each other's way.

The climb down the tree introduced Jack to several deep gouges in the bark left by his other self on the way up, and also every muscle ache the cold had previously kept at bay. By the time he half-slid, half-fell the last ten feet to land in a heap in front of Elsa, he was hurting in places he didn't usually remember he had.

She pursed her lips at him in a strange way, unzipped her red leather jacket, and draped it around his shoulders. He was pretty well out of dignity by that point, so he didn't bother to suppress the grateful moan as he soaked up her warmth and scent. Oh, gods, that was better.

"Can you walk?" she asked.

"For you, anything," he grunted, and wobbled to his feet without loosening his grip on the jacket.

She made that unreadable face again, put a hand on his back, and guided him away from the tree.

For once, she set an easy pace, letting the rising morning sun warm them both as they strolled through the high forest. When Jack stopped in the occasional clearing to soak up a little extra solar energy, she didn't seem to notice, merely stopped beside him to sun herself, too.

It was ... strangely companionable, for Elsa.

"I got a ... vision, I suppose ... from Ted through the Nexus," she explained. "He'd seen a small group of hunters near your cabin. Apparently, he likes to keep an eye on you at full moons."

Jack smiled a little and looked down at his bare feet.

"Anyway, he couldn't leave his post for some reason, so he wanted me to look out for you. I owe him half a dozen favors at this point, so I couldn't exactly refuse, could I?"

Jack shook his head. Nobody could say no to Ted, not really.

"Two Nexus jumps later, I was at the cabin first. There were four of them on the way, and I wasn't sure I could take them all before one of them got to a certain sitting wolf." She bumped him with her shoulder, and he staggered. "Lucky you left the key in that puzzle box."

"Wait--you let him out?" Jack gaped at her. "How--are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

She smiled tightly. "Not a scratch, actually. Once I, er, got close enough, I think you remembered my scent. I told you to run, and you did."

His mouth was wide open, but he didn't care. "Let me just--wait--you gave the wolf an order? And he obeyed?"

"What, like it's hard?"

He continued staring, still open-mouthed.

"Anyway," she continued, "once you were gone, I didn't have to play defense, so I took care of things and then waited for daylight to track you down."

Took care of things, he was pretty sure, meant hid four corpses in the woods, but he was too cold and sore and grateful to press the matter.

"Do you have any idea why you decided to climb a tree?"

Jack shrugged. "The beast does what it does. You get used to it."

"Hm."

They walked in silence for a while. Finally, Jack said: "I think it was scared. I was scared."

Elsa shot him a sidelong glance, her eyes flicking over his face. "Well," she said finally. "Good to know one of you has some sense."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She put her nose in the air. "I'm absolutely terrifying. One of you should recognize it, at least."

Jack giggled as he stumbled over rocks and pine needles.

It was an hour's walk back to the cabin, where only a few suspicious stains in the surrounding dirt suggested the previous night's activities. The door stood open, and Jack hurried inside to throw open his trunk and wrap himself in a warm hoodie and fluffy wool socks. His feet stung as feeling returned, but at least he'd be warm while he hurt.

"I should be going," Elsa said from where she stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Ted says he'll keep an eye out for when you're packed and ready to leave."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be coming back here any time soon." Not for a generation at least, he thought sourly. Then he remembered he wasn't alone, and brightened. "Would you like to stay for coffee?" he asked Elsa. "There's a solar hot plate, or we could make a fire."

"Tempting," she said dryly. "But there's proper coffee waiting for me at home."

"Oh. Right. Of course."

Her expression softened. "It's good to see you in one piece, Jack," she said. "Take care of yourself."

"Oh, yes. I always do."

Her mouth twisted in that strange way again, and she started to say something before pressing her red lips firmly together. "Don't forget to wash up," she said instead. "You've got--stuff on your face."

"Yeah, probably," he agreed, turning away from her. He probably looked a fright, to be honest. Full moons always left him covered in God alone knew what, staggering around like a half-dead man. He was suddenly aware that Elsa had been looking at him in his probably filthy state for over an hour.

God, he was a disaster.

She left with a final, awkward farewell, and he set about cleaning up the cabin in preparation to seal it away for a few decades. He wouldn't be coming back until he was sure the scent was cold, and that meant disposing of an awful lot.

The sun was high by the time he was done, soaked in sweat and stinking of hard work and leftover pain. Time to clean up and call Ted.

Elsa had been right, he thought as he fetched a bucket of water from his rainwater cistern and hauled it into the cabin for a final wash. He could definitely feel something smeared on his face. It was a bit sticky. Perhaps the wolf had run into a tree that was leaking sap. Didn't smell like sap, though.

He stripped down, poured a little of the water into a basin for later, and then dipped a rag into the bucket and started scrubbing. A proper hot bath would have to wait until he got to Ted's, but he could at least try to make himself presentable. Bad enough that Elsa had seen him in such a state; he would hate to inflict it on Ted, too.

Poor Elsa, he reflected as he scrubbed. She really deserved better than having to deal with his more monstrous side all the time. Brave as she was, facing down an angry werewolf was still no one's idea of a fun Saturday night.

Now that he thought about it, he wondered how she'd gotten the wolf to obey her and run without putting up a fight. That wasn't like him at all.

