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fvsm4x · 6 months

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#COUPON [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: you wanted to thank your teacher for everything he has done for you by giving him an „I‘ll do anything you ask.“ coupon.

— C.W: teacher! Gojo Satoru x student! female reader , reader is 19 , 18+ , dirty talk , forbidden relationship , dirty dreams , masturbation , not proofread!

— Word count: 3.3k+

Masterlist

Again.

Again

And again.

Gojo's eyes fluttered open once again, as his chest rose and fell rapidly. Beads of sweat clung to his furrowed brow as he struggled to regain his composure. With a deep, unsteady breath, he raised his arm, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the blanket aside, exposing his flushed, heated body to the cool air. His chest heaved as he wrestled with the vivid images still fresh in his mind.

The persistent throbbing in his sweatpants drew his attention down, and his gaze fixated on the bulge that had formed.

"This is all your fault," he muttered under his breath, as his fingers moved, tracing the outline of the bulge in his sweatpants,

He bit his lower lip, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh as he rubbed his dick through his pants. He glanced to the side where a long piece of paper had ten coupons on it,

„It's all your damn fault..“

„—what‘s this?“

Gojo mumbled, examining the coupon you had given him.

„‘I‘ll do anything you ask‘ coupon?“ He raised an eyebrow and looked at you

"That's right!" you replied cheerfully. "After all the help you've given me over these past four years, I wanted to express my gratitude with a special gift. I thought about giving you money, but you're already rich, so this felt more personal."

"So with this, you can use it for anything!" you explained, holding your hands up in front of your face, showcasing all ten fingers. "I've got ten coupons for you to use however you like!"

„—Are you really going to do anything‘?“ gojo asked you,

"Of course!" you responded, giving him a warm, closed-eyed smile. "You can use them anytime, sensei!"

„A-ahaha Thanks..“

With a playful glint in your eyes, you leaned in slightly closer, making sure he was fully engaged in the conversation. "Don't forget that you'll have to use it properly, sensei," you began, your voice taking on a slightly mischievous tone. "Just think about it as a request, and when the time comes, use it without hesitation."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, behind his glasses,"I'm starting to wonder what kind of requests you have in mind, Y/n."

You leaned back,“What do you mean?“

Gojo chuckled and shifted the topic. "How about joining me for lunch? There's a new sweet store I've been wanting to try, and I thought it would be fun to go there with you."

You nodded, giving Gojo a warm smile. "Sure,“

You both rose from the comfortable sofa, and Gojo took the lead, striding forward with you trailing closely behind. You stretched your arms overhead, loosening up as you caught up to Gojo. Walking in sync, you joined him by his side, the subtle rhythm of your steps echoing through the room.

As you stepped out into the open, the bright sunlight greeted you, casting long shadows on the ground. You strolled towards the place where gojo would like to have lunch. The path was lined with cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting gently in the breeze.

Upon reaching the store, gojo held the door open. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and confections wafted through the air, making your mouths water in anticipation. You selected a cozy corner table with a view of the quaint streets outside, and you both took your seats.

As the waiter approached, her gaze fixated on Gojo, her eyes tracing the contours of his features. She handed over the menus, subtly slipping a piece of paper with her number toward him, her fingers brushing against his. "In case you need anything else," she purred, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips.

Gojo flashed a charming smile and thanked her with a friendly nod. You couldn't help but notice the routine – this was nothing new. Each time you went somewhere with Gojo, he seemed to attract attention effortlessly.

The persistent waiter, undeterred by Gojo's lack of response, leaned in, her movements accentuating her cleavage. Your eyes rolled involuntarily; it had become a predictable scenario. At this point, Gojo's charm and attractiveness were no surprises to you.

„We would like a piece of everything.“ Gojo told the waitress, avoiding her glance by looking at the menu.

Her eyes widened briefly, and then she composed herself. "Pardon me, could you repeat that?" she asked with a blush, placing her hand on Gojo's shoulder. "I have problems with hearing." She leaned in, just inches away from his face.

"We would like a piece of everything," Gojo repeated, pushing his menu closer to her face. The waitress, caught off guard, took a step back,

She took the menu from him, her fingers brushing against his hand, and replied with a flirtatious smile, "Of course, handsome. Anything to drink?" Her gaze lingered on Gojo, her attempts at seduction becoming more apparent, while you sat there, feeling the awkward tension in the air.

"Hm... I don't want anything in particular. What about you, Y/n?" Gojo turned to you, his chin resting against his hand, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

"Hot chocolate," you replied, your eyes meeting his briefly before the waitress took the menu from you, her attention still lingering on Gojo.

"Sure," she replied, her hips swaying slightly as she walked away.

After the waitress left, Gojo casually picked up the note with her number, examining it briefly. With an almost nonchalant motion, he crumpled it up and tossed it onto the table, a sly smirk playing on his lips,“Her breath smelled.“ he spoke

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words,

„It seems like I attract attention wherever I go. Can't blame them, though," he added, a hint of arrogance in his tone.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't let it get to your head, sensei.“

As he leaned in, Gojo's intense gaze locked onto yours, a subtle smirk playing on his lips,“I got a request.“ He slowly reached into his pocket, his fingers deftly navigating the fabric. Retrieving the coupon with a sweep, he then executed a precise rip, separating a single coupon from the sheet. Finally, he extended it toward you, a playful glint in his eyes.

„I want you to wake me up everyday!“

You raised an eyebrow,"Really, sensei? You're going to use your first coupon for that?"

Gojo chuckled, "I have to start with something simple, right?"

With a playful smile, you leaned back, acknowledging his request, "Alright, since I promised to do anything, I guess waking you up is on the list." You accepted the coupon from his outstretched hand,

The waitress returned, balancing a tray filled with an array of delectable desserts. As she arranged them on the table, her eyes shot a disdainful glance at you, the silent disapproval evident in her demeanor. You couldn't help but notice the tension in the air, and a small smirk played on her lips as she sauntered away.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the interaction, grinned, "Looks amazing, doesn't it?"

„It sure does.“ you replied, as you eagerly picked up a fork, ready to indulge in the delightful array of desserts.

As you bit into the luscious cake, the flavors danced on your taste buds, and you couldn't help but close your eyes in delight. The sweetness enveloped your senses, momentarily transporting you into a world of culinary bliss. Unbeknownst to you, Gojo observed your enjoyment with a subtle twinkle in his eyes, appreciating the way your lips curved with satisfaction.

With each forkful, you explored a new flavor profile, savoring the intricacies of each dessert. As you bit into another cake, a playful smile curled on your lips, and a dollop of frosting clung to the corner of your mouth.

He couldn't help but entertain a fleeting image, imagining the frosting as something entirely different like his– a notion he quickly banished with a shake of his head.

Gojo took a deep breath, attempting to shift his focus back to the delightful spread before him. The thought briefly crossed his mind that perhaps, with one of those coupons, he could coerce you into giving him a blowjob?

The notion of a coupon explicitly used for such an act sparked a mischievous gleam in his eyes. However, he swiftly dismissed the idea, reminding himself that some things were better left untouched.

You were his student, someone meant for mentorship and guidance, not someone to be entangled in his fantasies.

Gojo sighed, as he picked up a fork and joined you in savoring the delectable desserts.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of blue, you found yourself standing in front of Gojo's house. The early morning tranquility enveloped the neighborhood, and you couldn't help but question why you were up at such an early hour. However, a quick glance at his schedule revealed that your sensei had a mission scheduled for 7 am.

