#it's a little bit longer though be warned
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‘ CANDY BOY ! ’
ᡴꪫ sum. who would have thought that the #1 camboy in your city was no one other than your virgin roommate gojo, who’s totally putting on a show for his fangirls. he talks too much, but maybe you can shut his mouth and put his sweetened little fantasies to reality.
wc. 5.8k
warnings. fem! reader, camboy!gojo, college au, gojo's a virgin, switch! gojo, unprotected, dirty talk, he gets pússy drunk quick, overstim, "good boy" usage, cunnilıngus, premature ejaculating, nipple play, lots of spıt, handjōbs.
if someone would have told you that your loser of of a roommate who stuffs his mouth with a bit too many sweets, cries at romcoms, and is just an overall dork was a camboy, you’d call them crazy. batshit crazy even, yet that’s exactly what happened—
gojo was rightfully one of the top camboys in the city, probably in the world too. he was sort of a household name, it was more of a side hustle for him. he did it only for the money—sure, he adored his fans, even the ones that went a little too extreme with the provocative thirsting. but that’s all part of the job, he’s about seven months strong in his little gig. every saturday and sunday, he logs on under the user of: @/GOJOSLUTORU.
the moment that same notification pops up that he’s live, a plethora of his fans join immensely, wondering just what their favorite camboy satoru was up to today. his streams would last for a good two hours—longer sometimes if it was some kind of special event where he’d reach a massive amount of donations, a special treat for his fans. gojo was beloved for his flirty personality, he’d make his fangirls swoon with his words, despite knowing full well he doesn’t know the first thing on how to please a lady.
that’s until you came along—more like catching him right in the act. it couldn’t have been any more embarrassing though. eleven thousand eyes were cheering him on, showering him with lewd "good boy" praises until you drop your bag.
“satoru?” you utter, curling your brow into a surprised furrow once you take in the scene in front of you. tossing the spare set of keys into the bin, you glance at your roommate—he freezes mid stroke with the most flustered expression. his hands were a bit … occupied, and a glimpse of a familiar cloth you once wore catches your eye. “are those my panties?”
“no….?”
with a deadpan, your shoulders drop before you drag your feet towards him to take a quicker look. oh, those were definitely your panties. so that’s where they ran off too. gojo tries to shield his nude exposed lower half with a nearby towel but it’s no use—you saw everything you needed to see.
“anywhooo,” he swallows, taking a brief peer at his chat that was flooding with all types of questions. they wanted to see you, they wanted to see gojo’s pretty roommate who he’s always rambling about on stream. clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his hair before pitching his tone. he tries to sound more attractive but ends up butchering right away, stuttering at his first pathetic sentence. “ i- i didn’t think you’d get here so early. how was the exam?”
“it was … fine,” you mumble, barely acknowledging his words. your mind was racing vigorously, trying to process how you’d just seen your roommate half naked. going up behind him, you lean in towards his neat set up—you grew a bit curious, immediately, your eyes meet the other eyes that stare back at you. near the top right displayed his large following of eight hundred thousand, the top left displays his current view count, a whopping amount of almost twelve thousand. peeking at the chat, you’re met with dozens of freshly new comments saying how pretty you are, asking if you’re his girlfriend he always talks about, and so on. “you’re a camboy?”
“heh, camboy’s kind of an exaggeration but,” and he’s nervous, you can hear the slight tremor in his voice. it’s cute, gojo was prepared for you to judge him for his side hustle but instead you don’t. he relaxes a bit, shifting his attention away from his crude chat and towards you. “i like to label myself as a um, streamer..”
you have a growing simper. “i don’t think streamers usually get naked for their audience,” and you take a quick stare at his attire—he was practically shirtless, his boxers were covered although he was wearing some kind of tank that had ‘submissive and breedable’ printed on the very front. you furrow your eyebrow, though you choose not to question it. his nervously sly smile only grows once he catches your eyes quite literally checking him out. glancing at the comments again, you hum. “why do they keep asking if i’m your girlfriend? you don’t have a girlfr-”
“woah, s-shut up!” he whines, cupping a hand over your mouth. you giggle, feeling the warmth of his palm rub against your lips. gojo lowers his voice, speaking in a faint whisper. “they think you’re my girlfriend,” and he peels his hand away before running a finger down his nape. “i told them that because-”
“satoru,” you roll your eyes, noticing how he was quite stiff with his body language. being this close to you, your mere elegant fragerence was so exhilarating for him. you made him this nervous, truth be told ; you were far too caught up in your academics to even realize your roommate had a little crush on you. however, you do wish you found out in a more … non less of a lewd way, a way where he wasn’t caught red-handed fondling with a pair of your pretty sage-colored panties. with a sigh, you mumble to him. “you wanna fuck, don’t you?”
that’s definitely not what he thought you was gonna say,
with pouty shimmery lips, gojo’s eyes widen before a sheepish grin marinates against his features. “pft. do i wanna fuck, whaaat?” and he doesn’t even last a second before sighing, dropping his head down in defeat. “y-yes..”
the ringing from his monitor — dozens of women sending him gifts, tickets, donations, begging for their favorite camboy to notice him only gets more disruptive.
the ringing grows louder, the repetitive chiming sound of bells, the blaring notification it makes whenever someone sends him a sweet contribution. pretty soon, he was on the verge of meeting yet another goal. ever since you got spotted on the stream, his viewer count doubled.
“well, why didn’t you just ask? besides, there’s other ways than using my panties to get off.” and a wave of embarrassment washes over his face. the towel’s still covering his torso before he shoots you a shy smile. any closer you could’ve got to him and he thought he was gonna explode. the heat radiating from you had his head going in a crazed ditz. stroking his cheek, you speak softly.
“i’m sorry,” he whines, bottom lip poking out. you end up sitting flat on his lap, and instinctively, the curvature of your waist was met with two big hands snaking around it. you’re so pretty like this, he wanted you so so bad. swallowing, he peeks towards his chat before you cup both of his temples to stare right back into your eyes. “i was gonna ask you but- but i’ve never done this, you know,” and the way you slide a finger behind his neck, skimming the texture of your middle finger down his undercut snatches a purr from him. “i- i want you, but i just don’t know what to do with like .. i wanna make sure that i don’t embarrass myself.”
oh, he couldn’t have been any more cuter,
you heard the slight crack in gojo’s voice at the end of his candied sentences before you sling your arms over him. “don’t be embarrassed,” you softly reply, still straddling his lap. “i can always show you how.” and he gulps, your voice was smooth as silk. sweet as honey, the more you strum your thumb down his undercut, the more he can hear the rapid pulse of his heart beat throb through his ears. the simplicity of your touch was enough to have him weak.
“please..” he murmurs in a hushed tone, loving the way how gentle, how tender you were with your touch. gojo mewls out a needy whimper, feeling a sudden tent rise near between his legs. he was hard, you’d giften him a pretty solid boner and whilst you were propped up on his lap, you felt it rub against you all too well.
gojo awaits for you to make the first move, but you’re teasing . . seeing if he was going to initiate, and he does, inching his sheeny lips into yours.
your roommate pulls you into a deep kiss, he tastes like candy, candied. with your arms still occupied, wrapping around him, you glide your tongue against his, parting lips, teeth clashing amongst each other in sync. you could hear the faint sounds of whimpers run from his lips, he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands though—so gingerly, a hand of his strums down your back, giving the fabric that stuck against your skin a soft yank. he wanted you, the strain beneath his half on boxers only grows the more he starts to suck on your tongue.
heavy, wheezing breaths collide against each other, hitting each moving muscle like a wave,
he’s so eager,
gojo’s mind clears everything out of his head and he’s just focused on you. the saccharine tang of your signature lip gloss, he tastes it and it’s so delicious.
through cerulean-pristine hazed peripherals, gojo looks towards his chat to read some of the comments . .
chososdoublehomicide: i miss choso
zorosthroatwarmer293: i wanna be gojo >:( she’s so pretty
secksybabeamy: Hey hot stuff ;) Subscribe to my only fans!
throatgoatemily: His whines omg
as the kiss deepens, gojo whines once your hand slithers its way down between his legs. slowly removing the towel that sheaths his exposed body, you feel against his dick. at first touch, he whimpers, then whines, then whimpers again.
he was so pent up—you could feel it, you were gentle with your fingers, brushing it against the length of his dick before gently wrapping a hand around its girth. gojo moans in your mouth, feeling hitched breaths arise from his lungs. he could never get enough of how fucking sweet you were,
and he didn’t even want to.
pulling away for a long gasp of fresh air, he bites his lip as he looks down to feel your hands stroke his cock. gojo had quite the staggering inches on him, he shivers at how precise your hand movements were—
up and down,
with a hand of yours gripping over his fat length, a thumb of yours runs down the vein that coats his shaft. its pulsing, he’s needy for more of your touch so bad that it sends shockwaving static to rigorously coarse through his bouquet of neurons.
“y-your hand feels so much better than mine, heh,” he breathes, swallowing the imaginary balled up lump that resides near the back of his throat. blue irises, dilated and all stares at you—a hand reaches towards your back before his thigh starts to bounce. “not to be weird but i kinda had a dream about this, angel.”
“a dream about me stroking you?” you hum, amused before sneaking a wet kiss near the crook of his twitching lips.
gojo nods wearily, forever deeply captured by your beauty. your hands swiftly resumes to stroke him, feeling the tender skin that lives near his frenulum peel back every few seconds. gojo moans, burying his face into the very depths of your neck. so desperate, he wanted more and more. “aw, is this too much? should i slow down?”
“no.. don’t stop,” and his desperate plea was so sweet, though he wanted to go further. you giggle once he suddenly lifts you up, dragging you towards the bed. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry. can’t wait anymore,” and he hovers over you with that crazed look of total desire. “can i … eat you out?”
with a coy smile, you’re laid on your back as he just stands over you — eyes gawking at your entire physique, the way your thighs were all out with the short hem of your shorts reaching against your ass. you could tell gojo was impatient, that hungry stare in his eye never once faded.
“yeah,” you coo, parting your legs slowly. oh, you were a fucking tease.
not only were you a tease for him, you were a simple force to be reckoned with. no panties on either, gojo felt himself get hard yet again before he kneels down. with your roommate positioning himself between your legs, he lets off a soft sigh.
combing your fingers through his soft tangles, he looks up at you with a craving yet impish expression. you giggle, making him look right into your eyes. peering at his chat that was going ballistic over his girlfriend, you speak in a soft tone. “do you know how to even eat pussy, ‘toru? i can h-”
“girl i know how to eat pussy,” he grumbles, and he sounds almost offended at you asking if he needed any sorts of help.
sure—gojo literally didn’t know the first thing of eating a woman out, maybe visually.
but now that he’s up close, he has to stop himself from folding right then and there. so soaked, he gets a full view of your slick entrance, your pussy was the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes upon so far.
as he’s a few inches a apart, with sprawled open thighs—the last thing you’d expect was for to gojo to start drooling all on your cunt. a stringy, syrupy concoction of his own saliva pours out of his mouth and onto your folds. just a quick glimpse and he’s pussy drunk. fuck, he’s more embarrassed than he’s ever been but he can’t help it. gojo didn’t even get a taste and he’s already salivating at the sight of your sopping wet arousal. a thumb of yours wipes the spit that dribbles near the corner of his mouth and he whines at your touch again before he finally digs in.
lolling out his tongue, the very tip licks near the inner moistened entrance of your pulled out labia. gojo for probably the umpteenth time lays his tongue flat before he goes all in. a broad left hand of his attach towards the fat of your thigh as he remakes a long striping lick. “s-shiiit, ‘toru.” you gasp, the coldness on his tongue taking you by sheer surprise.
the texture of it .. you’re weak, gnawing on metaphoric bars of your enclose as well as the skin on your lip, you whine.
for someone who’s never had much experience, let alone no experience, you’d easily second guess. your back arches forward while gojo’s tongue rummages through every part of your clit. he sucks on your nub, closing his eyes and fully sinks into bliss. gojo’s pristine white brows cock into a furrow before he slides a thumb down your wet entrance. he just can’t get over how wet you were for him. sopping wet, inept lips of his constantly quivers before he gives your cunt a sweet kiss.
wet for him, he breaks his lips away for a few seconds just to smear his face against your pussy.
“m-mhm,” he whimpers, wanting your scent to linger on his face for as long as it could, your scent .. it was hard to not get obsessed, a few minutes in and he already felt his mouth watering.
as bundles of minuscule taste buds of his tingle with excitement — his tongue swiftly swirls through every orifice, not missing any spot. he searched through the gooey crevices of your walls, lips moving in complete tandem. his dick strains between his thighs that it’s almost painful.
if eating you out tasted this good, he only imagined what it’d feel like to be inside,
shoved deep into your pussy, stuffing you full with his luscious thickset inches . .
that same repeated whine that always sounds raw dies straight out of your esophagus, you yank on the strands of your roommate’s messy hair as his pace quickens by a mile. in the midst of devouring your heat, a broad hand of his caresses near the juncture of your thighs—he kisses the long slope inside of your entrance, lips all glossy and glittering with gloss thanks to you. that same panging throb starts to grow within you again. your toes curl up tightly before your eyes meet the drywall splattered on the ceiling. his tongue, the way it continues to scrabble all through every part of your cunt, he grows addicted almost immediately. gojo can’t help but lather a few sloppy kisses on your folds, sliding his tongue through your slit.
he even starts to tongue fuck you, softly thrusting the swollen tip of his tongue in and out until you’re about to whine out again for him.
that was his favorite part by far, pushing his tongue in and out of your puffy folds — relishing the way your pretty pussy coats the underside of his chin with a lustrous amount of sweet, burnished slick.
“ngh, ‘toru,” you’d wail, and your hips start to jitter against his face. he doesn’t mind . . in fact, gojo brings two hands to grip against the curves of your hips.
once he maintains a secure grasp, he lets you rub your wetness all over him. with his tongue thoroughly exploring in every part, he starts to whine too .. so eager to touch himself but he wants to keep his hands on you. a whiny whimper wrenches from the back of your throat before you start to babble. “satoru, ‘m gonna cum, fuuuck. jus’ like that, keep l-lickin’ there, baby.”
he was such a quick learner, part of you thinks he maybe had more experience than you oughta thought. gojo can’t help but attack your sweet syrupy folds with a multitude of kisses, drooling lips of his making you more sticky than you already were. your legs could barely hold themselves open.
he had to pry them open with clammy hands, slurping in every drop as if he was dehydrated with thirst. a thirst you happily quenched with him being propped between your legs. after a while, he runs a thumb down your slit once more, pretty eyes glancing up at you, wanting to see your sweet face. “a-am i doin’ a good job?” and his voice was a bit hoarse, the way he speaks, drooping eyes and a sheepish grin—visibly pussy drunk, you grab onto his strands before rocking your hips into his mouth. he giggles, muffled noises eliciting from his mouth, taking your eager jittery movements as a yes.
he just couldn’t get enough of his roommate’s taste.
occasionally, he likes to depart his lips to gather a nice concoction of saliva—only to then spit right onto your sopping folds, whining at how it was so shiny. so pretty, he’s mesmerized again at how it looks, and you end up cumming with the cutest shrieking orgasm. it snatches out of you roughly, your speech is slurred for a moment as your legs quaver in utmost pleasure.
you’re shaking, feeling him clean you up with the flatness of his tongue—gojo moans, white lashes fluttering as he takes your beauty in. this was so much better than one of his risqué wet dreams. so much better,
without even a single word leaving from his lips, he gets up to pull you into a kiss. almost immediately, you taste yourself that lingers on his tounge. it tastes sweet, gojo props himself between your thighs as you sit up, a free hand of his sliding between your stretched out legs. the constant rings of his donations continue to scream out that same annoying chime before he leans in to shut his computer. he’d probably have left so many—thousands of his fan girls devastated, but there was only a new fan girl he was fixated on.
you.
gojo was addicted, with tongues colliding against each other, hot breaths wafting against each own, he feel his breath hitch at your touch. a hand of yours snakes down to feel on his erect dick. he whines, gnawing at the bottom of your lip before his tongue gets more curious. he licks the bottom of your chin, the side of your mouth, only to then pull you into another deep kiss. “f-fuck, ‘m so hard,” he rasps between sultry kisses, heaving from each breath. you still couldn’t get over the taste of yourself that loiters all on the flat of his pink tongue. “i wanna feel you from the inside, angel.”
“but your stream,” you tease once he finally pulls away, taking a second to catch your breath yourself. you felt the heat roam across the room before stroking his cheek — flushed lips of his burn with such intensity, you had him feral. “your fans, i wouldn’t wanna interrupt them, ‘toru.”