Oh, well. She'd probably never tell him. Hunter trade secrets, most likely. Perhaps she'd used the Bloodstone on him. It was no less than he deserved. At least she'd kept herself safe.

He dumped the bucket out the door, shook himself a little to get dry, and walked naked to the jagged piece of mirror he'd nailed up on a wall to wash his face in the basin.

And stopped dead.

Well. He definitely had something on his face.

In the center of his forehead, squarely between his eyes, was a red smudge. Exactly the shade of Elsa's lipstick.

He grinned to himself and grabbed a clean rag to wipe it off on. And possibly keep it forever.

"Okay," he told the wolf as if it would listen. "I'd do whatever she said after that, too."

Maybe he was imagining the agreeing rumble from deep in his chest as he wiped the kiss print and folded the rag for safekeeping before grabbing a second rag to wash with.

Then again, maybe not.

There truly was a first time for everything.

#werewolf by night #wheel of torment #whump #wheel of whump #jack russell #jack russell whump #elsa bloodstone #ted sallis #this isn't monster mash but it's still fun #elsa and jack learn to talk about your feelings challenge 2k24 #probably crack lbr

25 notes · View notes

screamingdollxd · 2 days

Text

Jeff the Killer x Prophet! Reader

Just to explain this little bit, i based this off of a story i have. Basically you, dear reader, receive visions, but must be unconscious to see them. Meaning that at random, you’ll fall unconscious while you see the vision, and well, when you wake up varies, and it’s a total mystery.

Sorry this is so short btw!! I didn’t have time to read over it either, but i’ll prolly rewrite it later when i get the time :D!!

Enjoy!! ^_< -★

Story info

Sfw

Gender Neutral reader

CW: fainting, faint religious hints (the whole prophet thing), mentions of death

I DO TAKE REQUESTS, ANY TYPE, JUST KEEP IN MIND I REFUSE TO WRITE CONTENT WITH BEN OR ANY OTHER CHARACTER WHO DIED A MINOR/CANNOT AGE. I’LL GET TO THE REQUESTS AS SOON AS I CAN BUT I HAVE A VERY BUSY SCHEDULE. DONT BE SHY!! <3!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Since you met him, he’d grown accustomed to the nights when you’d stay wide awake, rocking back and forth to fruitlessly soothe the anxious waves drowning your lungs, causing your mind to grow fuzzy and your heart to beat quicker than lightning.

But he would never grow used to the way you would simply grow completely still at random intervals throughout the week, only for your eyes to roll back into your head while your body grew limp, slumping against whatever furniture you were using or even crashing to the floor.

The first time it happened? He laughed it off at first. You were a bit of a trickster, and often pulled some worrisome pranks on everyone, including him.

He was just so used to you playing around, that for a while he thought nothing of it. In fact, when it happened in front of him for the first time and you crashed down to the kitchen floor, he left you there, assuming you’d be bouncing back up within minutes and back to annoy the others.

Then minutes turned to hours

And hours turned to a full day

When he came back downstairs the next evening, only to find you lying against the cold floor, unconscious right where you fell the day prior, he became far more anxious. He lost so much already. Sure, he didn’t exactly love your company at all times, but you were probably one of the few people he felt he could be truly himself with, even with him being as unhinged and expressive as he was. He’d messed up the first time, he wasn’t going to let himself mess things up again.

Over his shoulder you went, and up to the infirmary you were carried. The way your body seemed frozen and ice cold gave him a nauseous feeling in the bottom of his throat, you weren’t supposed to be that cold— but you were laying on the cold, tiled floors of the manor for hours and hours on end.

Once you reached the infirmary he all but busted down the door, placing you on one of the exam tables while Ann and Jack fussed in the background before realizing it was useless and that you needed to be treated.

Jeff couldn’t explain it well, he tried but all he could inform them of was that you fell to the floor last night, that he thought you were joking since you always pull some questionable pranks on others residents, and that he simply went back upstairs to his room believed you’d be up and bothering someone else in a little bit.

He became impatient as the two doctors scanned you over for major injuries, but left you asleep on the table. This frustrated him further, nobody was giving him the answers he obviously deserved.

His eyes seemed to widen a little bit (you would think it wasn’t possible) to hear that this was a normal occurrence for you. That you simply got these visions out of nowhere, but that your body would be forced unconscious until you’d seen the entirety of the vision sent for you. A prophet of sorts. Hence why you were taken in as a proxy, you didn’t have as much physical strength as the others, but what you didn’t have, you made up for it by providing valuable insight into the future.

Jeff looked back to your unconscious figure and huffed slightly, feeling a little shaky.

He thought you died, if he were to be honest

Without another word, he left the infirmary and walked back down the hall to go back to his room.

He started to entertain the idea of having Smile look after you when nobody else was nearby.

Just because it’d be a pain if one of their most valuable assets died and nobody stopped it

He opened his door and closed it roughly, groaning and lying down on his bed, the old frame squeaking quite a bit.

Just because it’d be inconvenient to have to dig a grave and have a funeral.

He pulled the blankets over his eyes and attempted to get a bit of sleep

Just because he didn’t want to admit he’d be hurt if you weren’t around anymore.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

19 notes · View notes

tonycries · 7 days

Text

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you.

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any.

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears.

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day.

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh.

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder.

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting.

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter.

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?”

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question.

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?”

Shit.

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane.