Determined to fulfill your end of the bargain, you had risen even earlier to make your way to Gojo's residence. The cool morning air nipped at your skin as you approached his front door, contemplating the peculiar task at hand. It was a unique request, waking someone up at the crack of dawn,

You took a deep breath before rapping on the door, the sound resonating through the quiet morning air. With no immediate response, you knocked again, and this time, a muffled shout from Gojo reached your ears.

"The door is already open," his low voice carried through the partially open entrance.

As you stepped into Gojo's spacious apartment, the ambient silence enveloped you. The muted morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the sleek furnishings. It was a stark contrast to the bustling energy that usually surrounded Gojo.

Following the direction of the voice, you made your way to his room. The door creaked as you pushed it open, You stood frozen in the doorway, the realization of the intimate scene before you sinking in. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Gojo's broad chest, accentuated by the rhythmic pattern of his breathing. Each inhale and exhale seemed to pull you deeper into a spell of fascination.

He seemed to have fallen asleep again.

As you inched closer, the room felt warmer, the air tinged with a subtle tension. Gojo's loose undershirt, ridden up to reveal a tempting expanse of skin, beckoned to your touch. You could feel a gentle flush creeping up your cheeks as your gaze traveled down, catching the faint outline of his morning wood beneath the snug shorts.

The fabric seemed to hug his form, leaving little to the imagination. The alluring curve of his body under the blanket teased your senses. You took a deep breath, the soft exhale escaping almost inaudibly as if afraid to disturb the tranquil ambiance of the room.

Yet, in this stolen moment, you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration, a blend of guilt and excitement dancing within you. The internal struggle urged you to turn away, yet an irresistible magnetism held your gaze fixed on the captivating sight before you.

The sound of Gojo's voice startled you, and you felt your cheeks flush even deeper. His eyes slowly opened, catching you in the act, and a sly smirk played on his lips,"Take a picture, it will last longer."

His gaze, although groggy from sleep, held a mischievous glint that added to the already charged atmosphere in the room. The realization of being caught intensified the warmth in your cheeks, and you couldn't help but stammer out an embarrassed apology.

Gojo, still groggy from sleep, shifted in the bed and sat up. Unbeknownst to him, the blanket that covered his lower half had done little to conceal the subtle morning wood. As he sat up, you couldn't help but glance at the intriguing sight, your gaze involuntarily drawn to the evident outline.

In the midst of rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Gojo finally seemed to register the direction of your gaze. His eyes followed yours, and realization dawned on his face. There was a brief pause, a moment suspended in awkward awareness. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling your face heat up even more, and Gojo, recovering from the initial surprise, cleared his throat,

„Sorry you had to see such a shameful sight.“ gojo muttered, bringing his hand to his face and covering it while you slowly glared back at his flushed face.

The loose undershirt clung to his chest, and he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that you were still standing there, taking in the unexpected sight.

You observed his every move, from the way his fingers ran through his disheveled hair to the subtle wince as he adjusted his position. Meanwhile, Gojo's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. He was embarrassed that you caught him in such a state, but a part of him couldn't deny the thrill of the moment.

"Don't worry too much about it, it‘s just because I‘m tired." he tried to explain. Little did you know, he had just had another vivid dream about you, leaving him hard and unable to hide his physical response.

How could he have missed it earlier?

You approached him, taking a seat between his legs, your eyes locked on his. "Do you want me to help you with that?" you asked,

"You still have a few coupons left, So request me by hand or mouth. I‘ll do anything." you muttered, your hands gripping into his thighs as you leaned closer to his crotch.

Gojo's eyes widened as he glanced at you, momentarily taken aback. He questioned whether he had fallen asleep and slipped into one of his illusions again. But if that was the case, he reasoned, perhaps it was permissible to indulge in this momentary fantasy.

"Y/n, please give me—" he began, locking eyes with you. Your body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and you trembled slightly, attempting to conceal your nervousness.

Gojo quickly snapped, his fingers gently lifting your face away from his hardened arousal. His touch was unexpectedly tender as he caressed your cheeks, a mixture of concern and understanding in his eyes.

"As I thought," he began, his voice a low murmur, "it's no good. You shouldn't do that, Y/n."

Your eyes widened as you were taken aback by his response,"I-I'm sorry!" you stammered,"I can't imagine how disgusting that must have been for you."

"There's absolutely no way,“ Gojo began, his gaze piercing into your eyes,“I would allow the kid I like to force herself..."

Your eyes widened even further, the realization hitting you like a bolt of lightning. "Eh?" you muttered, your face turning a deep shade of crimson. "You...you like me, Sensei?"

Leaning back slightly, Gojo confirmed with a nonchalant nod, "That's exactly what I said."

Gojo's eyes were fixed on your frozen face before his own eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and couldn't resist getting closer to you. He began gently patting your cheeks and pulling on your ears, as if trying to confirm that you were indeed real.

„Don‘t tell me you‘re the real thing.“

"Um, yeah... I don't think I'm fake, at least," you said, your hand rubbing the back of your neck.

„Are you serious?!“ he whined, as he buried his face into his palms.

"Wait, sensei," you spoke. Placing your palm gently onto his knee, you slowly got up from the ground and stood in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You know, sensei... I gave you that coupon in the hope that something like this would happen," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. Gojo slowly removed his palm from his face and glanced at you.

"I thought that if I gave sensei something like that... you would make a move on me," you continued, your words hanging in the air. It is difficult for you to meet his gaze, so you dropped your eyes to the ground.

„So-! Could I ask what you mean by „like“?“

Instead of giving you a verbal response, Gojo surprised you by pulling you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist. In an instant, his lips connected with yours, pulling you into a passionate and hungry kiss that left you breathless.

The kiss was everything you had hoped for and more. It was filled with a raw intensity, a deep longing that had been building between the two of you for so long.

His hands gently caressed your back, pulling you closer to him. The world around you seemed to fade away as the intensity of the moment consumed you both. Time stood still as you lost yourself in the taste and feel of him, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that matched your own.

As the passionate embrace continued, the intensity of the kiss grew. You could feel the soft brush of Gojo's lips against yours, as a gentle lick teased your senses. Slowly, you parted your lips, inviting his tongue to explore the depths of your mouth.

Your tongues explored each other's mouths, leaving a warm and lingering sensation. The taste of mint and his unique flavor filled your senses, making you want more.

He explored every part of your mouth. It felt like an electric current running through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle.

Time seemed to stand still as the kiss continued. Nothing else mattered except the two of you, lost in the bliss of each other's presence.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to break the kiss, but the connection between you remained unbroken. Your eyes met, and in that moment, you could see the reflection of your own desires mirrored in Gojo's gaze.

„I've wanted this for so long," he whispered,“I couldn't resist any longer."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Gojo gazed at you intently, his eyes filled with determination, before finally rising from his seat. "We should start moving," he said, his voice filled with urgency as he observed you sitting on the ground.

You stammered, your words barely audible. "Wait... we haven't done anything about your thing yet-" you said, your face turning red with embarrassment.

Gojo's face immediately flushed as well, and he hastily pulled down his undershirt, attempting to conceal his hardness. "This?" he said, his voice slightly strained. "It's nothing, so please don't worry about it."

"I can handle it on my own," he added, his voice filled with determination.

