#or maybe one eye is + and another is -..... but then her eyesight would be super fucked up

[wasyago]

tinkering :)

#jrwi riptide #jay ferin #my art #sketch #so proud of this one!!!!!!! i like how the colors turned out so much huehuehuehuehueheheh #the bright warm background and cold blue silhouette mmmMM yummy #also wanted to draw jay actually wearing her artificer goggles for so long! so happy to finally do it #i think jay may be farsighted. so she needs goggles or glasses to see properly up close #or maybe one eye is + and another is -..... but then her eyesight would be super fucked up

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Nikto’s Commandments

Nikto is familiar with torture. So, so intimately familiar with it. When he knew nothing else, he knew pain. He knew flayed skin and cracked bone and burnt flesh. He knew screams tangled up in chipped teeth and pulpy tongue. Agony became a filter through which all the world’s color bled.

He didn’t know how sweet torture could be.

He didn’t know he could crave the blade of a kind word. That he could relish the bone-deep ache of a gentle touch. He longs to be drowned in your soap and burned on your skin, wishes every brush would scar as badly as acid. Somehow, he remains intact.

You are a torture he could languish in for eternity. Would gladly be hung with a braid of your hair.

But you, blessed thing, don’t even realize what you do to him. The exquisite suffering that’s remaking him. Or maybe if you do, you’re too merciful to take it from him.

“Nikto…” you croon. You’re flushed and giggly, all but in his lap. “Is this three or four?”

“Four.” He’s been counting, but he won’t stop you from having more.

You wanted to go out with the rest of the KorTac team you two have been sent with. Ever generous, you asked if he’d rather stay in, but Nikto just nudged you out the door and sunk into your shadow like always.

“One more?” you ask.

He grunts in agreement. If you wanted to stay out till sunrise, he would escort you over sunbeams.

Aksel stands to get the next round and you cuddle in against Nikto’s side again. Don’t seem to mind the Kevlar under his shirt, or the knife pressed against your thigh.

“You sure you don’t want to play another round?” Roze goads, smirking, as she shuffles the deck.

You grin, wide and pretty and so blindingly happy. “You just want to cheat me at cards.”

“I could never with your guard dog on duty,” she purrs.

You scrunch your nose this time. “He’s not.”

“A guard dog or on duty?”

“Either! Both!”

Nikto clicks his tongue and slides your half-finished water closer. You agreeably accept the distraction, dutifully sipping another quarter of it under his watchful gaze.

“I am just teasing,” Roze soothes when you set the glass down again. “Nikto just takes care of you. It is good.”

You hum, apparently pleased with her roundabout apology. “It is good.”

You thank Aksel as he sets another glass in front of you, wiping at the side with an already-soggy napkin.

“Courtesy of a man at the bar,” he adds, winking and pointing.

Nikto whips around instantly, makes cold, deadly eye contact with a normal weak unbroken stupid man at the bar. He shifts when he realizes that it’s not your attention he’s getting and awkwardly turns away.

“It’s not drugged, right?” you ask. When Nikto turns back, there’s a frown on your face. He clenches the hand farthest from you, creak of leather lost in the noisy bar.

“No, I kept a close eye,” Aksel assures. “He just tossed some cash down to ‘pay,’ that’s all.”

You snort, shrug. “Whatever.”

Nikto settles again as you continue watching the card game, seemingly content just to be in the company of others. You sip at your last drink of the night, cheering Aksel on as the underdog of the table. Nikto tucks you close and counts cards.

It’s not long before you make an uncomfortable noise and pat at Nikto’s thigh. “Restroom, please!”

He slides out of the booth and silently helps you after him, a shriveled but mending part of him endeared by the wobbly way you cling.

“Okay I think I’ve got it from here,” you assure him, patting his arm.

“You want company?” Roze asks, frowning.

“Only if you need to go too,” you reply, “but it’s right there. I’ll be okay.”

She hums and pushes another few peanuts into the center of the table with the rest of the “pot”. Nikto hesitates, but you point out the door, clearly within eyesight.

“It’ll only be a minute,” you promise, stretching up on your toes to kiss his cheek over the mask. You toddle off before he can do more than freeze.

The whole team is snickering, grinning, or shooting him knowing looks when he haltingly turns back. If he wouldn’t take their hands for it, he’s sure at least one of them would be patting him on the back. But they know better than to try to make conversation, especially without you present, and return to their game. (He thinks this is what you would call “social interaction” and it’s tolerable, for now.)

Nikto counts exactly sixty seconds before turning to watch the hallway to the bathroom. Just in time to see the man that bought you the drink stand and saunter that way. He doesn’t enter the men’s bathroom, only hovers at the edge of the hallway. Waiting.

Nikto stands and crosses the bar with a speed usually reserved for those who don’t know they’re dead yet.

The man sees him coming, wavers between pride and the smart choice. Survival instinct wins out to make the smart choice and he slinks off before Nikto is even within arm’s reach. Not a word is exchanged.

Thirteen seconds later, you stroll from the restroom and instantly catch sight of him.

“Miss me?” you tease, coming right to him.

He hums because you’ll realize he’s being honest if he says yes. But you’re a little too tipsy to do more than grab his hand as he leads you back to the table. Seem amused as he ushers you back into your safe spot in the interior.

Another blissful half hour passes before you lean into him, big eyes peering up through your lashes.

“Ready to go home?” you ask in slow, imperfect Russian.

He’s hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol and his head swims like he’s drunk. You make a surprised noise as he grabs your cheeks in one massive hand, gives a little squeeze.

“Again.”

You blink, a little cross-eyed from how he leans in. “Ready to go home?” you repeat, only slightly less stuttering this time.

It’s obscene how quickly he fills out his pants.

“Yes,” he responds in kind. Your eyes light up.

He tosses some money on the table to cover your drinks and then maneuvers you out. You happily follow along, fingers curled in the edge of his glove.

He bundles you into the separate car you insisted the two of you take, knowing he’s not one for socializing or public. Only goes to the driver’s side once you’re comfortable and buckled in.

“You have been learning Russian,” he asks. It comes out flat, but you know him well enough to just sense the inflection in his voice.

“A little bit,” you admit, beaming. “I’m not good at it. I haven’t had a lot of time to learn.”

He shakes his head. Where did you find the time? And how did he not notice sooner?

“Say something,” he commands, too fascinated to remember who he’s speaking to.

“Ummmmm oh! I love you, Nikto!”

You squeal as he hits the breaks and jerks the wheel, taking the car to the side of the road. Parks there and twists to look at you.

“Say again.”

“I love you, Nikto.”

He narrows his eyes. Leans in. “Do you know what you are saying?”

You must not. How could you of all blessed creatures say something so—

“Yes.” You tilt your head, brows furrowing. “Unless I’m pronouncing it wrong?”

“You are not.”

You are but not so badly that he doesn’t understand - on a surface level at least. He can’t fathom those words coming from your mouth. Directed at him.

His hands convulse on the steering wheel. Wanting to reach for you but unsure why. What he’ll do. He’d never hurt you, that’s the furthest thing from his mind, but he doesn’t trust himself with you either. Not right now.

And then you say something else.

A handful of sounds. A name he hasn’t heard in years. A name he barely remembers but jerks him like a leash. What he was before Nikto.

“I love you,” you repeat once more in English. “Didn’t you know that?”

On his best day words are difficult. Right now, he can’t fathom what combination of syllables would explain to you the jumbled chaos in his head.

That you can’t love him, because he is a Thing of blood and bone and agony. That even if you could love him, he would be undeserving of it. Your voice rings in his head, church bells for a broken soul.

“No,” is all he rasps out.

You make a sad face. He feels like the lowest scum.

Then you’re scrambling out of your seatbelt, out of your seat. Climbing over the center console and into his lap. He doesn’t even feel it when your knee clips his ribs or the toe of your shoe hits his thigh. It’s nothing compared to the warm lapful of you he’s got peering down at him now.

“You know how I always remind you that you’re a person?” you ask.

He hesitates, then jerks his head in a nod. You mirror him, face so serious.

“Well you’re not just a person, you’re my person,” you explain. As if it’s so simple as spelling it out. “And I love you.”

“I do not…”

You wait for him to finish, but he can’t. He just squeezes his hands into helpless fists, unable to let himself touch you.

“Don’t what?” you murmur softly. “Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t love me back? I don’t care. I don’t love you to get something in return. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.”

You gently tug the topmost layer of his face coverings aside, drop a kiss to the tiniest sliver of skin visible beneath his eye.

“You’re my person and I’m your person,” you finish.

“Is that… what love is?” his voice is barely more than a scraped whisper. What little he remembers of people who used the word “love” towards him in the past made it seem like the blackest curse.

“That’s what our love is,” you answer easily. “Or can be, I suppose. You’re not required to feel the same way.”

He doesn’t think he does; what he feels for you is beyond that. Beyond, he suspects, what you might even have a word for.

“Again.”

Your face breaks out into a huge smile, lighting up the dark interior of the car.

“I love you, Nikto.” You press your palm to his heart and breathe softly in awe when you feel how his heart trips over itself for you. “Will you teach me to say it right?”

He leans his head back against the seat to take in the whole of you. Warm and comfortable and unafraid. Safe. (His…)

“Da. Repeat after me.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto #Nikto’s commandments #commandments au

[equxvedits]

You Would Choose Me, Correct?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: When Jogo succeeds in resurrecting Sukuna, you are unfortunate enough to come across him. Dragging you into his domain, Sukuna fucks you into submission.

・❥・requests

WARNINGS: MDNI, 18+, Fem Reader, Smut, Non-Con/Dubious Consent, Slight Manipulation, Fingering, Sukuna Steps On The Reader, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Masturbation, Shoe-Licking, Doesn't Pull Out, Sukuna Has A Superiority Complex, Sukuna In His True Form, Mean Sukuna, Extremely Submissive Reader, Age Gap (reader is 18, sukuna is...old 💀)

・❥・wc: 4.0k words

・❥・masterlist

With two fingers pressed against your temple, you were gradually trying to form a connection with Yuji as you ran around the empty Shibuya station. 

You had been trying to connect your eyesight with Yuji's for the past 10 minutes but every attempt had been futile.

Your cursed technique allowed you to connect your mind with anyone you marked with your cursed energy. 

It had been a never-before-seen prowess that you could only have succeeded in controlling because of your teacher, Gojo Satoru.

Currently, you were the only third year from Tokyo Jujutsu High, your two classmates being unavailable due to their suspension.

Since you were everyone's senior you had been given the responsibility of looking after Yuji during Gojo's absence. 

Which you were failing miserably.

Not only had you lost sight of Yuji after being separated, but you also had been able to connect and look through his eyes, only to witness him fighting an enemy.

It was hard to pinpoint his location through the glimpses since the chaos was too distracting, but you still ran around the station to find him.

It wasn't until a few minutes ago that when you tried to connect your eyesight, you found nothing but darkness.

It could only be two things. He was unconscious, or he was dead. You could only pray to god that it wasn't the latter.

As you ran through another corridor you noticed two girls at the end of the hallway with some sort of fog or steam around them. 

The sight concerned you, seeing these two young girls in the middle of the battlefield.

"Hey, girls! Are you alright? Anyone injured?" Your jogging comes to a halt once you reach them. 

One of the girls gets defensive, holding up her phone to you as she holds the other girl close. 

"I'm not here to hurt you! You need to leave, it's getting dangerous here!" You raise your hands in surrender trying to give a reassuring smile, confused as to why she held up her phone.

The brunette girl looks back at you for a moment before her gaze shifts to something behind them. Only then had you noticed and realized the situation.

"Yuji-kun!" You shout in concern, dashing to attack the curse in front of him.

"Don't waste my time..." The blue curse demands but you freeze in your step as you notice his hand had been sliced clean off.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, skin perspiring at the sudden intensity of something dark.

"I'll give you one second. Move."

Your breathing gets quicker as a suffocating feeling overwhelms your being. The curse and the two girls dash back a few feet, further away from Yuji's body.

Yuji starts to stand up and walk towards the four of you. The other three stood a few feet behind you, and as much as you would like to get further away from the approaching male, your feet stayed planted.

This presence. It was no longer Yuji.

Sukuna.

You had witnessed Sukuna take over Yuji's body in the past before but it had been very obvious to you that something had changed.

He was intimidating back then but right now, he was terrifying.

It had been easier to stand your ground against him in the past, but it just seemed impossible this time.

Maybe you had grown too used to Gojo's protective presence that now that he wasn't here, the King of curses appeared even more menacing.

With every single step Sukuna took, it became obvious that Yuji now bore at least 3 times the fingers he originally had before coming here.

Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. Your body started trembling the closer Sukuna got until you felt your legs buckle under the pressure.

You fell to your knees, head hanging low to avoid all eye contact with the curse. Your body instinctively closes in on itself to make yourself appear smaller. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping that somehow Sukuna would ignore your presence.

But sadly that wasn't the case. 

He stopped right beside you, feet next to your thighs as he started to speak.

"Holding your head a little too high, don't you think?"

If his voice hadn't terrified you then the sounds of blood splattering certainly did. Since you had your back to the other three you didn't know who had been hurt, and honestly a part of you was too petrified to turn around.

"You should learn from this brat." You felt a hand being placed on the top of your head. 

You knew who it was and had to desperately stop yourself from flinching away, too scared to accidentally offend him.

But as the hand smoothed over your head once, a small terrified whimper left your mouth. Your eyes were screwed shut to stop the tears pricking your eyes.

"You thought kneeling on just one knee would be enough?" He asks rhetorically as he continues to smooth his hand over your head.

"The boughs that bear the most hang lowest. But it seems your head doesn't bear much."

As he said that the hand resting atop your head abruptly shifts to the back of your neck. In less than a second you're standing upright staring right into Sukuna's eyes.

"You'll be useful later."

An impact on your jaw was all you felt before your vision faded to black.

"Master Sukuna..."

You slowly started to stir awake, hearing a few voices speaking in the background. Your entire body felt hot as if you were dipped in lava.

You only regain consciousness when you hear one of the voices raise their tone.

"Uraume?!"

You jolt awake at his voice, lifting your upper body to sit up. You look around to see Yuji standing a bit away from you with a monk-like person kneeling in front of him.

It took a moment before you remembered what had happened. 

Sukuna! He knocked you unconscious. 

You try to speak but feel your mouth hurt. You bring your hand up to stroke your jaw, realizing how it felt sore. You knew it was probably because Sukuna had punched you.

Only then had you noticed very small but numerous burns on your hand. You look around and find yourself scared and dumbfounded. 

You were sitting on the apex of destruction. The destruction that was no doubt caused by Sukuna.

"Master Sukuna?" You hear the monk address the King.

Noticing you to be awake, Sukuna spares you a glance before speaking.

"I have urgent business to deal with."

"...I see." The white and red-haired monk discreetly glances at you. You flinch when you make eye contact with the person named 'Uraume' but they only close their eyes, bowing lower to Sukuna.

"It won't be much longer until I'm completely free. Don't neglect your preparations." Sukuna walks towards you as he speaks. 

You try to move away from him but can't, your body is still weak from Sukuna's hit. He stood tall above you, a menacing smirk on his face.

"See you later, Urame...

...Domain Expansion: Malevelont Shrine."

Your surroundings change suddenly feeling cold. You see Sukuna standing exactly where he was, just now he adorned a light kimono with black accents and a dark scarf wrapped around his neck.

You look down to see yourself now sitting in what seemed like a shallow river of blood. Was it blood?

Just when you try to stand up, you halt your actions when Sukuna appears in front of you.

"Who permitted you to move?" He asks glaring down at you.

"I-...s-sorry." You let your head hang low.

"Don't speak. Your lips should be sealed until ordered otherwise." He demands as you nod wordlessly.

Internally you were screaming at yourself. Scolding how you shouldn't be submitting yourself to something you spent your life training to eradicate.

You tell yourself that if you die then it's because of your duty as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. No one will hold it against you if you lose against Sukuna.

You shout at yourself to fight back, that anything is better than bowing to a curse. But alas your body refused to listen to your brain.

It only listened to Sukuna now.

"Spread your legs." 

His tone was firm, making it obvious he expected complete obedience from you. And that is what he got.

Your legs move further away from each other a good distance till your uniform skirt allows you.