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is.

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click!

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact.

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad.

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah.

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.”

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart.

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful.

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod.

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years.

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years.

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way.

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’.

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet.

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him.

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night.

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him.

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you.

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy.

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted.

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole.

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch.

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth.

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now.

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard.

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high.

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway.

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss.

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor.

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this? He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls.

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him.

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him.

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass.

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good.

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now.

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours.

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl.

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base.

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below.

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips.

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now.

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years.

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with.

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken.

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go.

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else?

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

8K notes · View notes

angelfic · 9 months

Text

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott

9K notes · View notes

harunovella · 3 months

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language; s.g.

synopsis: when gojo satoru first fell in love with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, gojo is head over heels (love at first sight), hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo just being an absolute fool in love, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: I've been wanting to create a sort of anthology series for some of my favs so here's a test run! I rlly wanna do lil drabbles/oneshots that can both be standalone but also can be read as something continuous revolving around Gojo's story with his soulmate... pls lmk if you'd like to see more of gojo and his mochi (aka you!)

Gojo Satoru didn't entirely know what love was; what with being raised by other people who weren't his actual mother and father, how could he? All he ever knew was a life of being the Honored One, since the day he was born. Nothing but a weapon. Living as the strongest and treated like a god... he never knew what real love felt like. He never knew what it was like to give or receive it. At least, not this way.

Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko were his best friends, the closest thing to real family. It wasn't like he didn't have any, at least not while growing up, but were they really family when all they ever did was train him and treat him like the eighth wonder of the world? Unlike everyone else, at least Suguru and Shoko treated him like a human. They loved him for who he was, but didn't hesitate to snap him into place when his ego was too inflated. They were there for him, even when expressing whatever demons that he held within him was hard to manage. If it wasn't for them, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about his life. Sure, he'd act like everything was fine and dandy, money could buy him happiness as he had plenty of it... and he was pretty much unstoppable, but the idea of living a life without either of them didn't sit well in his stomach.

So, sure, Satoru did now a bit about love, at least the love he felt for his best friends, but nothing like what he felt in this moment. The moment his eyes first fell on you.

He hadn't a clue as to who you were, only seeing you stroll along the grounds of Jujutsu High with your little uniform. The typical jacket, a skirt beneath, knee high socks, loafers... and your hair in a low ponytail that was held together by an overly large ribbon. Cute was the first thing that came to mind, along with the terrifying sound of his racing heart. Who were you? How come he had never seen you before? Maybe it was because he didn't pay attention to any one else besides a handful of people. He'd be lying if he said he was sure the technical college held more than five students.

In the midst of sipping away at his little box of strawberry milk, walking alongside Suguru and Shoko, Satoru's eyes had aimlessly wandered along his environment as his two best friends had been discussing evening plans. It wasn't like him to care about what was going on around him, so it was quite the miracle that his eyes were looking anywhere but ahead of him... but, maybe this was destiny.

It felt like the world was suddenly moving slowly around him, rather dramatically like a movie. His lips parted as the tiny straw fell out of it, hidden gaze behind his circular frames becoming exposed as the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. You looked so graceful, the afternoon sun beaming down on you, your smile as bright as his eyes... he had to have been in love. This had to have been love. What else could it have been? Why else was his heart fluttering so quickly? Why else was he caught in a daze by your beauty? No one else, not a single soul, ever caught his attention this way so you must've been his soulmate.

There was something about you, from your gorgeous hair, to the cute bow, down to the uniform and the way it suited your form to the way you... wait, were you laughing with... Nanami Kento? Gojo's heart stopped as his grip on the milk grew tight, causing the contents to squeeze right out and squirt all over his face.

The sound of laughter caught his attention as he quickly looked at his two best friends, embarrassment filling his face as he looked back at you to see you now looking in his direction. Quickly wiping his face and turning away to scold his best friends, Gojo tossed the now empty carton at Geto. "Shut up!"

"What the hell did you do?" Suguru shook his head, wiping his tears as his shoulders shook with every laugh that rumbled throughout his torso. "Losing your cool over a girl, huh?"

"I said shut up!" Satoru snapped, cheeks burning with heat, embarrassed that he was that obvious.

"Must've struck something in him for him to spill milk all over his face like the doofus he is," Shoko snickered as Suguru went for a high five.

Swatting their hands and glaring at the two, Gojo hissed, "nothing happened, I squeezed too hard."

"Right," the two said in sync before eyeing one another, smirking and stifling a laugh.

Shoving past them as he kept walking ahead, grumbling to himself, Gojo couldn't help but peak over in your direction. You had already turned your attention back to the two on either side of you—Nanami along with Yu Haibara. Since when did they have a friend that was a girl? And when did you appear? He should've known seeing as both were his junior and both trained quite close to Suguru and himself. So you must've been new... He supposed he'd find more out about you, knowing he'd find a way to get under Nanami's skin and get anything out of him. He must've known a lot about you...

Gojo smirked to himself. He'd get his way.

"No," Nanami spoke as he crossed his arms. The confidence in Gojo's face instantly fading away. He didn't even hesitate, cancelling his plans with his best friends to bribe Kento into giving him some information. He swore taking his junior to his favorite bakery would help him out, but, no! Kento, being the wise boy he was, took advantage of Satoru paying for food in a false exchange for information. "I'm not going to be your middle man."