But you couldn't bear the thought of him dealing with it alone. In a moment of desperation, you shouted, grabbing onto his shirt to prevent him from leaving.

"No!" you exclaimed,"I want to make you feel good... please!" you pleaded, your eyes filled with sincerity as Gojo glanced at you, his face flushed with both surprise and desire.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise at your bold statement. He opened his mouth to protest, to insist that it wasn't necessary, but the genuine desire in your eyes stopped him in his tracks.

His resolve wavered as he looked into your pleading gaze. He knew he should resist, but the undeniable attraction between the two of you was impossible to ignore.

With a conflicted expression, Gojo hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts of consequences and responsibilities. But ultimately, his desire for you won out.

He let out a shaky breath, his resistance crumbling, and he gave in to the overwhelming temptation. Slowly, he reached out and gently cupped your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I... I can't resist you anymore," he admitted, his voice husky with desire. "But promise me, if you want to stop, tell me.“

You nodded, as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss.

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mybutcheredtongue · 5 months

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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER THREE (see full series list here)

1992

The first day of term is always fun. Everyone arrives at breakfast happy and excited, the first years arriving particularly early because they're scared they'll miss it.

You take a seat at the staff table, a copy of Astronomy's Articles under your arm. You settle yourself between McGonagall and Hagrid. McGonagall's currently engaged in conversation with Dumbledore.

"Morning, Hagrid," you greet cheerfully and he looks up, giving you a great grin.

"G'mornin'! 'appy first day of term!" He booms and you chuckle.

"Happy first day of term."

You pile breakfast items on your plate, summoning a teapot from the middle of the table to pour some tea into your cup. With a wave of your wand, Astronomy's Articles opens itself in front of you on the first page, and you read as you eat.

"Anything interesting?" You hear Dumbledore's voice beside you and with the call of your first name you turn to him and shrug.

"Nothing I hadn't seen myself! There should be a meteor shower at around 12-ish on Friday night," you reply. "Meteor showers are wonderful, I would definitely recommend."

Dumbledore hums thoughtfully. "I have had the treat of viewing quite a few meteor showers in my lifetime," he says. "Once, I could have sworn that the meteors seemed to form the shape of a very animated chocolate frog."

McGonagall chuckles quietly and you join her.

"How do you know it was a chocolate frog and not just a regular frog?" You ask.

Dumbledore considers this for a moment. "I suppose I must have had a particular craving for chocolate that evening," he replies simply.

His plate is empty, clearly having awoken much earlier than you, and you return to your breakfast, flipping the page of your magazine onto a puzzle page, littered with crosswords, word searches, anagrams and some sudoku squares. Something for later, you think.

"How was your summer, Minerva?" you ask. Her first name has always felt odd on your tongue, after you spent 7 years of your life calling her Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, it was fine," she replies. "Nothing too extravagant."

"Did you go to any quidditch matches?"

"A few. I seen — "

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

You jump at the loud yell, turning to the source of the screech: a red envelope floating in front of Ron Weasley's face at the Gryffindor table. You exchange a look with McGonagall, returning your eyes to the scene playing in front of you.

Mrs Weasley's outraged yells are so loud that plates and spoons rattle on the Gryffindor table. Harry is wide-eyed beside him, watching in horror as Ron dips so low in his seat that only the top of his crimson forehead was visible.

" — STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE — "

You wince, knowing well how it feels to receive a howler at school.

Poor Ron.

"— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED — "

Harry's face has turned the same shade as Ron's, and every eye in the Great Hall is on the howler.

"Bloody hell, just run out of the hall, Ron..." you mutter under your breath in exasperation.

McGonagall hums in agreement beside you.

"— ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The howler then spins around to Ron's younger sister, Ginny, and its tone changes drastically. "Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."

The howler drops and bursts into flames and curls into ashes. Harry and Ron sit stunned, as though trying to comprehend just what had a happened. A few people laugh before gradually a babble of talk breaks out again.

You chuckle, opening your magazine again and flipping the next page. "Happens to the best of us."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You wander down to the dungeons, your shoes audibly clicking against the hard stone floors. You wrap your arms tightly around your body, your hands bunching your woolly sweater at your sides.

You had spotted a poster for a 'duelling club' run by Lockhart and it had piqued your interest. You wanted to attend to make sure someone didn't die or get fatally injured because Lockhart seemed the type to not know a defensive jinx if it punched him in the face.

You push open the big wooden doors to the room he's occupied. Several students turn to look at you, but your eyes land on another man standing beside Lockhart, an unimpressed expression on his face.

Hm. Looks like Snape and I have had the same idea.

"Seems we have a late comer! No matter, join in with the rest, young lady!" Lockhart chirps.

You sigh, walking up to him to stand next to Snape. "It's me, Gilderoy." You tell him your name and he just blinks blankly.

You narrow your eyes in confusion. "We work together."

Blank.

"I literally sat beside you at breakfast this morning? You asked if I'd read your book."

Lockhart just stares in confusion, before his face contorts into an overdramatic picture of recognition. "Ah, yes! Yes, of course, I — uh — I recognise you, yeah! Of course I do!"

You scoff, rolling you eyes as he turns around to face the students. "Prick," you mutter under your breath.

You watch as Lockhart steps out onto the long, narrow stage and walks ostentatiously along it. "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me?"

A beat.

"Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works."

You have to cough to cover up your derisive snort.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart says, flashing a wide smile. The look on Snape's face when Lockhart calls him his assistant is absolute gold. Then, his eyes lock on you and he pauses for a moment, nodding to himself. "And, well, we also have our dear, uh...Astrology Professor here too!"

"Astronomy."

"Astronomy! That's what I said," Lockhart continues. "Professor Snape tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

You raise your eyebrows, glancing over at Snape as he pulls his wand from inside his robes, stepping out onto the stage to face Lockhart. As much as you have a...tumultuous relationship with Snape, you would definitely not be as keen and enthusiastic as Lockhart is to try and duel him.

You're excited to see that smug grin wiped off Lockhart's face, though you would love to do it yourself. You bet he'd remember your name after that.

Lockhart and Snape turn to face each and bow, though Lockhart's is considerably more flamboyant with much twirling of his hands while Snape jerks his head irritably. They raise their wands in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart tells the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"One...two...three — "

Both of them swing their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cries, "Expelliarmus!".

There's a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart's blasted off his feet, flying backwards off the stage wildly and smashing into the wall.

You bite your lip to stop your laughs.

You notice some of the Slytherin students cheering while others nervously watch Lockhart in anticipation, collectively breathing a sigh of relief when he unsteadily staggers to his feet.

The look on his face is priceless.

"Well, there you have it" he says, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as your see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it instructive to let them see..."

"Well, what spell would you have used, Professor Lockhart?" You pipe up, ultimately stirring the pot to make for a more interesting evening.

You remember when there was a duelling club in your school days. You'd had the pleasure of being paired with Lucius Malfoy, delicately delivering a few hexes to him. He'd had to walk around school with an ear the size of his ego, which was quite the difficult feat because it was exceptionally gargantuan.

Lockhart blinks stupidly at you, rolling a hand through his wavy blond hair. "Well, the Shield Charm, of course!"

"Shouldn't you demonstrate that as well?"

"Well, I — I hardly think the students want to see another demonstration...I'm sure they're dying to try it for themselves!" Lockhart stumbles.

You shrug. "I just think the students might want to witness...what does it say in your book? 'An extraordinary display of barely comprehensible wizarding prowess'?"