“fuck them,” he pouts, the cute frown on his face tugging against his lips. “okay that’s mean, they help me pay rent but just- i want you right now,” and he’s so needy. he paws at your t-shirt, glossy eyes widening, god. his bottom lip pokes out, squinting for two seconds before seeing how your nipples invitingly poke out. so perky, he could feel his mouth watering sporadically. he lays you back before swallowing, a loud gulp before he hovers over you. “you knew this was gonna happen, didn’t y-you? such a tease.”
you simper, opening your legs for him and he gets a good glimpse. gojo sucks his teeth, still so soaked. he only dreamt of what you’d feel like inside.
probably so tight and warm,
the more he thinks about it, the more he could feel himself starting to drool. gojo’s panting as if he’d just finished a marathon. a hand of his wraps around his length—giving it a few solid pumps. “i thought you’d wanna do doggy for your first position,” you sweetly say, and oh, he pouts for you again. you sit up, awaiting for him to take the lead first before smiling. “missionary though? you’re not so good with eye contact, baby.”
“i know how to do missonry.” he grumbles.
“missionary,” you correct him with a titter.
he pouts again, preparing to align himself. so wet, your pussy was sopping wet, swollen from just being eaten out so good. a warm breath fans out through his lips before he rubs it against your slippery slit. “and don’t call me baby,” he moans, although the simple pet name for him a lot harder than he thought it would. slowly, gojo’s fat leaky tip continues to ghost against your folds. you hold back a sweet moan, laid all out on display for him on the mattress. he’s waited for this moment, had dreams about it, even fantasized about it. “fuck,” he’d huff out, and his voice cracks. you’d laugh but he’s staring at you the entire time with that cute pouty expression. “can- can we hold hands? for you know, leverage?”
“leverage, sure,” you play along, your fingers locking against his. damp, perspiring palms squeeze against yours before his rounded tip starts to slowly make its way inside. immensely, a breath gets caught in his throat and he whines. the warmth he’s rudely greeted with makes him gnaw his pearly whites together. “you’re kinda b-big, so go a little slow, ‘toru.”
“i’m big?” he repeats—cutely enough, it boosts his ego that you think so, yet his confidence fades the further he dumps a few hefty inches into your entrance. as you expected, you were a bit tight and stiff for a few seconds—unyielding against him for a moment, you moan. saying gojo was big was a mere understatement, he couldn’t help but lean in to lay against your chest. “how’s it feel? s-slower?”
“it’s good. that’s good,” you start to heave, gasping once he inches his head closer to latch his lips against your neglected cold nipples. he doesn’t even lift up your t-shirt, he runs his tongue through the fabric and sucks on your perked tits. “t-toru, fuckk.”
it was a soft twinge sensation at first before he’s close to bottoming out . . so close,
it’s at the moistened tip of his tongue. gojo’s shaft resumes to go in further, you feel him pulse inside before once he’s all the way in, he’s already out of breath. with his mouth occupied—he’s still sucking on your nipples through the shirt, whiney. a free hand of his runs gives your left thigh a nice firm grasp before he starts up a single few thrusts.
you whine, tossing your arms over him and he glances down at you—beads of sweat race down the sides of his brow before he sits up in a proper position. gojo can’t get over how pretty you look for him like this, he’s fully in and he sneaks a kiss onto your lips. “can i m-move?” and the falter in his voice was adorable, gojo’s breath continues to get more heavy before you give him a nod. he peppers various kisses near your mouth, neck, and of course, your precious chest. his personal favorite,
with frail arms wrapped around him, pulling him close—you run your ankle down his back and he moans. “oh, ‘s even better than i imagined,” he whispers against your ear, hot breath sending you antsy judders. the more his breath goes against your skin, the more you smell how minty it was. fresh, you desperately yearned for more so you pull him into another kiss for the nth time. “ugh. the way you clamp down, ‘s gonna kill me,” he babbles in a low puff. he’s speaking between staring up at decent pace for you to get accustomed to. you whimper, trying to get adjusted to his barreling length but he was just so fucking big. it was an ongoing rumor that between gojo—and his best friend suguru geto had the top biggest dicks. of course, you always wondered exactly how whoever started that rumor would even know, but gojo was definitely a packer. he stretched you out in ways you’ve never felt before. with strained breaths, he coats your mouth with many wet kisses. time and time again, the feeling of himself going into you raw has him drooling again. “pussy’s so wet, ‘m gonna die, oh my god.”
“don’t be dramatic, you’re not gonna die.” you try to reassure him. the grip on your hand only grows tighter, crimson lips of his suck against the underside of your chin.
so damn needy,
mussed strands of white tickle against your forehead the closer he presses his body into you. gojo was shivering, just a few minutes in pussy and as if it was a game—he’d be on the last level, game over. albeit, you feel it too. the warmth, it turns into a sweltering hot. as his hips rock, his whines start to become more vocal. he sneaks a hand down to feel the area that’s being stuffed, a thumb skims against your tummy before he moans,
“feel me t-there, yeah?” he whispers, a cute attempt at dirty talk but alas, it’s subtle. gojo easily folds once your eyes meet his gaze.
you moan, intertwining your fingers with his, moaning out a soft, “yeah,” and you sound out of breath yourself.
he’s jerking back and forth — his pace, his tempo . . wasn’t too slow or two fast, perfect.
with a quivering bottom lip, he leans in to lick against the outer shell of your ear. your cunt’s singing in harmony, sloshes of wet that leaves its metaphoric vocal cords and you start to get a bit louder. “f-fuck, ‘toru right there—fuuuck.”
“s-shit, you’re so pretty,” he pants, repeating his ways at coating your entire face with his wet kisses. you had him weak, entirely. you found it a bit silly considering how this could have happened anytime—anytime at all, all he had to do was ask. but gojo being gojo, he was not only a man with barely any experience, but he was nervous. he’s always had a bit of a crush on you but confessing sounded way scary. it was as if this entire thing was mere coincidence though, you happen to find out he’s not only a sloppy eater but,
he’s a camboy.
part of you wonders what he does on his streams. if you saw him rubbing one off while thinking about you—you could only imagine what other lewd antics he participated in.
gojo’s rutting into you at a much more quicker pace, he’s whining into your neck;
forgetting to praise you, and it’s more of the other way around. you’re cupping his face, stroking his cheek before repeating in that same melodic voice, “good boy, ‘s so good, makin’ me feel good, ‘toru baby.”
your voice, oh your voice, he could listen to it all day. you feel the constant twitch of his cock inside you and he whines every time your ankle rubs down his back. with the way your pussy holds him hostage— it’s so provocative, his reaction time was as slow as a sloth, droopy eyes stare at you before he grunts out a pleading, “f-fuck, ‘s gonna come,” and his voice sounds like a soft purr, gojo was like a kitten to you— so cute, his pout always make things more true too. he’s groaning in your ear, fat balls thwacking against you before his ears starts to ring. you’re moaning with him, bodies thrusting in sync that it’s almost like a pornographic choreography. “ugh, i- i feel it, ‘m gonna cum so much. so hot, gonna die.”
“breathe, baby,” you whisper, pulling his face closer to you. his chubby cheeks squish together once he’s within your grasp, the sharp piston of his hips makes you moan. his thrusts gets a bit sloppy and you press a kiss onto his mouth. “mwah,” you hum, watching how flustered he gets at a lick of your affection. “you wanna finish inside, don’t you?”
gojo whimpers. “yeah, yeah. really bad,” and the moment you suggest that, his ears perk cutely. he’s gotta be careful though—with a cunt as addicting as yours, he just might end up falling in love.
speaking of love, it’s as if heart eyes pour into his irises as he glances at you—again, metaphorically of course. gojo gulps at the tender touch of your fingers, leaning in to nip a kiss near your neck. through muffled words, he mewls. “i wanna fill you up. ‘s only fair since you’re milking me s-so much, ‘m so thirsty,” and he’s just babbling, pulling him close—he whines once he feels your finger glide through his sensitive undercut again. “hngh, gonna break me. let me make a mess in you please? i’ll even eat it out of you once ‘m done.”
you’re tempted at his pleads, giggling before dragging him into a deep kiss. “such a blabbermouth,” you tease between kisses, staring to feel the tears of sweat race down the sides of your forehead also— with a sly smile, you lick the drool that was about to run down the side of his lip. “finish in me, ‘toru. it’s okay. be my messy boy.”
his eyes dilated once he hears that,
your messy boy.
he even repeats it, “y-your messy boy, yeah, ‘m so messy for you, roomie,” and as he’s preparing for his inevitable release, he sinks into your warm embrace. “one more kiss, h-hold me.” and as if on command, you yoke his head in close, giving him a deep, passionate kiss. his pulsing heart beats through his ears. gojo—by this point, he was already whipped. the way his hips pick up, growing more sloppy and deranged—he’s feral.
the feverish under parts of his thighs burn, longing for its incoming conclusion climax—yet, as your smoldering heat gnashes against his, it finally comes.
with a primal gasp, it’s here.
the nirvana—euphoria, whatever it could have been called to describe this feeling, it was here.
gojo whimpers, going into a complete spazzing fit once he feels the slow orgasmic waves of himself starting to shoot literal humid blanks inside you.
it’s hot, parching hot— your heat against smelts his, it scratches a fervor itch in your brain. his tongue rummages the inside of your mouth again as he’s painting the insides of your gummy walls with his snowy white color.
satiny ropes of your roommate’s seed trickle into you, it’s so gooey and hot that it starts to stick against the inner parts of your thighs. each rough kiss reflects the same desire the both of you share before he shudders.
slow thrusts, he’s barely moving as fast as he was before but he’s still active. he wants to make sure you feel every inch he’s saved for you,
for weeks, months, maybe even years—
“god,” he whimpers out, pulling away from your glossed lips—a pretty cobweb of spit departs from each and he happily laps it up with his tongue. who knew your roommate was nothing more than a mere freak.
not you, not by a long shot.
it takes a moment for him to catch his breath, with a flustered look— gojo’s now clingy.
he doesn’t wanna move away from you, nor does he wanna exactly pull out. not just yet, he’s plugged you full of sticky cum that was threatening to ooze of your hole before he kisses the bridge of your nose. “that was so awesome.”
and just like that, the mood’s ruined—you pant, he’s hovering over you, his weight barely on you before you sigh.
“you know,” you change the subject, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “your moans, you sound more like a girl than me, ‘s kinda hot.”
“whaaat?” he grumbles, his sweetened pout forever returning. “that’s not nice, ‘n besides if it’s anyone who moans louder it’s you, angel.”
you kiss near the twitching corner of his lip, watching his sudden attitude shift like a light switch and he’s now a puddle. “you finished a bit early though,” and with your arms wrapping around him again, you speak in a soft voice. “wanna go again? you’re a natural, ‘toru.”
“please,” he whines with a nod, feeling how sweltering hot it felt to be still buried into the comforting tightness of your cunt. “this time, i wanna try doggy.”
“okay, pretty boy,” you tease, leaning in for another one of gojo’s sloppy, need kisses. just before he could pull out, the door springs open. the hinges scream once it pulls back and the two of you both look to see what the racket was.
as the door opens, it was geto—gojo’s best friend, and he had the most disgusted look on his face.
with a scrunched up face, he utters. “i’m never running errands for you two again, what the actual fuck.”
and as he turns his heel to leave, gojo snorts. “suguboooo! aw, don’t leave just yet. you can always joinnn.”
#★vegasbaby.#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader smut#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustsu kaisen x reader#anime smut#female reader#jjk fic#cw sex mention
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Honigbiene's Bee Machine | Laura Freigang x Child!Reader
warnings: asthma attack
word count: 1143
summary: you are diagnosed with asthma
a/n: part of Laura's Honigbiene
Laura thinks it’s funny how much you love flowers.
Exactly like your namesake, honeybee.
You love touching them and feeling the petals between your fingers. You love plucking them and bringing them home, where your Mama lets you keep them in mason jars of water.
Every time your Mama takes you on walks to the park or anywhere else really, you come home with flowers.
From bushes, the football field and even cracks in the sidewalk, you pick them up.
After you learn colours at school, you like naming the colours of your flowers to Mama. Just in case she didn’t have a teacher to teach her.
White are the ones that grow where Mama and Tantes kick a ball around and yellow are the ones that grow right outside your home.
Sometimes your Mama asks if you have a favourite but you don’t. You love them all equally and you tell her as such. Mama always laughs and kisses your forehead, saying that you’re adorable.
You don’t really understand what she means by it but you love her anyway. You love her more than you love your flowers because she is the best.
Mama cuddles you a lot and lets you sleep in her big bed all the time even though you are not a baby and have your own big girl bed.
She’s also patient, giving you all the time you want when you stop to look at each and every flower you see, on the way to the playground.
You think Mama is your best friend.
She’s got her watchful eyes on you now as you head off towards the first patch of flowers you see.
They are a bright pink and so pretty that you run to get there faster.
Mama is always reminding you to be careful and use your walking feet but you’re just so excited that you can’t help it.
It has happened before, with your Mama often chiding you gently and warning that you could fall.
That has never happened before but it seems like today is the day your luck runs out.
Laura knows it's going to happen before you do but there is nothing she can do as you somehow trip and fall face first into the flowers you had been so looking forward to seeing.
She’s at your side, lifting you out of them before you have a chance to cry.
‘Oh Honigbiene.’ She murmurs soothingly.
‘Mama.’ You whimper and she hugs you close.
‘Mama.’ You whine again because something doesn’t feel good.
There is an odd feeling in your chest, like the one you sometimes get after running a lot but so much worse.
‘It’s okay.’ Your Mama coos, rubbing your back soothingly.
You cough loudly, startling Mama enough that she draws back to look you over.
You cough again. Then again and again and again.
‘Hurts Mama.’ You cry, beginning to get scared.
You’re breathing faster and faster, trembling slightly in front of your Mama who is quickly realising that something is very wrong.
She forces calm into her voice, in an attempt to keep you calm, ‘Honigbiene take a deep breath. Nice and slow.’
With tears streaming down your face, you shake your head, trying to tell her that you can’t.
‘Yes you can. Try baby try.’ Mama pleads.
You attempt to suck in a breath but you’re only able to manage a shaky wheeze.
If your Mama wasn’t panicked before, she sure is now.
‘Keep trying Honigbiene.’ She urges as she dials for an ambulance.
She’s talking very fast but the ick in your chest gets bigger.
‘Mama.’ You choke out, whimpering when she drops her phone to hold you.
‘The ambulance is coming. You’ve just got to hang on a little bit longer, okay Honigbiene?’
Mama gets you to sit down as she rubs your back in hopes that it will help.
Still, the ambulance can’t come soon enough.
By the time it arrives, you are pale and breathless, your heart beating fast as a result of the lack of oxygen and how terrified you are.
The people that come out of it slip a mask onto your face and then one of them, a nice woman explains to you that it will help you breathe.
Like your Mama, she tells you to take deep breaths.
Then Mama carries you into the ambulance where you lay down on a small bed inside. She softly tells you that you’re going to the hospital where lots of nice people will look after you.
Your Mama promises that you’ll be okay and you believe her because she had never lied to you before.
The funny mask helps you feel better but your chest still hurts and you’re coughing a lot.
If you weren’t so distracted by how sick you feel, the sound of the ambulance sirens would have made you excited.
As it is, you whimper to Mama until you get to the hospital.
Then a doctor checks you over and gives you another funny mask.
This one has white smoke and when you take deep breaths in, helps you to breathe properly again.
The ick that hurts your chest goes away and you happily sit in your Mama’s lap to finish taking the big slow breaths that the doctor asks you take.
Your new mask is connected to a machine that hums.
‘Just like a bee!’ You tell Mama.
‘Yes. Just like a bee.’ She murmurs, hugging you tightly.
Mama does not let you go even when the doctor comes back in to talk to her, using big words you don’t understand.
He gets you to blow into a big tube a lot and stares at a screen with lots of squiggly lines and numbers on it.
You don’t understand what he’s doing but when he’s done, you get to go home with the humming machine.
‘I like my Bee Machine.’ You say to your Mama as she sets it by the big bed at bedtime.
Mama laughs, ‘Is that what we’re calling it?’
She tucks you under the covers with one of the honeybees Tante Klara crocheted for you.
‘I like your Bee Machine too. It’s going to help you and that is very important. You are very important to me and I love you so much, Honigbiene.’
‘Love you too Mama.’ You whisper and she gives you a goodnight kiss on your forehead before tucking herself under the covers.
You might be getting bigger but Laura thinks that you’ll never be too big to stop fitting in her arms.
As long as you want her to, she’ll let you sleep in her bed and hold you till you fall asleep.
With how much your newly diagnosed asthma scared her today, she holds you long after you’ve fallen asleep.
Even when she falls asleep, she’s holding you close.