"Why not?!" Gojo whined, throwing himself back in his seat dramatically. "Just one thing! Something! Anything! She's the love of my life!"

Narrowing his eyes as he sipped away at his water, Nanami settled the glass down before crossing his arms once again. "Love of your life? You don't even know her name—"

"Because you won't tell me!" Gojo cried, throwing his head back and stomping his foot as if he was about to throw a tantrum. "Please, please! I beg of you, tell me something about her! Besides her name, what's her favorite color? Maybe her favorite food? Or... or what's her favorite date spot!"

"Satoru, I am not about to ask her what her favorite date spot is," Nanami deadpanned. "I'll give you her name and that's all. Everything else is on you. I'm not going to play matchmaker, let alone, set you up with someone so far out of your league."

Gasping in offense, Gojo clutched his chest. "Out of my league? Sure, she's a pure angel, a real heavenly being, but I like to think I am, too!"

"Egotistical..." Kento mumbled as Gojo frowned. "I'm only telling you one thing to get you off my back. You can't ask me anything ever again in order to get close to her. That's on you."

Pressing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, Gojo gave his best puppy eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. "Please, I promise to leave you be after!"

"You better," the blond man grumbled before giving his senior your name. "She likes to sit under the cherry blossoms on the eastern side of the campus. If you want to find her and talk to her, she's usually there on her down time." At that, Nanami stood up and tucked his seat back into the table. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the white haired young man. "All I ask of you is to be... gentle. She's a nice girl. I don't need you breaking her heart."

Sitting up with confidence as a wide grin took over his face, Satoru nodded with his thumbs up. "Believe me, I wont! I know this is love!" Seeing Nanami roll his eyes before leaving, Gojo happily sighed before looking out the window. Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, he eyed the cherry blossom that had petals delicately swaying in the wind. "She's my soulmate, I know we are destined to be."

#haruno writes;#satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #reader insert #fem reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

3K notes · View notes

horrorartsworld · 3 months

Text

all work & no play

lucifer morningstar/clingy in heat f!reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw content, breeding kink, daddy kink

a/n: i’m not kidding the brain rot is real with this man…

(pic creds: @/AncestralSinner on twt!!)

Lucifer was off on a business meeting with the angels which left you all alone bored and lonesome.

Of course you were missing him…

and of course it was your time of season.

You went back and forth one whether or not you should call him, checking the time almost every second until finally his meeting would be over in the next 5 minutes.

It wouldn’t hurt to call before it ended right?

Hitting his caller id number without a second thought and clicking facetime waiting patiently as you let it ring.

After the third or fourth ring you hear his sweet voice come through, “Hi my pretty girl…what’ve you been up to!”

Your thighs instantly coming together as you nibbled at your bottom lip at how just by seeing him your body temperature skyrocketed.

“I’ve been missing you daddy~” you pout at the screen using a baby voice as you watch his attention avert from you for a moment making your heart practically ache.

“Aww I miss you too honey…i’ll be home in a little bit okay!” his attention still elsewhere but on you. Who could possibly be having all his attention right now besides his baby?

You huff a little at this knowing you were in heat and he wasn’t here to help you.

Then a lightbulb goes off above your head as you held the phone out in front of you, starting to tease yourself a little. Rubbing your hand over your tits, grabbing and squeezing at them and then letting a hand slip under skirt to tease your pussy through your panties letting out a soft whimper causing Lucifer to put his attention back onto you in bewilderment.

Seeing you all desperate and needy that you had to call him on the phone finally put the thought in his mind that you were in heat. His eyes darkening instantly and his forked tongue darting out to lick his lips as he felt like he was practically drooling at the sight of you.

“Oh my sweet baby is in heat huh?” he coos softly as he started making his way out of the building hastily and back onto the streets of Hell.

You nod with still a pout playing at your lips as you start rubbing small circles against your clothed clit.

“Let me see~” his voice dropping an octave loosing it’s usual bubbly like nature.

Shifting the phone down to your skirt you move your panties to the side showing your already soaking entrance. Delicate fingers spreading yourself open to show off your sweet little hole to him that was aching to be filled.

“Fuuuuuck baby~” Lucifer moans on the other side of the phone not caring what sinner saw their overlord in such a primal and vulnerable state with his little girl begging him to breed her on the phone.

His hard-on straining so painful against his pants, which a couple whores on the street gave a whistle to and made him offers to come back with them, but he was so infatuated with you in heat right now he could careless, with your guys shared home being only two more blocks away.

“Just be a good girl and wait for daddy okay? I’ll be right there~” nodding obediently as Lucifer unexpectedly hangs up the phone making you huff once more.

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself for those few minutes, but before you could think about it there was a sound of keys jiggling at the door making you perk up within an instant.

The door swung open revealing Lucifer with his chest rising and falling rather quickly as his wings had been flared out now slowly going away in a ‘poof’ Seeming as though he flew here in a hurry just to please you.

“Oh come to daddy~” he purred with his arms outstretched and a hungry look dancing in his eye.

You didn’t hesitate as you walked over to him swaying your hips in a saucy manner which he quite liked as his eyes bounced with each movement. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you gave him a sweet kiss.