Sukuna clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"Lift your skirt, fucking dimwit." Your lips wobble at his harsh words but do not resist. Your hands work slowly to lift your skirt up so it is now inverted and covering your torso.

You slowly spread your legs further away, although there wasn't much to see due to you wearing leggings underneath.

As you slowly build up the courage to protest it is immediately shut down when Sukuna presses the sole of his shoes on your covered cunt.

You almost gasp out in shock but compose yourself, not ready to submit yourself yet.

"You really surprised me. You were so prepared to exorcise me when I first resurrected. Look at you now, so submissive. I did tell the Gojo Sorcerer that you'll be the first I'll take." 

He taunts you all the while continuing to put pressure on your folds. Watching you have no reactions he huffs in annoyance before finally removing his feet.

"This is boring. Stand up. Undress yourself completely and go sit over there." He says pointing towards the throne on the shrine.

You slowly stand up whilst fixing your skirt, finally having built up some courage to fight against him.

"I'm not doing anything, King of Curses. Sukuna!" You exclaim as anger builds in your chest. But all is lost in the blink of an eye.

Before you could have moved, Sukuna was behind you. His hand was on your chest before your uniform shirt had been ripped off of your body.

You shriek out of fear, hands moving to cover your chest. Sukuna uses his feet to kick your legs from underneath you.

Losing your balance you fall onto your hands and knees as he crouches down beside you. He once again lifts your skirt as the other brings down your leggings.

Taking your hands he holds them behind your back, keeping them in place. Due to this your face was on the floor, back arched, and ass up. 

His other hand starts to rub your cunt through your underwear, before sighing in disappointment.

"I need you wet." As he says that his fingers move around your bare chest to toy with your nipples. They would pinch and tug at your flesh making you whimper slightly.

That paired with the constant rubbing of your clit and the pressure of your hands being held tightly. You found it harder to resist it.

Due to the situation, it had taken you a moment to realize something. How was he doing that?

One of his hands was toying with your now bare clit, the other playing with your chest. But your hands were still being held in place.

You slightly move your head to look at Sukuna and find yourself staring at someone completely different. 

It was no longer Yuji, but rather someone who looked exactly how Sukuna's real form was described.

Two faces with four arms. 

In fact, his only vacant hand was near his mouth, covering two of his fingers in saliva as he later plunges the same fingers into your cunt.

This time you couldn't hold your moans back. Not only did his appearance change, his true form was larger as well. 

There might have been a feet or two difference in height but he was now prominently wider, making you feel even smaller.

His fingers brushed along your walls as you convulsed around him.

"P-please stop...stop!" 

You sob as you grow closer to your release. A second goes by when you suddenly felt empty, cunt pulsating around nothing as your head felt an immense force against it.

You soon realize that he held your head in his hand, bringing you closer to his body. Your face was soon in front of his.

"Don't order me, you pathetic woman. Now go do as I asked." He says with a chilling tone. You nod hastily.

He releases his hold on your face and you stand up and look around for a moment. Then you remembered he had told you to sit on the throne-like structure.

You had only moved a few small steps before being stopped once again.

"Stop. Take off everything you have on first." Sukuna demanded. You look back at him before looking down. Your leggings and underwear still clung onto your thighs and your skirt covered your torso.

You smoothly slip everything off before starting to walk once more, Sukuna right behind you.

It takes you less than a minute to climb up the stairs before reaching the throne. You turn around to settle yourself on the seat but are stopped by a sudden pressure around your neck.

"Who said you could sit there?" Sukuna tightens his grip on your neck and you struggle against him.

"Y-you said—"

"I told you to take a seat over here. It's obvious I meant the floor, do you think so highly of yourself to take a seat on my throne?"

His tone scared you so desperately denied.

"No! I'm sorry! I-I'm s-sorry! I mis-misunderstood! P-please forg-forgive me!" It was difficult for you to speak, barely getting any airflow along with the fear that clouded your veins. You couldn't do anything but plead for your life.

At your words he releases his hold on you, resulting in you landing on the floor breathing heavily.

While you composed yourself, Sukuna settled himself on his throne. 

"Come here. Look at me." The King demands making you turn your head to him. You saw him pat his thigh once expecting you to understand.

You didn't, but took your guess. Moving closer to him while also not leaving the floor, you hesitantly rested your head against his thigh.

He smirks down at you as his hand moves to pat your head.

"You finally understand your place, woman." He grins mischievously.

"During our time here, I'll ask you what want at any time once I'm satisfied, and I'll give it to you. All you need to do is obey me. Understood?"

You nod mindlessly.

"Good. Now, make yourself cum." He says in the most natural tone. You were caught off guard by this, not understanding.

"I don't-" Before you question further, one of Sukuna's arms had moved making you flinch and close your eyes out of instinct.

You only open them when you hear Sukuna laugh. You watch him use his fingers to open his kimono, revealing himself to be completely bare underneath. 

Although you tried to fight it, you did catch a glimpse of his girth that laid against his lap.

"Make yourself cum. Use anything here. Your fingers, the floor, my shoes, my cock, heck you can use one of those bones lying there as well. Just fuck yourself, and make it pretty."

You understood what he had asked of you, but your body didn't move. He only stared at you waiting.

"You have 10 seconds to start, otherwise the deal is off." He states, pressuring you.

You realized that this was the only way for you to see another day. So you decided to put aside your pride and dignity and comply.

"May I lick your shoes, Master Sukuna?"

Throughout the entire night, this was the first time Sukuna heard no jitters in your voice, so he only grew amused by your bold yet pathetic words.

"Do what you want."

With the confirmation, you move away slightly so you can bend lower. You shift your body to get on all fours, going lower till your face reaches Sukuna's shoes.

Slowly you began to lick against the material, soaking it in your saliva.

This was humiliating. But even as tears sprung to your eyes this was undoubtedly the best strategy. For someone as egoistical as Sukuna it would be hard to satisfy him with someone else's pleasure. 

So you had to make sure he felt like a true king. Knowing that something like a mere shoe of his could get you off would definitely win him over. 

You just had to endure.

Once the tip of his shoe was soaked, you moved away to sit up and lean back. Inserting two fingers in your mouth you drenched them in your saliva before spreading your legs.

Now that you were on complete display, your fingers moved to your already dripping cunt to massage through your folds.

You did that for a few seconds before moving closer to Sukuna's shoe, eventually pressing your slit against it.

You had initially planned to try and insert his shoe in you -even just barely- but decided against it when you felt the true size of it. So you resorted to just rubbing yourself against the material.

You moved forward to hug his leg, moving your hips to rub across the length of his shoe. You slowly opened your eyes to look at Sukuna, wanting to see if your display was affecting him at all.

And to your surprise, it was. His cock which was previously resting against his lap was now hard against his stomach.

But what caught you off guard wasn't the size of his girth, rather it was his stare. His red, venomous eyes bore into yours, the sight itself making you stumble over a few strokes.

Your cheeks flushed hot as you started to feel genuinely aroused by the situation. The roughness of his shoe becomes more apparent as you continue to rub yourself against the most pleasurable spot.

"Mmmh! So close..." 

Your mumbles come out soft as your brain slowly grows incoherent. 

Sukuna grinned cooly at the sight, amused that his original plan was working out as he had thought.

You weren't the best asset among all the other sorcerers he came across, but your cursed technique was valuable. 

Although he knew he wasn't really in need of your technique either, he was just curious about your ancestry. 

And if possible, he could use your body as a vessel for a stronger curse who could put use to your technique.

He just had to bring you to his side.

Sukuna abruptly rips away his feet, leaving you with nothing to rub against. You suppress a whine that builds at the back of your throat and just look up at him in confusion.

"You were good, but it's not enough. Come here, I want to taste you." He hooks his hand underneath your arm to lift you and make you straddle him.

He uses your shock as leverage to push the tip of his cock into your entrance. You jolt but don't complain, thighs still shaking from your ruined orgasm. 

He slowly pushes against your hips to bring you down on the rest of his length.

Your moan comes out strangled, vocal chords confused on whether to scream or moan.

Trying to ignore the stinging from the stretch, you slowly start to move as Sukuna's hands guide your movement a few times. 

You feel yourself stretch around him a few times before he lifts you a little too high, making him slip out of you.

"Master Sukuna...?"

"Don't move."

Two of his hands started to fiddle with your breast when you feel a wet muscle against your cunt. 

You look down to see a tongue sticking out of Sukuna's stomach that makes you want to screech. But your voice immediately dies when the same tongue slips into your walls.

Your lips part at the feeling, pussy clenching around his tongue out of reflex. Sukuna pulls you closer, moving you a bit up so your cunt was pressed flat against his stomach.

Losing balance you fall ahead slightly, hands on each side of his head against the throne as your head lulled forward, chin touching his hair. 

You suddenly felt a stinging on your ass, realizing Sukuna was digging his pricking his nails into your skin.

You felt a wave of fear rush to your head, wondering if he had gotten mad by you directly touching his throne.

You had only done that so you were not holding him instead. You almost shifted to move your arms but halted when you felt wet around your breasts.

Sukuna has encased a small portion of your right breast in his mouth -the one in its rightful place- tongue circling your nipple, canine digging into them slightly.

Without even realizing your hips were grinding against his stomach, the tongue inside your walls speeding up its ministrations.

Just when you felt your release snap, your ecstasy was shattered by Sukuna retracting both tongues from your body after he whispered 'delicious'. 

Moments later you were turned around, your back against his chest as you moved up and down on his cock.

His hands continued to stimulate your nipples, as you grew wetter and wetter with each thrust. Your eyes clouded with pleasure as you slowly forget your motive.

Everything below you was now drenched in your arousal, Sukuna reveling in every second of it. His other pair of hands remained on your hips, pressing down and making it harder for you to move.

Slowly you started to lose your control, eyes brimming with tears due to the frustration of not being able to move.

You were so close, your stomach growing heavy with your release.

So as your last resort, you start to beg.

"M-master Sukuna! I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum, please let me move!"

You wiggle against his hold not caring about how pathetic you looked. You continue to plead but he doesn't reply.

"Please! Please! I want to cum!"

"You have satisfied me. Tell me, how should I reward you?" He finally spoke making you pause your babbles.

"W-what? Please, just let me move, Master Sukuna!"

"I told you. I'll give you anything you want once I'm satisfied. Tell me, what do you want?"

"Nothing! P-please- please!" 

"Are you sure? Everyone wants something. Tell me, and I'll give it."

"Then! Please, fuck me! I'm s-so close, Master Sukuna! Please make me cum! That's what I want!"

Sukuna smirks in triumph. You had played right into his hands. He grinned against your nape, using his hands to push you forward off the seat and against the floor.

He got behind you and continued to thrust into you, ass rippling due to the force of his hips.

"There's your true nature. You could have used this opportunity to leave but you insisted on being a whore. That's alright, I like this look you."

You could only whine out in response to his words.

"Let's wait till the realization settles in, knowing you're milking your enemy's cock as your comrades walk to their deaths."

You had started crying, the pleasure overtaking all your emotions when his fingers rubbed harshly against your clit.

"Even then, you would choose me. Correct?" He asks, smirking when you nod dumbly as your lower abdomen grows tighter.

"Ahh~ I would choose you! So-ngh! Just- right there!" 

You let out a hoarse moan when the tension snaps, throwing your head back as you cream on his cock, some of your arousal spurting out and onto the floor.

Your orgasm came in waves, making you dizzy as his thrusts never stopped. He continued to fuck you through your release determined to build another one.

"You hear that, brat? She says she would choose me." Sukuna says in a taunting tone. You continue to pant heavily from your release but try to look back at him, confused by his words.

Only then did you notice a figure standing below at the end of the stairs.

"W-wait...stop..." You voice out, your voice trembling.

"Weren't you saying how much you looked up to your [name]-senpai? Well, I'm sure the truth is apparent to you." Sukuna continues to taunt the figure, not once halting his thrusts.

"NO! YUJI DON'T LOOK!" You screamed desperately, finally meeting the eyes of your junior classmate.

Your tears flowed freely, finally realizing Sukuna's actions. Was he trying to break Yuji's soul? 

From the look on Yuji's face, it was obvious that Sukuna was successful. And you had stupidly played into his hands. 

"LOOK AWAY YUJI! STOP RIGHT NOW SUKUNA! STOP IT!" You were glad that Yuji complied and looked away from you, but the heavy tears falling from his eyes only added to your guilt.

"Why would I stop? You're clenching. You're going to cum again." He states. And he was correct. 

His cock reached where you could never imagine, the pressure against your sensitive walls only brought you closer to another release.

"Pl-please, stop..."

You whimper-moan desperately, making sure that Yuji's gaze is nowhere near you.

"Don't order me around. This took a lot of effort, to bring you into my innate domain. You should be fucking honored."

"Cumming!"

You scream out without realizing, Sukuna following soon after to fill you up, not removing himself until every single drop was settled deep in you.

"I was going to kill you, to hurt the stupid brat. But this was way too much fun! I wonder how the Gojo Sorcerer would react seeing his student so dumb on my cock."

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk imagine #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #yuji jjk #itadori #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jjk ryomen #mahoraga

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure!" One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. You chuckle. "I don't think it will be quite the pleasure you think." "Is that so?" Alastor's smile remains constant. "And why would that be? You show him the tray you're holding "I'm here to do your sutures"

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles. Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes.

Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this…uh…like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ear. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum rings.

Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found. The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh…well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now?"

“…Yeah…?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“…Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting. He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns. You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair. 

His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs. Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle. Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic.

You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus. You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date. Although… those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA. The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears. The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment.

Just… a small… single moment.

On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

…Huh? The feather on your hair bristle. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That…that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ "Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management. You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “…Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The… uh… the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are…difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve … almost… almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such…er…interesting decorations around…. May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse…,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well…we…. We certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me….and…hm…” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes...” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor... I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh…There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x wife reader

[satoruhour]

LEGIT JUST DASHED HERE FKJAKJLASDFKJL

TA! Nanami won't leave my brain so pleaseeee 🥺just him assisting you with lab reports by eating you out

❄️

(ANYTHING BUT) LAB HELP

a/n: icy you got me thinkin about my own TA and the failures in which i am too scared to cop him 😭😭😭 / this was purely fuelled by my own carnal need for nanami after last week’s episode because WHEEEEEWWW !

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem!reader, TA!nanami, reader is a big simp for nanami but vice versa too, reader has long hair in this, slight age gap? since nanami is a TA (27 / 22), m! masturbation, fantasising, semi-public masturbation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, little praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the first time your TA walked in, your jaw drops. with a face and body like that, he should rightfully be in the modelling industry, not teaching you about dissecting and suturing mice and looking at atoms under a microscope.

all you know is that nanami kento was just like every teaching assistant — attending lectures just like the rest of the students, taking down notes for his tutorial and lab sessions, answering curious emails from everyone — but every interaction you had with this man was anything but normal, or at least that’s what you felt.

you’ve never viewed someone in such a deranged and filthy way before: pulling on his blonde hair and taking off that hideous cheetah print tie and telling him to his face that wearing a full suit while teaching makes him insanely older than he actually is; and also maybe after that, to push him right down to your cunt where he’d eat you out like you deserve.

“i just don’t get why he needs to use a suit at twenty seven years old just to teach — you’re doing your masters, like calm down a little.” you mumble more to yourself than your friend, but she likes every juicy detail you have about this attractive TA you keep talking about even if you sound like you hate him with how much you talk about the damn suit all the time.

but your friend only knows that if you could get his trousers, suit jacket, tie and shirt off of him, you would in a blink of an eye.

“maybe he wants to impress.”

your mouth twists, “who? only person he should be impressing is me.”

it’s all in good fun, with the way you’re talking — in reality, you don’t know what you’d do if the opportunity really presented itself to you. gossip, your legacy (or shame) carried by mouth, expulsion from the university, there were countless of unfortunate things if you do decide to go for the teaching assistant meant purely to help students in better understanding the material.

but it wasn’t one-sided. all those glances you thought nanami was sending you weren’t imagined, nor was it because you thought he was squinting due to bad eyesight. he remembers your name from the first tutorial he taught you, caught you lingering around the lecture hall, helps you a little too much during lab sessions and every time, he’s inexplicably drawn to you and your aura.