German Translation:
Honigbiene - Honeybee
#laura freigang#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#laura freigang x reader#laura freigang imagine#woso fanfics#woso community#eintracht frankfurt frauen#dfb frauen#gerwnt#katelynnwrites
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Lloyd + 61. “did you really think that would work? cute”
cooped up on a nice spring day
pairing: husband!lloyd hansen x female reader
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, choking, light bdsm, bratting, begging, teasing, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, referenced oral sex (f receiving), pet names (it's lloyd so there's a bunch), established relationship, fluff
word count: 1,800ish
a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt Eva!!! and it's so perfect for Lloyd!! i had a lot of fun writing this one—it has probably the brattiest reader i've written so far, so i hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡
The view outside your husband’s office was beautiful in the spring—in fact, the garden was one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with the house and why Lloyd Hansen had bought it for you. There were so many flowering trees and so much flourishing greenery that you felt like you could stare at it all for hours while Lloyd worked.
And, in fact, that’s exactly what you’d been doing on that particular spring day. Lloyd had even opened the window so you could feel the warm spring breeze against your cheeks and smell the sweet perfume of the lilacs and honeysuckle from the garden. It was a beautiful day and you hoped Lloyd would finish working soon so you could go outside and enjoy the sunshine together.
It had been your intention when you’d strolled into Lloyd’s office in one of your pretty sundresses to entice your husband to go for a walk in the garden with you. You’d had designs about packing a picnic and spreading out a blanket beneath one of the leafy trees to spend the afternoon together. But Lloyd had insisted he couldn’t be pulled away from work—though that hadn’t stopped him from pulling you into his lap.
One thing had led to another and your plan to coax him out of his office had been foiled when he’d talked you into straddling his lap and keeping his cock warm while he worked. With the window open, it had seemed like the perfect compromise. After all, you loved being connected to your husband in such an intimate way, and with you able to stare out the window behind his desk, you’d been content.
For a while.
But your hips ached a little from sitting in the same position for so long, and your body was growing restless from having Lloyd’s perfect cock buried inside you for so many hours without anything in the way of satisfaction. But every time you moved your hips even a little bit, even to readjust yourself, Lloyd’s hand would press firmly against your lower back and he’d urge you to keep still.
You tried to be good, you really did, but the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon and you could feel the beautiful spring day slipping through your fingers, along with all your plans to enjoy it with your husband. A whine worked its way up your throat and you couldn’t bear to bite it back.
“Lloyd, please, can’t we go outside for a little while,” you begged, your arms circling around his shoulders and squeezing him tight while you tried, and failed, to keep your hips from rocking in lazy circles. “You can work later.” Your last word came out on a whimper as you felt the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls, a shiver racing down your spine.
“Just a little while longer, pet,” Lloyd rumbled distractedly, pressing his hand against your lower back and urging you to still your rolling hips. “You can be a good girl for your husband, can’t you?” He offered you a sly smile as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.
Huffing an impatient sigh, you let him stop your movements, muttering, “That’s what you said an hour ago.” If you sounded petulant, that’s because you were. You didn’t even try to hide your mood from your husband, who seemed content with ignoring his wife’s needs.
As if Lloyd could read your mind, he gripped the back of your neck and towed you away from where you’d been draped against his chest so he could look you straight in the eye. “If you give me a few more minutes of peace and quiet, I promise we’ll spend the rest of the afternoon outside,” he said, his tone patient.
But you discovered in that moment that you were all out of patience of your own. You shot Lloyd a glare before you ducked forward and nipped his ear sharply with your teeth, using your cunt to squeeze his cock as hard as your inner muscles could, wringing a grunt from your husband.
“I want to go outside now,” you hissed in his ear, knowing exactly what you were doing and knowing it was going to get a rise out of Lloyd. But that was exactly what you wanted.
Lloyd’s hand slipped easily from the back of your neck to the wrap around the front, his thumb and middle finger digging into your throat just beneath the cut of your jaw. He pushed you back enough so you could feel the full weight of his glower, but you only scowled at him harder.
“Did you really think that would work?” he asked, tilting his head to the side while he looked down at you. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel worried about the dangerous thread in his tone, not when your husband’s attention was finally fully on you. “Cute.”
Then Lloyd was pushing you up by his grip on your throat, rising to stand with a dark look on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. You whimpered when you lifted off his cock, your body feeling unimaginably empty without him inside you, but your husband only snarled at your pitiful sound.
“You wanna go outside? We’ll go outside,” Lloyd muttered, spinning you around and bending you over the sill of the window behind his desk. It didn’t have a screen so your upper body hung out the back of the house, only your husband’s hand holding you around your throat preventing you from tumbling out into the garden. “How’s this, princess, is this outside enough for you?” Lloyd growled in your ear, curling his body over yours and pinning you to the sill.
But it wasn’t enough for you, not when your cunt was leaking with arousal and your inner walls were fluttering pathetically around nothing. “Need you inside me, husband,” you gasped out, squirming your hips beneath Lloyd’s bigger frame, like you could somehow find the tip of him and force him to drive his full length home.
“First you demand I take you outside, then you demand I be inside you,” Lloyd rumbled, his tone mean in that way that made your whole body clench and pleasure to flood your mind. “You’re needy today aren’t you, cupcake?” he asked mockingly, his free hand reaching between your bodies to grip his dick and slide the head through your soaking folds.
You went weak and pliant beneath Lloyd when you were so close to getting what you wanted, your lips forming the first desperate words you could manage. “Yes, yes, so needy for your cock, husband, please give it to me, please, I need you to fuck me, oh god, Lloyd, please!”
With one furious thrust, Lloyd buried the full length of his cock deep in your cunt, the tip ramming against the end of you so hard that you shrieked in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Lloyd’s hand tightened around your throat, choking off the loudest of your sounds of pleasure while he curled over your body, his chest pressing to your back, his cock grinding deep in your cunt in a way that made your toes curl.
“Good girl, angel, sound so sweet begging for your husband’s dick,” Lloyd rumbled, his free hand gripping your hip tightly while he pounded into you with short, deep thrusts, his thighs clapping against the backs of yours. “You didn’t need to be such a brat to get me to fuck you, just needed to beg for me.”
You were too far gone with pleasure to respond, but it occurred to you that Lloyd fucking you through the open window of his office was much better than the lazy picnic sex you’d envisioned for the afternoon. Glancing through the garden, you knew if anyone was around, they’d see the obscene tableau you painted, your husband fucking you over the windowsill, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when the brutal thrusting of Lloyd’s cock felt so exquisite, your cunt clenching down on him as your pleasure grew.
“Fuck, fuck, buttercup, your cunt feels too good, you’re gonna make me come,” Lloyd groaned, his teeth sinking into your shoulder while his hand slipped between your thighs, finding your wet, slippery clit. “Come on your husband’s cock, wife, show me what a good girl you can be with my dick buried deep in this pussy.”
Your orgasm hit you with the suddenness of a champagne cork popping, leaving you awash in wave after wave of dazzling pleasure. A scream tore free from your throat before your husband cut it off with his choking grip. Your body tightened beneath Lloyd, your cunt gripping his cock so hard, it set off his own release. He rutted into you, muttering about your perfect cunt and how you were so good for coming on his cock.
Together, you rode out your releases together, your bodies writhing against the windowsill until you were both finally sated.
Carefully, Lloyd helped you back inside, and he collapsed into his office chair, his arm banded around your waist pulling you down into his lap and keeping you connected. You leaned heavily back against his chest, your body feeling boneless from pleasure, a satisfied smile curling your lips.
Lloyd pressed a kiss to your cheek, the bristles of his mustache tickling your skin gently and making you giggle softly.
“Will you be a good girl and let me finish my work now?” he asked in a low, delicious rumble.
You stretched out your arms and legs, your spine curving and pushing your chest out so Lloyd could see the way your nipples poked against the thin cotton of your sundress. Grinning like the cat that got the cream, you relaxed back into Lloyd’s lap, humming in contentment.
“I think I can manage for a little while, husband,” you purred, but you tilted your head and caught his eye. “But only for a little while.” There was a warning in your tone that made Lloyd chuckle.
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you cooped up on such a nice spring day, wife,” Lloyd murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “At least, not for much longer.”
True to his word, Lloyd finished his work soon after and, together, the two of you went out into the gardens for a late lunch. You ate the food you’d prepared for the picnic you’d planned, and then Lloyd settled between your thighs to devour you for dessert.
You laid back on your picnic blanket beneath a shady tree in the garden of your home and let your husband worship your body. After all, it was what you deserved for being such a good wife, and his good girl, while he’d kept you cooped up for so much of the nice spring day.
#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun#lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen fanfiction#lloyd hansen x you#chris evans#chris evans characters#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#witchywithwhiskeywork#biteofcherry
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Sex while high with Theo 🤌🏻🤌🏻 Just so slow and sloppy
I hope this works! I've been high, but haven't fucked high, so idk what I'm doing lol.
Lazy and High
Theodore Nott x F!Reader
Warnings: Use of weed, cussing, a little dry humping, unprotected sex, cream pie.
18+ Minors DNI!
You were already feeling the buzz from the joint you and Theo were sharing. Your body felt light and a bit tingly. You giggled as you passed the joint back to Theo, blowing the smoking right into his face.
“You're a little brat, cara mia.” He said as he took the joint from you, smiling up at you.
You were situated on top of him, lazily grinding down on his cock.
“I'm your little brat, though. And you love it.” You said, biting your bottom lip.
“I'd love it more if you finally put my dick in you.” He teased before taking a hit from the joint.
You moved to undo his pants and strip down yourself before straddling his lap again. His hands found your hips as you guided his cock to your entrance, slowly sinking down on him.
“That's it, bella. You feel so fucking good.” He moaned, watching his cock enter you. “Only been humping my dick for the past 30 minutes, you fucking tease.” He gave your ass a spank and you yelped in surprise.
“No fun if I can't tease you, Teddy.” Your smile returned as you started grinding on him, very slowly, very lazily. You took the joint from him and took another hit.
“You look so sexy like this, principessa. Riding my cock like you own it. It's all fucking yours, cara mia.” He said, putting his hands behind his head as he watched you.
“I just think you're being lazy today. Making me do all the work.” You quipped, putting your hands on his chest for more leverage.
“Mmm, that could also be part of why I love this.” He played along, grabbing the joint from you to put out beside him on the nightstand.
“You feel so good, Teddy.” You moaned, throwing your head back.
“I do, do I?” He smiled, putting his hand back behind his head. “Not just stroking my ego now, principessa?”
“No, but you're stroking something else.” You smiled as you looked back at him.
“Little brat.” He said, pulling you down to kiss him and flipped you onto your back, thrusting in and out of you slowly. “You don't always need to make dirty jokes.”
“Much more fun this way.” You retorted, biting back a moan. “You love it.”
“You love testing me, bella.” He moved to kiss your neck, biting ever so softly.
“Works out in my favor.” Your hands went to his hair.
He just kept kissing and biting your neck, thrusting slowly but deep, the room filling with the sounds of both of your moans. The high from the weed made your orgasm stronger and longer once it hit you, your orgasm sending Theo into his, shooting his cum into you.
Taglist:
@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff
@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121
@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236
Let me know if you wanna be added!
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys smut#thedore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader smut#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader
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These Destined Ends
Part Fourteen
Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?
Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: and they were cousins, poison, brief descriptions of violence and death
A/N: Thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I slowly update TDE🥺❤️🩹 Hopefully this chapter was worth it, I apologize beforehand for the lack of smut and the abundance of plot
You stare at the document in your hands, realization trickling in slowly, then with more force — a dam eroding before the subsequent flood. The longer you look at it the more the words and symbols swim before your eyes. How could this be? Had Jessica known about this?
She had to have, you puzzle, if it was in the study. Why didn’t she tell you? Could it be that she just never got the chance?
Or was she hiding it?
“You could at least look a little bit excited to see me.”
“Oh, Asha, I —” the content of the document promptly vanishes from your mind as it works instead to compute the image of Asha standing in the doorway of the study. “Asha!”
A shriek tears from you and you race across the room to your friend, embracing her tightly. She laughs against you. “There’s the welcome that I was expecting.”
“I’m sorry, I — actually, it doesn’t matter. What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” You hold her at arms length, examining her to make sure that she looks healthy and unharmed. “Are they treating you well?”
“The servants went sent ahead to prepare the rooms,” Asha says. “And I’m fine. How are you? Am I an aunt yet?”
There’s nothing you can do to suppress your eye roll, but you squeeze her hand assuringly. “You’ll be the first person to know.”
“Mm. The na-Baron needs to get on it.”
“Get on what?”
“Me,” you say. At the same time, Asha blurts, “Nothing!”
Feyd has replaced Asha in the doorway. He looks unfairly handsome, his skin retaining a little more color than usual from the Arrakis suns. Well, a red color, one that you’ve assurred him would fade.
Probably.
Seeing him makes your stomach flip. You’ve left the document out on the desk, and you glance at it quickly. But if he picks up on your panic, he doesn’t mention it.
“I suspected it was you when I heard all of the shrieking,” Feyd says. Then, this time to Asha, “I’m glad that you’re here.”
“Thank you, na-Baron,” Asha says with a dip of her chin.
“Do you need something?” You ask him. As casually as you can, you return to the desk and slip the document into your pocket.
Feyd’s lips twitch. “Can a husband not just visit his wife?”
“A husband can,” you retort, “but I have the sense that you are here as the na-Baron. Not my husband.”
“Is there a difference?”
You look to Asha. “I’ll be right back,” you promise her. Not daring to say anything in front of Feyd, she nods. You trail after Feyd into the hallway, who sets a swift pace, striding away from the study and out of ear shot.
“There’s a problem,” he tells you in a hushed tone.
“Other than the fact that you just stole me away as soon as my best friend arrived?”
Feyd ignores this. “My brother has generously invited Irulan and her family to the feast tomorrow night.”
“What?”
“The Emperor has declined the invitation but Irulan has elected to attend. Even though her father won’t be there, I suspect he’ll send an army of reinforcements for her.”
You mull over this new information. Both of you fall silent as a pair of soldiers pass by, then you whisper, “Could they suspect our plan?”
“No. Impossible.” Feyd shakes his head. “I’m sure the Baron just wants to remind House Corrino of their hand in…this.” He waves his hand to encompass the palace as you walk through it.
“Dethroning my family by having them killed?”
Feyd stops and pivots to you, grabbing your wrist. “I haven’t forgotten. But neither have they. We must keep our wits about us if we hope to be successful.”
“Right. I know.” You free yourself from his grip.
“You can’t let your emotions distract you.”
“They won’t.”
Feyd inspects your face, and he’s quiet for quite some time. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“No I’m not,” you reply reflexively. Feyd raises a brow. A scowl crosses your features and, reluctantly, you ask him, “What do you know of my…lineage?”
“I told you, you must not —”
“Just answer the question,” you snap. He’s acting as if you’re a petulant child, liable to pitch a fit.
Feyd recites what he knows, what you’ve told him — how your mother’s parents were never revealed to her. His mouth forms a severe line. “Why?”
There’s a fleeting moment in which you debate whether or not you’ll share the information with him. Ultimately, you know that you will never be able to keep it a secret. With hesitance you draw the document from your pocket and give it to him. Feyd’s eyes flash curiously to yours then back to the paper before reading it.
His expression remains unchanged. He hands the paper back to you. “I’m not surprised.”
“You’re not surprised?”
You were cousins. Cousins.
“I didn’t know, obviously,” he says, his voice nearing a growl. Then something in him softens slightly. “I’m referencing the inexplicable…connection that I have always felt. That you must’ve felt. Our hearts knew the same blood ran in our veins before our minds did.”
“You’re okay with this?” You ask.
Feyd lifts a shoulder, diplomatic as ever. “It is not unheard of. Besides, I am too entranced with you to let this affect me. If anything it just cements the bond that we have.”
He draws you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head. You find comfort in the pulse of his heart under your ear, the familiar scent that you’ve associated with him. “You are me,” he says finally.
You smile softly. “And I am you.”
Late into the evening you help Asha with prepping for your esteemed guests, working alongside the other servants and sneaking sips of the spice wine. They’re unsure of you, at first, but Asha quickly puts them at ease with a few unflattering anecdotes. You laugh with them. It’s been too long of a time since you’ve really laughed, spent time with people who didn’t have any expectations of you except the ones that Asha dashed — you were not quite as scary as you looked, and you did not lash out at others at the slightest provocation.
“You’re confusing me for my husband,” you told them then, to weary laughter. You might not have been a threat to them, but they were all afraid of Feyd-Rautha. Understandably.
It’s a nice reprieve until you awake the next morning with a twinge of a spice headache and a spiraling sense of doom. What if your pain failed? What if something happened to you — or Feyd?
“Quit it.”
You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, draped in your finest dress. Feyd stands before the vanity and you watch him slip the Gom Jabbar into a hidden compartment in his sleeve. “Quit what?” You ask, fear tightening your chest.