Lucifer hummed against your lips pleased as his hands started to slowly glide from down your waist to grab up under your thighs, hoisting you up to carry you back over to the sofa you were sitting on earlier.

Sitting himself down with you nestled in his lap facing him. His hands feeling how warm your skin was against his fingertips as just his touch was making you squirm against him, innocent lap sitting turned into you desperately grinding against him just to get off some how.

“W-woah slow down princess” he massages your hips pulling away from the kiss as he was starting to get more hot himself.

His hard-on from before still very much erect as it was nestled between your thighs igniting the heat deep in your core. You feel a little embarrassed and shy now that he was in front of you, but you just couldn’t stop humping him.

“I-I can’t” you sniffle, needing to feel relief so badly it hurts.

“Oh my sweet girl, it’s okay, shh.” he tries to calm you down as he gives a soft kiss to your forehead and squeezes your hips a little.

"You want daddy to make you feel nice and full. Is that right?" feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks as you nod, but you still can't control the way your hips are moving.

"Maybe claim you completely…Would you like that?"

Hearing his warm words in your ear was driving you up the wall, kneading your hands against his shoulders as a more pleading look decorated your features.

“Tell daddy baby~..” kissing your ear gently then peppering wet kisses down your neck.

Your mind so full of your arousal like this you had a hard time with forming your words.

“I w-want yo-ou~” you muster out softly as you then got up from your spot on his lap turning yourself around to present yourself to him.

Lucifer is nearly at a loss for words, too, seeing your cute little behind and the obvious wet patch on your panties where your skirt had been hiked up.

"Y-you want me in there?”

You nod gingerly as he then rubs a thumb over the wet patch lightly grazing your clit against your panties making you whine. He cruses under his breath as he doesn’t hesitate pulling you back down against his lap after making that noise showing how eager he was getting himself.

"You wanna come sit on my cock?" he offers, tugging your panties aside with a moan, seeing how your dripping down your thighs for him.

"Right here, angel" he pulls his angry erection out from his nice dress pants, lining himself up and stretching you open.

You feel the spread of his tip that could satisfy you alone with the width and thickness, but he couldn’t hold back anymore as he pulled you down onto him with a groan, "S-sweetheart…you’re soo tight~”

You whimper as that ache in your tummy was finally being satisfied with ease and loving. Looking back to see Lucifer completely entranced with you going up and down his length with his guide, his lower lip sucked in between his teeth.

"Fuck that's it, baby- you’re doing such a good job for daddy," he coos then pulling your body closer, pressing kisses to the back of your neck in his warm embrace.

He fucks away your embarrassment of being in such incredible need, with that fiery heat inside you. It all starts melting away, dripping down his cock until you feel him start to pulse and throb inside you.

"I-I’m s-so m fucking close-"

"P-please cum daddy" You mewl, hearing him growl behind you as you egged him on making him grab your hips a little firmer as he brought you down on him harder. Turning back at him once more to see that gorgeous, pleasured look on his face as he gets his first orgasm.

Breathing heavily now, you go to stand up to let him rest, but his hands grab onto your waist once more and he keeps you seated on his length.

"You wanna go again?"

He feels you clenching on him already with that surprised look on your face.

"Haha, why should we stop there?..I don’t got any meetings tommorrow- so i can give you allllll the attention you want”

He knows that when his sweet girl is in heat that she needs all the attention she can get…Not only with lots of love, but a nice long dick that’ll keep her filled with it’s cum.

He just wanted to make you happy.

Hearing this almost had you to the point of crying tears a pure joy that it was almost overwhelming that he wanted to take care of you like this.

So you let him do just that all night long, till he had you resting against his bare chest completely spent letting out soft sighs as you slept. He couldn’t help but smile down at his pretty girl cuddled up against him, pulling a blanket over the two of you before whispering, “i love you”, giving you a soft kiss amongst your head and then settling him self down for a much needed rest.

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹 lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin imagine #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar smut

4K notes · View notes

feral4daryl · 6 months

Text

masterlist || MDNI

sweet scent.

perv!daryl x fem!reader

summary: while looking for his crossbow around the house, daryl ends up finding a pile of your dirty clothes and... used panties of yours. and when no one's looking, he decides to have some fun with them.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl is in his late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18), not entirely proofread, smut, mean!daryl sort of, corruption kink, daryl being an absolute pervert, panties sniffing, daddy kink, masturbation, cussing, daryl imagining himself doing the dirtiest things to you (unprotected p-in-v, squirting, face fucking, praising, loss of virginity, cunnilingus and i think that's pretty much it)

word count: 2.8k

a/n: please proceed with caution, this piece of work portrays a few extreme or unusual fetishes, so if you're not comfortable with any of those i've listed above please do not ready this. the idea that inspired this work originally belongs to @dilfsandmartinis.

if there was something daryl absolutely hated, it was the feeling of uselessness.

since andrea had mistaken him for a walker and shot him from afar, grazing his head, useless was exactly how he felt, having to lay down on a bed the whole day and night, doing absolutely nothing but be left alone with his own thoughts. and oh, what a disgraceful fate.

everytime he wasn't focused on hunting, fighting or surviving in general, the farmer's sweet younger daughter flooded his mind. your hair, your face, your stupidly adorable sundresses, everything about you was so... distracting.