Lockhart's mouth opens and closes twice as he tries to think of something to say in return, before landing on a great grin and wiggle of his eyebrows at you. "Well, alright then! I'll let you try and defend my spells, young lady!" He eyes Snape, laughing nervously. "Best give you a break, Professor Snape!"

Snape mutters something under his breath and steps off the end of the stage to stand beside his Slytherin students.

You pull your wand from your pocket, facing Lockhart, bowing.

"One...two...three!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

A blast of red light explodes from Lockhart's wand, and as though there was an invisible shield in front of you, it bounces off harmlessly and is deflected into the roof.

Lockhart lets out a relieved sigh, as if he was expecting it to rebound and hit him instead. He chuckles lightly, regaining his confidence. "It's a good thing I went easy on you there!"

You blink at him, unimpressed. "Truly."

"Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professors, if you'd like to help..."

You start moving through the crowd, but Snape beats you to Harry, Ron, and Hermione first. You watch as he splits the two boys up, Ron huffing as he moves over to Seamus Finnigan, and Snape beckons Draco Malfoy over to pair with Harry.

You wince, well aware of their rivalry. They almost remind you of James and Snape when they were young, though that was a much more inequal affair at the time.

You sigh, pairing others together and stepping out of their way to observe their moves.

Well.

Disastrous is a kind word for the carnage you witness.

Lockhart is screaming hysterically over the battling crowd, attempting to quell the fights. The pair in front of you, Pansy Parkinson and Parvati Patil, are unleashing whatever horrible spells they can think of. Pansy's face has broken into a million boils, and Parvati's left hand is currently repeatedly hitting her own face.

"Hey!" You shout at the two. "Finite Incantatem!"

Parvati's arm stops moving, and Pansy's face stops breaking out. Some of the boils recede and disappear, while some linger and you sigh.

"Madam Pomfrey's," you say to her and she scampers off, screeching about Parvati on her way. "Where the bloody hell did they learn those spells..." you move away from Parvati.

Lockhart skitters through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "I said disarm only. I think you may need another demonstration on how to block unfriendly spells...how about a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," says Snape. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. How about Malfoy and Potter?"

You scowl. How could he be so cruel? "Mr Longbottom is perfectly capable of performing a simple shield spell, Professor Snape."

He glares at you, black eyes glinting maliciously. "Well, best not allow for any risks, yes?"

"You're being unreasonable — "

Lockhart looks between the two of you, as though choosing which side is the safer option. In other words, which of you he'd least like to piss off.

"Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, let's see how you fare!" Lockhart booms nervously and you click your tongue, glaring at Snape. His face contorts into a twisted smile as the two boys step up onto the stage.

"Now, Harry," Lockhart says, "when Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raises his own wand, attempting a complicate sort of wiggling action.

He drops it.

He picks it up, saying, "Whoops — my wand is a little over-excited."

Snape bends down to Malfoy's ear, whispering something in it. Harry looks nervously up at Lockhart and says, "Professor, can you show me that blocking thing again?"

Lockhart cuffs Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

You snort. He is his father's son, that's for sure.

Lockhart isn't listening though, excitedly shouting, "Three...two...one...go!"

Malfoy raises his wand quickly and yells, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand explodes. You watch in shock as a long, black snake shoots out of it, falling heavily onto the floor between them and raises itself, ready to strike.

"Don't move, Potter," Snape says lazily, clearly enjoying the spectacle in front of him. "I'll get rid of it."

"Allow me!" Lockhart shouts, and before you can do anything, he brandishes his wand at the snake and there's a loud bang, throwing the snake ten feet up into the air and landing back down on the floor with a loud smack. Enraged and hissing furiously, it slithers straight towards Justin Finch-Fletchley and raises itself again, fangs bared, poised to strike.

Panic sets in through your body and you flick your wand, frantically yelling, "Immobu — "

Then, a hissing sound. You watch in disbelief as Harry walks forward towards the snake, hissing at it, and it slumps to the floor, docile, its eyes now on Harry.

Justin stares at Harry in horror. "What do you think you're playing at?" He shouts, and storms out of the hall.

"Harry..." you say gently, trying to appear calm and collected, despite genuinely thinking you may have jumped out of your skin.

Snape steps forward, waving his wand, and the Snape vanishes in a puff of black smoke.

Ron grabs the back of Harry's robes, tugging it and pulling him out of the hall. It's utterly silent and tense in the room and you swallow hard.

"Alright, everyone, I think it's time to get going," you announce, and the students obediently depart from the room, muttering between themselves.

Snape makes to leave but you grab onto the arm of his robe angrily and he turns to glare at you.

"What were you thinking, telling Malfoy to summon that snake? He was supposed to be practicing a shield charm!" You snap.

"A let down on Potter's part. He was unable to cast the shield charm."

"Oh, don't give me that. You knew what you were playing at, you shifty — "

"It is my fault," Lockhart chimes in and you think you can genuinely feel your will to live slipping from your grasp. "I weakened the snake to allow for young Mr Potter to have a better chance, but it seems I should have — "

You spin and glare at Lockhart. "Oh, really, is that what you were doing? Because it seemed to me like you just mumbled out whatever sounds came to your thick skull and hoped it'd do something!"

"Now, now, young lady — "

"It's Professor, you dimwit! I am a grown woman, I am your colleague! Don't patronize me!"

You scoff, anger bubbling terribly in your veins, as you brush off the front of robes and glare at the two idiot men in front of you. "Don't you ever put your students in danger again. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

You spin on your heel and angrily storm out of the hall.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

->-> read chapter four here!

#harry potter #fanfiction #the marauders #hp #hp fanfic #fanfic #angst #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #angst with a happy ending

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mama-scarebear · 5 months

Note

Are you up for a little Christmas fantasy? 🎄I hope you will forgive this being a bit late for Christmas 🙈

—-

I slowly bat my eyes open to the sound of your voice. It’s early Christmas morning, you always seem to wake up much earlier than me, even on Christmas. “Princess it’s time to get up” you say softly with a musical tone to your voice. I feel your hand start to rub my back, making its way down as I slowly regain awareness. I start to roll over to face you when you stop and remind me, “uh uh Mommy’s gotta check your little pull-up first.” I feel cool air at my back and upper legs as you yank my Christmas themed PJ bottoms down. No matter how many times I’ve felt you do this I can’t help but blush each time. I hide my face in my tiny deer stuffie. I feel your fingers claw into my pull-up, invading the leakguards at the crotch. You take your time feeling the inside of the padding, purposely brushing against my most sensitive parts, making me squirm a little. I can feel you smirk. You love how reactive my body is to even your slightest touch. I then feel you pull the top of the pull-up back exposing my bottom to your prying eyes. Knowing deep down you’re disappointed to find me completely clean & dry.

I’m thrown off & unsettled by your lack of comment or threat. You simply pull my PJ bottoms back up & cheerfully remind me it’s Christmas morning. “Do you want to go see if Santa left you any presents under the tree?” All concern leaves my little brain and all I can think is YAY PRESENTS 🎁😄. Such an easily distracted baby. I basically hop up, deer stuffie tucked under my arm, as I almost start running to the living room where our tree is set-up. I’m super anxious right before stepping into the living room not knowing if I made the Nice List this year. I haven’t been the best behaved per se.