“Worrying,” he says.
You meet his eyes in the mirror. A protest forms on your tongue but you know it would be futile to pretend that you aren’t worrying considering that he knows every subtle change in your expression. When you fail to reply, he turns to you, straightening out the cuffs of his smart jacket.
“Everything will be fine,” he tells you.
“You don’t know that.”
“I have never made a habit of being wrong.”
You fix him with an exasperated look. “We have no idea how this is going to play out.”
“We’re going to take back control from the hands of our oppressors,” Feyd says, his rasping voice like a lullaby. His long stride devours the space between you until he’s positioned himself practically between your legs. “We will finally take what we deserve.”
“I know. I know,” you say again with more conviction. You roll your shoulders back and try to emulate some of Feyd’s unwavering confidence, but he hardly looks convinced.
Gazing down at you, Feyd brushes his knuckles over the bannister of your cheek. “No harm will come to you. I won’t allow it.”
“And I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”
His hand pauses. Feyd’s thumb and forefinger captures your chin, lifts it up. “Promise me that you will not jeopardize your safety for mine.”
Not for the first time, you admire the angles of his face — the smooth brow, the dark eyes looking down at you over his straight nose; the plush lips that you cannot look at without picturing them over your most sensitive parts. Your heart pangs. You would do anything for him.
You tell him in an equally soft tone, “I can’t promise you that.”
“You must.” His grip on your chin tightens.
“We’ve already established that you are my blood. My past, my future,” you whisper fervently to him, brave in the face of his obvious disapproval, “if the moment comes to it I would lay down my life to protect yours.”
Feyd leans down. His mouth slants over yours, a phantom of a kiss. “Then you’re a fool,” he breathes, words chilling you.
“So be it.”
Feyd releases his grasp on you, stealing the air from your lungs. Even the faintest touch of his leaves you wanting more.
“Come,” he says, holding out his arm, “my foolish wife. We have guests to receive.”
Glowglobes dance over your heads as you venture, arm in arm, to the front of the palace. No one has been permitted to enter without the na-Baron and na-Baroness and at your arrival begin to trickle in slowly, each guest stopping to greet you and praise you for your hospitality.
A few stop to ponder at the lack of wash troughs but after a series of dead-end interactions with Feyd cease to ask. It wasn’t a popular choice among the Arrakis staff, you had learned from your previous stay that they liked to sell the towels from which cleaned up the mess from the troughs. Your Harkonnen guest frown on this as well. Even Feyd was skeptical about your insistence on removing the tradition, but he supported you regardless, and you couldn’t be more pleased by your decision.
Water was sacred here and you would not flaunt your access to it, not even to those who had never had to safe keep it.
It’s difficult to maintain the smile on your face as you welcome noblemen and bankers, wealthy businessmen, and even the occasional individual that you sense dabbled in the more seedy side of entrepreneurship. The duel suns have just started to set when you notice a familiar dark shape approaching you.
“Uncle,” Feyd greets the Baron.
“Feyd-Rautha, na-Baroness.” His voice slips over you like grease and his eyes are even more beady than you remember. Your grandfather. “It is good to see you again and to celebrate your victory.”
“Indeed,” you reply, not meaning it in the least.
From behind the Baron, his suspenders whirring with the effort of lifting him, emerge Rabban, clutching the wrist of one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Her dress gives the appearance of armor but still impressively elegant, blonde hair slicked back and green eyes latching onto you immediately.
“Princess Irulan,” Rabban says. “Though she hardly needs an introduction.”
“It’s a pleasure,” you say, curtsying.
Irulan smiles wistfully at you. “There is no need for that. We are destined to be family, after all.”
“My apologies,” Feyd retorts.
“Don’t mind him,” the Baron directs at the princess. One of his massive hands clamps down on Feyd’s shoulders, a gesture that you do not mistake for anything less than threatening. “He jests as all brothers do.”
“I understand,” Irulan says with a melodious laugh. Though as the five of you take to joining the rest of the party (along with Irulan's small army of guards), you can’t help but notice the way she glances at you. You have trouble deciphering the look but it slips from your mind after another session of small talk before the first course is served.
The table has just been set with plates of all sorts of delicacies when you feel a small hand grab you. Bodies press against you as guests hurry to claim the most coveted seats at the table. A chord of surprise is struck in you when you realize that the hand is not that of someone hoping to steady themselves amongst the sea of bodies but, rather, the intentional grip of Princess Irulan.
“We must talk,” she says. “It’s not every day that you find yourself in a situation like the one we have both been put in.”
“Did you not think your father would arrange your marriage?” You ask stiffly.
Something reminds you that Irulan is studying to be a Bene Gesserit, a feat that you could never hope to accomplish. You have to admit that it’s admirable. But the less tolerant side of you resents her for it.
“I could never hope for that, much like you were unable,” Irulan says. “I meant in the nature of being engaged to Harkonnens.”
“Oh.”
Distractedly you let your eyes wander until they fall on Feyd, who is sitting in his place at the head of the table and entertaining a small audience. Rabban, on the other hand, glowers at the food heaped on his plate, fork gripped in his fist as if he wants to launch it at someone.
“Do you have any wisdom to impart?” Irulan asks.
“I’m still trying to learn myself,” you tell her. “The Harkonnens are a…unique people.”
Irulan leans closer to you. “Is Feyd-Rautha as psychotic as they say?”
“Even more,” you say in interest of feeding the rumors. They weren’t wrong, of course, but you could hardly consider him as such when it was Irulan’s own betrothed who worried you.
And they both had a hand in your family’s deaths.
Before you can say anything to this effect, however, Feyd beckons you to the table. You smile at Irulan placatingly — the expression of a wife under her husband’s control — then find your place beside him. Irulan sits down on the other side of Rabban. Is she still staring at you?
You can’t help but feel as you did when Jessica would scrutinize you, analyzing your every move and word. It unsettles you.
The dinner starts without a hitch. You do your best to move the food on your plate around convincingly and avoid Irulan’s gaze. Everyone seems content to listen to Feyd’s stories about dismantling the spice smugglers, though, which leaves you mostly adrift with your thoughts. In fact, you’re so surprised when someone speaks to you that it takes several moments for you to compose an answer.
“Pardon my niece,” the Baron interjects with a sickening smile. “She certainly has a lot on her mind. Arrakis is grueling for even the weakest of individuals, though she’s had experience with it before.”
The noblemen who spoke to you nods. “That’s right. You’re of House Atreides. My condolences about your parents. Duke Leto was a magnificent man.”
“If only other men were possessed of such magnificence,” you mutter in reply, angrily spearing a vegetable on your plate. You shoot a glare at the Baron. “My father inspired cowardice in those who could not even hope to compete with him.”
“True cowardice lies in refusing to admit when you’ve been beat,” the Baron says coolly. He licks sauce from his thumb.
You stare back evenly at him. “You would know about true cowardice.”
The nobleman stuck between you both clears his throat awkwardly and drains the rest of his glass. Conversation swells again and thankfully diverts the topic of your family, and as the dinner transpires you’re itching to enact your plan. Finally dessert is cleared and after-dinner drinks are set before all of the guests.
Feyd rises to his feet and draws the attention of the room, holding up his flute to indicate a toast.
You stand, too, and smile endearingly at him.
“Tonight we have gathered to celebrate the prosperity of the House Harkonnen,” he rasps. “In the face of adversity we have yet again come out the victors on the other side.” This is met by a small smattering of applause. Feyd continues, “Of course, where would we be without our patriarch? The Baron has…provided for us for many years. I can only hope to return the favor.”
Feyd and you both drink from your glasses, as do the rest of the party.
It takes only a few seconds for panic to arise.
While you and Feyd gaze out contentedly at your guest, they find themselves paralyzed and unable to move a muscle. It’s a temporary poison — it won’t last longer than a few minutes — but it’s one that you both have acclimated to. You are free to round the table to Rabban at the same time that Feyd strides to his uncle on the other side.
You pull the Gom Jabbar from your corset. Every Noble House is in possession of one, which is why Feyd also had to steal his own. In a movement that seems almost choreographed, you and your husband bring the needles up to the necks of your prisoners. Adrenaline soars through you.
“It was always going to end like this between us,” Feyd murmurs almost lovingly to the Baron. He brushes his finger down his uncle’s face.
You turn your attention to Rabban. Although he cannot move, the muscles in his eyes strain to glare at you. You hold the needle just centimeters from his skin. “I will give you the same mercy you gave my family,” you whisper. “None.”
“STOP!”
Time ceases to move as, from your peripheral, you watch Irulan shoot to her feet. You’re unable to refuse the call of The Voice, and you’re rendered as paralyzed as the guests who drank from their poisoned glasses.
Which, apparently, the princess had not.
“You two are both fools,” she hisses. Her fingers form claws at her sides. “Did you not think I would notice what you were doing? That I would let you unravel the hard work of my father?”
Using The Voice, she orders you to drop the needles. They clatter to the ground.
You manage a glance in Feyd’s direction. His expression is grim, jaw clenched and eyes burning with rage at having been thwarted. Out of all of the outcomes of this evening, you hadn’t expected this to be one of them. A leaden feeling fills your entire body.
Irulan holds you, frozen, until she can call her father’s guards into the room and command them to seize you for treason.
“Irulan, please,” you beg her once liberated of her hold over you.
She simply gazes at you with contempt.
Guards descend on the room without warning and, without any verbal agreement, you and Feyd do your best to fend off wave after wave of them. They drop like flies, but there’s too many of them for you both to dispatch. You step and whirl over fallen bodies as you fend off the guards with nothing but a butter knife, the Gom Jabbar having been the first thing the guards kicked out of your grasp.
“We have to get out,” Feyd snaps at you. He throws a punch over your shoulder, hitting a guard and giving you enough time to spin and kick the offender in the gut. “Now.”
You pant, “Where?”
Irulan was tending to Rabban, who had stirred and was glaring murderously at you as he waited for the rest of his body to cooperate. The Baron simply stared from his seat. You had no idea if he was fully awake or not, but you didn’t want to wait for the punishment he fettered out.
“Here.” Feyd pushes a torn up napkin into your hands and demonstrates his intention by forcing them deep into his ears.
You quickly do the same. If you can’t hear Irulan, then the Voice won’t work on you.
Right?
It seemed as good a plan as any. Like a conjoined beast, you and Feyd tear through the swarm of guards like cutting through tall wheat. Blood splattered his face and his knuckles had broken open — you were sure you looked just as deranged, hair loosened from its pins and dress ripped from where a guard had taken hold to try and stop you. You had promptly struck him in the head with your foot, knocking him out and releasing his grip on you.
A roar from behind alerts you to bigger troubles. Rabban staggers after you, face reddened.
“Y/N!” Asha cries. You’ve made it to one of the adjoining hallways, and she latches onto your arm, pulling you towards her.
“Asha, no —”
“Go! Take her!” Feyd yells.
You wrench yourself free from Asha but Feyd has already been swallowed up by a wall of guards. A keening sound escapes you. You try to push yourself back but Asha won’t let you. “No, Feyd! Feyd!”
“He made me promise that I would help you escape,” Asha tells you, panicked. “Come on.”
“I won’t leave him.”
Asha tugs your arm. “I doubt he will be able to tolerate being apart from you for very long. But he will not tolerate it if I let anything happen to you.”
A guard with a lasgun splits from the dining room towards you and Asha and, with one more prompt from her, you take off running in the opposite direction, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The lasgun fires off two rounds, narrowly missing you. You pump your legs as fast as they will go, completely disconnected from the task at hand as you remember the image of Feyd interlocking with Rabban before he was obscured from your view by the guards. Would even your husband be able to escape such force?
“Turn here,” Asha instructs, your feet thundering loudly on the polished floors. She turns and thrusts you into a segment of the wall that has fallen away, moving swiftly to replace it. Stupidly, you hover, ensuring that you’re not being followed. The sound of the guard’s heavy breathing passes by you, then disappears. Asha turns to you, her face in shadows. “Move.”
Once you’re safely away from the door, tunneling through a narrow passageway, you ask her, “Where are we?”
“Abandoned servants halls. They used to use them to travel through the palace without being detected.”
A rush of adrenaline keeps you moving. You trail after Asha as she guides you through the winding passage, relying only on touch to navigate. You can barely even lift your arms at your sides without touching the walls, and its pitch black, no glowglobes to light your way. There’s no saying how far you go until Asha is grunting and pushing her shoulder up against another segment of wall.
You blink rapidly as you encounter a burst of light and the grit of sand on your tongue. Somehow you’ve bypassed most of the palace for the hangar. It’s shaded by an awning but open on one side to the harsh elements.
“Come on, we don’t have much time. If they’re smart they’ll know where we’re going.”
Asha leads you to one of the idle thopters. “I have no idea how to pilot one of these,” you say, alarmed.
“It’s been preprogrammed to at least get you out of Arraneen,” Asha says. “The rest is up to you. It’s not hard. This is the throttle—” she points to a lever, then another, “and this is the clutch.”
“I —” the words die in your throat.
I, what? Can’t land this thing? Can’t believe this is happening? Can’t leave without Feyd?
“Come with us. They’ll kill you if they find out you helped us,” you say instead.
Asha shakes her head. “There’s no room.”
“Asha —”
Your friend, her own tears in her eyes, pushes away your reaching hand. She ducks her head to check a watch-apparatus from her pocket. “The na-Baron should be here soon. If he’s not, he instructed me to force you to leave without him.”
You growl, “Nothing you can say will keep me from him.”
As if the universe felt personally challenged by this, the sounds of lasguns going off reverberate through the hangar. Asha and you both look towards the entrance, where Feyd can be seen sprinting from a group of guards. A scream climbs in your chest, bubbling with fear, as you watch him swerve and dodge to avoid the blasts.
“Feyd!” You cry.
His eyes lock on you and, seemingly emboldened, cycles his legs faster, outrunning the guards in their clumsy uniforms.
“Y/N, start the thopter!” Asha yells. She indicates a button on the mantle of the ship and you hastily press it, the bug-like wings snapping to life and kicking up sand in the hangar.
Feyd skids to a stop beside the thopter. A blast fires off, singing the mechanical flank of the ship. He uses his body as a shield for Asha. “Come with us,” he tells her, echoing you. Sweat and blood mingle on his face and his clothes.
“No. It’s too late. Go!” Asha all but shoves him into the thopter, crying out as another blast lands at her feet. With Feyd’s broad form next to yours, there’s truly no room for Asha unless she wanted to be smashed against the windshield. Feyd takes over the controls from you.
The thopter door closes right as the guards reach it, already jerking Asha into their grip.
You howl and scream in disbelief, pounding at the doors of the thopter from the inside as it launches into the air. Feyd hovers slightly before yanking on the throttle and piloting the thopter out of the hangar. “No, no, no!” Asha’s tiny frame is dwarfed by the guards, then by distance.
“Y/N, there’s nothing we can do now. She sacrificed herself for us. Let’s not put it to waste,” Feyd snarls at you.
You swipe tears and makeup from your face. Something inside you hardens, and you push down your anguish in order to focus on your escape. Feyd is a talented flyer, but it’s nothing compared to the league of thopters and ships encroaching in the distance. Worry clamps down on you like the jaws of a sandworm.
Arrakeen blurs beneath you as Feyd soars over it, the body of the thopter casting shadows over the buildings. You’ve nearly reached the shield wall when a shot collides with the thopter and sends it staggering to one side. Feyd curses. The Emperor’s ships have caught up with you. You grip your armrests, eyes widening as you watch the ships grow larger and larger in the rearview mirror. Feyd eases your ship through a small opening in the shimmering shield wall, effectively preventing any of the large ships from following.
More shots ring out, pinging off your thopter.
“What are we going to do?” Feyd’s dark gaze flickers behind you, then back to the desert unfolding before you. It’s then that you see it — a storm. “Feyd, did you get hit in the head? We can’t go into a sandstorm.”
“It’s our only option,” he grits out.
You want to protest, to persist that there’s another way, but you have no answer. Feyd forces the throttle of the ship down as far as it will go, the wings fluttering almost imperceptibly as he urges them to go as fast as possible. Pain explodes in your head when a blast hits the side of the thopter and you’re thrown against the inner wall; much like the pain, a fiery explosion erupts outside your window.
“Fuck! They shot off one of the engines,” Feyd yells over the clamor of the thopter stalling. Teeth gritting, he swoops it out of its downward spiral and back into the air. “We just have to make it to the storm. They won’t follow us.”
Giant columns of smoke billow from the decimated engine, the right wing also engulfed in flames. The thopters chugs along awkwardly, dipping and faltering as Feyd does his best to keep it in the air, relying on the gusts of wind from the oncoming storm. Your stomach churns.