daryl wasn't ever the kind of guy to simp for a woman, but that one specific girl made him feel emotions and sensations that were hidden deep within his being for years, maybe even decades. feelings he thought had vanished from his heart a long time ago were now blooming all over again, like he was some stupid teenager looking at a playboy magazine for the first time.

there was something about your innocence, your adorable mannerisms, your sweet voice and your kindness that had awakened something in him, something he wasn't quite sure what it was.

no, he wasn't exactly a young man. and while being aware that you were very young, he couldn't help but feel so guilty for having those feelings. whenever you bended over to pick something up, he had to fight demons not to have a glimpse of your panties. he often wondered how could you be so careless by exposing yourself like that, even if you didn't do it on purpose.

and there was him again, thinking about you. it's like no matter how hard he tried to push those thoughts away, they were like water, always finding a way in.

he huffed, feeling defeated. he knew he was still recovering from the incident, and that he should rest, but why was he following orders around anyways? he wasn't a damn puppy. plus, everybody else had left him there to go looking for sophia. he wanted to be able to help too. he was alive after all, and if he was alive, he believed he should be on his feet.

so that's what he did. he slowly lifted his right foot, resting it on the floor, then he did the same with his left one. his body reluctantly lifted itself up, and he immediately could feel the consequences for laying down for so long, his back killing him and his vision a bit foggy. anyways, he ignored any discomfort and started walking slowly, his head still a little dizzy.

then, he remembered he needed his trustworthy crossbow, he couldn't just leave unprotected like that. he looked around the room he was settled in but it was nowhere to be seen. he knew it was still in the house, so he left the room. he started walking down the corridor, his eyes attentively looking for any signs of his crossbow. he was even starting to think that his mates might've hidden it to force him to stay in the house when he spotted a halfway open door.

his calloused hands pulled it open, revealing a small bedroom, all pink themed and stupidly decorated. no, his crossbow wasn't likely to be there, it just looked like it belonged to one of hershel's daughters, but it was like something was calling him in.

he stepped in the room and it almost looked messy. the dressing table on the corner had lipsticks, combs, all sorts of make-up and girly stuff all piled up and... a perfume.

it was happening again, images of you flooded his mind and it was like he could almost smell you. oh, your sweet scent had the power to make him hard like nothing else. just by looking at that small bottle, just by imagining your scent, he could feel little shock waves travelling all the way down to his cock, threatening to awaken it.

he knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong thinking about a much younger girl like that. and it was even worse considering that you were the daughter of the man that provided him shelter in such difficult times. it felt ungrateful.

when he saw you for the first time, he didn't think much of you. he was actually careful, treating you like the stranger you were. and even when time passed, he never really got close to you. now and then you tried to share a word, even if just a little bit, but it seemed useless since he would reject all your attempted approaches. he didn't hate you like he tried to after acknowledging his disgusting desires for you, but he just couldn't allow himself to interact with a girl that made him sick to his stomach for all the wrong reasons.

your sweetness was almost annoying. the entire world had gone to shit, for goodness sake! dead bodies walking around and eating all the people they could find. how could you act so clueless all the time? daryl even wondered if you had ever seen a walker before, if you knew what was really happening out there. after all, it was very obvious that you were a daddy's girl, always protected under your father's wing.

but strangely enough, acknowledging that only made him protective towards you. he was always somewhat watching, always around you making sure you were safe and he barely knew why, he just felt like he should.

so he didn't stop himself from reaching over to your small perfume bottle. the design was very simple, no labels to be seen, time had probably faded it away. the cap was baby pink and heart shaped, and when he removed it, he immediately brought the bottle to his nose, giving it a gentle sniff.

fuck.

now, he was 100% sure that was your room. the fragrance was the same one that filled his nose and made him drunk in you everytime you walked by. he wondered if that was the scent he would feel if he ever hugged you, burying his face into your chest.

in that moment, he couldn't think about anything else, not rick, not carol, not his chores, not surviving, not even sophia. you were everything that he had in his fucked up mind.

he wouldn't feel so fucking guilty if his thoughts were only about your innocence and sweetness, but they were also dirty as fuck. countless were the times when daryl imagined groping you, running his hands all over your delicate body, feeling every texture, squeezing every junk and listening close to your every little whimper. he would pull your hair, gently at first, just to get it off your face and neck so he could pamper them with little wet kisses, gently scratching his teeth along them. he imagined he'd have to keep you on your feet himself, since you'd struggle to because of how weak your knees would get at all the sensations he would provide you and...

wait, no.

what was he thinking? was he out his fucking mind? he needed to stop those absolutely disgusting thoughts right away. he couldn't keep having those thoughts about you, not when you're out taking care of such important business with the others. he put the perfume bottle back on the dressing table, determined to let all that go. he knew he couldn't just let himself get so distracted like that over something so mundane and unimportant as his own sexual desires but then...