I can’t help but jump up and down in place & grin wildly when I see not just one but over 10 presents of all different shapes & sizes, beautifully wrapped and tucked under the tree. I’m so caught up in my own bliss I don’t even notice you still trailing behind me smiling, watching me bounce up & down in excitement in my babish looking Christmas PJs. A soft crinkle is audible, synced to my jumping. You giggle to yourself silently. I’m brought back down to reality by hearing you approach from behind, your hand coming to rest on my little bum. “Mommy loves seeing you so excited little girl,” you say while give me soft pats on my pull-up clad bottom, “do you want to open them?” You ask already knowing the obvious answer, but you like me to use my manners. I excitedly exclaim, “yes, please Mommy, can I open my presents?” I focus my pleading eyes on yours as I smile. “Ye-“ you can barely get the word out before I rush over to the tree. I kneel & have just enough sense to set my deer stuffie gently down beside me before I hungrily grab at the first present. I barely notice Mama pour herself a cup of coffee before sauntering over & seating herself on the couch facing me. You can barely contain your internal excitement at the show you’re about the watch.

I rip & tear the frozen themed Christmas paper off to reveal a nondiscript white box. It’s taped pretty good, but I make quick work of it. I’m wondering if it’s filled with the new coloring books, video games, vibrator or Disney themed stuffies I put on my list to Santa. I flip open the top of the box & pause. My facial expression changes from one of wondrous joy to a wide-eyed, mouth-gaping expression. You chime in with a sickeningly cheerful voice, “what’d you get princess?! Hold it up for Mommy to see.” I whine, “b-but this isn’t what I wanted” I clamor as I shakily hold up what I know to be a Chasity belt designed to fit over diapers. You cover your mouth to hide a giggle, not wanting the baby to get suspicious. “Must have been a mistake, baby, why don’t you just open another one?” You encourage. I drop the belt, reinvigorated at the prospect of other presents to open. I tear open another & another & another until I’m down to my last present. My face says it all; slight frown, teary eyes, shoulders slumped, head hung low. Oh & did I forget to mention very rosy red cheeks, burning with embarrassment. I am surrounded by torn Christmas wrapping paper & open presents, but they did not seem like gifts to me. In addition to the diaper-accommodating Chasity belt, there were booties that felt soft & looked cute, but had sharp spikes covering the inside bottom, locking mittens, a large dog cage, a pacifier with a locking strap, a cane & a pink straight jacket. I thought to myself when the fuck did Santa become a sadist? What is going on? This is so unfair. I don’t want any of this stuff.

Mommy interrupts my silent thoughts. “Aww what’s wrong baby you still have one left! That probably has all the things you asked for in it.” You mask your smile behind a sip of coffee. I feel hopeful again & begin tearing at the paper on the last present. I finally wedge the box open, lift the tissue paper & instantly start crying. I blush so hard I almost feel like my head is going to explode from the heat on my face & I slam the lid back down on top of the box. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this!” I shout. I look up at you & see your eyes studying me crumpled on the floor at your feet caught in the midst of what could only be described as a temper tantrum. Meeting your eyes makes me remember myself. Knowing your disdain for disrespect & yelling I resort to silently crying.

You look down on me wearing a wicked grin, “I guess someone didn’t make the Nice List this year after all, huh princess?” You say mockingly. “B-but” I stammer “I didn’t get-t any coal. I-I got presents, lot-ts & lot-ts of presents” I whine trying to make sense of it all. You giggle & smile, “aww baby you really shouldn’t believe everything you hear in the stories Mommy reads to you. What happens when little girls are naughty?” I look away as I quietly answer, “ugh they get um punished-d” I trail off the end of the answer. You curtly respond, “mhmm they get punished by who?” I cover my face with my hands as I squeak out, “they get punished by mommy.” You stand up from the couch, put your mug down, walk over to me & firmly pull my hands away from my face. Nothing turns you on quite like seeing me blush & become unwound in front of your eyes. “Well when little girls like you are bad they end up on Santa’s Naughty List. Instead of giving you coal, which is useless, Santa gives mommies and daddies presents they can use to punish their babies for their naughty behavior over the past year. So I guess it’s a very Merry Christmas for Mommy, huh?” The triumph in your voice is unmistakable. I am flabbergasted, how could this be? I feel more tears well up in my eyes. My fear & (against my wishes) my arousal begins to steeply rise.

“Now I didn’t get to see what my last present was because you threw your little temper tantrum.” I groan regretting that now more than ever surrounded by instruments of torture. “I want you to show Mommy her present” you request, a demanding tone to your voice. I hesitate briefly before shakily grabbing the box & sliding it over towards you. Knowing the humiliating items that lie inside. “Come on baby, I want you to show Mommy” emphasis placed on the word show. I groan loudly. I whine, re-bury my face into my hands & shake my head no. You chide, “well looks like we know why someone didn’t make the Nice List this year,” rubbing it in. I can’t respond or do anything but whine & bury my face deeper into my hands, wanting to disappear into the floor. “What has got my princess so blushy she can’t even speak, hmm?” I hear you open the box & the crinkle of the tissue paper inside. Ugh god I feel like I might die, the anticipation of knowing what she’s going to find inside is unbearable. I pathetically plead, my hands muffling my voice, “please no Mommy! Please don’t look!” I should have known better as that just made you want to look even more. I can feel you grinning, sensing your desire & arousal heighten. “Look baby” you then easily overpower my resistance & pull my hands away from my face. “Unless you want a crash course in all of these fun presents Mommy got from Santa I suggest you don’t try and hide your face again, understood?” Under your gaze I unravel, unable to disobey, “y-yes M-mommy.” I glance down & instantly regret it as the feared items were now neatly laid out in front of me. My eyes betray me & run across all the items, examining them. From left to right there was a big red bag with a long nozzle & double balloons on the end, a bag of soft chew laxatives with cartoonish characters on the front, a bottle of magnesium citrate, a big box of glycerin suppositories, a large butt plug adorned with a pink jewel & lastly, to put together the horrifying ensemble, a pair of bright pink, locking plastic pants with the words “Mommy’s Poopy Princess” printed in large font on the back. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think clearly. I wanted to get up & run away but I couldn’t move. Mommy’s voice brakes my trance, “Wow, I’m impressed. Santa must know my princess doesn’t like messing her diapers & prefers to resist Mommy & hold it. Well now you won’t be able to hold it at all.” You say with an accomplished smirk. As you start to laugh, my tears begin to fall & my lower lip quivers. “What a great gift for Mommy! Santa really does see everything.” 🎅

I know I’m on the brink of ruin, but I’m also on the brink of cumming in my pull-up that is most definitely no longer dry. Somehow Mommy always gets her way in the end. “Hopefully you can find your way onto the Nice List next year baby, if not, don’t worry Mommy can always use more gifts from Santa.”

—-

- p

Now this is a lovely festive little fantasy but believe me even if my little one was in the naughty list she'd at least get one present she'd enjoy. A lovely little teddy bear. After all she'll need something to cling to while she's being mercilessly punished. Not to mention they make so many lovely plushies with microphones and cameras so Mommy can listen in to your most intimate moments. A little sugar to make all that bitter medicine go down is just my type.