“good afternoon, ladies,” the familiar deep and collected voice snaps you out of the conversation, heart beating a hundred miles. you were in no way prepared for this, but you’re grateful for even one meeting out of class. your friend is insufferable though — from your peripheral you can see her giving the two of you a sick grin, “any chance i could ask for directions to this particular room?”

that was another thing; nanami wasn’t from this university. having completed his degree in another, he took his masters in the one you’re attending, wanting a breath of fresh air from the four years of his time in kyoto. that’s what you remember from his introduction, amongst many other things: he liked neutral colours, he’s interested in the philosophy of aesthetics, and he loved bread.

“babe, i’m going to head off for a class,” lies. she had no classes today at all, “see you tomorrow!” she bows briefly to nanami who only shoots her a tender smile and you turn to the side to bite your fist. you’ve become good at containing your reactions, though.

“oh! nanami-san, of course. headed there for a class?”

what kind of stupid question is that? of course he w—

“i’m heading there for a seminar, actually, starts in about,” he checks his watch, “10 minutes. the uni invited an external professor to give a talk that merges both the philosophical aspects of questioning life alongside the functions of the body, sparking thoughts of science and philosophy. thought it’d be interesting.”

you swallow and you swear you can feel your core pulsing. hot, intelligent and always pushing the boundaries and capacity of learning? you could only thank the gods that it was a cooler day, not being able to do anything if you actually do melt into a puddle.

“y-yeah! yeah, i know where it is.” you don’t, but the rooms are usually lined up pretty nicely, and you know you would be able to guide him successfully without much trouble; but when you’re checking the seminar room, you realise that they may have changed venues.

“crap . . five minutes. nanami-san, do you think maybe they sent a follow-up email with the change in location?” you’re more on edge than nanami is because you usually don’t like to be late for anything, recalling the jumble of numbers and letters he showed you earlier and lining them with the label plates outside the room.

“uh— oh, shit. yeah, i might’ve shown you the wrong email.” your jaw drops when you see the new venue.

“that’s . . on the other side of campus, nanami-san.”

“how long will it take?”

you wince at the disappointment on his face, “if you take the campus bus, at least fifteen minutes.”

nanami’s understandably mad at himself for his own mistake, knowing he’d miss a good chunk of the talk whilst travelling there, but he’s distracted from his self-loathing — taken aback at the quickness in which you offer to drive him.

“uh . . it’s probably maybe eight minutes there by car. my car’s parked close by if you want a lift—”

and nanami thinks it’s simultaneously the perfect and terrible day to send his car to the mechanics and settle for public transport. perfect because he might accept your offer to be close to you, terrible because he would much rather you sit in the passenger sit of his car rather than the other way around.

nanami forgets to be modest in your presence, so he accepts it without a second beat and follows you in a jog to the parking lot. there are scattered vehicles, possibly belonging to professors and maybe students, and the both of you come to an everyday looking corolla.

“okay! unlocked. i’ll try to speed and get you there in four minutes.” nanami can only manage a soft thank you, touched by your generosity and even more drawn by the determination in your face. with a turn of the ignition key, the man clutches onto the seatbelt as you lurch forward with the acceleration, and then you’re taking off.

you’re not the best driver, driving past yellow lights and terrible at changing lanes, but you get the job done. coming to rest in front of the humanities block, you’re arriving with the seminar starting just two minutes ago, and nanami looks at you like you just moved the moon and stars for him.

“thank you, (y/n)-san, truly,” he’s out of breath, maybe a little shaken up from the drive but it’s nothing he isn’t used to (gojo sucks too), “how can i repay you?”

you shake your hand, “a-ah, no it’s nothing. it was just an eight minute drive compressed into four.”

“no, really, let me pay back the favour.”

you bit your lip — you can’t possibly say the thing that’s on your mind. he would report you, you would have to be kicked out, your future crumbling before your eyes — you go for the tamer request.

“lunch, one day, then.”

nanami smiles at you and you feel like it’s cupid shooting his shot straight into your heart. you hardly see the man, smile, ever, so to have a genuine one directed at you made you squeeze your thighs together. there’s hope bubbling in nanami’s heart when he sees the effect of his smile: a glint in your eye and the quickened breaths, he may have thought your thighs move, too, but he didn’t have the balls to glance down to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“how ’bout right after the seminar?” fuck. you’re grinning now and you see a little of nanami’s teeth in an amused smile.

“sure, nanami-san,” adrenaline sends you reeling, eyes boring so tirelessly into his that you wish he’d understand all the things you want him to do to you. he peeks a quick glimpse of your lips as they lick it before unbuckling his seatbelt, popping open the passenger door to head out. your hand instinctively goes up to stop him, “or should i say . . passenger princess.”

that prompts a full grin out of your TA, who lets out an attractive chuckle before leaving from your car, “sure, whatever you want to call me.”

you’re driving away happily, kicking your feet once you’re parked in another car park and giggling to yourself. unbeknownst to you of the small little thing nanami says after, “although i’d like it if you call me yours.”

the spiral starts from there. it was approximately two hours — you have two hours of going back to the dorms to choose something you knew you looked good in while continuing to text your friend in excitement. it was chaos between the hours of eleven to one pm, rummaging through your closet to find something suitable. you went through many rounds of outfits and with each photo to your friend you were losing hope.

“‘let’s just stick with the first’?” you scoff loudly after reading out her feedback, typing out a reply to your friend. it sounded a little agitated but you can’t help but heart the message wishing you a good luck.

before you know it, you’re hearing a knock on the window, greeted with the very nice sight of his suit jacket now removed and his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. it’s like he’s heard your thoughts too because even his ugly tie is bundled up in his hand.

“the AC wasn’t working.” he simply explains, once he’s in the car and he appreciates your gesture of turning yours to the max. you let your eyes rake over his figure, the pull of his shirt that looks too tight for him and the lines of his forearms, before he finally gets settled in and begs your eye contact.

“bummer,” you click your tongue, “but well, any places you have in mind?”

you start the car, pulling out of the lobby and nanami playfully hums, “not going to listen to your passenger princess’ struggles? do you hate women perhaps?”

“nah, i’m a toxic man who doesn’t care about his girl’s life.” that draws a laugh out of nanami, who sinks more into the seat. he’s more relaxed here than in class, than in lectures and it’s a nice sight to behold.

he echoes your sentiment with a small smile, “bummer.”

you both settle on an eatery pretty easily, with nanami keeping his promise of paying for your lunch (you made sure to pay back just a little with some bread, though, because how does a simple car lift equate to a whole lunch?). he was everything you thought him out to be: insanely insightful and smart; on a more physical level, jacked with such a pretty voice to the point you let him ramble about the seminar. it was the most animated you’ve seen him act.

since then, he’s become more open to accepting food items and hangouts with his students, although they never really hit like the first lunch he’s had with you. it was detrimental to his teaching, really, even now where he glares at your lab partner who you’re laughing with. it makes his stomach turn with jealousy, even as you exchange nudges while completing your worksheets.

he figures he can’t do anything but wait for you to initiate, mind muddled with thoughts of you and the possibility you were just being a nice person from what you did before, until you’re interrupting him from his rage-fuelled cleaning of the lab with a tap to his shoulder.

“nanami-san?” the students have filed out by now, a shell of what used to be a lab full of students groaning at the innards of the rats they were cutting open and the whispers of confusion at how to sew them back up.

“what is it?” he turns around too fast, almost knowing over a beaker by accident and when his hand goes over to catch it, you stabilise it as well. your hand encases his, the both of you resisting the urge to smile while you try to remember the question you so desperately tried to think of; anything to just talk to him.

“this is about um . . last week’s experiment about gas chromatography.”

“yeah?” nanami leans against the table, arms crossed and all and suddenly looking too buff that you feel a little lightheaded. his eyes skim over your body, a tight fitting shirt that accentuates your tits whilst you have some yoga pants on and if he bent you over, he’s confident he can see your pussy lips from behind the fabric. he knows it’s because you had a yoga class this morning, because he’s too invested in your life and you willingly give him what he wants.

“if the two mixtures contained the same alcohols but filled up to different amounts, do you know a method via the gas chromatogram to distinguish between the two mixtures?”

“uhm—”

nanami looks collected but he is sweating, approached at such a random time that he doesn’t have time to prepare except stutter through his answer. you don’t notice how you’ve been stepping closer and closer to him, either, until you’re an inch from one another.

“oh! alright, that makes sense.”

“anything else?” your TA looks down at you, hands just itching to bring you in. the lab is so quiet, now, save for the shuffling feet of the students outside but thankfully the windows are opaque. you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for your hearts pounding so loudly in your chests. your finger twitches with your incomplete lab report.

“right— well, yes, i was asking if you c—”

“babe!” the lab door slides open at the same time your friend calls out to you and you cough in embarrassment. nanami only clears his throat as the two of you step away and your cheeks burn, and he has to loosen the tie around his neck just for a bit.

“you told me to wait for you outside, right? well you were taking too long and . .” the other only continues his ‘task’ of cleaning up, looking anywhere but your direction as she continues to ramble, but he doesn’t miss the look of recognition on your friend’s face.

she mouths to you— i’m so sorry for interrupting, before she has half a mind to say something out loud and you’re clasping your hand over her mouth and ushering her outside hurriedly.

“shush— okay, thanks mr. nanami-san!”

he only waves a hand in farewell, but as soon as the door closes he collapses onto the seat. with head in hands, his mind wanders to the proximity in which the two of you were engaged in and the very, very uncomfortable boner in his pants. he’s so big that everyone can probably see it, frozen in place as he gets a sick idea.

“yeah, i told you to wait for me but not to barge in like that— oh my god! you should go on the records for having the worst timing ever.” you aren’t entirely disappointed, but it did seem like a good opportunity. you’re partly glad, too, because your mind now feeds you countless scenarios of nanami’s expressions turning into disgust and shock.

“dang, i’m sorry, but we do have to get going if we want to make it in time for that cafe event.”

your mouth twists, “yeah, i guess so.”

“if it makes you feel better, maybe he’ll want you more after this interruption.” she winks and you shove her playfully.

“now, you’re just trying to justify your bad timing!”

in that short time, you’re unaware that nanami has unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard-on through the hole of his boxers, insanely hard and body burning with regret. “lord, forgive me.”

he imagines you propped up on the (clean) lab tables, feet on his shoulders as he eats you out from below, or even hitting it from the back as he “helps” you with your lab report in the dorm, knowing damn well you won’t get anything done, or maybe even your mouth full of his throbbing cock sucking him off as he teaches.

nanami strokes his length in the empty lab room, knowing there wasn’t any classes any time soon from how often he’s looked at the timetables. there, he simply pumps himself under the table, biting at his shirt sleeves to muffle his grunts that he drools. it drops to the table, but he’s caring not one bit, because the feel of his hands just feel too good against him and the images of you only get lewder and lewder.

“s-shit . .” nanami swears quietly, hoping the slickness of his pre-cum doesn’t give him away, squeezing and moving his hands faster along his cock. his tip’s so sensitive — what would your mouth or pussy feel like? would you have let him rip your tights and fuck you silly just now? his hips are bucking into his hands, now, thinking of turning your sweet, sweet smile into something of pure sex, and before he knows it, he’s shooting his load onto the floor with a loud groan, thumbing his tip shakily. nanami’s breaths are ragged, guilt burning him alive while he washes his hand at the sink beside the tables and crouches to the floor, cleaning up after himself — nanami definitely wouldn’t be able to face you after this.

he was right. his mind was flooded with you in obscene positions and your saccharine voice twisted into moans and whines, he wonders if you taste as good as the pineapple juice he had the other day. even in tutorials, the students were wondering why the AC was turned up so high, because one glance from you made him hot and bothered. he liked to book it straight out of class, too, directing all questions to his email which he highlights very clearly in his slides, muttering something about being on a tight deadline with his thesis for his masters, but it’s never that serious — he’s usually heading back to quell the uncomfortable boner in his pants.

“prof? nanami-san?” you knew you’d find him in here in the professor’s office, probably going over lesson plans. your professor only shoots you a friendly greeting as nanami turns in his chair, he’s always happy to see his students while nanami swallows when you’re back in your yoga getup. it’s been a week, already?

“need anything, (y/n)?”

“oh, i need more of nanami-san, since it’s relating to my lab reports.” your professor usually conducted lab sessions, but nanami was the one to help with the reports, conveying the information of what to write and whatnot; well, it was also easier to talk someone who isn’t so intimidating and cool as your professor.

“kento, help me lock up after you’re done, alright?” your professor throws him the keys and you stifle a laugh at the way he stumbles out the door, “going home early to the wife, ahah . . guess i’m falling for her over again.”

that draws a laugh from both of you, bidding him goodbye with a smile on your faces before the mood turns tense again, and nanami looks up at you from his chair. you take him in: the manspread, the head tilt, the intentional (but you don’t know that) deep voice.

“yes, (y/n)?”

you gulp, remembering what your friend said — keep eye contact, slowly walk up to him, keep your voice nonchalant — it was easier said than done.

“cat got your tongue?”

you sputter and exclaim, “no— no i’m okay. i just wanted to ask about the alcohols used in the experiment last week.”

“ah, you’re still on that?”

his tone is laced with a slight disdain, possibly from how much he hates how you make him feel, coming in here to ask about your stupid lab report when he know you’re a bright student who hardly needs any help, coming in here like the two of you don’t want each other.

“y-yes, nanami-san.”

he stands and easily towers over you. from here, you can see his broad shoulders take up his shirt as he walks you back, buttons unbuttoned to reveal a bit of skin. you feel like prey being cornered, but nanami still has some sense of chivalry when he wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from hitting the frosted glass door.

“mind telling me why your lab report from over two weeks ago is taking so long to be completed?”

reality seeps in for just a moment and his hand removes itself, hovering just over your body, “we still . . have a week to finish it up, nanami-san . .”

your TA takes a deep breath and you think that maybe that was the wrong answer, but all nanami does is step even closer to you and your hands have no choice but to rest on his toned chest. he can only hope no one can see your figure when you’re pressed flat against the frosted glass, but he knows this part of the uni is a little deserted this late in the afternoon.

“that’s not wrong . .” his voice is down to a whisper, closing his eyes for a moment when your hands travel over his chest. when he opens them again, they’re more than just the pretty, hazel ones you like to fantasise about, stained with a darker sort of lust that involves taking you, even if it meant doing it in the professor’s office. “but you’re always submitting it pretty early on, aren’t you? what changed, hm?”

you can feel his breath on your lips, wishing he would just take the first step because frankly, your pussy is throbbing and your body is already leaning into him even without his hand on your back. it feels natural like that.

“i got distracted.”

nanami’s breath moves from your lips to your neck, and you cheer in your head as he plants a gentle kiss there, but it’s not quite what you want. he hums into the crook of your neck, torturing you with wet kisses and sucking lightly.

“by what? your friend? or perhaps it’s some external commitment that’s taking up a lot of your time?” nanami already knows the answer but he enjoys the way you squirm. “what is it?”

by now, your hands are trailing up his body, wrapping around his neck and playing with his undercut. his skin is so soft and he smells so damn good, and he sighs at your hands.

“by someone, actually.” you bite the bullet, forcibly removing him from your neck which is definitely starting to show the obvious blue black on the skin there. his hands this whole time have been placed against the door behind you, but the carnal need is too prominent that he wraps that same arm around your middle. the other, on your nape; the sheer size of his hand makes you whine and nanami smiles at that.

“mind telling me who is it? maybe i could give them a good talk, tell them to stop tormenting my smart girl.”

that draws out a visceral reaction from you, melting into his arms at the simple praise. nanami helps you a little, leaning in with an expression as needy as yours.

“you’re gonna talk to yourself?” a laugh is the last thing you hear before he crashes his lips against yours, a hand smartly going to the door to flip the lock before he pulls you flush against him. you moan softly when you feel his hard-on, against your front, manhandled easy by nanami’s arms as he whips you around to walk you to your professor’s desk.

“do you think he’ll sue us?” nanami kisses down your neck with him between your legs, hands fondling every inch of your body while you grind up against his pelvis. with such thin material such as your yoga tights between you, it feels so damn good.