...he spotted a basket filled with clothes when he turned around to leave. his mind immediately started to rush all over again, and for the 100th time that day, he turned careless. he slowly approached it. shorts, tops, pants and so on could be seen at the top of the pile.

in that moment, he had totally forgot why he had entered that bedroom or even left his bed in the first place. he couldn't even remember the existence of his crossbow or his duties.

and then... he gets an idea. he starts going through the pile of dirty clothes and in no time, he finds your panties. they were white with a pink ribbon on the front, a clear reminder of your innocence. for a moment, he just looks at it, contemplating the possibilities. then, he remembers seeing you in it when you bended over to pick some off the floor the day before. he remembers catching a glimpse of it under your yellow sundress when you went to change his bandage.

that meant that those panties had been freshly worn.

if just your perfume ignited such vile desires in him, he couldn't even imagine what your natural scent could do to him. and he was oh so curious to find out. he still felt guilty, but that man had been sex deprived for so fucking long, he didn't even masturbate very often. he knew damn well he was about to commit a big mistake, maybe even starting something he was sure he couldn't finish, but he finally made up his mind.

he flips the small piece of cloth over, eyeing the soft-looking lining of the panties. he gulps, feeling his mouth water right away. god, what was he doing? what was right, what was wrong wasn't even important to him anymore. he just wanted to embrace his sickness.

there was a small stain on the lining, probably from you wearing it. just that sight alone was enough to get him off, and once again, he found himself having to face that tingling sensation inside his pants. he knew damn well what that meant and what was about to happen. but honestly, he couldn't give a single fuck anymore.

in one quick motion, he brought the fabric to his face, giving a long sniff while he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. that fucking scent of yours got him drunk the moment it filled his nostrils. so intense, so feminine and raw, daryl couldn't remember the last time he felt that type of pleasure, or if he had even felt anything like it before.

it made him needy like a horny teenager. he felt himself going back to puberty when all he could think about was jacking off day and night. and it was all your fucking fault.

daryl palmed himself through his denim pants, never taking your panties off his face not even for one second. the natural scent of your cunt was more than successful to make him hard as a rock, the sensation of being in his pants started to get uncomfortable as his dick grew bigger and bigger.

just palming himself wasn't enough.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, inserting one of his hand in his briefs to catch his hard cock in it, freeing it for the first time in a while. his angry-red tip was literally pulsating while a clear and sticky liquid dropped down his length.

he wasn't able to hold a small grunt as he wrapped his calloused hand around his cock, the rough sensation of his fingers causing him to feel a jolt of pleasure so fucking delicious and guilty at the same time. the archer brought his hand to his mouth, catching some of his saliva to use as lube.

oh, how he wished you were there. he'd make sure you'd get his cock nice and wet with your spit so you could rub it up and down. and then, without warnings, he'd just shove it down your throat, forcing you to prove how much of a good girl you could be just for him.

and just for him. he wanted you all for his own. daryl never really liked to share, specially when it came to a girl like you, so princess like, so adorable looking. your plump lips looked so fucking perfect, and they would look even more wrapped around his big cock.

knowing how fragile you were, he knew you would definitely choke and gag on him, struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. he would whisper sweet encouragement words to you like “tha's it, tha's ma good girl”. he imagined how he would hold your head in place and keep a hand on your throat so he could feel his cock while he aggressively pumped it in and out, making you drool all over him. “just like tha', yeah, show daddy how fuckin' good ya are fer him”.

in his imagination, you would look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, with a mix of uncertainty and desire to make him proud. “am i doing this right, daddy?” he could almost hear your voice saying it whenever you would take him off his mouth to catch your breath for a moment, never disconnecting your small hand from his thick length.

he started pumping faster, squelching sounds were all that could be heard in that silent room, a proof of his degeneracy. the grunts and stifled moans were only getting harder and harder to hold back. he was sticking those panties to his face and sniffing on them like his life depended on it, like he was a desperate virgin.

a virgin. he wondered if you were one. you sure looked like it, your dad never let you out of sight for long enough for you to try something like that, he supposed from what he knew about your relationship. he imagined how would it feel like to be the one to pop your cherry for the first time.

oh, he would teach you so many things, everything he knows. he would guide you through it all along, teaching you where to touch, where to kiss, where to lick. he would make your virgin little cunny cum so many times it would get all puffy and red. he even wondered if he could make you squirt, stuffing you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot over and over again until you were a quivering mess, squirting all over his skull tattoo. and yes, he would make you lick his fingers clean, your sweet little tongue dragging across them, and then, he would kneel down in front of you, not wanting to waste a single drop of your sweet release, attacking your sensitive clit and slit with his lips and tongue.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

he was so fucking eager to taste your slick, to revel in your salty taste. he imagined how fucking good the smell he was getting from your panties was from the actual source. he would lick it all, your lips, your slit, even your ass, but he would give special attention to your little clit, flicking his tongue on it, making it cum again just for him. he would never grow tired of it.

and when he felt you were finally ready for him, he would bend you over just like you used to do so absentmindedly. he would be gentle at first, but knowing himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back for too long before absolutely railing the shit out of you, making you cry out and scream his name in pleasure and pain.

and when he flipped you over on your back, he would be able to see the bulge on your lower belly caused by his big cock inside you. just by imagining that he felt himself getting close to the edge. he would press his hand on it, making the little room inside your pussy even tighter. fuck, he imagined the sweet sounds you would make just for him.

all those dirty thoughts and your sweet scent from your panties were more than enough to make shivers run down his spine and his whole body tremble. he kept his eyes shut tight as he licked a stripe on the lining of your panties, trying to get some of your delicious taste. meanwhile, he hadn't stopped his hands not even for a second, harshly rubbing his cock up and down until it was too much.

in a strangled moan, his cock started shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum onto the floor, the dressing table and pretty much anything that was around. he couldn't remember the last time he had such an intense orgasm, the sensation making his mind completely empty except for your image.

his movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. he sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. he opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

you. standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

“u-uncle daryl?”