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meowzfordayz · 2 years

Text

home at last (home is wherever you are)

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~500

CW: mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Hi T, I have a sort of an emergency request, my flight is in a few hours and it’s been some time since I came home, as much as I am homesick, coming home is kind of saddening because my friends and other people I look forward to meeting are busy working/ uni/ etc, so I was wondering if you could write about Kyojuro who’s welcoming his s/o home after 8 months of being abroad? Something comfy and sweet? I hope it’s not too much to ask🙏🏻

Kyojuro waits at your gate’s entrance, palms clammy, wayward hairs tickling his temples, phone heavy in the pocket of his sweatpants, eyes pacing from the airport clock to the gate desk back to the airport clock. He knows you’ll appreciate his effort, charming his way past security despite: Sir, if you’re not flying somewhere, then I can’t let you through; his voice carrying the perfect heaviness of tension and disappointment Of course! I understand! I just wish I could be there for my partner as soon as possible!; maintaining his anxious slouch Oh? Is there an emergency?; sheepish, longing trace of a smile flickering as he shrugs Not exactly? They left a year ago, and I have simply missed them very much. Unfortunately quiet sigh to build anticipation I am the only person they are coming home to… surely you wouldn’t scold him for his exaggeration(s) seeing as they brought him closer and sooner to you?

8:02PM [y/n]: Just landed 🥳

8:02PM Kyojuro: Congratulations, my love! 😍

8:04AM [y/n]: How far are you from the airport?

8:07PM Kyojuro: Assuming you walk to passenger pick up, I should be there when you arrive.

8:07PM [y/n]: Pssshhh I’m not THAT excited 😏

8:08PM Kyojuro: Orrr you dislike running? 🤭

8:15PM [y/n]: Cya soon❣️

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

Your screech startles him from his halfway typed reply, phone hurriedly tucked away, shoulders bracing subconsciously for impact.

1, 2, 3- “KYYYOOO!!!!!”

He barely staggers as you launch yourself at him, his hands deftly interlocking beneath your bum as your arms fling themselves around his neck, gentle Oof knocked from his chest as the weight of your gigantic backpack follows quickly after.

“I,” kissing his forehead, “Can’t,” his nose, “Believe,” his left cheek, “You’re,” his right cheek, “Here!” his chin.

“You neglected a spot,” he grins softly, skin glistening from your affection, “Dare I say, the most important?”

“Kyo!” you gasp, pinching his bicep cheerfully, “Your forehead,” kiss “And nose,” kiss “And BOTH cheeks,” kiss kiss “Are VERY important!”

“I love you,” he declares, heart humming, “Now kiss me. Again.”

“So demanding,” you murmur, legs squeezing above his hips as you finally press your lips to his, exasperated giggles vibrating against his mouth as he removes a hand from under you, no doubt for a celebratory fist pump.

“Don’t drop me!” you squeal, biting playfully at the tip of his tongue.

“I would never!” he exclaims, promptly returning his hand to its rightful position, “Although, perhaps, we should head toward the baggage claim?”

“You’re not gonna carry me there?” you pout.

“Last time I offered to carry you in public, you claimed that would be sooo embarrassing.”

“Yeeeah,” you huff, eyebrows furrowing, “But last time I had seen you, like, yesterday. This time, it’s been Eight! Months!”

“My love, I am more than content to carry you.”

“WAIT,” your eyes widen, realization registering, thighs warming as your core tightens, “Maybe a piggyback ride?”

“A piggyback ride?” he nods politely, his grip on your bum firm as his tone lowers, “As you wish.”

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #flame hashira #drabble #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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mollymauktealeef · 2 years

Text

wip wednesday once more, here's another wee peek for the edge of the blade

this snippet might suck a little cause i'm sick so doing a once over of it and touching it up a little i may have missed shit :( feckin hate being sick

“Mr Widogast, my thanks for your swift arrival,” The Umavi greets and Essek doesn’t dare turn and face the man who now holds his future in his hands, completely unknowingly. Best to maintain an air of indifference to the proceedings than potentially reveal the truth. He doesn’t trust his own face right now to keep anything secret and he’s sure the naked fear in his eyes would be easily read by even the least perceptive of the room.

“It is my honour, what can I do for you this evening?” Caleb responds cordially, the shuffle of clothing catches in Essek’s ear. A bow, perhaps a small one but enough to soothe the Umavi’s ego. A good move.

“It seems I did not receive an invitation to your wedding to my son, may I ask why?” Deirta questions, her tone flippant as though it hardly matters but the directness of her questioning gives everyone in the room pause.

“We are not married,” Caleb responds easily and Essek feels something cold and sharp lodge itself under his breast. Of course Caleb would deny it, it’s the truth. He has no reason to lie here, least of all to an Umavi of the dynasty. There is nothing gained for himself or the Mighty Nein by incurring the wrath of one of the major political and religious leaders of Essek’s people.

And despite recent events, their relationship is far from healed. Caleb owes Essek nothing. It’s Essek who is indebted here and he can not expect Caleb to allow for another unearned favour. Especially one that requires more than the most basic of lies. This is a far more elaborate play, one that will continue for some time. Essek doesn’t expect Caleb to sacrifice his time or his reputation on the whim of a desperate man.

He doesn’t expect it. But he had hoped.

The quick denial shouldn’t hurt. But it does all the same. Because hope, no matter how small, is a dangerous creature that takes up far more room than one can afford to lose.

Essek briefly wonders if they’ll visit him at least. Or if he’ll even be allowed visitors.

“Ah thank you for clearing that up, you may go -”

Caleb clears his throat sharply, “Apologies Umavi but you misunderstand, we are not married yet. It is a handfasting,” he clarifies, bulldozing a path through the social faux paus of interrupting an Umavi and somehow ensuring that it’ll be the least of the offences she can take at the same time.

“Excuse me?” Deirta says as cold and as sharp as splintered ice.

“Ah, Essek did mention that it was unheard of in the dynasty. A handfasting is a trial marriage of sorts, a year and a day. After which the couple can either choose to marry or walk away without the issue of divorce and such complications,” Caleb lectures gently, as though it's a small matter. A simple cultural misunderstanding that one can merely dismiss.

“I see,”

“We didn’t invite you as a handfasting is generally viewed by the closest family and friends of the couple,” Caleb continues cheerfully. Essek chokes a little on his tea at Caleb’s very unsubtle insult towards his mother. He almost turns around just to catch the false innocent smile he knows is there but refrains from basking in the small victory to ensure the battle is not lost.

“So you and my son are in fact,” Deirta trails off and Caleb approaches, standing sentry behind Essek’s chair.

“Ja,” Caleb’s hand curls over his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Essek reaches up for it and tries not to cling to him. Caleb’s thumb rubs back and forth comfortingly and it draws his mother’s narrowed gaze. Essek scoots a little closer to Caleb, as though he can hide behind Caleb’s hand like a child’s game of hide and seek.

#critical role #cr2 #shadowgast #shadowgast fanfiction #jask writes #wip wednesday #fic: teotb #i'm so sick rn #shivering a lot and i ache everywhere #i hate hate hate it #bed soon

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”

#mdzs #mo xuanyu #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #switcheroo

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goldenshoyo · 3 years

Text

Cruel - Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Semi-public sex, cunt slaps, face slaps (1), finger sucking, degradation, praise, car sex, size kink!, jealous Omi, edging, overstimulation (but in theory sorta, at the end), "daddy" and "bunny" used! As always, please let me know if I missed any!!

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi is not a very jealous man, but sometimes his teammates can get under his skin.

Word count: 3k

Author note: This was a commission! Therefore, the reader has some body descriptions (being shorter and smaller than Kiyoomi). If you're interested in commissioning me, please dm me!