“at most he’ll remove me as TA . .” as he speaks, you can feel the vibrations along your skin, legs instinctively bringing him closer. he doesn’t let you, instead pulling away from your body and goes to his knees, seeing just how soaked you are. he thanks god you weren’t wearing black, because there’s a wet patch that leaks too much — it’s clear you didn’t bother to wear underwear at all. “but that is if he finds out about this, right?”

you smile, feet pushing at his back towards your dripping cunt and you moan softly when he licks at your pussy through the fabric.

“yeah— yeah i guess so,” you’re then expecting his hands to pull at your waistband and you lift your hips knowingly, but you hear a stark riiip! that echoes throughout the office and you gasp, too focused on his pretty face to notice he’s dug his fingers into the yoga tights to tear it at your centre. the action turns you on, entirely sure you felt your pussy flutter at the sheer strength that he had.

“i’ll buy you new ones, baby,” nanami presses a gentle kiss against your clit and you shiver at the contact, hot breath threatening your demise by his hand, “they’re of terrible quality, by the way.”

you huff, “yeah, you kinda ripped it, nanami-san. plus, what’s terrible — not in quality but in looks — is your tie.”

nanami chuckles, caressing your inner thighs with gentle fingers, blowing lightly on your cunt, “personal vendetta against cheetahs?”

that sends shivers along your whole body, “n-no, just don’t really like the look of it.”

nanami hums, “i’m wounded.”

“you’ll live.”

he only laughs again, “okay, enough talking. i’m starving.” and starving he was — he latches his mouth onto your clit like a vice, sucking and flicking his tongue relentlessly you have no choice but to cry out his name. “taste so fucking sweet,” the sudden swear catches you off-guard, paired with the rasped voice and your hips willingly hump his mouth, “pussy made for me.”

“don’t say shit like that . .” you whine, embarrassed at the filthiness of his words and yet you’re sat here on a desk, pushing your sex more and more into his lips. “it’s embarrassin’.”

nanami clicks his tongue, “you’re still here.”

“yeah, shut up.” you push him further into your cunt to silence him, a loud moan leaving your lips as nanami slobbers over you — you’re so wet, spilling onto the floor. without warning, nanami slips a finger into you, easing it in and the sheer thickness of it prompts more mewls from you.

“k—kento . .” you hear nanami groan at the first name basis, shoving his finger deeper into you. he pumps it as his tongue works overtime, the slickness of which your pussy sounds out echoing throughout the room. “i’m c-clos—”

that seems to fuel nanami further, memorising how your body feels under him. you clench repeatedly around his finger, thighs twitching against him while your whimpers increase in volume, just like your incoherent babbles.

“i’m g’nna— kento, i’m c—” your back arches when you gush all over his face, juices squirting and making a mess out of his hair. nanami groans into your sopping pussy, slurping up your arousal shamelessly as you continue to give him everything of you. you’re shaking around him, moans slowly dwindling due to shame. by now, you’ve soaked through the bottom of your tights, letting him rip the seams for a little more access.

“wanna hear you, baby.” he easily multitasks, turning you around while removing his underwear, looking back at him while you shimmy your ass back into him. with a low moan, nanami drags his tip over your folds, collecting your cum and pushing it in with it. the stretch makes your jaw drop and legs tremble, pussy still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

you hold on to the wooden desk to the best of your ability but your iron grip makes the wood creak a little; it isn’t long before nanami starts moving.

“f-fuck . . you’re so tight,” the lewdness of the situation, your ruined tights, your ass moving with the force of his hips has him gripping your hips harsher than intended. his cock is just so fat, hitting your spots effortlessly as he rams into you from behind, “will this be enough motivation for you to finish that lab report, hm?” your perked up ass is receiving all the abuse from his pelvis, rutted into with pure primal need as the slaps of his balls against you gets louder and louder, just like your moans.

“g-gonna need more than this, kento—!” you’re whining as he reaches around to rub at your clit, messy and fast, surely drawing marks down the once flawless wooden desk. he just hopes there’s no one who requires the professor’s assistance because there was a clear indication that the office was open with the shining ceiling light but he was in no condition to answer any questions without panting.

nanami pushes down your lower back, cockhead hitting your spots over and over, “need more? of course you do, fuckin’ slut.” it’s a total 180 from the gentle way he’s kissed you earlier — a choked whine and a clench of your pussy tells him you like it . “oh . . she’s cock drunk already, huh?”

“yesyesyes! mmff— kento, please . .” he pulls on your hair from behind, made easy by the ponytail you had it in and you moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure. he takes it a little easier, resting his large palm at your neck and pulling, together with your hair. nanami sucks at the same spot as earlier, and the overwhelming sensations has you both arching your back and fucking yourself back onto him.

“pretty arch you got here, darling,” he pants out, fucking so hard into you with his support that your hands don’t even need to rest on the table. nanami knows you’re already close by the way you’re unresponsive, mindless babbling leaving your mouth while you let him use your limp body. “is it all for m-me?”

“mhmh— it is, it is—” you’re fucked senseless, letting him turn your head to meet him in a sloppy kiss. by now your pussy juices are spurting all over the place, staining the floor and table, dripping down his balls where with every slam of his cock you can here the wet pap! pap! pap!’s of it.

“y—yeah i know it is; that’s all you are, aren‘t you? a little cocksleeve for me.” nanami groans out, letting go entirely before wrapping his arms around you and trapping you between his front and the table. he’s flush against your back, thrusts faltering with each plunge into your warm, tight pussy as he feels you clench tirelessly and you don’t even to say it before you’re jolting in his hold.

“cumming, i’m cumming . . fuuuck . .” your body is so sensitive, shaking around his cock that continues to move into you. you cum all over him, listening to the dirty whispers he’s dumping into your ears.

“oh . .” nanami groans, “that’s a good little slut, s-shit—” your hips continue to move even though your brain tells you to stop, hands making terrible effort at reaching for him.

“wan’ you to cum in me, kentoo—” your grip on his forearm is tight, pleading with your doe eyes and small voice that has nanami grunting out in a dilemma, but your pussy’s too warm that he cums suddenly. his voice reaches a higher register, stuttering pelvis rutting into you with the intent of breeding you; he pumps you full of his seed, ropes upon ropes of white filling your womb. it’s so thick that you shiver again, yelping softly when he pulls out.

“look at that . .” nanami marvels at the amount of cum he’s dumped into you, using a finger to scoop it up before pushing it back in that you jump from the coldness of his finger. “a smart girl turned so dumb just from cock.” you give him an intoxicated smile, lazy and hooded as you lay limp on the table.

“only for your cock, nanami-san . .” you lick a stripe up the palm of your hand and he indulges you by stepping closer. he moans softly as your hand makes contact with his shaft, “or should i say . . sir?”

nanami ended up driving you back to your dorm, helping you to your room from how sore you were after that.

#when u post ur whole fic in the tags bc u forgot you copied it LMOAOAAOAO #asks #❄️ anon #RAAAAHHHHHHHH #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jjk nanami smut #nanami kento jjk #nanami smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #nanami x you

[corruptedcaps]

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

“So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #power transfer #magic item

[nathanielzalexandria]

I love all the headcanons of "Steve is not dumb he's..." Hard of hearing, has poor eyesight, learning disability or his primary language is not English. I particularly enjoyed @dwobbitfromtheshire 's recent headcanon that he's hiding it because his father hates feeling inferior and only Eddie realizes that he is not dumb. But I would like to throw my own hat in the ring.

Steve is not dumb. Actually, he's quite smart and did quite well in school (because his parents would not expect anything less). He just wasn't into nerd culture and everyone just placed their stereotypes and rumours of him being a pretty and privileged rich jock who bought his way out of school but couldn't buy his way into college. Nevermind that he was in the top 10 students of his year and for most of his classes if not topping them and if not he wasn't failing the rest other than one or two science/math-based (rumours say the school forged those marks so that Steve could continue sports) and had a 3.6 GPA. It wasn't enough to get into his Dad's alma mater so his dad dismissed any of the other schools he got accepted into.

He does not try to hide his intelligence from Nancy or the Party, but Nancy had bought into the "Steve is simple-minded " narrative and the like before they got together and failed to realize that they are both in the same AP classes that were full of seniors and in any group or partnered project he more-than-well pulled his weight and had his own insights. So she spreads the narrative to Mike who spreads it to the rest of the party so by the time the events that befan with Dustin asks him for help with his "dog" and developed into concussed in the back of a car while a preteen drove his car, the kids have also bought into parts of the narrative. It doesn't help that he really isn't into the stereotypical nerdy stuff

Even his best friend Robin believed the lie until she worked with him and then got tortured with him by Russians. She eventually realises that he's way smarter in a practical sense than people give him credit for (he did raise himself since he was 11 or so) but does not think of it as stretching into the academic side of his life. She has not stopped calling him "dingus" though.

Eddie on the other hand knows better, which is why when a specific exam was coming up he turned to Steve.

He barged into the Harrington home a day when tye entire party was their.

"Stevie, you either have to tutor me or lend me your notes for this class. I am not failing this class and increasing the possibility of another year at fucking Hawkins."

Mike and Dustin burst out laughing at that before Steve can answer.

"I know you're e bad at that subject, but I didn't realise you were desperate enough to use Steve's notes," Dustin says with that condescending tone that means it should be obvious to Eddie.

Mike snorts at that derisively, "If he even has notes."

"Maybe," Lucas said diplomatically, "there are better options than using Steve's notes?"

Nancy steps up next offering some of her notes and flashcards since she took the class last year/is taking the class, "It's not my strongest subject but if we do a study group I'm sure you won't fail the class."

Eddie stares at the group with growing bewilderment as they agree that Nancy is the best choice while implying that Steve was not. Actually, they were acting as though he was dumb for even asking Steve, which made no sense to him.

Eddie turned his eyes to Steve. His posture by the kitchen island was much more different than when Eddie burst in. He had subtly curled into himself as if to make himself smaller, shoulders tense and a resignation on his face as if he's been through this conversation so many times before.

It was almost as if...

"You guys think that Steve is dumb, don't you?"

There was the type of silence that only comes when the quiet part is said outloud.

"No we don't think Steve's dumb," Robin begins and Eddie can hear the 'but' before she even said it, "But you know he wasn't good at the school part of school."

She continued to ramble on from there but Eddie did not hear any of it. He was too busy reevaluating the group he was with and rechecking old memories and facts to see if there was any inkling of truth to this strange idea that even the older teens should know isn't true.

It took him a moment to find the answer, and when he did he could not stop the derisive laugh that burst out and interrupted Robin's ramble.

"You guys fucking bought into the rumours, didn't you? I expect that from the kids maybe even Johnathan, maybe even Robin because of you became friends after he left school, but not from you, Nancy."

Nancy had that look on her face that she got when she was ready to argue but Eddie steamrolled over it.

"Jesus H Christ! Weren't y'all together for a whole fucking year? How do you not know that he was at the top of his year when you were together? Unless you dismissed that in favour of believing the rumours that his parents paid for his grades and the school wanted to make sure he kept on playing sports?"

He paused for a second waiting for someone to contradict him, but the look on Nancy's face was one of scrambling to defend herself. He sighed at that; she still wasn't getting it and it a sweeping look at the others proved they were lost too.

"Even if they paid off the school he would not have been in the top ten of his year, he would be like Carver and Hagan whose parents paid and their grades were just good enough to get into a decent college without too many questions. And they would not have kept on giving him high grades after he stopped doing any kind of sport in his last 2 years at that dump. Hell if Hargrove wasn't such a fucking beast at sports he would have been told he would have to repeat his senior year with me."

"It's okay Eddie; leave it go." He turned a fake sunny smile with his eyes tightly shut towards Eddie as if to pacify him.

Eddie turned to Steve who had yet to say anything throughout Eddie's diatribe up until that moment. He just continued to robotically make dinner for the party as though nothing was wrong, as though the hurt dripping off him didn't matter.

"I'm not letting this go! They had classes with you, some of which I'm pretty fucking sure were AP classes. If I had the attendance needed I would have graduated last year because of you, Stevie. So excuse me if I'm a bit annoyed that our friends are so blinded by a rumour that they can't fucking see your Salutatorian medal. Hanging. Right. There!"

All eyes except Eddie and Steve's turned in the direction that Eddie pointed at.

And there on the wall, was a framed silver medal with the word "Salutatorian" emblazoned on it. The party immediately burst into chaos amongst each other.

"Now, pretty boy, are you gonna tutor me or what?"

Or it goes something like that, I'm not sure.

#dustin immediately tries to bring up D&D and immediately gets shut down #later they collectively lose their shit when they find out he got into a college #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

[natalievoncatte]

Kara Zor El Danvers lived in a world of limitless sensation.

Thanks to her cousin, the world knew of her x-ray vision, but her eyesight went far beyond that. She could focus her attention and observe the mechanisms of the cell, or look skyward and see things so vast that they were invisible to the human eye. (She learned in her youth not to tell people that the entire solar system was, from time to time, engulfed in the digestive tract of a space whale so huge that its body was too big for humans to perceive) She could see colors lost to human vision and watch particles scatter off the atmosphere.

He sense of smell was beyond acute; had she the impulse, she could have tracked her family by scent. Her hearing was both gift and curse, as was her sense of taste, which she indulged with abandon thanks to her vastly more efficient digestive system and metabolism.

What most people never thought about was her touch. Kara could shake someone’s hand and read their fingerprint like braille. She was sensitive to the most minute changes in temperature or texture, and at times it could be just as overwhelming and overstimulating as her other senses. Kara learned to embrace it- she was a tactile girl from a race that disdained physical contact, even among lovers.

They had no idea what they were missing.

The first time Kara laid her hands on Lena Luthor was just after she’d arrested the fall of a multi-ton helicopter and dragged it from gravity’s grasp to bring it to rest on the roof of LuthorCorp. She’d checked the pilot first and…

Kara had eidetic memory. Perfect recall. It was another cursed gift, one born of the interaction of perfect healing with her alien brain. She would never forget seeing Lena for the first time. It was hers and hers alone.

Other humans could see Lena’s dark hair and soft pale skin, see the variation between her eyes, one a little more blue than green. They didn’t see what Kara saw; a thousand colors sparkling in those eyes like impossible gems, the heat bloom on her skin following the flush in her cheeks. The thundering of her heart in her chest beat a tempo in Kara’s ears, and then Kara touched her.

It was a simple gesture. No skin to skin, just a hand on Lena’s shoulder to steady her and ask her if she was okay, but beneath it Kara could sense her pulse and her body heat and was dimly aware of the electrical conduction of her nervous system.

It was heady, intoxicating. Even her scent- not the perfume covering it but the scent of *her*, her real scent, shot through with acidic fear, was intoxicating. Kara breathed it in and it exploded in her chest, making her feel a million miles tall.

The meeting was brief. Kara had to deal with annoying robots. There were always robots.

Later, Lena was there again and this time Kara was meeting her. Kara forgot that as she walked in with Kal… Clark. For those first few steps she wasn’t Supergirl or Cat Grant’s Assistant, she was herself, the person she only was around her closest friends who knew her secret. The one who walked tall, shoulders back, with nothing to hide.

Again, Lena was overwhelming. Kara was all but stunned by her, stammering and blushing. She didn’t know if there was love at first sight but first touch, just maybe. Lena’s hand was soft and warm, her grip firm, and Kara didn’t know why, then, that it sent such a jolt through her.

It was not the last time they touched.

Some thugs heaved Lena off her balcony, sending her screaming towards her death. Kara was there -she wouldn’t have had to hear it all over the phone- and caught her. It was a flawless rescue, scooping her from the air. Lena, terrified, clung to her for dear life.

Something happened on the way up. There was a brief, searing moment when Lena’s fear faded and she pressed in tight to her savior. Kara was acutely aware of the bare skin on the inside of Lena’s knee, the feeling of her soft calf against the back of her hand and the pull of Lena’s arms around her neck.

That night, Kara began to have feelings. Imaginings. Feeling silken smooth legs sliding under her palms, delicate hands clutched in hers, fingers laced. Wet skin slick on wet skin and clenching muscles, gossamer curls winding across her flesh in a symphony of pure feeling, hot breath on her skin. Teeth on her neck.