And, quite literally jumping from one problem to the next, the storm seizes upon your thopter with furious force. From all sides you’re battered by wind and currents of sand and rocks, sounding like you were being pelted with boulders on all sides. You realize too late that the screaming you hear is from you. Feyd battles against the storm but at this point he’s at its terrible mercy, both of you being tossed around with no sense of control.
There’s a split second when you catch a glimpse of fear on Feyd’s face — the first time you’ve ever seen it — before another blast rockets into the thopter. One of the ships had followed you.
Flames converge with the whipping sand and an alarm starts wailing as the thopter plummets to the ground. Well, logical leads you to believe that it’s the ground, there’s no way of telling which direction you’re going.
Feyd releases himself from his seat’s harness and crosses over the console, throwing his body over yours right as the ship collides with something solid and everything goes black.
Taglist:
@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen
#feyd rautha#dune#feyd x reader#feyd x you#feyd rautha harkonnen#fanfic writing#writers on tumblr#fanfic#writing#these destined ends
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bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers
warnings. none for this part. stay for steamy stuff in later parts ;)
content. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush/enemies to lovers!/manager!reader/gn!reader for this part, could change?/passive-aggressive tsukki/daichi being a friend/suga being a friend/future smut/future sexual frustration
notes. i'm branching out! first haikyuu fic! not done with mha but it just doesn't motivate me to write rn :(
links. masterlist for mha. my ao3. PART TWO HERE
You were walking back with a full case of freshly mixed sports drinks for the team when the whistle blew for a break. The entirety of Karasuno was on you at a moment's notice, rowdy despite their long practice.
A plethora of 'thank you's and appreciative mantras filled your heart as you were able to hand out bottles.
The first to swipe them were the first-years that sprinted up to you, trying to beat each other in their own intense, but good-natured race. Then the less excitable members, like your fellow seniors, that gave you slower and sincere thanks, shoulder pats, and tried to engage you in conversation.
Except, you had to make sure everyone got theirs. Which left the bane of your existence.
He sucked his teeth and looked away, disinterested in hydrating as soon as he realized you were handing them out.
"Tsukishima, come on," Suga heeded a subtle warning, but his mistake was turning away to speak to the others- and not following up to ensure the first-year did this simple task.
You weren't going to hold up a bottle for the kid all day. This was ridiculous and beneath you. Your arm slapped down to your side.
Everybody knew he had some issue with you. His disliking for you was nearly automatic upon being placed on the team, but it had somehow grew to a new intensity each day you had to interact.
Little instances like this one added up quick. And it didn't take long to notice, especially amongst your longest friends.
It boiled down to something about you being enough to piss him off, much like Hinata and Kageyama of his own class. For those two, it was relatively harmless bullshit. For you, the structure of the team hinged on him listening to you as his senior and manager.
"I really don't know what's gotten into him-- I-I'm so sorry," Yamaguchi spoke through gritted teeth.
He would've blabbed for much longer on his friend's behalf like usual, but he stopped short with a chill when he found your mirrored cool, upward stare.
"You don't need it anyway," You set his full bottle back into the case with a loud thump, "You haven't even sweat today."
It was a tad bit of an exaggeration, but his growing habit of letting certain spikes through had been prevalent enough to catch your attention. It bothered you because not only did he so quickly run out of steam -much sooner than the others who got the same court time as him-, but Coach didn't always notice his faults the same way you could.
You didn't try to look at him more than the others, truly. Your job hinged on being objective and you liked to think you did a great job at that. Lately though, it'd been tough not noticing every little shitty idiosyncrasy of his.
The way he hit the ball. The curve of his body into the net when he leaped into the air. The angle he liked to hit. The side he favored. The amount of steps he took before he jumped.
He wasn't as skilled as he let on. They could all use improvement, but his cockiness really ate at your patience. The others at the very least pretended to listen to you, and most took your criticism as a chance to improve. God forbid you comment on his faults, though.
The last time you did, his face had frozen with that ugly, twisted expression for the rest of the match.
Almost as soon as your accusation met his ears, that unbelievably fake calm demeanor crumbled into one serious mixture of aggravation.
His jaw tightened and he glanced around your stone-cold stare.
Bitter, he almost seemed to loom over you as he wiped his forehead with an oversized palm. His gaze remained unfaltering, ever so hateful, and he squeezed a closed fist in between you.
Sweat drip, drip, dripped onto the gym floor.
Head cocked, he opened his mouth to speak-- but Daichi slapped a mighty hand onto Tsukishima's upper arm. His forced grin -a welcome sight at this point- came into view.
"Thank you for volunteering to mop today, Tsukishima!"
Sometimes, when you had these types of exchanges, everyone else just sort of... fell away. Despite some polite cover-up conversations, most of the other players had a sensitive ear to his attitude problem with you. They were practically trained to listen to you speak-- this, compounded with Tsukishima's quiet demeanor, and the gym usually fell just short of completely still.
The blond's scowl elicited your covered laugh as you were pulled away. Suga warned you quietly to not get too caught up in talking to the first-years, but it was difficult to focus on his words.
"Thanks," Was punctuated with the sound of Coach's whistle- he gave you a sympathetic expression and ran off.
You didn't realize how worked up you got until they all returned to the court to finish their spiking drills. They formed up in a neat line, one after the other.
Clipboard gripped a bit tighter, you took a big breath in. Then, out. Your heart settled.
Nobody likes confrontation.
SLAM!
Not unless they're a masochist or something.
SLAM.
Why did he have to pick on you? And not some bigger fish that was actually on the team? Your heart squeezed from the burden of it all.
S L A M !
Tsukishima turned to move to the back of the line, but made sure to catch your eyes before you could even think to ignore him. His expression was indescribable but nothing short of trouble.
@ me to be added to the taglist for this fic series! i have at least 4 more parts i want to do that will be substantially longer
#takesone#haikyuu#haikyu x reader#haikyu fluff#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyu tsukishima#tsukki#tsukki x reader#haikyuu tsukki#haikyuu angst#enemies to lovers#enemies with benefits#kei x reader#kei tsukishima#kei tsukishima x reader#x reader#reader insert#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq smut#hq angst#tsukishima x y/n#tsukishima x you#tsukishima x reader smut
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hey, how are you doing ?? hope you’re doing well !! 🎀🩷
i just wanted to ask if you can write a comfort fic with Jiung from p1h 🥺 everything is up to you i’ve been having hard times for the last few months and i’m just keep reading your works so i wanna say thank you, you really helped me get through this time ❤️🩹
just sleeping
# author's note ... sorry for such a long wait but actually we were twinning and i was going through some stuff too 😭 i hope you enjoy this tho <3 i hope you’re doing better now and i’m happy my silly little writing could help you cheer up, even a bit 🫂❤️🩹
# summary ... jiung enjoys every moment with you, even if it’s just a nap
# warnings ... mention of throwing up (but in a joking way), might seem a little suggestive but only if u squint ++ whole p1h cameo because i love them so much:(
# word count ... 1085
entering the dorm with keeho and intak, jiung is surprised at how quiet the place is.
“now that’s suspicious…” keeho giggled and three boys took off their shoes and put away their jackets.
bags rustling in their hands, they walked up to the living room. the soft sound of mario kart music echoed in the room but… the game seemed far forgotten.
“is anyone there?” intak asked quietly and jiung stepped closer, heart swelling in his chest upon the sight in front of his eyes.
you were sitting in the middle of the couch, shota and jongseob resting their heads on your lap. taeyang was awkwardly resting his head against the youngests’, hands wrapped around your legs… and his bottom part of the body uncomfortably on the floor.
keeho cooed and whipped out his phone, capturing this cute moment.
“what is that supposed to mean!” jiung grunted dramatically, noticing three gaming controllers messily thrown on the ground and a book of yours.
“they fell asleep, you should be grateful” your sleepy murmur caught their attention.
your tired gaze met your boyfriend’s curious eyes and you sent him a lopsided smile.
“what even happened here?” keeho laughed softly and started to pick up the controllers from the ground.
“well shota and seob were playing games, suddenly seob leaned against me so i started scratching his head. and then shota wanted too… and then tae came and protested that he wants too but welp, he didn’t fit on the couch so…” you chuckled, careful not to wake them up.
“idiots” jiung crossed his arms and noticed the sleepiness lingering in your gaze.
he knew that for the past few weeks (if not longer!) you’ve been struggling with work and academic stuff. on top of that, you were exhausted mentally, struggling with socializing and finding happiness in even your favorite hobbies.
and yet… here you are, hanging out with his friends… scratching their heads and letting them asleep on you.
“okay, enough of this. y/nnie, i bought something for you” your boyfriend hummed and poked theo’s arm.
“yeah, you must be pretty cramped up” intak sighed and shook the youngest’s shoulders.
you gently tucked shota’s hair behind his ear and woke him up with a soft tap on his back.
“what is it?” he yawned, sitting up. his hair was sticking in every direction, causing you all to laugh. the vibrations of your body stirred jongseob awake completely.
“my body…” theo groaned, massaging his neck. his eyes widened upon seeing the rest of the members being back “hi there”
“oh she has you all in a chokehold” keeho grinned and nudged jiung.
“did you even sleep?” seob asked you quietly, smacking away intak’s hands. you nodded, even though it wasn’t fully true. you were sleepy, sure, but you didn’t nap like them.
“okay, let’s make some food” intak clapped his hands, the youngests’ ears perking up.
once they were off you, you stretched your arms with a pleasant hum.
“how was the shopping, baby?” you asked jiung, who walked up behind you. then, you felt his warm hands on your neck and arms. massaging your sore muscles gently, you let your hands drop (and your neck too) “that’s nice…”
“we bought some clothes, intak bought some lego. i saw a cute hoodie and thought you’d like it so…” he wanted to go and show it to you but he noticed the way your arms relaxed. his thumb pressing in the middle of your neck. a groan ripped out of your throat, causing the boys in the kitchen to laugh.
“ew, disgusting!”
“i’ll show you the hoodie later, okay? and how was your day?” jiung ignored them, fingers working their way to the side of your neck. the pressure was a bit tough but in a pleasant way.
“fine… boring… missed you. so, nothing new… oh, right here, please” you hummed, letting out a small sigh when he stumbled upon a certain spot. he smiled and continued on.
“i’m literally gonna throw up, can you take this somewhere private?” theo snickered.
“ugh, intak, we’ll have to stay out of the dorm for a while” keeho sighed dramatically and you shot your head up, glaring at him “joking! joking…”
“c’mere, ji. they are just haters…” you mumbled and turned around, kneeling on the couch. wrapping your hands around his neck, you pecked his lips in a playful manner.
“ew! okay, sorry! just go!” keeho laughed, amused by the situation. the truth was, he just wanted you two to have some privacy – especially considering that you haven’t seen each other for the whole day.
you leaned away from jiung and stood up, grabbing your long forgotten book. after leaving it on the coffee table, he grabbed your hand gently and the bag in other.
entering his shared room, you looked around. the window was open, a nice breeze sneaking in.
“here, try it on” jiung leaned down and handed you the cloth. the hoodie was really cute – exactly how you liked it. it fit perfectly too.
you spun dramatically and posed.
“and?” you asked. jiung was observing you, smitten. a cocky smile was blooming on his lips.
“it’s perfect. what do you think, though?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
“it doesn’t smell like you yet. other than that, i love it. thank you, baby” you hummed and placed a kiss on his cheek.
jiung melted upon the sweet gesture. everything you did caused his heart rate to speed up, even after almost two years of dating.
“how was your day?” jiung asked and you fought a yawn, nodding.
“as usual… do you wanna take a nap? those rascals didn’t really let me sleep… taeyang talks awfully a lot of things in his sleep, did you know that?” you giggled and before he answered, you already hopped into his bed, burying yourself in the blankets.
spotting the plushie you bought for him ages ago, you grabbed it and pressed to your chest.
“i’m no fun, am i? just sleeping all day” you giggled, a spark of guilt in your eyes. jiung shook his head and in a blink of an eye was next to you, arms wrapping around you securely.
“i was tired too. besides, i don’t mind if i sleep or go bungee jumping. as long as you’re with me, i’ll enjoy everything” he hummed and pressed a tender kiss on your cheek bone. melting into the gesture (and because of his words), your eyes began to close.
masterlist <3
taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee
#blue jisungs's requests#jiung#choi jiung#p1h jiung#p1harmony x reader#p1harmony fanfic#p1harmony imagines#jiung x reader#jiung fanfic#jiung imagines#jiung fluff#p1harmony fluff#piwon x reader#piwon fluff#piwon imagines#piwon fanfic#piwon jiung#p1h choi jiung#p1harmony jiung#jiung x reader fluff#kpop fanfic#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#piwon comfort#jiung comfort#piwon boyfriend
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s. black — august
Tagged; @urbansaint
Pairing: sirius black x fem!slytherin!french!reader
Summary: you and sirius spent most of august together.
Warnings: slightly ooc sirius, a little drama but they’re teens so😝, harassment (brief), slight enemies to lovers if u squint real hard, a bit rushed i apologize, brief mention of france so i apologize i forgot that was part of the request, also i didn’t put regulus and sirius making up in this bc it was already long asf my bad
you hated sirius black. with a passion. not for any unknown reason—no, you had every right to hate him. even his friends knew it. and you were nothing if not stubborn. you'd never admit someone could get under you skin, but he absolutely could.
to understand why you hated sirius, first you had to understand what lead to this in the first place—starting at the beginning.
after a two-week vacation in your parents home town, bordeaux, france, you were very happy to be home. it wasn't that you hated your extended family, but you certainly enjoyed the comfort of your own bed as opposed to the old mattress that your older cousin no longer used.
living beside the potters was fun, if you could believe. you and your parents got along amazingly with the potters, despite you and james' teasing rivalry. you both never meant anything by it, but it was a fun inside joke—even if you hardly acknowledged each other at school.
placing your book down, you glanced up through your bedroom window, peering inside james' bedroom curiously. adding to the rivalry, your bedrooms faced each other—which was funnier than you both cared to admit.
you spotted a tall, though shorter than james, lean boy with handsome features and beautiful black hair. immediately, when he turned around, you recognized it to be sirius black—james' best friend. you knew seldom of sirius' home situation, but knew enough to know that the potters were his safe haven.
unfortunately, a week into the summer, before you left for france—sirius showed up to you and james' movie night, bleeding and crying hysterically from whatever had happened at his home. james helped him get changed while you made them tea and you quickly left, knowing it was not your place to stay. since then, sirius had spoken to you and apologized for the intrusion—but you knew he had nothing to be sorry for. it wasn't his fault.
since you had gotten home, you had gotten yourselves into a bit of a tedious situation.
one night, before the beginning of august, he had trouble sleeping and he had signaled to you through your bedroom window (given he knew what a night owl you were) that he was bored. though you felt you shouldn't have, given your parents no boys rule, you invited him over through your window. he had stayed up with you for a few hours, you two talking about anything and everything that came to mind.
and then, it became a nightly occurrence. you both thought james had no idea, given his habit of sleeping at 9:30 pm sharp, and if he did, he never made it obvious. every night, at 11 pm, he'd climb out of james' window and into yours.
and eventually, given the intimacy of those shared late nights, you grew an attraction to one another. one that did not go left unsaid.
you pulled away from your kiss, pushing sirius' hair out of his face. he was under you, with you straddling his torso as he lied on your bed. his lips were a red shade, from the bruising kissing you two had been engaged in. he tried to pull you in again with a smirk, but you chuckled and pulled away again. you stared into his eyes.
"we're going back to school soon, you know that right?" you asked. he groaned.
"don't remind me," he whined. he pulled you in for another kiss, pulling your hips down onto his. you hummed happily into the kiss but pulled back again.
"so, i know it may be too early to decide this, but we've got to figure out how to explain it you know?" you replied. his side wasn't so much a problem, but you were already a pariah in the slytherin house—given your indifference to pureblood status—you didn't exactly want to seem like the weird girl who sneaks around with a gryffindor.
sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "what're you talking about?"
he sat up as you situated yourself on his lap. he gave you a confused look and you shyly explained, "well, people are gonna ask questions—i feel like we should be on the same page about this, whatever this is,"
"yeah, well it's simple, no one will know," sirius shrugged. he tried to lean into to kiss you again, but you pulled away, sliding off of his lap.
"what do you mean no one will know?" you questioned, your blood running cold as he looked at you.
"i mean we'll keep it a secret, no one should know and frankly i don't want to tell anyone," he said casually.
you blinked at him. "and why not?"
he chuckled, trying to ease the growing tension. "y/n, you and i can't be seen together, you and i both know that..."
"what're you on about?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly at the boy.
"well, you know you're a...slytherin, you know? i can't be seen with you, your house is what i've been trying to escape my whole life..." he said dumbfounded.
you felt your heart drop as you chuckled humorlessly, you stood up and paced the room, "i don't believe this..."
frankly, hearing this made you wish you had never met him into your room in the first place.