Nervous was the understatement of the year. While you had met a few of Kiyoomi’s teammates before, usually just saying a quick “hi” and “bye” before he drug you away from them, nothing to this degree. Atsumu had requested that his twin allow the team to have a party at his onigiri shop to celebrate a big tournament win for the team when they got back to Tokyo. Excitement was definitely there, but nothing would stop you from feeling the heavy rock in your gut or the anxious beating of your heart.

Well, nothing but Kiyoomi’s warm hand in yours. He smiled at you before slipping his black mask over his pretty face.

“It’ll be fun,” he assured, and you wondered if he actually felt that way.

He hated these gatherings, probably more than anyone should. Not for the fact he was antisocial or that he didn’t enjoy his teammates. He just didn’t want them flocking to you and making you nervous. However, it had been several months of him turning these things down and opting to spend his days off with you after games. The team was irritated with him for it, and he knew that this one party would make up for all the times missed.

Or at least he hoped.

“I think so too!” You say back cheerfully, adjusting your dress underneath you on the seat of his car. The leather was sticking to your thighs where your sundress rode up.

“You could have worn something more-“

“Think about what you’re about to say.” You warn, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “I like this dress.”

He does too, he wants to tell you. But so will the other members of MSBY. He chooses to not say anything, knowing you would only laugh at his comment or say something smart back. He loves that about you, even if he doesn’t tell you that often. He enjoys watching you get frustrated, furrowing your brows, and pouting your lip. It’s why he always teases you about what you wear. Not that he’d ever actually make you change, well, to an extent he thinks.

“Why are you so in your head?” You ask him as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“I didn’t realize I was,” he answers honestly.

You intertwine your fingers with his on your lap as he drives, listening to the soft sounds of the radio in the background while he takes you to the infamous Onigiri Miya you’d heard about a few dozen times. You knew Kiyoomi liked to pretend he hated Atsumu, but he was probably his closest friend, no matter how much he protested that fact.

It’s a shame this would be the first time you actually got to speak to him or anyone else on the team for that matter. You thought it was definitely cute that he was protective of you, but you were beginning to feel like he was keeping part of his life from you. When you brought it up to him, he apologized profusely, promising to take you to the next event.

“-----,” Atsumu’s shit-eating grin appeared for the hundredth time that night. “Tell me again, am I saying that right?” His hand caresses your shoulder and you still, shocked he’d carelessly do this despite you sitting on Omi’s lap.

“There’s not another way to say her name, Miya.” Kiyoomi glares at him from above you. It amazes you that even while sitting on his lap he seems so much larger than you. Thinking about it too much stirs something inside of you that you’d rather save for when you have him alone. So, you push it away. “Stop touching my girlfriend and go find yours.”

He throws his hands up, another laugh vibrating from his chest. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you Omi Omi.”

As he walks away, you smile down at your boyfriend, and he seems to relax. “Your friends are nice.”

“He’s not my friend.” He huffs looking away from you.

You know better. It’s honestly sort of adorable the way he always denies it.

“Yo!” Bokuto’s booming voice catches your attention as he runs towards you and Kiyoomi. “Osamu said something about a karaoke set, you have to come over here with us -----!”

“I-I don’t know about that,” your fingers dig into your palm as you look to Sakusua. “Would you want to?”

“I can come watch if you want to, bunny.” His fingers slowly stroke your thighs, and you flush; unable to think straight whenever he’s touching you and calling your favorite name.

“Okay,” you stand up going with Bokuto as he drags you towards the front of the Onigiri shop where the others have begun to set up the karaoke machine.

“I’ll sing with you since I know Kiyoomi would rather die than let loose with a song. Anything you like to sing?”

“Oh, uh,” you think. “I’ve never actually done this. So just pick something easy.”

“I guess,” he starts sifting through the catalog that’s on the machine, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun it is!”

You laugh taking the mic he hands you. It’s so ridiculous he would choose it, but you know he’s doing his absolute best to help you feel comfortable around him and all the others. The entire event was bigger than you expected, everyone either bringing a partner or friend, sometimes both. However, even with all the people around Bokuto is making it easier to loosen up and realize no one actually cares about what you sound like; hell, most of them are too deep in conversation and laughing to even watch closely.

Kiyoomi is the exception, as always.

He’s removed his mask from one ear, letting it dangle from the other while he watches you. A small smile creeps on his lips when you make eye contact, and you can’t help but giggle through the lyrics. His smile quickly turns to a frown when Bokuto throws an arm around your shoulder as you finish the song and he laughs, smooshing his face up against yours to belt out the lyrics. You giggle, pulling away not sure you like the sudden closeness, and the song ending is a perfect excuse to put down the mic and heading over to Kiyoomi.

“That was quite the little show,” he says, his tone stern and unforgiving. “Especially the little bit at the end.”

“Omi,” you whine, placing your hand on his firm chest. “He was just being silly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs before pulling his mask back on. “Let’s go. I’m ready to be home.”

“Omi!” You say more firmly. “I’m having fun!”

“Would you like to go home with one of them, then?” His eyes are intense, and you feel suddenly smaller than usual as he peers down at you.

He’s good at that, making you feel small. Even if you love it most of the time, it’s not just that. You want him, desperately, right here and now. You want to stay longer and spend more time with his friends, but he’s making it hard to focus with his deep voice and intense eyes that make you want to jump him here.

“No! Only you,” you tell him and lean up and place a soft kiss on his chest. “Let’s go, I guess,” you make sure to make your displeasure unknown even if you’re only thinking about getting him out of his clothes as soon as you are home.

You can’t exactly be sure, but you think he smiles under his mask. His eyes soften like they usually do when he smiles at you, so you assume you’ve made him happy. He says a few quick goodbyes, even making sure yours are faster than his while he pulls you away. To your surprise, he opens the back passenger door of his car.

“I am not riding in the back like a kid,” you tell him frowning. “You can’t be serio-“

“Get in the fucking car, -----.” He rolls his eyes again, and you slide in with a pout on your lips. Kiyoomi slides in beside you, pushing you down against the back seat. “I can’t wait another minute,” he growls in your ear while his fingers unhook his mask from his ear.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too widely. “Daddy,” you whine as his fingers tease you through your thin dress.

It’s cruel, and you know that’s exactly what he intends.

He could easily hike the dress up just a few inches to have easy access to your core, but he won’t. He loves teasing you too much. The way your body reacts to even his slightest touch makes him dizzy, and he wants to feel drunk on you tonight. Even if you don’t know it, he thinks, Bokuto got to him in a way he can’t understand.

He thought Atsumu would be the one to bring out the ugly jealous side of him, but no, to his surprise it was the one man he never thought could do it. Honestly, he’s a little ashamed of himself as he’s sliding your dress up your thighs. It’s not your fault, anyone would want you. But you’re his.

Only his; and he intends to remind you of that.

“Omi, please!” You all but scream for him.

He’s relentlessly drawing small circles onto your clit and driving you mad. You’re soaking through your panties, and you need him. You’re not sure if it’s even been two minutes, but it feels like an eternity of teasing.

“Omi?” He chuckles. “Bunny, you know better than that.”

“Daddy, please,” you correct yourself. “I need you, daddy! Please!”

“That’s my girl,” he kisses you, his lips rough against yours.

He kisses you like he’s desperate he’ll lose you. Every touch and motion meant to remind you how much he loves and needs you. While his tongue enters your mouth, he slips his fingers down below your dress, moaning as he feels how wet you are for him.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips. “You’re always so fucking good for me, bunny.”