It felt weird, it felt wrong, it felt… predatory. Kara was scared of what she wanted, and how she wanted it- feral, with the wild abandon of an apex predator. Kryptonians were above such things. They were a race of stoic scientists who mastered and abandoned animal lusts and replaced them with cold technology Would she betray her heritage this way, too? She’d failed to keep Kal Kryptonian. What if she lost herself, too?

There were other touches. Soft hands on shoulders and lingering palms resting on arms. Lena hugged Kara and sheltered in her arms, drawing Kara around her like armor, and Kara let herself revel in it. She needed to protect Lena like she needed to breathe air.

Then came another. The Daxamite. The enemy, the lover, the jerk. He gave her touches too. Touches she was supposed to enjoy, supposed to want. Everyone told her so, even Alex who despised and suspected him at first.

She enjoyed it for what it was, and hated it for what it wasn’t.

Then he was gone and she was left again to longing. She tried to abandon the Danvers and Become Kryptonian, but she’d failed. Lena Luthor had gloriously corrupted her and she knew in the deepest hidden parts of her heart that whoever she was, she wasn’t the model Kryptonian youth, promised to the science council. She was Alex Danvers’s sister and Eliza Danvers’s daughter and Clark Kent’s cousin, losing herself in friendship and potstickers and guilt.

In the dark, Kara wept because she knew if she could change it all, if she could go back, save her world and her people, something of great value would be lost.

There was something between them, something terrible, something festering between every touch and it gnawed at Kara more and more with every lingering moment. Joy was shot through with terror when Lena would crowd in close to her, the pair of them giggling wine-drunk like the children they’d never been allowed to be. Children of tragedy, daughters of tarnished fathers, inheritors of legacies too heavy to carry alone.

More and more Lena and Kara let each other press close, each under the other’s shoulder, bearing the weight the weight as one. As one in every way except the one that mattered, until Kara’s heart hurt so much that she remembered those first days on Earth when she’d wished the green fireball had taken her pod too.

Then came the worst thing: the truth.

Kara wanted nothing more than to touch her, to feel skin on skin. She knew if she could hold Lena she could make it better, if she could come just shy of kissing the crown of her head and tell her how impossibly sorry she was that Lena would see, that she would feel and understand.

Instead there was only a wall of ice crusted with poison that shot red hot rancid agony through her veins, like a hot knife flensing her skin as her lungs crushed themselves. It felt like she was dying and she wanted it.

It felt like that the entire time. Every argument, every fight. Kara just wanted to scream. Scream at Lena at Mount Norquay with the ultimate weapon aimed at her heart, scream at her on balconies and rooftops and in fraught rescues where Lena shoved her away. Please just let me hold you one more time.

And then, one day, Lena came back. Kara was doing something meaningless -even with the world at stake she still had to write puff pieces for her asshole new boss- and was pacing around her apartment looking for the will to be human when it felt so pointless, and then she heard the staccato of Lena’s racing heart and pulled open her door.

It was explosive. Kara froze, stunned as if struck. It was like seeing Lena for the first time again, as she stood there with tear-wet cheeks in a winter coat with her arms and shoulders folded in fear, and Kara hated that she was afraid. She watched the invisible spectrum dance across Lena’s skin and was lost in her sea-sapphire eyes all over again and dared not even think the prayer on her tongue, a plea that came to her in Kryptonian first.

“I’m sorry,” Lena began, “I was wrong.”

Kara only heard the pain and knew she had to make it stop. Instinct drove her, the instinct she wasn’t supposed to answer. She embraced Lena with the utmost care, needing only to make it better, to make her precious Lena’s hurting stop.

Despite her photographic memory she would never recall who crossed the Rubicon. Maybe it was both of them at once. Lena touched Kara as she never had before, answering the intensity of Kara’s consuming attention in a way she’d always shied from before. Every flash of boldness from Lena drove Kara more feral and she sucked in a sharp breath as she left a hand print pressed in her door, thinking oh oh Rao I don’t want to hurt her, but if Lena was afraid she didn’t show it.

It all just sort of happened on instinct, like they both just knew what to do. Kara heaved her Lena into the air with a shocking display of strength, quivering with joy. Catching her wasn’t enough, she wanted to scoop Lena up and carry her off like a conquering hero, and she was, this was really happening.

They spoke only once, Kara asking the question. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Kara exerted every ounce of control she had, schooling every movement, commanding every brush of her fingers and movement of her hands. She let herself drink the sensations, etching a record of every facet of these moments that would endure until the end of her days. She’d never felt as alive as when she felt Lena’s body arch under her hands and the buzz in her throat as she cried Kara’s name.

The humans called it becoming one flesh. Kara thought that was silly. Now, she understood.

Lena answered her tenfold, answering Kara’s burning questions with her hands and lips and teeth, almost shocking Kara with her intensity.

To her surprise it was the after she loved most, feeling Lena’s soft, delicate, vulnerable body cradled in her arms, and when Lena sobbed into her shoulder, Kara wept with her and murmured all the promises again and again and again.

Later, after struggles and losses and a strange sense that it was all finally over, the great battles won, the great miracles all performed, Kara formed the metal and crushed the gems into being with her own hands, and would never forget the trembling in Lena’s hands as she circled the bracelet around her wrist.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #a companion of sorts to the last ticket #Kara is secretly a feral dom #Kara Danvers is a service top #Natalie writing more pretentious fanfic #Lena knows she can’t hurt Kara and takes full advantage

[flem17ng]

It’s a date.

UCLA! jessie fleming x reader

summary: reader starts her first semester at UCLA and meets bruins midfielder, jessie fleming.

content: fluff, short one-shot. author has no knowledge of the American education system.

The first day of university was always going to be hard. New people, new campus, new lecturers and new classes all together. Maybe it was the fact you’d never been this far from home before that made it worse. 

UCLA was your dream school. Quite literally. You remeber looking at the university website back when you where in middle school and imagining yourself there: kicking a ball in the oval, studying in a library, laps in the big pools. the feeling of actually being here was… overwhelming. 

Like all eighteen year olds do, you had launched yourself into this thing head first: packed bags, kissed your dog goodbye and hopped on the plane. And like most eighteen year olds , you where now struck with the intensity of your actions. 

Here you where, miles from home, no connections in the state, standing outside the lecture theatre for your first class. So yes, overwhelming would be the word of choice. 

You looked down at your timetable for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last minute, checking and triple checking that you had got the room right. 

“Environmental Studies: Spheres 101”. The name of the course seemed to taunt you at you stared at it blankly. 

Leave it to you to go to one of the most prestigious sports schools in the world, (doing very minimal sport yourself) and end up doing a course all about what? Water, earth, wind and fire?

You knew it was more important than that of course. You picked environmental engineering for a reason: because you cared about that sort of stuff! 

You took a long breath readying to walk in when-

“Oh shit I am so sorry! God I was not looking where I was going!” The thump in your shoulder didn’t knock you quite as off balance as the thick Canadian accent. You froze for a moment, not knowing whether to be pissed at this stranger’s clumsiness or charmed but the voice that reminded you of home. Your eyes flashed up to meet the source of the voice and decided to be charmed. 

Her eyes where the first thing you noticed: large and brown and…. well charming you suposed. Every other part of the girls face fell neatly into place behind those eyes: perfect, warm and adorned with a lopsided and slightly guilty smile. 

It was then that you realised you hadn’t responded. 

“Oh no don’t worry. I was distracted myself” you rushed out, words melding into a lump as they rushed to get passed your lips. It was worth it as you watched the girls guilt melt away into an easier grin. 

“Another Canadian! I thought I was going to be alone here you know” she laughed “I don’t think I would have survived”. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the other girls  relief. “God same! I’m already off kilter over here”

“Eh. we’ll muddle through” she grinned back giving an animated wink before looking back at the door you where still loitering before. 

“Might need to…” she trailed off at motioned with her chin to the door. 

“Right right yes! I don’t want to be late to learn about the spheres of the environment” you drawled sarcastically. The girl rolled her eyes in agreement. 

“Right!? when I saw that on my timetable I couldn’t believe it! I swear I learned this in 9th grade”. 

“American’s eh?” you tut with a playful smile. God you hoped none of the resident americans would over hear you. 

The girl (you realised you didn’t yet know her name) laughed loudly, her teeth flashing handsomely (Looking at her you realised that “handsome” was a pretty accurate diagnosis: broad shoulders, a freakishly athletic build, sharp jawline. Yes, handsome was the word). Together you walked forward into the lecture hall, thankfully not late before parting ways: her going to sit next to a few other athletic looking girls with tight ponytails, and you going to sit near the front (curse your poor eyesight). 

~

To be brutally honest, after that little interaction, you almost completely forgot about the handsome canadian girl with charming eyes from your environmental engineering course. Almost. You saw her about a few times: in the distance on the playing field, walking around campus. But you hadn’t really talked to her since that first class at the beginning of semester. Everytime you got into class she was already there, sitting next to the Bruins girls, pen in hand, with deadly focus. 

You reasoned that it would be impolite to interrupt her, it would be nosy to try join her little group and it would be downright stalkerish to try track her down across campus. 

Not to mention the university work that was flooding in… it was not stopping for anything, that’s for sure, definitely not your strange hang up over a girl you had one interaction with. 

Your reasoning for this preoccupation was simply that you missed home: Canada seemed so far away especially as the weather only got warmer. This girl was simply a reminder that the faraway moose land was real! Additionally, maybe your brain got confused: a kind interaction plus the familiar Canadian accent equals weird unreasonable attachment. 

You shook your head and tried to refocus your eyes in the screen in front of you. You had been staring at the blank document you so long that your head had started to ache and the hot chocolate you bought before you sat down was now definitely cold. The cafe was one of those tiny ones with maybe three indoor tables and a booming espresso machine that took up most of the counter space by the cash register and drowned out the soft music echoing from the speakers. 

You had found it during the second week of semester and now frequented it most afternoons to try and crank out as many assignments as possible. Routine was important, you must understand that. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your temple before being rudely startled by a tap of the shoulder. 

“Jeezus! give a girl some warning please!” you snapped before looking up at the offender. Brown eyes stared back at you filled with an amused glint. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this” she laughed. The same laugh that showed off her handsome features and warm glow. 

“Oh hey! It’s um… you!” it wasn’t meant to sound like a stutter but it came out that way anyways. 

“Jessie” she smiled softly, catching your fumble “Jessie Fleming? We have some lectures together?” 

“Yes no! I remember sorry. I just didn’t catch your name” you rambled, feeling suddenly very foolish. She patted your shoulder to pull you out of the spiral. 

“I know. I’m just messing” she sat down in the seat opposite you with a sigh. 

It was then that you really looked at her. She looked very much the same as she had the first time apart from a few key things: her hair was shorter (sitting just above her shoulders whereas before it had hung in a long plat down her back) and her left eye seemed strangely swollen and purple. 

“Um… get into a fight Fleming?” you asked, indicating to her, now obvious, black eye. To your surprise she laughed!

“Oh this old thing! No just a bad tackle during soccer practice” she grinned, poking the swollen lid with a dramatic wince. 

“Soccer… OH! Oh it makes sense now” you lean back in your chair and look at her like you had only just noticed her properly. 

“Fleming! 21! bruins midfielder! God I never made the connection!” you laughed, feeling stupid. Maybe if you had payed more attention to the sport at your SPORT university, you would have found out her name sooner. 

“Oh hush. It’s really nothing” she muttered looking embarrassed. 

“No, shut up Fleming. No it isn’t! I heard a girl in the library talking about your goal in a match a few weeks ago! Boy I know jack shit about sport but I know it was impressive” you hissed back eagerly. 

“No really-“

“Take the damn compliment Jessie”

“Fine! Thank you” she smiled awkwardly with a role of her eyes “It was a pretty good goal I guess”

You smiled and watched her for a long moment as she settled into the seat fully. Your eyes followed her perfect nose, flickered up to her eyebrows before coming to rest at her lips. How could someone look that good so effortlessly?

“Staring is rude” she stated bluntly, as her lips curled into a smirk. You looked away with a jerk, cheeks flaming. 

“I- I was not!”

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t staring! You soccer types, always so big headed!” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest. You felt childish: of course you had been staring! God how silly that this girl, Jessie, thought you could hold back from staring at her! You’re only human after all. 

“I-“ Jessie started to speak but cut herself off, her mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Yes?”

“I might be out of play for a few weeks. Concussion protocols and all that but… well stop me if this is too forward but, I’d love for you to come to a game? One of my games I mean” her question ended in a rush before she leaned back from the table with big curious eyes. You stared back, dumbfounded. It took a shake of your head to get you to respond. 

“You want me to come to a bruins game?”

“Uhh. Yes?”

“You know I don’t know anything about soccer?”

“I did assume that, yes.”

“But you want me there?”

“Yes.” her tone was soft but firm, determined. “I want you to come to a game please. To watch me play? Or we can watch it together if I’m still out for injury?”

You laugh and clap a hand over your mouth. 

“Are you asking me on a date Jessie Fleming?” you spit out, feeling suddenly emboldened by the other girls flustered expression. Jessie’s cheeks only became redder at your sudden inquiry. 

“Yes please?” came her hopeful squeak. 

You grinned and leaned over the table, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, just under her bruised eye, before sitting back in one swift movement. 

“Ok. But you’re going to have to let me wear your jersey 21. Oh, and explain the offside rule.”

Jessie groaned, but her pink cheeks gave her away. 

“Fine. It’s a date.” 

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #ucla jessie fleming

[munsonluhvr]

THE DEAL

pairing: drug dealer!eddie munson x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of drugs/dealing, cussing

author's note (!): I don't know if it should be a nsfw part 2 or sfw? Let me know what you guys would want, please!!!!

installments: part 1 | part 2

You cross your arms across your chest while you sit on the picnic bench. Out in the distance, you see the baseball team making their way onto the field that you sit behind, in the wooded shade. School has just been released and you’re waiting for your weekly appointment. 

You huff, bending over to conserve some of your body heat; the weather had suddenly dipped into a solid chill, which is emphasized by the gusts of wind that whip around. “Why does he always have to be late?” you mutter to yourself, annoyed by having to wait. 

Off to your left you hear the cracking of sticks, and you see the figure of a person walking your way. It was Eddie Munson, the person you were waiting for. 

You stand up, arms still crossed. “Jesus Christ, Eddie. You sure know how to make a girl wait.” The wind blows, tossing your hair around you. Your fingertips dig into your arms as a chill drives through you. 

Eddie coos, shaking his head. “Sorry, y/n. Hellfire Club stuff.” Eddie steps over the roots of trees that are pronounced on the ground, and he makes his way towards you. His eyes grazes over your body and you take notice. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” 

“What was I supposed to do? Leave? You’re the one with the lunchbox full of drugs.” You say sitting back on the picnic bench, tucking your legs in to face the other side. Eddie comes around the picnic benches other side and sits down, placing his black, metal lunchbox on the tabletop with a clank. 

Eddie laughs, unlatching the lunchbox. “That’s right, I know you love what I have.” 

You laugh sarcastically, ignoring his slight sexual reference. “I only like your drugs, let’s not get things twisted.” 

Eddie pauses, putting a hand to his heart. “I’m so deeply hurt, y/n. I thought we were heading places.” 

“The only place I’m headed is home with some weed, now show me what you have today.” You say, lifting up to peek inside his lunchbox. You hadn’t smoked in several days, having run out of your stash earlier than anticipated. You were stressed with school, and you just needed to relax. Today was the only day Eddie could meet you to do your weekly exchange. 

“Fine, fine,” Eddie says, plucking a few small, plastic bags from the container. “How much do you want?” 

“An ounce, maybe two?” You say, watching Eddie’s ring-covered fingers fiddle with the bags. 

Eddie looks at you, frowning. “That’s more then you usually get.” 

“Yeah, well I have more stress then I usually have right now.” You say, propping your elbow up on the tabletop. Eddie combines one bag of weed into another, estimating that there was close to two ounces in the small, clear bag. 

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie says, looking at you curiously. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Did you go from drug dealer to therapist? Not a chance. How much?” 

Eddie eyes the bag, lifting it up into yours’s and his eyesight. “How about thirty-five, I added a little discount for all your stress you’re going through.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” you say, leaning forward to slide your hand into your pants pocket. “Some discount, by the way. You took off, like, three dollars.” You pull out the money Eddie requests, splaying out the bills in front of him. 