"what? y/n, come on, you can't be that way... you know what my families like, and they're all slytherins, what'll people say when they see me with you? after running away? it's laughable!"
your blood boiled. "how can you sit there and say that? so what, i'm shameful to be with? not all slytherins are the same, just because your family is from that house and they're dickwads—it doesn't mean the same for the rest of us!" you said angrily.
"i can't believe you're overreacting about this! it's just not the right time! i ran away from my family, to be with a real loving family, to what? be associated with another slytherin? i've worked so hard to be separated from that house, from that family, i'm sorry but i won't go back—not for anyone. you can't sit here and tell me that everyone from that house isn't exactly like my family!" sirius replied angrily. he stood from your bed as he yelled and you felt your heart twist, staring up at him with fury.
"you know, you sit here and talk about how terrible your family is and how much you hate them and never want to be like them," you spat. "but you are exactly like them!"
"you judge people, you act like you're better than everyone because of who you are or what house your from, and you are a coward and cruel!" you spat angrily, lip quivering. "get out!"
sirius' expression changed. he was angry. he was hurt. more importantly, he felt like you had just plunged a deep knife into his heart and twisted. but most of all, he looked numb.
"you know what? i will leave, i may be a coward, but i would've never said to you what you just said to me," he spat. he climbed out of the window, leaving quickly and quickly going into his own home.
you watched angrily as he did, unfortunately still caring that he made it inside safely, and closed your window and curtain.
you couldn't believe he had made you feel so stupid...
———
months had passed since you and sirius' huge fight. since then, you'd hardly spoken to each other—and if you did, it wasn't very kind exchanges. your interactions were filled with glares and sarcasm and irritability with each other—and james was left more than confused how something so gentle could change into something so angry overnight.
nonetheless, you did your best to avoid each other at school. did you miss your late night talks with him? your late night eating sessions? most of all, your late night arts and crafts? of course, but he had shown you who he really was. you didn't need to miss someone like that. ( and honestly, it had become really clear how boring you two were together—but those nights were the funnest nights of your life. )
"hey, y/n," pandora burke sighed, throwing herself in the seat in front of you in the great hall. you looked up at your friend and smiled slightly, "hey, dora," you replied.
soon enough, evan rosier joined you both—quickly accompanied by regulus black. you were close with pandora for a long time, but not so much regulus and evan until this year. pandora, who was the only one to know about your fling, attributed the newfound friendship with the younger black brother as a subtle way to get back at sirius—whether it was or not, you certainly enjoyed regulus' company since he matured as a person—and you had to admit, the angry and infuriated look on sirius' face when you laughed with his brother was priceless.
you glanced up from your cereal as evan talked happily about the new spell he had learned to mess with gryffindors, finding grey eyes looming over you as you ate. you flared at sirius, finding he more than returned the favor.
"hello? y/n? why aren't you listening to me? can you stop eye-fucking regulus' brother for one second and listen to me?" evan said loudly, turning a few heads. thankfully, plenty were afraid of regulus that when he glared at them to mind their business, they did just that.
"i am not," you seethed.
"you kind of are," pandora added sheepishly.
"leave her alone," regulus sighed. "he was staring at her,"
"that fucking asswipe, i don't understand what's so interesting about me eating my cereal?" you scoffed, turning to regulus dumbfounded.
regulus shrugged. "maybe he thinks you're pretty,"
"probably," pandora smirked, eyeing you subtly.
"i know i'm pretty, i don't need his validation," you spat—glaring at the boy who had promptly turned to join in with lupin and pettigrews conversation.
you turned to regulus and smiled nonetheless, "but thanks, reg," you grinned, hitting his side playfully.
"whatever, we should go...we have divination soon," regulus muttered.
"you don't even like that class," evan said.
"yeah, but i do, and reggie is my mini me, let's get on with it, reg," you grinned, pulling regulus up with you. bidding a goodbye to your friends, you and regulus left the great hall arm-in-arm—unbeknownst to both of you, a pair of grey eyes watched you both angrily as you left.
——
potions was a hard enough class as it was, given your head of house taught it and expected perfection from his students. it was even harder when slughorn had no sense of social cues and decided to pair you and sirius up today to complete a potion.
frankly, you couldn't put all the blame on slughorn. if sirius and james weren't acting like such idiots, then you and pandora wouldn't have gotten separated to be paired with them.
"can you at least pretend like you're interested?" you hissed at the boy who had put his hair up in a makeshift bun and kicked his feet up on the table. you swatted his feet to the ground, glaring angrily at him.
"why should i? you're just gonna do what you when you want to anyway," sirius spat back.
you rolled your eyes. you nodded at the wooden spoon, "hand me that, you twat," you sneered. with ab annoyed huff, sirius grabbed the spoon and placed it softly in your hand. his fingertips brushed against your palm and for a second, it felt like that comforting feeling of you two back in your room—hands intertwined under covers and lips locked passionately.
he pulled his hand away promptly as you stared at the cauldron, trying to snap your common sense back into place. you acted unbothered by the hand touch and resumed your potion making, a subtle scowl printed on your lips.
you turned to sirius, glancing down at your textbook before looking at him. "bring me the rat's heart," you said sternly. with an exaggerated, annoyed sigh—sirius stood quickly and made his way over, picking up a small jar of the rats heart and ambling over, placing it gingerly in your hand.
"anything else, your highness?" he asked sarcastically.
you glared at him. "no, that'll be all, thank you," you spat back.
——
after class, you went to the library to try and get homework done. as much as you loved pandora, you were easily distracted by her and you would really like to turn your stuff in on time.
unfortunately for you, goyle had other plans. he was some persistent 5th year who had a thing for you, which would be fine, if he wasn't a downright creep about it. you didn't even know the boys first name, that's how irritating he was to you.
"come on, i'll bet I'll give you the best night of your life," goyle whispered to you, trying his hardest to seduce you it seemed. you rolled your eyes.
"leave me alone, i don't want any nights with you," you sneered, shoving a book into its shelf and attempting to walk off.
nonetheless, the boy persisted. "you're playing hard to get," he chuckled.
"or maybe you're not worth my time," you scoffed.
his face twisted angrily as he tripped to grip your hip. "don't talk to me like that," he said angrily.
"get your hands off of me!" you spat, throwing his hand off.
"i ought to—" goyle began.
"get the bloody hell off of her," sirius spat, shoving goyle away from you. "when a girl tells you no, she means no,"
"whatever, you're a slag anyway," goyle spat at you before walking off. sirius almost went after him, but you grabbed his arm as you watch goyle leave.
"don't worry about it, thanks," you said nonchalantly.
he nodded at you, "any time, n/n,"
both of your eyes widened, as you both remembered the exact times he'd call you that nickname. you cleared your throat and walked off, leaving him standing there blankly before he eventually walked off.
you turned the corner, bringing your back to the shelf, and took a deep breath. why did he have to keep reminding you?
——
parties were debatable to you. a part of you liked the music and the dancing, and most certainly the drinking. another part of you hated to be around that many people at one time. however, you'd do it for james.
gryffindor had just won their game against ravenclaw, and james begged you to come to the party. it was rare you two actually spoke to you at school, but when you did talk—it was usually to ask for each others support.
you entered the gryffindor common room, your little black dress wrapped around your body in all the right places and your heels heightened you just enough that it made your legs look longer. you pulled off your cardigan, draping it over the couch that sat near the fireplace.
you quickly joined your friends marlene and dorcas on the dance floor—you, james, and marlene had grown up together as neighbors. so though you weren't as close anymore, you still considered each other friends.
"hey babe," marlene grinned, running over to hug you. dorcas smiled and did the same, greeting you quietly.
"hey marls, where's james?" you asked, looking around for your tall, messy-haired friend.
"uh...oh! doing shots over there with sirius, remus, and peter!" she replied, pointing over to the four boys. you smiled and the three of you made your way over.
"congrats james!" you and marlene exclaimed, running up to hug him. he smiled and kissed both of your heads.
"guys, these are my sisters! i love them so much!" he slurred, pulling you and marlene close. the other boys and dorcas laughed, while you and marlene chuckled. thankfully, james had showered before the party.
the rest of them quickly ran off to the dance floor, leaving you and sirius standing there watching them. you poured yourself a cup of beer, taking a small sip.
"you look great, n/n," sirius smiled. his cheeks were a bit flushed, but above all else, he looked sober.
"how drunk are you right now?" you asked, surveying him closely.
"never mind," he said promptly before attempting to walk off. you grabbed his forearm swiftly and smiled slightly.
"thanks," you said simply. he grinned at you, before walking off into the dance floor. he was most definitely drunk.
as the party progressed, you managed to be the only one to stay sober. every one of your friends was hammered, leaving you to babysit the group. thankfully, they weren't blackout.
"alright, here you both go," you grunted as you set peter down in his bed and remus on the one beside it. truthfully, you didn't know which was who's bed, but you knew if you didn't get them to sleep now—it wouldn't end well.
they muttered a thanks to you before the snores quickly began. you laughed it off, before walking over to james where he lied on what you presumed was his bed. he was sound asleep thankfully, so you swiftly removed his glasses and placed it on his dresser.
marlene and dorcas had already been put to bed, with the help of lily, who had bid you a quick good night as she went to babysit the two of them.
with a sigh, you went back downstairs to your last caretakee of the night. sirius, though you disliked him, couldn't be the only one you didn't put to bed. you sighed and crouched in front of him, being sure to cover your knees with your dress.
"sirius, it's time to go to bed," you said.
"no, i want to party!" he exclaimed through his closed eyes, pumping his fist in the air.
"yeah, there's a party in your bed, come on," you tried. then you scrunched your nose, "that sounded so wrong,"
he giggled. "you're funny,"
"it's one of my many talents," you replied. then, you stood and offered him a hand. he sighed and took it, standing up and stumbling slightly.
you allowed him to support his weight on you, despite the height difference, and you both stumbled over to the stairs. you took a few steps before he groaned.
"stop, stop, i'm going to throw up," he groaned. you quickly let him sit down, sitting beside him promptly. you waited patiently as he took a few deep breaths.
you both sat there in silence. you used to talk all the time, but now this is what your interactions consisted of. pure silence. it was a miracle he was drunk now, at least that would explain it this time.
he looked at you. "you know, you do look pretty today, beautiful even,"
"you're drunk," you rolled your eyes. "you wouldn't be saying it otherwise," you said—turning to look at him as well.
"i think it all the time, did you know that, miss know-it-all?," he chuckled. "you're captivating,"
you rolled your eyes. "alright, charmer, are you actually nauseous or did you just want to talk my ear off all night?"
"i dunno, i used to do it all the time, remember? i miss it..." he mumbled.
"yeah, well, that's not exactly on me," you muttered, loud enough so he could hear it.
sirius took a deep breath, looking at you with sorrow-filled eyes. "it was the biggest mistake i've ever made, y/n,"
you looked at him softly.
"i mean, you understood me. you didn't care what baggage i had. sleeping beside you that summer was the first time i'd gotten real sleep in a long time," he admitted. "you made me feel safe... the way you'd laugh, the way you'd touch me, all of it,"
he's drunk. he's drunk. he's drunk. he's drunk. you repeated to yourself over and over. despite the feeling of your chest being ripped apart, you knew he couldn't actually mean it. yes, you loved him—more than you ever wanted to admit. but he didn't feel the same, he had showed you that much.
"let's get you to bed," you whispered. comfortingly, you grabbed his forearm and helped him up.
he followed you up the stairs, before quickly entering his dorm with him. you laid him gently on his bed, sliding his shoes off. he looked relieved that you were there, despite everything in your body telling you to just leave. he had hurt you before, he was cruel—so why were you still helping him?
you noticed him close his eyes and you turned to leave, but he sat up and grabbed your hand. you turned to him.
"i still get nightmares, especially after we broke up," he admitted. you knew about these. they were scary and heart wrenching to watch him experience. you couldn't imagine actually having them.
"will you stay until i fall asleep?" he whispered softly.
every logical part of you was screaming no. telling you to leave and not look back. but the part of you that cared—that loved him, was begging you to stay.
and unfortunately, that part that was begging won.
"yeah, sure," you whispered. you sat beside him on his bed. you folded your legs to the side and held his hand tightly as he closed his eyes.
within minutes he was asleep.
you admired him quietly as he slept. his chest rising and falling, his perfect features relaxed in a perfect way. a part of you could stay like this, watching him, forever.
but then another part of you remembered what he said—and you knew he'd never feel for you what you felt for him.
with a frown, you slowly let go of his hand and stood up—making your way quickly out of his dorm. silently, you made your way back to the slytherin dungeons, trying to ignore your heartbreak.
——
a week had passed since your incident with sirius. you had hardly spoken to him and he agreed with you it seemed—because he hasn't talked to you much either. sure, there was a snarky comment here and there, but other than that, you two managed to stay your separate ways.
you chuckled quietly, shaking your head as evan and regulus argued playfully. pandora sat beside you, rolling her eyes at the two.
lunch was soon ending, leaving you and evan to have to separate from pandora and regulus soon. you two shared a herbology class, despite him being a year younger than you. he was rather smart, doubling up in certain classes to finish them easier.
"bye, you guys," you chuckled, as you and evan walked side-by-side toward the greenhouses. you quickly pulled your emerald green tie out of your bag, tying it around you neck swiftly.
you and evan linked arms after, continuing your way to class. if it was one thing you two had, it was the ability to talk about anything and everything that had little to no importance.
"yeah, and then i told my dad—" evan began.
"y/n!" a familiar, now sober voice called out. sirius quickly walked over, as you and evan stopped and turned around. evan gave you an alarmed look but you looked at sirius.
"sirius?" you questioned as he finally caught up to the two of you.
"can i talk to you?" he mumbled.
"about?" you asked, crossing your arms.
"it's important," he assured. "please,"
you rolled your eyes. "fine, what is it?"
he looked over at evan sternly. "leave?"
you stepped in front of evan protectively. he and regulus really did feel like younger brothers to you, now that you thought about it. "don't talk to him that way," you interjected—narrowing your eyes at sirius.
"i'm fine, evan, i'll catch up to you," you said, glancing at evan before looking at sirius pointedly. evan grinned.
"i listen to her because i want to, not because of you," he told sirius pointedly. sirius rolled his eyes as evan laughed and walked off.
you looked at sirius with your arms crossed. "well?"
sirius stood in front of you awkwardly, finding it seemingly difficult to look you in the eyes. "uh, i remembered today what i did,"
you stared at him, urging him to continue. you had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.
"that night at the gryffindor victory party," he added, finally mustering the courage to look you in the eye.
you shifted uncomfortably. "look, we don't have to talk about it—"
he nodded, "yes we do,"
"no, we really don't—"
"well i want to," he said sternly.
"i wasn't lying that day, yes i was drunk, but i meant it, every word of it. the way you make me feel, how safe you feel, everything..." sirius said. "pushing you away was the biggest mistake of my life, i should've never been such a coward,"
"except you didn't just push me away, you said cruel things," you replied. "sirius, you don't get to just drop that bomb on my life after destroying my feelings and expect immediate forgiveness! what you said hurt, it stung even!"
"you made me feel ashamed!" you added, hurt lacing your tone. "do you think i dealt with that easily? i fancied you, and you made me feel like i wasn't worthy of being near you. do you know how that feels?"
sirius pushed your strands of hair behind your ears, cupping your face. "and believe me, i will spend my entire life earning your forgiveness. you were never the embarrassment, i was. i'm so sorry, y/n,"
suddenly, like something had possessed you, you kissed him swiftly. you didn't know you could miss someone's touch so much.
he quickly kissed back. you pulled away.
"you still have to earn that forgiveness," you breathed out, "but this...is a good start,"
he grinned. "believe me, i will work my entire life if i have to," he chuckled, pulling you in for a tight, bone-crushing hug. one that you had missed for months now.
"believe me, i won't make it easy," you smirked.
bonus;
"do you have one in green?" you asked your husbands coworker. you were at a work party and they was handing out party bags, which everyone decided to match to their house while attending hogwarts.
your husbands coworker snorted. "what're you? a slytherin?"
you blinked at him, crossing your arms. "as a matter of fact, i am, problem?"
sirius slid his arm around your waist, kissing your head. "no problem, right alexander? my wife's a proud slytherin, no big deal," he shrugged.
alexander cleared his throat and his cheeks tinted pink. "no, of course not. here's a green one," he mumbled. you took it and he walked off, clearly embarrassed.
you turned to sirius with a smile, leaning in close. "thank you for defending my honor," you chuckled.
"well, anything for my wife," he laughed, kissing you softly.