[PART TWO]

a/n: i know, i'm disgusting. i'm sorry. (just a quick reminder, english isn't my first language, so please excuse any grammar mistakes or awkward phrasing lmao, and tysm if you read it this far)

6K notes · View notes

chuluoyi · 4 months

Text

࿐ ࿔ rivals... in love? — extended cut !

this is pure hysterics, i'm sorry but i can't resist! tysm for the brainrot amy!! @seonghrtz 🫶🏻 mwah mwah !!

a part of gojo's love entries

“you see… if you kiss me, i'll definitely show you just how great my lips actually are.”

you’d expect this sort of nonsense from gojo satoru, yet it was geto suguru who was standing in front of you with such genial smile that you were at a loss.

you dumbly blinked. “huh?”

“satoru said i taste like a cursed spirit, yeah?” suguru didn't seem offended, at least from how he was wording it and that eye smile. “that's a really foul accusation. i’m here to clarify—”

you widened your eyes, almost cringing. “no, no! you don’t have to—”

“SUGURU! YOU SWINE!”

a resounding bang. you whipped your head towards the door in total panic, which was... fortunately still tightly shut. satoru, who had openly declared that he was into you in the previous chapter, was hurling profanities towards his best friend, pounding against the door, visibly vexed.

“you… locked the door?” you questioned suguru in disbelief, and he merely shrugged.

“for safety purposes, yeah.”

well, if you look at satoru now... he did look like a super angry cat who was ready to pounce on suguru and claw him to shreds.

“he could've blasted it.” you glanced apprehensively toward the door, catching his eyes, and in an instant, satoru's scowl turned into the most hopeful expression of a wagging puppy—hoping for you to saunter towards him instead and desert his friend altogether.

suguru chuckled. “he can, yes, but he'll be facing yaga afterwards.”

and you. there was no way he'd scare you off by blasting a ‘red’ on a doorframe. you were clueless, but suguru knew just how soft satoru could make himself to be if it was for you.

you sighed. all you wanted was to go back to your dorms following an exhausting mission. you truly had little energy to entertain this.

meanwhile, outside, satoru was this close to kick the door off its hinges. he was having about thirty different heart attacks by witnessing how close suguru was to your vicinity. his chance was quite literally slipping by each second.

and when in his attempt to hear what the two of you were saying—

“let us just kiss then, to see what it’s like—”

“geto-san, what the—!”

and in that moment, he really saw green and really used a bit more force, tearing the knob— bang!

“don't you dare to get close to my girl, you slimy bangs!”

kapow! pow!

what was even happening? one second, suguru was almost leaning in for that kiss, and the next, satoru popped out of nowhere, tackling him to the ground. and you stood there, utterly bewildered, caught between the whirlwind of their catfight.

your first crush, whom you thought was sensible, and the most obnoxious boy who was whipped for you like a fool...

losers, you absentmindedly thought to yourself. both of them. losers…

“satoru, you're incorrigible!”

“the audacity! you know very well i like her and yet—!”

and yet, a small smile tugged at your lips when you saw how red-faced satoru was. he was genuinely upset to see you with suguru, and that sparked a sense of achievement within you.

“let's see if you will be able to make him say it...”

while you pondered, almost giddy, you were undoubtedly sure about two things at that moment: one, maybe gojo satoru wasn't that bad, he was kinda cute even, and you might consider him... and two—

shoko lost the bet, and you won.

4K notes · View notes

daytaker · 4 months

Text

The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them

Lucifer

*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*

If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.

But only if he doesn't need it.

Mammon

"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."

Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.

You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.

Leviathan

"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)

He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!

Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?

After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*

AAAAHHHHHHHHH.

Satan

"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"

Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.

Asmodeus

"Aww, aren't you adorable?"

This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.

Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.

Beelzebub

"Oh."

He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.

But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.

Belphegor

"...zzzz..."

Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...

Diavolo

"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."

It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.

He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.

Barbatos

"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."

He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.

Sleep well, human.

Solomon

"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"

Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.

Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.

Simeon

"Oh- shh. There, there."

Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.

Luke

"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"

How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.

3K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 6 days

Text

Cool girl

ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two

Two (three) can play at that game.

"When you're done being a brat, call us."

You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.

And you're very much done with them.

Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.

The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.

Fuck them.

You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.

And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.

Of course, he's happy to teach you.

You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.

He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.

But not tonight.

"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.

You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."

"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.

"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.

"Sure thing."

You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.

The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.

You don't need to look, to know.

You can feel them.

Apparently, so can your date.

"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.

"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.

After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.

"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.

With blood. Broken bones. And tears.

"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.

After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...

they deserve it. They deserve worse.

"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.

The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.

"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.

"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.

"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"

"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.

"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."

"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."

"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."

"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.

"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"

"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.

"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.

Fear strikes, and turns you cold.

"D-don't." You try to implore.

"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.

"Leave him alone." You plead.

"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."

"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.

"Simon, please. He's not-"

"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."

"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.

He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."

When they both turn back...

you burst into tears.

#lmaoooo #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #its a milkmaid dress for sure #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #unedited

1K notes · View notes