“I’ll raise it back to nearly forty if you want since my discount means nothing to you. I also gave it to you because you happen to be my favorite customer.” Eddie says, putting his elbow on the tabletop and resting his chin into his palm. 

You roll your eyes again, moving the paper bills towards Eddie. “Oh, I’m sure. I count down the days until I see you again.” You say, taking the plastic bag from Eddie. “Isn’t Chrissy Cunningham one of your clients now? You’ve always liked her.” 

Eddie closes his metal lunch box, locking it swiftly. “Oh, y/n. Chrissy Cunningham has nothing on you.” 

You scoff, tucking the plastic bag into your jacket pocket. You swing your legs over the bench seat, moving to stand up. “Goodbye, Eddie,” you say, tossing a glance at Eddie. 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Eddie says, leaping up from his seat to follow you. “I actually had something to ask you.” Eddie slings an arm over your shoulder, bringing your side into him. 

You look over at Eddie, slightly amused by his confidence to get physically close to you. “And what is that, Munson?” You walk side-by-side out of the woods, Eddie’s arm still around your shoulders, and you catch his scent which smells lightly of cologne and cigarette smoke. Your eyes flutter at the scent. 

“I was thinking,” Eddie says with a pause. You hum for him to continue. “-That we should do our little weekly deal at my house next time. Perhaps you could stay longer afterwards, and we could hangout or something.” 

You feel a smirk coming across your mouth. You and Eddie had been somewhat friendly, always taking pleasure in sarcastic, playful banter but by no means were you friends. You had friends in common and had been in the same classes at some points. When you picked up smoking, you were referred to Eddie by your friends and you began to frequently meet Eddie to buy from him. Seldom did you dive deep into conversation with Eddie, you only delved into surface level conversations, the common simple pleasantries. Only recently did Eddie begin to linger a little longer, silently requesting for you to stay in his presence a little longer and share little pieces of information about yourself. 

“Or something?” you say with a laugh. “Are you trying to fuck me, Munson?” 

Eddie lets go of your shoulders, his eyes growing wide and his cheeks growing pink. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie catches himself becoming embarrassingly flustered and tries to regain his composure. “Unless that’s what you want.” 

You playfully shove Eddie with another laugh. “You wish, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs, coming back to stand next to you. “No, really, I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other outside of the few minutes we meet a week. If you’re interested.” 

You hum again, folding the thought over in your head. Eddie seemed like a nice enough person. He’s edgy and interesting, always seeming to have a flock of freshmen that admire him. Sure, there’s rumors about him and what his club get up to but aren’t there rumors about everyone? You decide to see what Eddie Munson is all about. “Sure,” you say. “Next week, same day and time?”

Eddie nods, glancing at you with a smile on his face. “Yeah, I can drive you over to my house if you want.” 

You nod, glancing over at him too. You catch his eyes and for the first time you really look into them; they’re pretty and brown. “Great. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” 

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson sfw

[whalesforhands]

MY GOD YOUR GETO X READER X GOJI FICS SCRATCH AN ITCH IN MY BRAIN AND THE SHOKO CRUSH ADDITION?!?!? ABSOLUTELY DIVINE I TELL YOU!!!! Part 3 had me hurting ngl like ouch man but it inspired some angst *rubs hands evilly* what if one day after a tough mission reader is just feeling super down and tired and weak and is abt to cry and runs into Gojo and Geto who (not knowing any better) start teasing her abt her abilities and cursed technique etc not knowing her mental state and she just snaps and starts crying and yelling at them abt if all they think of her is a joke then they should just leave her alone instead of messing around with her feelings and runs off. Shoko is the one to find her and comforts her while Gojo and Geto are left gobsmacked and stricken with guilt. I’ll let you imagine how they realize what idiots they are and try to fix their huge screwup. Also I’m so glad you’re writing for Geto x reader x Gojo there’s hardly any fics on here with that pairing and not smut (not that I don’t love that too but I want PAIN and DRAMA and SHENANIGANS) and your fics give me just that so ty

anon i’m going to cry i finally got another ask. i thought ppl hated me bro. ur so cute for such a detailed and compliment filled ask, anon

i write 2 gs x reader bcs it never feels right knowing that they are without each other. i need them to be happy 😭😭

anyways, eat up

dread creeps around the corner (gojo x reader x geto, shoko x reader)

warnings: angst to fluff, y’all making me consider quitting smut writing to become a full time PG writer cause these are way more fun

You think the weariness of life is catching up to you.

Your body felt heavy, your feet dragging as your back was hunched over. Your staff strapped to your back as your eyesight started to blur.

Your backpack seems even heavier today too. You were sure you packed light.

Another mission, another near-miss. How many times would you be able to just make it out with your life? How many times until your luck finally ran out?

Why weren’t you improving? Why weren’t your techniques breaking past their limit quicker? What are you doing wrong?

Why are you so weak?

Perhaps you just aren’t cut out for savi- No.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts as you sense the familiar energy begin to surround you.

“Little Miss Barrierrrrrr!” An arm latched itself onto your shoulders as weight suddenly pressed itself down onto you, the sudden pressure causing you to stumble backwards, only for the arm to support you and keep you upright on your feet.

“How was your mission?” Gojo’s loud voice rang throughout your ears, it’s sheer volume grating and painful. His hand going round to the strap of your backpack, tugging it off of you and onto his own shoulder.

The other presence flanked your side, before you felt the weight of your staff disappear from your back, leaving you empty handed as the two sorcerers smiled down at you.

You took a breath in.

“It… It was-“ Horrible. Tragic. You survived by the skin of your teeth once again. You struggled to find the strength to describe it in more detail.

“Fine.”

Gojo grins as you felt Geto’s hand pat your head.

“Sounds like code for, ‘You struggled!’” He laughs, patting your back. “My Six Eyes tell me your cursed energy barely improved after that mission too. Should I ask Yaga to assign you harder ones? Maybe with us?”

Your body stills. It… Barely improved? You gave that mission your best shot.

You heard Suguru laugh as he smacked Satoru’s arm, ridding his arm off your shoulder as he replaced it with his own.

“It’s alright,” Suguru began. “Don’t listen to him. Improving takes time anyway.”

Takes… Time? How hypocritical does he have to be to tell you that? He, along with the gifted Gojo Satoru, had immense cursed energy from the beginning. Their talent innate, their improvement expedited with little to no training.

Self-sufficient, talented, never having to try too hard to far surpass the standards of average. Exceptional. Things that you never were, never will be.

Frustration had built up, your emotions starting to light aflame. With desperation, with aggravation. Why did it always feel like they looked down upon you?

“Helloooo? Earth to Miss Protection? Ya there?” Gojo waved his hand in front of your face.

Seeing no response, he reached a hand out to caress your cheek.

“Gosh, if you’re going to be so distracted, I might just ki-“

You slap his hand away before he could touch you. Eyes alight with anger, you looked straight at him, throwing Geto’s arm off your shoulders.

“If you think I’m so weak, then just leave me alone!”

The air grew tense. Your tears were beginning to well up.

“I- I know I’m weak, okay?! You don’t have to rub it in all the time! B-but I’ve tried! I’ve tried too hard for you to tell me that I’m not doing enough!” The dam broke, your cheeks streaked with your tears as your stutters caused you to grow embarrassed.

Why can’t you even express your anger more courageously?

You turned tailed and ran away. Your sobs making themselves more apparent the more you ran, the more your legs burned.

You were such an embarrassment.

Settling by a creek, your legs bundled up to your chest as you cried into your knees. You don’t know how long you’ve been here crying your stress out. Your eyes were puffy, stress not leaving your body as you sat still, listening to the gentle pitter patter of the rain beginning to fall upon you.

Can the day really not get any worse?

You wanted to laugh at yourself as you felt the rain begin to drench your uniform. It was your last clean one. You need to do the laundry again soon.

As the rain poured down on you, it suddenly stopped. A shadow had overcome your figure, providing you shelter.

Cigarette smoke and a hint of a citrusy fragrance.

Shoko.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You stay silent. You didn’t expect to be found. Nor did you even feel like talking right now. You bury your face deeper into your folded arms, trying to hide. You don’t want to be seen as weak by Shoko.

It stays that way for a moment. Silent, besides the gentle patter of the rain.

“It’s not,” She began. “It’s not weak to cry when you’re sad. Not in front of me.” Assurance. She was comforting you.

You felt her settle next to you, getting her skirt wet.

She gently adjusted your head to rest on her shoulder.

“Cry all you want. I’ll be here.”

And you did. Sobbing, fingers digging into her uniform as your tears and snot mixed into her clothing.

You didn’t notice her other shoulder getting wet with rain as she held the umbrella up over the both of you.

——

You were holding her arm with both of your own as she walked you back to the dorms.

You were ready to take a shower, collapse onto your bed and cry even more. Too much stress has built up.

What you didn’t expect was to see the duo settled on your carpeted floor.

They scrambled up to their feet almost instantaneously.

You sniffled, your eyes red and weary as you held Shoko’s arm tighter.

Geto spoke first, a hand of his outstretched to touch you before he willed it back to his side. “I- We’re very sorry. It wasn’t our intention to hurt you.”

He never wanted to make you feel inferior.

Gojo’s eyes were downcast, sight seemingly stuck to the floor before he raised his gaze to be directly looking at you.

“You’re not weak. You just need more training.”

Geto elbowed his side as you heard Shoko sighed exasperatedly beside you.

“Ow!” The white haired sorcerer exclaimed. “Oh, and uh, I- I’m sorry… Too.” He rubbed at his torso where Suguru had landed his hit.

“Hopeless…” You heard her murmur. Strangely, you didn’t feel taken aback by Gojo’s seemingly insincere apology.

You found it funny. You giggled, desperately trying to not let them see as a hand came up to slap itself over your mouth, your eyes beginning to light up with joy.

“It’s-“ You tried to speak through your silent laughter. “It’s- Okay.” Getting ahold of yourself, you remove your hand.

“I forgive you.” You smiled.

“We bought you pizza as an apology by the way.”

“You’ll join us, right?”

masterlist

Note:

Geto, Gojo and Shoko thought your laughter was cute, especially after seeing how hard you cried.

Surprisingly, Geto and Gojo were fighting over who was to pay for the pizzas. They both wanted to pay for you. Shoko watched, amused by their fighting as she paid for it at the counter whilst they were too busy wrestling.

You never thought you’d get so hungry after crying so hard. You ate nearly half of the whole damn thing before Geto went to order some more.

Gojo thought it was adorable how you were stuffing your cheeks like a pig.

Shoko licked some sauce off your face as you were eating, you blushed so hard and told her she’d make an amazing wife.

“Just because of some sauce?!?! I can do that too-!”

#geto x reader x gojo #geto x reader #gojo x reader #getou suguru x reader x gojo satoru #shoko ieiri x reader #jjk x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #satosugu x reader #dyf au

[blues824]

Imagine a pregnant mc getting kidnapped by sebek because she is his darling and the child can be mallius his next guard

Imagine if she died and he blamed the child making lilia raise it but later seeing I looked like his darlingHe would fose her to talk like darling dress like her her old name that's gone it's his daughter He whoud not see her in a romantic way he just missed his darling and makes his daughter pay for the death of her mother in that way.

or he goes to get the milk and leaves her with lilia you do you magic bestie you are the yandere sebek expert,

Warning: This is a yandere story. Sebek went to go get the milk. Also, Fem!Reader who is pregnant and dies after giving birth.

Sebek Zigvolt

“Grandpa Lilia, could you tell me the story again?” A little girl with her father’s hair color and her mother’s eyes was being tucked into bed by her grandfather… or a man she saw as her grandfather.

“The one about the knight and his love?” Lilia sat straight, a smile on his face at the small girl’s excitement.

“Yeah!”

“Alright,” He sighed, “Once upon a time…”

~~~~~~~~

No fairytale could describe your life with Sebek. It all felt like an enemies-to-lovers story, but the ‘enemies’ part was really one-sided. Even though he was often kept busy, he would always make sure that you felt cherished and loved, even if he didn’t want to admit that he loved you, a human, half of the time.

You were taken away from him too soon.

Everything was going wonderfully. His grandfather even accepted you as a new member of the Zigvolt family. Your wedding wasn’t anything too grand, as you wanted it to be smaller and more sentimental. It was a special moment between you two and your loved ones, and in your new shared home, some wedding photos hung on the wall.

The first meal you cooked in your house was salmon carpaccio. Dancing in the kitchen with one another was a rare moment of intimacy that you had to yourselves. There was no music, and while you were seasoning the salmon, he reached around you and you both started swaying back and forth. 

Because of his job as a knight, you often found yourself lonely at home. Sure, you got visitors from the village, but the house was quiet. So, one night, over dinner, you brought up having a child. He was definitely surprised, but he was alright with it. After all, there was a possibility that they could grow up and become a knight and serve the Draconia family.

The world was quiet without you… because you were the world to him.

Once you received the news that you were with child, you were super excited. You even set up a surprise for your husband so that you could reveal it to him. He was delighted to hear about it, but that’s when his mental state started deteriorating. You suddenly were prohibited from going outside, doing anything that he deemed ‘strenuous’, and you were put on bedrest. 

It wasn’t fair, you thought, as you weren’t even in your 8th week of pregnancy yet. Fortunately, you had books. When you were not allowed to traverse the world yourself, you could dive into a multitude of fictional worlds. As an apology gift to you, Sebek would often return with a new book for you to read, as you had read all the ones in the house already. This did not work, obviously, as you were still angry.

Eventually, in the beginning of your third trimester, you both got into a fight. He had caught you out of bed as you were absolutely done with being stuck in one place. You were actually painting the lower sections of the wall of the nursery. You were not able to get up quickly enough when you heard the front door open and close, so you just kept painting. You were going to stand your ground this time.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He shouted at you. Way to start off a conversation with the love of your life.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Or maybe you should go to bed and stay until your eyesight gets better.”

“Get back into bed, darling. You know that vigorous activities could affect the baby-”

“Vigorous?! For the Seven’s sake, tell me what is so vigorous about painting a wall!!! I am not on a ladder, I am merely moving my arm back and forth with the paintbrush!” You exclaimed, finally at your wit’s end.

He went silent, and his face darkened. You were worried that you had hurt his feelings when he stepped forward and scooped you up into a bridal carry. You tried to struggle, and you could feel your little one start to get stressed out because she could sense something wrong with her parents. You groaned as she started to kick, but Sebek didn’t stop walking to your bedroom.

“I am not going to argue with you, as stress is bad for your and her health. You, however, will stay here until you are ready to give birth. I cannot lose you or her, and it will not be because of you or your disobedience,” He stated as he set you back down in your bed. When he left the room, he locked the door behind him… you were now a prisoner.

~~~~~~~~~

“Is this where it gets sad?”

“Yes, dear child. It’s also the part where I leave because it’s time for you to go to bed. Uncle Silver will take you to school tomorrow.”

“Ok…” The little girl groaned, not wanting to go to sleep just yet. However, she allowed Lilia to walk out of the room before she looked at the portrait of her parents that resided on the wall. It was a picture from their wedding. She could almost hear their voices.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” Her mother would whisper as she brushed her hair.

“I am proud of you,” Her father would tell her as she progressed in her training as a knight under Lilia’s tutelage. 

However, she has never heard the voice of her mother, and she has never held a proper conversation with her father.