#sirius black#james potter#the marauders#marauders era#remus lupin#harry potter#sirius black x you#sirius black x reader#slytherin
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How the Rhodolite princes would react to their firstborn/newborn
Rating: PG-13 (?) Ikepri itself contains a lot of mature themes however, as such, mdni 🔞
Warnings: Brief mentions of (past) character death, grief, pregnancy/childbirth themes (no actual birth depicted), gn but implied afab, & the usual tragic Ikepri cannon.
A/N: Tried to write how they'd hold their kid and what they were feeling when meeting them. Spoiler warnings for the Rhodolite princes routes, tried not to bring up anything major though (Luke's is probably the most spoilery?). Tried to keep the princes' spouses GN, though implied afab bc newborns. (One very brief mention of Belle, but mc/reader is not Emma.) Might eventually make pt2 with the others..? Please read the warnings and proceed only if comfortable! :)
(Apologies for anything that seems ooc, I haven't written much in awhile and this is my first piece for Ikepri! I'm more used to fics rather than hcs, but I tried my best! o7)
JIN 🦅
There's so much Jin can't help but worry about. His past, his future, his country... and now he's got not one but two loved ones he would do anything for. The little bundle of joy in his arms reminds him of the times when his younger brothers were born, and how cute they used to be (well, some of them, anyway). The bleary, garnet eyes trying to look into his own have him wondering.. is this how he looked to his dear mother? There's so much he cherishes, and so much he fears, but he won't let the history of Belle repeat itself. He'd fight the entire palace if he had to, but for right now, he'll settle for tackling pesky burps and dirty diapers. Jin coos at his baby, baritone voice suddenly startling the poor thing, and he can't help but pout. The baby in his arms continues to fuss, feeling hungry.
Jin pulls something out of his breast pocket, looking over at his spouse. "So.. how much longer until they can have lollipops?"
CHEVALIER 🐅
Chevalier would likely be a bit awed upon holding his firstborn, much like the quiet way he takes in Emma's precence. Chevalier is known to be awkward with his affections, as he's far from practiced, but it's been shown on several occasions how he tries to gently pet an animal that dares to come close, or how he clumsily takes care of his love when she's feeling under the weather. He may look fine on the outside, but he's actually quite hesitant, trying to sort things out logistically at first, before sort of just settling for standing there and holding his newborn with both arms. He stares down at their gentle features, taking in every detail, making sure they're comfortable and warm in their sleep.
Looking over at his beloved in all their tired glory, in his very own Chevalier-approved affection he says, "You did well, Simpleton." While he only speaks four words aloud, his faint smile speaks the thousands he didn't quite know how to express.
CLAVIS 🐆
"Dearie me," Clavis says, holding his newborn, full of wide-eyed excitement. "They look so much like you, I can see the bunny ears already."
Being someone who values life so dearly, bringing a new one into this world, with the love of his life no less, is enough to send Clavis' heart soaring into the stratosphere. He just can't help but want to drown them in affection, but they're so small and fragile, and Clavis knows better than to risk scaring them now. He's so, so gentle with his child, unconditional love flowing off him in waves as they bond quietly (please don't get used to this, it will not last), and looks upon their splotchy tufts of lilac hair. The Lelouch genes live on through yet another generation, he smiles to himself. Clavis slowly comes over to stand by his love, placing a gentle kiss on their head.
"You're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband like me. But I'm even luckier to have you both in my life."
LEON 🦁
The happiest day in Leon's life. Second only to your wedding. Scratch that, the wedding is second.. he thinks. He's a bit frazzled from work, labor stress, and all the chaos, cut the guy some slack. No one is immune to this sweet lion's charisma, not even a newborn. They can't help but stare at his flowy hair and bright eyes, like a cartoon character come to life right before their eyes. Leon gently caresses their neck, very lightly pressing a kiss into their soft kiss to their temple. What kind of person will they grow up to be? Will they eat as much as he does? Will they fall asleep when they read too? There's a lot that runs through his mind, but ultimately, he is hopes for them to be healthy, and live happily. This child is going to be absolutely spoiled (within reason), and always have someone in their corner, rooting for them and ready to help learn from their wrongs. For now, he can worry about righting their posture instead. He tries to hold them like he read (how his partner read) in the parenting books, supporting their necks and all. It was really hard to stay awake during those, but the excitement of fatherhood helped him push through, and he's going to put it all into practice now.
"When do we start working on the second one?" (If not for the literal newborn currently in his hands, he'd be busy dodging several pillows.)
YVES 🐈
There's a lot of suppressed guilt for his mother's death in mind, and so many worries for his darling's health before, during, and after. He's a bit scared to hold his newborn, for fear of his clumsiness and "bad luck". With some assurance, he finally takes hold of them, and he could not physically be more careful with his firstborn. Clear eyes like the sky blink sleepily up at him, and Yves is fighting back tears solely for fear of them landing on the baby and somehow hurting them. The smile on his face could split his cheeks if it got any wider. The baby falls asleep in its father's arms, and he even tries breathing softer so he won't wake them. He's just trying his best, please reassure this sweet cat, he means well. (And he absolutely lost the battle against those blasted tears anyway.)
"Thank you for loving me, and for bringing our child into the world with us. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
LICHT 🐺
(Twins having twins cliché may seem redundant, I made 'em different for each brother, pinky promise.)
Licht was blessed with not one but two bundles of joy. Beautiful twin boys, who had what looked to be his vibrant silver hair and his beloved's eyes. He couldn't help the memories that surged, of happier times, and the worst of times. He knew all too well just how ruthless the court could be, but he had a chance to make things different this time. Licht seriously considered building that house he'd once mentioned, and moving you all somewhere much more peaceful. One twin in his arms, one with their other parent, he feels all thought subside when the one he's holding tries to grab at his sleeve. Licht's now-famous smile blooms across his lips much the way the sun's rays appear over daybreak; subtle, then all at once. He takes a gloveless hand, letting their tiny hand hold onto his finger as best they can, eyes gleaming from the sight before him. Licht looks over in wonder at his spouse, only to find them already watching with a tired, quiet smile.
"Things won't be easy but.. I know we can handle anything. I adore you. And I adore them."
NOKTO 🦊
(Twins for both may seem redundant, but I changed things up drastically ok, we got this.)
Nokto wasn't entirely surprised to have twins, but he had also hoped luck would be in their corner in avoiding similar fates. Two little girls, jewel-like eyes like his, and his beloved's hair color (or so it appears, though it's hard to tell for sure with so little peach fuzz). Nokto sits at the edge of the bed, holding one newborn in his arm, and reaching his other hand out for the one in his love's arms. Aside from the memories of his own upbringing, he's now having Typical Girl Dad thoughts about how to keep them safe and teach them how to stay away from cooties (boys), among other things. With a soft sigh, he gently burps his newborn after she's done feeding, rocking her slowly as she tries to chew on her father's lucious locks. Laughter bubbles past his lips at her cute antics, and Nokto feels the stress fade away, even if just a little. His heart is still getting used to receiving love and believing in it, but it's grown enough by now to love his 3 new favorite people in the world.
"If they like my hair this much now, just wait till they start to grow their own."
LUKE 🐻
Luke could not be more the picture of a teddy bear than with his newborn all swaddled up and snuggled in with their giant of a dad. He can't help but wonder if his sister is watching over them, laying next to his spouse on the bed, their newborn but a tiny dot among the two full-grown humans taking up most of the space. He promises to be there for his child the way he never really had anyone, and hopes to live more in the present now, the stakes feeling higher than ever before. A whole new life, created on purpose, gently resting in one arm and atop his broad chest, nestled comfortably and trying to suck on their thumb. Luke holds his spouse's hand with his free one, squeezing it gently, looking into their eyes with the intensity of his own emeralds.
"Look at 'em.. they're so small. Just like you," he jokes before letting out a big yawn, "But sleepy, just like me."
All rights for the characters and original intellectual property belong to Cybird. My writing belongs to myself, Maladaptivedaydreamsx, and shall not be reproduced elsewhere without permission. Ok to translate as a reblog to this post. Ok to reblog, no permission required (for those who like to be safe and ask first, all's good little homies) 💜
If you enjoyed these, I might try to make a pt2 with the other characters soon? Likes and reblogs appreciated, thank you kindly for reading! If you have any hc's of your own, please feel free to respond with them, I'd love to hear what you all think! 😊❤️ (If you'd like to be put on a tag list for any future works, please reply, though it will be a general list for writings as I'm getting back into things slowly atm,, 🙏🏻)
Also, to the lovely person who sent this in likely about 2 years ago (after I'd stopped writing on here bc life happens) ... if you're still somewhere in the fandom and end up seeing this post, thank you for your patience, and for sending something in. I'm finally trying to combat the writer's block again! 🙌🏻
#ikepri headcanons#ikepri x reader#ikepri fanfic#ikemen prince#ikepri#ikemen prince fanfiction#ikepri jin#ikepri chevalier#ikepri clavis#ikepri leon#ikepri yves#ikepri licht#ikepri nokto#ikepri luke#jin grandet#chevalier michel#clavis lelouch#leon dompteur#yves kloss#licht klein#nokto klein#luke randolph#ikemen fanfic#ikemen series#mon écriture 💌#aerin.writings#my post 📫#l'hôtel.ikepri#l'hôtel.écriture#aerin.fics
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Mermorty on the mind. Do forgive me for pumping out 2 of these in one day, I'm just excited. [Previous] [Next]
Summary: Mertarion gets dropped off in your pool.
Word Count: 1066
Content Warnings: Unwanted touching but it's not Morty, ok yeah Typhus is kinda strange but he gets worse so yay!
Image Credit: @squishyowl
The anesthetic had been long gone, but Mortarion had still shut his eyes and tried to ignore the conversation around him. Whilst he was dozing off, the small group eventually arrived at your house. The man with long-ish black hair stopped mid-conversation and looked out of the window at it. His eyes widened.
"Shit," he said. "You never told us your other job paid that well."
"I have nobody but my publisher to thank for that one," you said. "They've cut me a pretty good deal, and I'm grateful every day for it."
"You still have to tell us what your pen name is," remarked the girl slightly taller than you. She flipped her black ponytail over her shoulder.
"I'll get there when I get there, Iris," you said, blood rushing to your face.
"Until then, I'm just going to assume you write the nastiest porn you can find on the planet," said Typhus with a playful grin. Iris's eyes widened, and she regarded Typhus with a strong side-eye, crossing her muscular arms again. Your face went even warmer, and the silence in the room was palpable.
"Jesus Christ," said the girl driving, the girl with the brown ponytail.
Typhus let out a slight chuckle, sliding a hand onto your back. You tensed up, but the young man at the back slid the door open and you all turned around at the sudden noise.
"What are we waiting for?" said the man who opened the door. "It's 5 am. Let's get him out of here before the early birds get up."
The rest of the group hoisted Mortarion onto the stretcher again as you made sure his head didn't lean off too hard. He sighed, opening his eyes. You noticed that his pupils weren't circular, but slits like a cat's. "Is my prison cell ready?" he asked, looking up at you.
"Ready to go?" asked the man who'd opened the door.
"It's saltwater," you said as the group began to walk out. "There won't be much to do down there for a bit, but I promise you, I'll try to make your stay as pleasant as possible."
He grumbled as the group turned around. "Quick question to you," said the girl with the brown ponytail. "How are we getting in?"
"Oh," you said. You snapped your head to face her before you felt Mortarion look up at you, his gaze at the bottom of your neck. You turned towards the gate, which was far too skinny for a group of seven with a stretcher to make their way through. "Oh..."
"I can carry him," said Typhus.
"You will NOT," Mortarion rumbled.
"Typhus, he's longer than my couch," you said, propping his head up again. "If he's going to be carried, we're going to need to do it as a group."
"Easy for you to say," said Iris. "We've been carrying this fucker while you hold his head or something. You're going to help us carry him this time."
"Okay," you say. "Well... let's put down the stretcher." He was maybe 6, 7 times the size of a normal human? What even was a normal human anymore? The group put down the stretcher and one by one, they hoisted their arms under him. You grabbed his head with one hand, the back of his neck with the other.
"Feeling okay?" you asked.
Mortarion sighed. "Let's make this short."
"Alright, everyone ready?" you asked, to a chorus of nods and other affirmations. "One, two, three..."
Between the seven of you, lifting him was much easier than it would have been if it were just one or two. You led, moving at the quickest pace you could, before you stopped at the side of the pool. It was a square thing, with a little circular tub near one of the corners.
"Alright," you said, your voice straining even though you had arguably the easiest job. "Let's lower him in in three, two, one..."
He sank into the pool with a wet plop, and you couldn't shake the feeling that this was like a hospital bed to him. A little less restrictive, yes, but nowhere near big enough for a merman his size. As the group began to turn towards the exit, you knelt by the pool.
"Well, you're home now," said Typhus, taking in the place again. The house was a pale peach color that looked gray in the moonlight. It was one story, with palm trees and little butterfly host plants abound in the yard. It was also very well kept, the dirt that would have crept up on most homes not often present.
Typhus slid a hand over your shoulder, and gave it a firm pat before he walked off. "See you Monday," he said, the rest of the group murmuring their farewells as they funneled through the gate and packed themselves into the vehicle. You shivered, and cast off your shoes before kneeling down towards your new charge.
"Mortarion..." you started, not sure what to say. You ran a hand along the water, and he leaned on the edge.
"You're uncomfortable."
"Well, aren't you?" you asked, dipping your toes into the water.
"I've made that apparent, but you haven't said anything about yourself."
You sighed. "Yeah... I don't like him touching me," you said. You looked down at him. His hair was already sticking to his face again. "Don't tell him if he comes back, though. I'll live."
"Your secret is safe with me," he said. "Though, I must admit, it isn't much of a secret if I could figure it out that easily."
You let out a slight chuckle. "I guess," you said. "Um... was fixing your hair and grabbing your hand too much? I really should have asked."
"I needed it," he huffed. "Now there's something not to tell anyone."
You leaned down, brushing his hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes. His lips were scarred, old scars ran along his entire face. "If there's anything you need, just let me know," you said.
"This little lake is... rather empty," he said. "Though I suppose you couldn't tell me about the plants in your... dwelling?"
"Oh!" you said, immediately lighting up. You pointed to your favorite, a tall thing with purple flowers. "Well, that one's a giant milkweed, and I don't know if you've ever seen a winged creature called a butterfly, but..."
Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf
#warhammer 40k x reader#primarch x reader#mortarion x reader#reader insert#mermay#mermay 2024#mortarion#warhammer lobotomy
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DEAR GRACIE
PART TWO: TELLING EVERYBODY
pairing: dad!nate x sls!reader
summary: in which nate and sls tell their families about the newest addition to their little family.
warnings: swearing,chris cries, fluff.
very short and sweet bc i ran out of motivation. there will be longer chapters i promise.
it has been a month since we found out we were pregnant. we decided to wait a while to tell our families because we wanted to make sure baby is okay first. we also decided we are hiding the whole pregnancy from the media. my decision and nate was okay with it. i just want to be able to enjoy this pregnancy and not worry about social media constantly asking me about it.
we just went to the doctor yesterday and finally got to see our little baby on the ultrasound screen and hear their heartbeat. they were growing like theyre supposed to and everything with them is healthy. we are now almost 12 weeks pregnant with baby and we get to find the gender out in two weeks.
right now we were currently at my mom and dads having a cookout and swimming. my bump was a bit noticeable but it looked more like a bloated belly then anything.
i didnt wanna swim just yet because my bump was noticeable when my stomach was on display. so after we finally told everyone i was probably gonna swim.
we all just had got done eating and i told everyone to gather around for us to take a group photo. chris had owen and matt had leo.i stood inbetween my mom dad and justin. nate was taking the picture.
“on the count of three everyone say y/n is pregnant!” nate said nobody catching on.
“3..2..1..”nate said.
“y/n is pregnant!” everyone said in unison as everyone started to catch on. nate snapping the picture catching everyone’s reaction.
my mom started to cry.matt was confused at first. nick let out a scream. chris was crying. my dad and justin both were smiling and i was looking at everyone.
“you’re pregnant!?” nick squealed.
“yes nick you’re gonna have another nephew or maybe a niece.” i said.
my mom pulled me into a hug as she cried. “im gonna have another grandbaby!!”she said.
i smiled as i hugged her. “yup you have three grand babies now!” i said.
chris came over to me crying as he hugged me with owen in his arms. “my baby is having another baby!” he said crying.
i got teary eyed. “youre gonna be a uncle again chris.” i said with a soft smile.
he just cried into my shoulder as justin went over to nate congratulating him and talking to him.
after chris got done hugging me matt came over to me congratulating and hugging me. “congratulations sis, i hope you get your girl” he said hugging me.