She continued to hold onto the hope, however, that she could meet her father properly, as she knew that she would never meet her mother…

Her mother was dead, after all.

~~~~~~~~

“Sebek,” A sense of urgency accompanied your voice as you felt a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. You knew that it wasn’t your baby pressing against your bladder… She was on her way.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He sat up, blinking the sleep away from his eyes. Looking you over, he saw that you had a panicked look on your face as you were clutching your stomach, and he quickly pieced two-and-two together.

Quickly rushing out of bed, he picked you up into his arms and placed you in the car, heading to the Briar Valley hospital. He was definitely speeding while allowing you to crush his hand in your grip as the contractions hit you like a truck. Even though the baby was only a quarter fae, she was still very large and you were lucky you had Sebek’s mom to help you prepare.

Unfortunately for your husband, he was not allowed in the hospital room because he was not able to calm down. He was panicking, and his older brother and father both had to restrain him as his mother went in his stead. Hearing your screams of pain made his heart tear itself apart. He actually elbowed his brother in the nose, making blood trickle down.

Baul Zigvolt took over the restraining, trying to talk him down and smack some sense into him, and he settled down a bit. Your screams also settled down, along with the cry of a baby. A doctor walked out of the room, and he walked up to Sebek.

“Mrs. Zigvolt is asleep right now, but you may come see the baby. You are the baby’s father, right?” The doctor asked the knight.

“Yes, I am. Is my wife going to be okay?” He asked, worry evident on his face as the woman held open the door for him.

“Her blood pressure is higher than we would like it to be, so I can’t say that she’s out of the woods yet. However, she is responding to treatment.” 

And that’s when he saw her: a little infant, the perfect mix of both you and him, wrapped in a pink blanket, crying. The sound made him tear up as the nurse carefully handed her to him. Making sure to support her head with his arm, the baby calmed down and stopped crying, instead falling asleep.

Everything was wonderful… until it wasn’t.

The monitor that was watching over your vitals started going haywire. Sebek was rushed back out of the room as doctors rushed in, but instead of behaving like a husband should when his wife is deteriorating quickly, he just gently rocked his baby to calm her down after being disturbed with all the commotion.

Grandma and Grandpa Zigvolt, as well as Great-Grandpa, were each worried about the man. Gently taking the infant from his arms in the case that he just went into shock, they watched as he walked away, exiting the hospital. Baul tried to stop him, but he just kept walking.

When the doctor came to collect a name for the birth certificate, the family had named her ‘Aurora’, a name you had told them that you were considering. It had been a while since they last saw him in-person.

~~~~~~~~

Little Aurora grew to be a rather determined and passionate young girl. Top of her class, training whenever she could, and reading extensively, she was definitely a young prodigy in the making. However, she was rather quiet, despite the loudness of the Zigvolt residence. 

Every day, people stop her and say that she looks so much like you, or that she had the personality (but not the volume) of her father. She hoped that she was making you proud in the stars, and she hoped that her achievements made their way to her father in the form of the letters she often sent.

No one wanted to tell her about the time he did reach out, only to say that he wanted nothing to do with her as she was the reason that you were dead. Yeah, they agreed to not contact one another ever again. What was really concerning was when he quit his job. King Malleus had even stopped by to ask about him, and that was the first time he met Aurora.

Lilia grew to adore the girl, as did Silver. She often, when the ‘feelings’ got to be too much at home, sought refuge in the Vanrouge cottage. Lilia, or Grandpa Lilia, as she called him, took her under his batwing and would often help her train. However, Silver, or Uncle Silver, would take over the cooking, because there did not need to be another generation with a bad relationship to food.

There, she felt like she got to learn more about her parents and how they met and the hot mess her dad was when he wanted to ask her mom out. The story always made Aurora giggle, as she often heard the story of a knight of great promise courting a lovely maiden. It was nice to hear about her father’s more human side.

To hear his struggles rather than his accomplishments. To hear her mother’s failures rather than her successes. It was what drove her forward.

~~~~~~~~

The one time where she had met her father, it was when she was a toddler. Great-Grandpa Baul took her to your grave, placing a single rose upon the cold stone. As much as the older man despised humans, you changed his mind, and you were the one human he actually accepted into the Zigvolt family tree. It was a travesty for the entire family when you passed on.

However, he did not blame his great-granddaughter. She had no control over anything. Instead, he blamed whatever cruel god was looking down at them from the heavens, as now the little girl would have to grow up without knowing the gentle caress of a mother.

Anyway, he was surprised to see his youngest grandson at the grave as well. He picked Aurora up into his arms, as he did not know Sebek’s next course of action.

“Hello, grandfather,” The young man’s tone was cold.

“Hello, grandson,” As much as Baul hated to admit it, he was glad to see that his grandson’s trance had been broken as he looked back at him. Then, his eyes fell to the little girl now shyly hiding her face in the crook of his grandfather’s neck. A look of grief fell upon his face.

A moment of silence passed between all three people present, until Sebek stood up and spoke.

“I do not blame her anymore, but I am unable to take care of her. Please see to it that she has the best chance you can provide for her. Her mother would have wanted that, even if we were unable to provide it ourselves,” He said as he passed the two.

“You have my vow as a former knight and as your grandfather. However, I will inquire about one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Do you love her?” Baul knew that this was a bit of a stretch, but he needed to know.

…

“Yes... As much as I loved Y/N.”

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst sebek zigvolt #sebek #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Could you write something with dom-sub dynamics (Loki as a Dom) and Loki receiving oral and maybe a little bit of degradation?

“Know Your Place” 

Summary: As the Younger Prince of Asgard’s mistress, you can’t help but tease your lover at dinner. Loki, however, isn’t having any of it tonight, and he has no choice left but to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. 

PAIRING: Asgardian!Loki x Mistress!Reader CONTENT WARNING (18+ ONLY): smut, public teasing, Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader, oral M!Receiving, MASSIVE degradation, collars, magic bondage, mentions of humiliation WORD COUNT: 2.1k

The great dining hall of Odin’s palace was abuzz this evening in celebration of yet another Asgardian victory on the front against the Dark Elves. Odin’s troops had been led by the Princes Thor and Loki, who proved to be an unstoppable pair of generals, and they were the guests of honor at the feast. 

Every warrior wanted to pay respects. Every lady wanted to flirt. 

This left you sitting alone at the end of the Head Table, where even Odin was no longer sitting and supping. Bitterly, you looked about the hall, just trying to keep a firm eye on your lover. Thankfully, most of the sexual attention he received went unanswered, and instead, he seemed to be enjoying regaling tales of his heroism to the men of the room, chortling with his old friends between tankards of beer. 

Still…

You smiled slyly, deciding to make a game of the evening if you were going to otherwise be ignored. 

Careful not to give yourself away, you made a small circling maneuver under the tablecloth with your fingers, and red sparks momentarily appeared at your fingertips. Your red seidr was perfect for the occasion. Loki knew what your magic looked like, but even if he didn’t immediately suspect the truth, it would make for an amusing tableau. He would get the hint either way. 

You couldn’t see your handiwork take shape from the distance you were standing (halfway across the damn hall from your lover!), but it only took a few moments before one of the dwarves must’ve said something. 

A chuckle from the small clutter of men Loki was standing in the center of, regaling tales of heroic feats and battles won, began to rise and wave outward, until you finally saw Loki look down, after which, he rolled his eyes while the rest of his audience erupted into laughing fits.

Loki’s codpiece was twitching of its own accord, moving about in erratic, unnatural directions. It gave the illusion of one who may have been in the middle of a crowded room, but whose mind fell to more intimate needs. 

“Thinking of other things already!” one of the burly dwarves laughed. “What a soldier!” 

“Where is the Lady?” asked Thor, his boisterous voice rising and calling for you. “You’re the one who hand-selected her to serve you, brother!”

Loki pressed his lips together, keeping as much dignity intact as he could while familiar red stars fluttered in and out of his eyesight. He turned in the general direction of the head table, where you’d propped yourself along the edge, leaning over in a casual, cool pose, feigning innocence with a tiny wave as you made eye contact with your Lord at last. 

You could see Loki mouth one word, one word that claimed the rest of your evening the instant it was uttered: 

“Brat.” 

You were in for it now. Your pussy trembled from playful fear, wondering how he was going to do it this time. Bondage? Humiliation? Wearing a collar and being led around the halls for an entire day completely naked? 

Loki was a god who allowed his sexual desires to fly on the wind. Whim by whim, he explored kink and fentish play with you over the months, until you very quickly became Loki’s favorite pastime. As open-minded as you were, you certainly had your favorite ‘moments’ in the God of Mischief’s bedroom, and most of them involved you kneeling desperately at his feet, arms bound behind you, his long, massive cock dangling in front of your face.

Loki turned to his comrades. “It seems the Lady is calling for me,” he said, bidding adieu to his brother and friends. 

You quickly saw his face evolve the minute he turned to saunter over toward you. It melted from one of cordial contentment to feral anger barely contained within a body about to burst apart. You squeezed your thighs together under your gossamer green gown, but it did little to steady you. You would’ve allowed him to fuck you over the table with no shame. 

For his clearly growing need to punish you, Loki did a surprisingly effective job at hiding his feelings under a glimmer of decorum while the pair of you were still at the feast. He grabbed your wrist, harshly yanking you off the edge of the table. 

“Isn’t it a little early in the evening to begin acting like such a whore?” he hissed, winking at you and leaning down a little too closely. “Must I have to chain you to my side everywhere we go?”

You bowed your head with a coy smile. “I’m sure I don't know what you’re--”

Loki grabbed your face and pulled it within inches of his. You could almost feel his eyelashes flutter against your forehead. He ran a finger over your puckered lips and subconsciously licked his own. “Norns! ! In this moment of glory, I should be basking under my rightful spotlight, and all you want is to spread your legs and keep me sheathed inside you all night. No shame from you tonight, I see.”

You fluttered your eyelids coquettishly. “My Lord, I can’t help it…”

Loki growled feral, leaning over so that his raspy, hard voice was for your ear only. “No, you can’t. Truly, all you think of is filling that wet, aching cunt of yours! Do you know why you can’t help yourself?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly, the game already claiming your higher senses. 

“And why is that?” he commanded your answer. 

“Because I’m a slut.”

Loki groaned in satisfaction at hearing you say the words for yourself. “Yes, my stupid little plaything,” he affirmed. “You live for nothing more than my body to pull pleasure from you. You are a poor, pathetic, needy princess seeking attention from her prince.”

“Yes, my Lord,” you hanged your head, moaning softly. “I am weak.”

“I should bring everyone’s attention to this table as I bend you over it, and show the entire country what happens to bad little sluts who don't behave themselves in public!”

Still keeping up the bratty behavior, you bit your lip and giggled as the image of Loki taking your ass in front of every noble in Asgard made you begin to grow wet.  “Please do,” you dared to reply, making Loki’s own skin shudder. 

“Believe me, the only thing keeping me from fucking your desperate cunt in front of every man in this room is the fact that my mother is here,” Loki replied. “But I know for a fact we won’t make it back to my chambers…”

Looking around, Loki quickly yanked you around a corner and off to a side room, away from the rest of the party, behind a flimsy, gossamer red curtain. 

“Can they see us?” you asked, your voice high and trembling, which pleased your ravenous master.

“I hope so, but that’s none of your concern. You should, instead, be quaking in fear of me,” he narrated, advancing on you, towering, purposefully extending his posture to his full height, making you feel small and helpless. His eyes narrowed, and for a second you thought he just intended to stand there, forcing your anticipation to grow until it was making your head burst.

He looked at you, planning his next sinful move. “I feel as though I cannot take you anywhere after tonight,” he muttered. “Perhaps I should just lock you in my chambers and toss the key off the Bifrost?” 

You gasped. “No, sire! I know I’ve misbehaved, I’m sorry!”

Falling to your knees, you hung your head in feigned contrition, wondering if you were going to feel his fingers massage your scalp as he prepared to tug on your hair, or if he was going to make you work for any kind of touch. 

You became aware of the sensation of cool air hitting your skin as a flick of Loki’s wrist took away your splendid green and gold gown, as well as all of your gold jewelry. Raising his palm, his seidr took a hold of your limbs, arching your back and thrusting your chest forward without your command (not that you minded, Loki knew your signal for when he truly went too far). 

Using his hands to mold your pert, naked body into his favorite position, he manipulated your arms tightly behind your back, so that your shoulder blades were pressed to one another, stretching your shoulders. You then felt the sensation of a cloth scarf winding itself down your arms, binding them together, keeping your face tilted upward and your chest out. 

Loki stepped forward until the toes of his boots were tapping at your knees. As you looked up at him, he waved his fingers once more, and your hair looped in on itself, making one long braid down the back of your head and neck. 

“Now, kitten, are we going to learn our lesson?” he said, the sinister purr in his voice making every nerve under your skin vibrate.

You nodded. “Yes, sire.”

“And that lesson is?”

You swallowed, squirming anxiously before your Lord, needing only to make him happy with you again. “Whores always get what they deserve when they’re bad.”

“And?”

“I am a whore, Loki! A bad girl who needs to be gagged,” you moaned, your jaw falling open as Loki replied by bringing his long fingers down to his leggings, pulling them down over his package, his thick erection springing free from his codpiece.

“Good. Now open up, princess. Take your punishment.” 

Obeying, you accepted the tip of Loki’s cock past your lips, savoring the taste of his flesh as you received his shaft next, your mouth stretching wider and wider to accommodate him. He hissed with pleasure as you went for the hilt, taking his entire dick into your mouth and gently sucking it until you could feel the tip against the back of your throat. His flavor was rich, salty, and delicious. 

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnornnnnnnnnnnnsssssssss,” Loki managed to groan as you went about your work, continuing to suck away greedily at his cock, bobbing your head back and forth. As if giving yourself a moment of power, you purposefully refused to settle into a rhythm: sometimes you only let him go for an inch, sometimes you nearly took all of him out. You always kept him guessing. You knew that was how he liked it, even when he was meant to tell you what to do.

You began picking up the pace, nursing Loki’s erection like the desperate slut you were tonight, completely at his mercy. You wanted so badly for him to finish in your mouth, but would he consider you worthy after behaving with such terrible manners at a royal feast?

“Pathetic whore…” he growled, looking down at you. You were dribbling all over yourself, disgusting, lowly, and messy. Such was the power the Prince of Asgard had over you. “I can’t finish until I hear you gag--”

Without warning, Loki reached behind you, grabbed your braid, and tugged on it. This forced your head back, and Loki’s dick hit the back of your throat, forcing a quick cough out of you as you reacted to the tickle. 

You’d hoped this would send Loki over the edge and force him to cum down your throat, but instead, he remained composed when he let go of your braid, gave one more tantalizing thrust into your mouth, and slowly pulled himself out, wagging a scolding finger.

“Ah, ah! No, no, sweetheart,” Loki said, his voice returning to a mocking tone. “Bad girls don't get to swallow. Perhaps if we returned to the party, and I saw that you were behaving yourself a bit better, we might discuss letting you have a little something at the end of the night.”

He knelt down beside you, cupping your face in his hands, bringing your forehead gently to his lips. “I love you, Y/N. You know that?”

“Yes, Loki, I always do,” you answered, as you always did when your games were over.

With a wave of his green seidr, a leather studded collar wrapped itself around your throat, pulling itself just tight enough that it wasn’t completely comfortable. A chain looped itself into your Master’s waiting palm, and he gave it a gentle tug, pulling at your neck and forcing you to rise to your feet and join him at his side, his eyes never breaking contact with yours.

“Now,” he said darkly, “let’s return to the feast, shall we?”

“What of my…my clothes?” you asked quietly, the taste of Loki’s essence still in your mouth. 

Loki chuckled and ran a soft hand over your hot, damp cheek. “Oh kitten, I thought you knew better now. Your punishment isn’t over just yet, Princess. You didn’t think you would be wearing clothes as I paraded you around the hall, did you?”

Sorry this took a hot sec, Nons. Inspiration has been varied as of late! I hope this is to your liking! I also, err, went a little bit above "a little bit" of degredation. Hope that's ok.

Some Tags for the Innerested: @coldnique @chantsdemarins @fictive-sl0th @holymultiplefandomsbatman @joyful-enchantress @glitterylokislut @kellatron55 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @peachyjinx @peaches1958 @sarahscribbles @silverfire475 @trickster-maiden @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki smut #smut #dom x sub #Dom!Loki #Sub!Reader #Dom!Loki x Sub!reader #kink fic #smut fic #smut mcu

[miloonepiece]

Hi!

I like your opla works.

Can I request Sanji kissing the reader after learning they never kissed anyone? Or they had but it was a very bad experience like that person was only doing it as a joke or sucked at it? Anything you can think up 😊

Thank you for considering this request

note: let's just say, I got a bit carried away while writing this one... I hope you enjoy it.

Kissing Practice

Contents: opla!sanji x gn!reader, a bit of angst but eventual fluff, alcohol mentions, jealous!reader, and sanji being a flirt with other women, kissing + kissing, a little bit suggestive at the end but it stays pretty tame. Word Count: 1.8k

You and Sanji were always flirting, it was obvious the attraction you had for the man and it was obvious that his interest in you was more than most other women. But that didn’t mean his endless flirting with other women came to a halt just because of you, at first it didn’t bother you all that much. It was harmless flirting and banter, but when he started to show more interest your hopes were lifted that he might’ve been interested in you. Maybe it was how long you two were stuck on the ship, you were the only person who ever gladly took Sanji's flirts and gave them back.

But it was your first time as a crew back on land, deciding to spread your legs you all went to the local bar to share some drinks and have social interaction with people other than the ones you were stuck with on the ship. You sat at the bar drinking a beer and making small talk with Usopp, who had already quite a few beers. He was babbling on about something that you couldn’t quite pay attention to because your eyes were stuck on something else, Usopp took a moment and another sip of his beer before he noticed you weren’t paying him any mind and he followed your eyesight. Sanji sat at the other side of the bar with some random woman all over him, moving her hands across his arms and laughing at whatever on earth he was telling her. He was looking at her the same way he had been looking at you those flirtatious moments on the ship and with that, it all hit you in one foul swing. He didn’t like you, you were just to keep him entertained. You swallowed heavily before quickly grabbing another beer and chugging it, then asking the bartender for another.

Usopp turned to look at you immediately, his facial expression became one of a worried one. He watched as you opened the next beer and began to chug it, “Hey- Hey!” He says carefully pushing the drink away from your lips, “Chill out..” He mumbled, you looked at him for a moment and stared. You turned to look at Sanji in the girl hitting it off so well, it made you scoff at yourself for being so dumb and gullible. You squeezed your eyes shut before you placed the beer down on the counter and sighed, “Sorry…” You respond to Usopp taking a deep breath, you weren’t drunk only on your third drink. Just a bit tipsy but another drink might get you there, you didn’t want to be drunk and emotional so you told yourself you’d finish this drink and then get water. You sniffled for a moment as you stared at your beer, flinching suddenly feeling hands against your back. You turn to look at Usopp who was attempting to comfort you and rub your back gently, “He’s gonna keep doing that, maybe you should too? Yknow… If he can flirt so can you.”

You stared at Usopp for a moment, processing what he was saying to you before it fully clicked a little switch in your brain. If he can flirt with others, so can you. You told yourself a small smile coming to your lips, “You know what, you’re right.” You say, pushing yourself by the hands away from the bar. “I did see a handsome fellow earlier~” You hum, twisting your body and beginning to walk off to find the stranger that would be here to simply have some fun for the night. Your eyes scanned around the room before they finally fell upon him, he was sitting alone at a table which is perfect timing. You walked over and sat across from him, beginning to make small talk with him and attempting to flirt with him.

What you weren’t aware of was how there was a pair of ocean blue eyes staring into the back of your head, having forgotten about the woman who sat next to him.

You were hitting it off with this stranger, your elbow perched up on the table and your chin being held up by your hand. The guy began to get a little more comfortable, one of his hands reaching over and touching yours then his leg feeling up your calf. You felt yourself beginning to sweat nervously, why were you so nervous!? You were just harmlessly flirting, a little fun for the night. Then one thought flew into your mind, You’ve never even kissed someone, let alone go past that. You grew nervous that you were leading this man on that he would get you in bed, you had to think of a way to get out of this situation and fast. You listened as this stranger told stories in a way to impress you before you finally came up with an idea, You gagged and covered your mouth acting shocked in so did the man. “S’cuse me..” You mumbled from behind your hands and quickly rushed off to the bathroom.

You finally found the bathroom after struggling in a crowd and quickly locked yourself in, hoping that he hadn’t followed and you could just sit in here for maybe an hour or so then make a sneaky exit. You sighed in relief as a few minutes had passed and no knock from the sound came from the other sound, you looked at yourself in the mirror and immediately your mind began to race. Picking yourself apart from the girl that Sanji had gotten all close and personal with, why weren’t you his type? How could you be his type… You let out a shaky sigh and inhale trying to stop yourself from crying. Knock, Knock. You flinched at the sound of the door and stared in confusion, “[Name?]” A voice called from the other side and you knew who it was immediately.

Sanji.

You stared at the door in shock, why was he here? Had he seen you fake being sick? You didn’t want to see his face right now, you were kind of hoping you could’ve snuck out without any of the crew knowing and going to the ship to give into sleep earlier. You inhaled shakily and squeezed the counter gently before you found the courage to speak, “Yeah..?” You asked out, you heard him attempt the door handle. “You alright? I saw you looked like you were going to be sick.” He asked you, and you almost scoffed at the words. You let go of the counter and made your way to the door, opening the door slowly and looking at him. “Yeah… Just had a few too many drinks and guess the food didn’t settle well with it.” You lied and met eyes with Sanji, God his eyes were beautiful you could stare into them for hours.

You realized you had been staring and blinked, “I’m… I’m good now though.” You respond with a soft, nod attempting to slide your way past him before you feel Sanji’s hand on your waist and push you back into the backroom shutting the door behind him. You heard the sound of the lock clicking panic bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you looked at Sanji, you inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at him. “Sanji.. are you drunk?” You whispered out, And he shook his head in response. “Only had one drink.” He whispered back, his eyes slowly traced over your face until his eyes stopped and stared at your lips.

Carefully Sanji led you to press your back against the cold counter, your hands immediately grabbing hold to support yourself as you stared at him in shock. “[Name]…” He whispered out his face so close to yours it made your skin burn and butterflies in your stomach erupt, “Can I please kiss you..?” He asked in a whispered tone as his nose gently brushed against yours, You shivered at the feeling of him so close to you. You were malfunctioning at the question and took a moment to process what he had just asked of you, you turned your head quickly which caused Sanji to let out a small gasp of disappointment.

“I’ve… never actually kissed anyone before.” You muttered out in embarrassment, your eyes glanced towards Sanji as he stared at you in shock for a moment. “You’ve.. never kissed anyone before?” He repeated your own words but as a question, his voice full of pure disbelief. You swallowed and nodded your eyes turning to look away from him again, instead suddenly finding more interest in the countertop beside you. “[Name]…” He whispered, his hand gently touching your jaw and guiding your face back to look at him. You looked at him nervously scared of what he would have to say, he chuckled at how scared you looked. “How about… I give you some private lessons?” He whispered as if the two of you weren’t locked in a bathroom alone, your breath hitched as he offered and stared at him in shock your face becoming extremely warm and you knew he noticed with the grin he had on his lips. “Oh… Okay.” You responded in a breathy tone as soon as you gave Sanji the green light his lips were attached to yours, his hand on your waist pulling you closer and his other found its way to hold the side of your neck.

His lips were oh so soft, the taste of cigarettes still lingered on his lips and you felt like you were dreaming but how gently he was kissing you. You didn’t want this moment to ever end, how his thumb moved gently against your neck and he held you so close. Your mind began to race to wonder how many other women he has kissed this softly then remembering that moments before he had been flirting with another woman, you quickly pulled away which caused him to stare at you in shock. “What… what about the lady you were with?” You asked out trying to catch your breath and watched as his eyebrows furrowed, “What about her?” He asked you. “You just… left her.” You glanced at the door before his hand redirected your face again. “Yeah, I did, for you.” He says, staring at you with a serious yet soft expression.

“Cause I like you [Name].” He whispered and those words sent shivers down your spine, your mind running on auto as you attach your lips back to his and kiss him. He carefully moved away, “Gentle.” He says you nodded as he told you before kissing him more gently which he responds with a pleased hum. You two would stay in the bathroom sharing simple kisses for a few minutes for the sound of a knock interrupted, the two of you turning into a blushing mess and quickly making your way out of the bathroom and back into the club. Make your way back to sit with the crew and share soft glances before everyone finally decides to leave, but you’ll be needing more of those ‘private lessons’ sometime soon.

#multifandom #writing #fanfic #milometisfics #one piece #opla sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader

[landshell]

Yor's Day

Yor’s day had started off normally enough. She had breakfast with her family as usual. She caught the train to City Hall. Now was in the office listening to her coworkers complain.

 Camilla eyed the growing stack of paperwork in the department inbox with distaste. “I hate the end of the month! Everyone procrastinates and then expects us to be able to get all their stuff in on time.”

Millie groaned in agreement. “I can’t believe we have to go through all this today.”

“You have to.”  Sharon commented. “I’m taking off early.”

“What seriously?”

“It’s been on the schedule for two weeks. It’s a half day at Eden College. I’m picking up my child and then I booked us both dental appointments.”

“Oh, that was a good idea.” Yor chimed in. She’d have to remember to tell Loid about it.

Camilla rounded on her “And I suppose you’re cutting out early too?”

“Oh, No. Loid is picking up Anya today. I’ll be here till closing.”

Sharon went back to her typewriter. “Lucky you.  I wish I could tell my husband it was his day to handle the kids.”

“Well, it makes sense.” Millie said. “It’s not like Anya is Yor’s daughter so—"

“Millie!” Camilla interrupted.

“I didn’t mean it as insult. I was just. . .”  Millie trailed off looking at Yor’s downcast expression.

“No. You’re right. I’m just her stepmother.” Yor kept her eyes on the form she was working on even though her eyesight blurred a little. The conversation died down around her and everyone awkwardly got back to work.

For the next couple of hours Yor tried to put all her attention on accounts payable and avoiding typos but the feeling of gloom remained. She barely noticed when Sharon made her exit accompanied by death glares from Camilla and Millie. Maybe if she sped through her paperwork she could leave early. She looked at the department inbox which didn’t seem any emptier. Maybe not.

It was going to be a long, lonely day. Just then Millie cursed quietly and yanked the paper out of her typewriter, tossed it in the trash and loaded another one. Okay, so today wasn’t going to be a day of gossiping and lingering over tea but she wasn’t alone. Why did she feel lonely? She was needed here even if she wasn’t needed--

Goodness, she had to cheer herself up somehow. Maybe for lunch she’d go to a café instead of the basement cafeteria. The food would be better. She might even order dessert. Anything to get out this mood.

A runner stuck his head in the office door. “Mrs. Forger? You have visitors at the front desk.

Yor startled and got up. She didn’t usually get visitors. Her first thought was Garden business, but if that were the case she would be meeting them in a back office not the public area of the building. She pushed open the door into the lobby and began walking toward the desk. Why did her mind keep returning to her family? The man at the desk even looked like Loid from the back. Suddenly her daughter peeked out from around his legs.

“MAMA! HAVE YOU EATEN YET?” Anya called out.

“Inside voice, Anya” Loid hushed her. Then he turned to Yor. “We came to see if you would like to join us for lunch. That is if you aren’t busy.”

Yor looked at them. Anya was still in her Eden uniform; they must have come straight from school. They wanted to see her.

Yor smiled, almost in tears for the second time today.  “I’d love to. Let me grab my coat and tell the girls I’m taking my break.  There’s a great café just down the street.”

Her day was looking up.

#yorweek2024 #fanfic #yorweek #spy x family #yor forger

[chaotic-mystery]

cant stop thinking about jealous!joel miller and the way he’d react to seeing others flirt with you. just a little after your arrival to jackson, the three of you tired and just starting to socialize. you get talking with a friend of maria’s who introduced you. and joel is there watching, pretending to be interested in whatever the bored housewife hanging off his arm was even talking to him about. he burns with jealousy he doesn’t know what to do with and ends up crossing the bar to get to you. where he makes some kind of show of getting his hands on you and subtly proving his protectiveness and jealousy over other men talking to you. give it some real angst for me, please?

A/N: Bestie, I tried so hard for this and it's a little long, I hope I did it some justice!

“You’re what?” He shot up from the chair at the table and followed you down the hallway. “I’m going to the bar to go and be social, Joel. I’m fucking tired of being alone, I need more interaction. Besides, how would that look on us if we just stayed cooped up in the house instead of getting to know the people who were so kind to let us into their town?” you waited for a response, but it never came. You exited the bedroom and started for the door.  “So are Ellie and I not enough for you anymore?” he shouted at you as you were about to swing the front door wide open. Stopping dead in your tracks, doorknob in hand, you spun around quickly. “Excuse me? No, you don’t get to throw that at me, asshole. I love you both dearly, but god damn...I can only take so many of her jokes, and I can only deal with you being so cold towards me for so long. I’m sorry if I want to go somewhere I actually feel wanted. So if you want to, you can tag along or you can stay here with Ellie and watch a movie.” You didn’t mean for the words to sound so harsh, but maybe you were glad they hurt him a little. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. A scoff left your lips and out the door you went not wanting him to see the tears trying to escape your eyes. The walk to the bar was quiet, neither one wanted to speak.

Once you got inside and ordered a drink, he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. "For the record, I do want you, baby” Looking into those beautiful deep brown eyes was the biggest mistake you could’ve made. They always made you forgive him and you hated that. “Then act like it maybe” you snapped at him and gave his bottle a sarcastic clink with yours, making your way to Maria. Your hand brushed against her arm as you greeted one another and she told you she had some friends she wanted to introduce you to. Glancing behind you, your eyes found the woman next to Joel and he wasn’t entertained at all by her standing too close for his comfort, rambling on about god knows what. Maria introduced you to almost everyone there when you finally got to the last group of people. A pair of brothers and their friend were sitting at a table alone with beer bottles scattered across in front of them when you approached and Maria gave a quick introduction between everyone. She left to go find Tommy and you sat at the table with the men, asking where they were originally from and how everyone made it to Jackson. 

Joel was eventually out of eyesight as everyone shuffled around the floor, but you knew he was still with the same woman only because her laugh echoed from the same spot behind the sea of people in front of your table. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to see Joel. A point had to be made though and he’s been distant towards you ever since you almost got killed when the patrolling people of Jackson didn’t know why you were there or that Joel was Tommy’s brother. So many apologies were said, but he didn’t want to hear it. Ever since then he hasn’t said much of anything, so it was a slap in the face to you when he asked if Ellie and him weren’t enough. 

As the night went on, less and less people shielded you at the table. Joel's eyes landed on where you were, currently playing cards with the men you were actually enjoying talking to. His body was on fire with jealousy, because you couldn't see what he was seeing. They didn’t want to just chat and be friendly and play cards, they wanted more from you. The guy sitting next to you started inching closer, his arm finding its way around your shoulders. You kept knocking it down off of you as you just wanted to win this hand of cards and go home. “Stop, sweetheart. I’m just trying to make you feel comfortable.” the table erupted in laughs and you caught on to what was going on. “Well can we just finish this hand? I’m kinda tired, I need to get back to my boyfriend anyway.” That’s never scared off anyone before and you didn’t know what made you think that would work now. Looking beyond the ones sitting in front of you, you found Joel who had his chair planted just right so you were in his eyesight the entire time. The woman was leaning over him, hand on his thigh as she asked if she should get more beers for the two of them. “No, I think you should go home darlin. I’m sure you don’t want your husband to come lookin for you and find you draped all over me because you’re bored with him, and he’d try to kick my ass like it’s my fault, and the next thing you know you’re not bored because you’ll be taking care of him and his bloody nose.” She hopped down off the stool and gave Joel the middle finger as she walked by him, and a smirk grew on your lips. He couldn’t help but chuckle and look away from you. 

“Boyfriend? Baby you’ve been here with us the past almost two hours, if you had a boyfriend, why would he let a pretty girl like you be here alone?” Your sight locked on the man laughing across the short table across from you, and you held your cards against your chest “I can take care of myself, that's why” and with that, you placed them down to show them you won the game. An arm made its way around you, only this time it was your waist as he pulled you close to congratulate you. You tried wiggling away, but his grip got tighter. Joel could see you struggling and that was all he needed to get up and make his way to your table. His hand landed firmly on the guy's shoulder that was around you and he gave it a good grip. “Do you wanna have a broken arm?  If not I suggest you get the fuck off my girl because I will not hesitate and she won’t hesitate to take out your buddies.” You looked at Joel and restrained a grin as he yanked the guy's arm off you and held out his hand to help you up. He pulled you against his chest, his arm wrapped around you tightly like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on, and gave you a deep kiss with his other hand cupping your cheek. The kiss said it all, the topic didn’t need to be rehashed. Needless to say, the next day you and Joel had to take the bed frame to the shop and put it back together and reinforce it better.

#this was so long im so sorry #joel miller #jealous!joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller drabble #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #please tell me if this was bad I don't think im good at angst #all I know is how to be a wh0re