“i hope so. ill be happy whatever gender they may be though.” i said to matt.
the rest of the evening we all spent it together swimming and ending the night with roasting marshmallows and having smores by the fire.
i couldnt wait to find the gender of this baby out in two weeks.
taglist: @sturniololoves , @milesfordays11 , @freshloveee , @zayyluvz @luvr4miya , @delusional-4-fake-people
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets imagines#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo imagine#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo imagines#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo imagines#nate doe smut#nate doe imagines#nate doe
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“That’s it?” Steve asks. “You’re not going to go to prom because you don’t know how to dance?”
“I’m uncoordinated enough! I don’t need to be out there making even more of an idiot of myself in some floofy dress,” Robin insists.
“Rob, no one at prom knows how to dance. Everyone kind of looks like an idiot, that’s half the point,” Steve says.
“Oh yeah, Steve, you’re really selling me on the experience,” Robin drawls.
“No, listen, I’m not done,” Steve says, giving her a nudge. “The other half of the point is just… going and having the memories, y’know? You get to dress up and take the dumb picture with your date, and avoid the punch because someone probably spiked it, and you get to dance and be close to someone and just, like, be carefree for a night.”
Robin says nothing. She doesn’t agree that prom night is paramount to the teen experience, she doesn’t tease the shit out of him for having such stereotypical expectations of a dumb high school dance, she’s just… watching him. She’s turned sideways on the sofa, one leg drawn up to her chest, and she’s looking at him like he’s something between a fascinating puzzle and the saddest thing she’s seen all day, and he knows what she’s thinking.
Steve hadn’t gone to senior prom. He’d been planning to, of course, at the beginning of the year – he’d had Nancy then, and even as early as October, he’d been fantasizing about the flowers he’d bring her and the dinner they’d go to and the way they would sway slowly to whatever shitty songs the DJ put on. But by the time spring had rolled around, he not only hadn’t had Nancy, he hadn’t really had any friends in school at all—not real ones—and so he hadn’t seen the point in attending.
He'd gone to a movie with Dustin that night, instead (he’s at least eighty percent certain the little shit had set it up as some kind of pity outing, since he’d known Steve wasn’t going to prom, but it had been kind of nice that someone had cared enough to even try). It hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been exactly what he’d wanted.
Stiffly, Steve glances away from Robin and shrugs. “Or whatever. That’s what it’s like in the movies, right?”
Robin opens her mouth, but her eyes are still soft, and suddenly Steve doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, he levers himself up off the couch and turns to her, holding out a hand.
“C’mon, I’ll teach you,” he says, cracking a grin. “Then you won’t have an excuse not to go.”
“You… want to teach me how to dance,” Robin asks flatly.
Steve shrugs. “You got anything better to do tonight?”
Raising a sharp brow at Steve, Robin starts to smile, too. “You sure you wanna subject your feet to that?”
“I think I can handle it,” Steve shoots back, and then Robin is up off the couch and helping him push the coffee table out of the way.
They rifle through Steve’s collection of tapes until they find something he deems just the right tempo, pop the cassette in, and stand in the middle of the living room.
“Okay, give me your hand,” Steve says, taking her right hand in his left, “and your other goes on my shoulder.”
Robin does as he says, glancing dubiously down at her feet as Steve places his hand on her waist. “I’m not actually sure this is a good idea,” she says with a grimace. “I might be unteachable.”
“We haven’t even started yet,” Steve reminds her. “Seriously, relax, this is super easy. It’s just a box step waltz.”
Despite her uncertainty, Robin can’t help but smirk at him. “A waltz, huh?” she teases. “Did your parents make you take fancy-pants, rich kid dance lessons when you were younger, or something?”
Steve rolls his eyes. “No. My mom taught me,” he says, and then rushes on before Robin has anything to say about that. “So you’re gonna start by stepping back with your right foot when I step forward, alright?”
Brows furrowed, Robin nods and looks down at her feet again, and Steve squeezes her waist gently to get her attention.
“Look up at me, not at your feet. It’ll be easier, I promise.”
“How am I going to know what my feet are doing if I’m not looking at them?”
“You’re attached to them, Robin.”
“That’s debatable.”
Steve tries not to laugh. He really does. “Okay, you’re in marching band, right? This cannot be harder than following whatever steps that involves while also playing an instrument.”
“This is different!” Robin insists. “I can’t step on the French horn’s feet! The French horn isn’t gonna judge me if I fuck up! Like, the worst that’ll happen in marching band is that the drum major will yell at you, and the drum major is always yelling, so it doesn’t even make a difference anymore, and–”
“Hey,” Steve cuts in, squeezing Robin’s hand this time. “I’m not going to judge you if you fuck up, okay? I am literally the last person qualified to do that.”
Robin huffs out a little laugh. “Right. Two of a kind,” she says.
“Exactly.” Steve grins. “Now c’mon, Buckley, I know you’ve got this. On one, back with your right foot.”
Nodding, Robin glances down at her feet, but looks right back up at Steve. “Okay.”
“Okay. One–”
Steve steps forward with his left foot, and Robin immediately steps forward with her right and kicks him in the shin.
“Ow,” Steve says, dry and flat because it hadn’t really hurt.
“Sorry!” Robin ducks her head, laughing nervously.
Steve shakes his head. “Let’s try that again. Back with your right foot.”
“At least I had the right side?”
“Yep, now aim for the right direction, yeah?”
This time, when Steve counts off, Robin’s right foot goes back, and his left follows her.
“Okay, now what?” Robin asks, looking down again.
“Now, you’re gonna bring your left foot–” gently, Steve judges the top of her left foot with his right, “back,” as she begins to slide back, he moves and taps the inside of her ankle, “and to the left. Just like that.”
“No injuries this time,” Robin quips, and Steve smiles.
“Now move your right foot over next to your left.” He nods as Robin gets her feet back together. “Forward with your left foot – good,” he encourages as he steps back to mirror her. “And now forward and to the side with your right. Like you did with your left before, but opposite.”
“Uh.” Robin makes the move slowly, still staring down, but she looks back up at him when she gets her right foot planted. “Like that?”
“Yep. Now left foot over, and–” Steve follows her, bringing them back to the same position they started in, “that’s it!”
Robin blinks at him. “That’s it?”
“Easy, right?” Steve says.
“Yeah.” Robin nods hesitantly. “I think I can handle that.”
“Of course you can,” Steve insists. “Now let’s try it again. Back with your right foot. One–”
Robin steps forward with her right and kicks Steve in the shin.
“Sorry!”
Steve quickly becomes glad they’re both in their socks, or he’d be sporting much more serious bruises by the time they reach the end of the tape. Robin doesn’t have any trouble keeping the order of the steps in mind, but keeps moving in the opposite direction of where she’s supposed to be going, and Steve has been kicked and stepped on more times in the last half hour than he thinks he has been in his entire life.
“This is ridiculous,” Robin groans. “This is the literal definition of women having to do everything backwards and in heels!”
“You’re not wearing heels,” Steve points out.
“I would be at prom,” Robin says. “Why do I have to go backwards?”
“Because you’re following.”
“Well why can’t I lead?”
“Because you don’t even know how to follow!”
“Exactly! I’m starting from scratch either way!” Robin aims pleading eyes up at Steve. “Can’t we just try it in reverse? How much worse at it could I be?”
The thing is, Steve’s only ever led when dancing – he’s never had reason to learn how to do the follow part. But then, he’s already been reversing the steps in his head all night in order to instruct Robin; following couldn’t be that hard, could it?
“Fine,” Steve groans, letting his head hang back for a moment. “Fine. Trade me.”
“Yes! Trade!” Robin pumps her fist once in triumph, and Steve can’t help but laugh.
He lets go of her right hand and instead takes her left before putting his other hand on her shoulder.
“Hand on my waist.” Steve nods to his to his left side, and Robin moves into position. “Right, so you’re gonna step forward with your left this time, okay?”
Robin nods. “Forward with my left. Okay.”
“Okay. One–”
Steve steps back with his right foot. Robin steps back with her left.
They stand there, each half balanced on their back foot, staring at each other, before Robin bursts into laughter. Steve follows suit.
“I– I told you I was unteachable,” Robin giggles once they’ve caught their breath, her forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder.
“Nope, this is a personal challenge now,” Steve insists, still grinning. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. You’re going to learn to waltz if it kills me.”
“Shouldn’t it be ‘if it kills me’?” Robin draws back to ask.
“My death is looking a lot more likely at this point,” Steve says, and Robin snorts.
“God, you’re so dramatic.”
“Yeah, okay, Miss Unteachable. Ready to try again?”
Robin takes in a breath, wiggles her shoulders, and puts her hands back in position. “Ready.”
“Great. Just remember–”
“Forward with my left foot,” Robin echoes, overlapping Steve’s instruction perfectly.
Steve grins. “Okay, then. One–”
Somehow, Robin makes a better leader than a follower. Once she gets over the initial nerves, she manages the reverse order of steps just fine, even getting confident enough to stop looking at her feet after several sets.
(The fact that Steve has no trouble immediately reversing the steps himself and still instructing Robin receives no comment, though it does receive a brief glare, which gets a smug grin in return.)
They rewind the tape again and keep going. Steve lifts their joined hands to spin Robin around when they hit the second song and she follows with a laugh before insisting that, since she’s leading, she should be the one spinning Steve. He has to duck a little to get under her arm, but they feel the maneuver is quite successful.
Robin offers to try to dip him, but Steve declines, insisting he doesn’t feel like getting dropped on the floor today, earning a pinch at his waist even as Robin laughs.
As the evening wears on, they give up their carefully-held waltz positions and lean in close, until Robin’s head is resting on Steve’s shoulder again, her arms wrapped around his waist, while Steve drapes his arms over her shoulders and leans his head on top of hers.
“This is the kind of slow dancing I would’ve expected from Steve Harrington at prom,” Robin says as they sway in gentle circles to the beat of the music.
Steve hiccups out a little laugh. “Yeah, well, I had to make sure you knew how to do the real thing, first.”
“And?” Robin asks. “Do I pass?”
“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Steve says. “Now you have no excuse not to go.”
“Steve,” Robin draws back a little, enough to look up at him without pulling away, “who the hell do you think I’m going to be dancing with at prom? It’s not like I can ask– anyone I’d be interested in.”
Steve’s heart sinks a little, the same way it always does when he’s reminded of how fucking unfair the world is to Robin and to other people like her. He shrugs a bit lamely. “You could go with friends?”
“I guess,” Robin says, staring at the front of Steve’s shirt, suddenly lost in thought.
Steve frowns. He doesn’t even remember what had gotten them onto the subject of prom—it’s January, the dance is months away—but what had started out as something fun is starting to make Robin feel bad, and he can’t have that.
“Hey, I didn’t mean–”
“You should go with me,” Robin cuts in, looking back up at him.
“What?”
“To prom,” Robin says. “You should be my big ol’ platonic date.”
“Right,” Steve drawls. “Because going to prom the year after you’ve graduated doesn’t scream that you haven’t moved on from high school at all. Definitely not sad, or anything.”
“Sure,” Robin agrees wryly. “About as un-sad as not going to your senior dance at all.”
Steve cuts a sharp look at Robin, who just smiles at him.
“I mean, I’m just saying: who better to give me the whole prom experience?” Robin shrugs, tone entirely too innocent to be trusted. “If you go with me, we can dress up and get the dumb picture together, and we can avoid the punch, and you can tell me all the gossip I know for a fact you still know about at least half the people there, we can dance… The whole shebang.”
When Steve had been imagining prom night with Nancy the year before, he’d imagined romance. He’d imagined meeting her eyes across the dinner table and sneaking kisses on the dance floor. He’d imagined going back to his place afterwards and making love, spending the rest of the night worshipping Nancy and making sure she knew how beautiful she’d looked and what a wonderful time he’d had with her.
But when he thinks about it now, he thinks about making jokes at dinner with Robin, about standing around in the tinsel-strewn gym and making catty remarks about who’s dressed terribly and whose dancing is even worse. He thinks about them dancing together, still, and maybe they’ll still go back to his place afterwards, where they can watch terrible movies for the rest of the night.
It doesn’t sound at all like what he’d wanted a year ago.
It sounds perfect, now.
“You’ll have to buy the tickets,” Steve finally says, and Robin’s face lights up. “And I expect my corsage to be very fancy.”
Robin laughs. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t be a cheap date, Harrington.”
“We can go Dutch on dinner, if you want,” Steve says.
“How generous,” Robin deadpans, and Steve doesn’t bother to hold back his own grin.
They both know he’s probably going to pay for dinner. He doesn’t mind.
“You’re serious, though?” Robin asks, looking up at him. “You really want to go to prom just to waltz with me?”
“Well, I went to all the trouble of teaching you.” Steve shrugs.
Robin bites her lip around a smile. “Do I get to lead?”
“For the sake of my shins, you’d better,” Steve says, and Robin laughs, leaning back in to cinch her arms around his waist again.
“You are my favorite person, you know that?” she says softly, just audible over music still crooning from the stereo.
“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his cheek to the top of her head and closing his eyes. “You’re mine, too.”
[Prompt: Slow dancing]
#this is one of my favorites so far and I have been excited to get around to posting it!#stobin#platonic stobin#robin buckley#steve harrington#stranger things#solar wrote#it's a little bit longer though be warned
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Forever: Philza, Phil, stop talking about Minecraft, man, I want to talk to you about life, you know?
[...]
You are going to lose the love of your life that can talk to you all the day [makes his trilling "Ooohhhlululu" noise] for a French person.
Phil: [laughs] What's wrong with that?
Forever: Yeah yeah yeah yes- Just that you are losing the love of your life, that's the wrong part!
Forever's neverending quest to impress Phil, and Richarlyson being a dedicated little wingman.
#Philza#Phil#Forever#QSMP#Sugarduo#bit of a longer clip but it's a funny interaction#I have such a massive soft spot for Forever now#Sweet dude :( he cares so much about the Eggs#he's still a goofy little guy when it comes to Phil though pfttt#they've got a funny little friendship#[Mandatory ''don't be weird about these two in the tags'' warning]
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Oops.
You can see the moment Leo’s heart breaks…
BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT
MASTER POST
AFTERMATH (extra reading material)
Hope you enjoyed this little Replica Intermission flashback as we head into the Holiday Special that happens a few years after this. To be honest, this was as much of a peek into the earlier years of the Central Park Colony as it was a character study. I really wanted to get a handle on how these boys were in their early-mid twenties before diving into the special because they become very different people by their thirties.
TED Talk below on the details of this scene...
I really grappled with the concept of how long it would take for the boys to figure out that the statue was the key. Most interpretations seem to assume they figure it out right away, but honestly, without CJ there to warn them in advance and tell them what it looks like they don't have a lot to go off of aside from Splinter's vague mention of a key. The fact that the Krang were praised by the Foot is enough to set off Donnie's alarms but... with the Foot already gone by the time the Krang make their grand appearance on Metro Tower, the connection can only be hypothesized.
Honestly, I think Donnie would still go to Raph first, a breach in conduct but given the sensitivity of the subject and fear of accusing Leo it seems on brand. Raph ultimately would make the choice not to tell Leo until they knew for certain... which they never did. So it was put off longer and longer until it finally came back to bite them all at the worst possible time. If the colony finds out what Leo did... it could be disastrous. At the same time, Leo's trust in his brothers has been shaken, though it still pales in comparison to the fresh, crushing blow in knowing that it was all his fault. ...Don't worry, he'll be feeling a bit better by the time of the Holiday Special.
#rottmnt replica#replica#rottmnt#kathaynesart#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#unpause rottmnt#save rottmnt
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move over | m. sturniolo
okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid
ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜
summary: matt needs a bigger bed
wc: 1k
warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!
..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…
gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !
you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.
with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.
it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.
for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.
matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.
“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.
matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”
“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”
matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”
chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”
matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.
chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.
you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.
“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.
matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.
“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.
once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.
you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.
after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.
“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.
“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.
he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.
“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.
“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.
“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.
“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.
“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.
“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.
you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.
“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.
“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.
tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo blurb#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo drabble#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x you
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can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺
You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Vows
Sukuna x Reader
Word count: 4.5k
Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)
It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.
You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?
Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.
And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.
So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.
When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.
''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.
''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?
''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.
''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.
But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.
You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''
''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.
''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.
That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.
Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.
It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.
You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.
Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.
''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.
''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.
"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.
Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.
You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.
You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.
"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.
You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.
-
You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.
He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.
"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.
Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"
There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.
"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."
You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.
"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."
You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.
He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?
Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.
-
Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.
He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.
He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.
He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.
You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.
You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''
''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?
''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...
''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''
You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.
Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.
You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.
Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.
''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.
''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.
Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.
Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''
You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.
-
You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.
And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.
He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.
You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.
When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.
He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.
You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.
''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.
He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.
"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."
Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.
The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.
Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.
And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.
Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.
Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.
The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.
Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#sukuna angst#sukuna#soft sukuna#i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics#also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader#yes weve heard it a thousand times#idc it makes me happy
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