He doesn’t curse often, or at least to this degree unless you’re fucking. Something about knowing he reserves even his swearing just for you. He pushes your panties to the side, just enough to give him access to your drooling cunt. He smiles as your back arches up off the leather of his back seat and your eyes roll back into your head.

“Tell me what you want, bunny.” He curls his fingers inside of you and you moan loudly.

“You! Daddy, want your big cock! Want it so bad,” you whine as he fucks his fingers into you.

His fingers leave you empty, and you start to whine, but before the sweet sound passes your lips, he smacks your cunt. Once and then twice and then finally a third time. You whine, trying to move away each time, but his strong hand holds your thigh still with ease. Fingertips digging into your thigh with each smack only makes you cry out louder.

It hurts too good. You want it to stop, but you want it to continue. You can’t decide which would be better. Your clit throbs, and your cunt clenches around nothing with the fourth and final smack. Your throat is starting to hurt from all your whining and straining to keep from screaming too loud.

“Remember to as politely,” he says against your lips. “Then Daddy won’t have to punish you, yeah?”

You nod, shaking your head up and down slowly while he smiles at you.

“Good girl,” he kisses you softly. “Now, I think it’s time I gave you a treat.”

You smile widely as he sits down, unbuckling his pants and sliding them down his hips and legs along with his underwear. It’s hard not to watch the way his cock slaps against his stomach, ready for you with a desperately swollen pink head. It’s unfair how pretty it is, really… who else would have a pretty cock?

“Come sit,” he strokes his cock once and you hurry over to him.

Straddling his legs, he helps you sink down on him. It always burns at first, stretching around him to adjust.

“So big,” you whine while hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Too much!”

“Shhh,” he coos rubbing your back with one hand and your ass with another. “You always take it bunny; tonight is no different.”

“Daddy,” you cry as you finally take him all in.

He smirks, thrusting up once and making you bounce. “Feel so good, my precious bunny.” He holds your hips, guiding you into starting to ride him.

His hands are tight, supporting you and making you move at his pace. He’s slow, making sure you feel every drag of his cock in and out of you. Your dress falls down around his hands and your thighs, hiding everything from anyone who could possibly be passing outside the car.

“M-more,” you whine, wanting him to start thrusting up into you.

“Do you deserve more, bunny?” He holds your hips still, making you whine and look up at him. “I’m not sure you even deserve to cum. Dirty sluts don’t get to feel good.”

“But daddy please-“

His hand is fast, hitting your cheek with enough force to shut you up and turn your head. It stings but is replaced by that addicting warmth that takes over your cheeks and mind. You moan as his hand rests on your cheek, covering the redness that’s forming already.

“Open up,” his thumb drags across your bottom lip, and you part your lips.

He closes his eyes as you suck on his thumb, relaxing and letting you start riding him slowly again. He thrusts to meet you each time you come down on his cock, making you bite down on his thumb each time. He thrusts harder with each bite, which continues in an endless cycle until he pulls his thumb out to bring your face to his. He kisses you desperately, his tongue fighting your own. You moan against his lips, holding onto his shoulders tightly while he takes control of your body again.

“Don’t you dare cum.” He warns. “Not until I say, got it?”

You nod slowly while he fucks into you harder. His thrusts are rougher and more intense, signaling he’s close. It’s nearly impossible to not cum on him now, but you hold out. Fighting ever instinct telling you to cum is the hardest thing he’s ever asked of you.

“Daddy,” you whimper, feeling like you might explode. “Please!”

“Just a little more,” he pants, closing his eyes and laying his head against the backseat. “Fuck, I’m going to feel your cute little cunt up darling. I’ll have my cum dripping down your thighs and all over that little dress of yours.”

Oh, he’s definitely close. He wouldn’t talk this much if not.

“Want your cum daddy!”

“I know you do, slutty little bunny.” He leans up and kisses your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin between your shoulder and neck.

“Daddy please, wanna cum!”

“I told you not until I say,” he slaps your ass once and you cry out.

Everything burns. Your stomach, thighs, and even your core. You’re desperate for some release but want Omi’s praise more than anything else. So, you keep fighting the urge to just let go.

“Fuck,” he moans once more, thrusting into you and holding your hips still while he cums. You feel the warm release start to dribble down his cock and out of you onto his thigh.

The bastard really didn’t let you cum… is he going to finish you off?

“Omi!” You try to ride his cock again, but he holds you still.

“Sorry bunny,” he chuckles breathlessly, his curly hair sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you. “You have to wait just a little longer.”

“Not fair!” You whine, tears stinging your eyes. “Wanna cum now! On your cock!”

“If you cheer up, I’ll tease you on the way home and keep you on the edge. I promise I’ll let you cum when we get home.” He kisses your cheeks, teasingly thrusting up into you once before pulling out. “Can you be good for daddy? If you make it until we get home, I promise I’ll reward you.”

Your eyes brighten and you perk up. “I can try,” you tell him.

The ride is torment. Even a bump in the road makes you moan. Kiyoomi brings you to the edge at least three times, and after that, you lose count. The only grounding part of the experience is his warm voice praising you for doing so well. It makes you weaker, every time he gives you just that little acknowledgment, and it helps you make it all the way home.

“We’re home, bunny,” he smiles at you and opens his door.

He jogs around the car and opens yours, helping you out and guiding you inside. You’re grateful for the covered garage and the short elevator ride up to his apartment. As soon as you pass the threshold of his apartment, your arms are around him and he lifts you up. He’s already hard, you giggle feeling it against your swollen cunt and watching Omi’s pants get damp from the mess you both made earlier.

“Daddy, make me cum! Please! I did what you asked.”

“You’ve been such a good girl, bunny.” He lays you down on the dining table, spreading you out for him to stand comfortably between your thighs. “Daddy is gonna make you cream around my cock.”

You thank whatever gods may be for Kiyoomi’s agile body and earnest attitude. He has his pants off quickly and his cock inside you before you can even whine again. Gasping, you reach up for him and he holds you against his body while fucking you on the table.

“Cum whenever you want, bunny, you earned it. Cum as many times as you want. I won’t stop until you’re begging me to.”

That’s all it takes. You cum, crying against his chest and clawing at him. He fucks you through it, your body limp against him and toes still curling.

“I know you have another in you, bunny. Give me another one.”

You love Sakusa Kiyoomi, you really do, but he can be cruel sometimes. Well, if you can define edging followed by overstimulation as cruel.

#sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #hqintheclub

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWO || FOR MYSELF

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mentions of violence and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 09 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.0k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : ryomen sukuna

↳ next episode : girl of steel

↳ barista’s notes : since you loved the first one so much, i decided to do episode two for you guys ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ also i am now addicted to genshin impact and right now, i am on adventure rank 19 and already cleared the ‘stormterror lair’ thing ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ i hope you enjoy this cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) and come again soon!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’

3. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part three because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ

4. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

“What’s the situation?”

All of a sudden, a new voice came into the area leading you to turn your head to the side to find a rather tall male standing next to Fushiguro. From a quick glance, you could immediately inform yourself that had spiky white hair with a black blindfold covering his eyes, as he carried a paper bag on his arm while wearing a similar outfit to Fushiguro meaning he was another sorcerer.

“Gojo-sensei?! Why are you here?” Fushiguro asked in surprise, as he turned to look at what you assumed to be his teacher leading to the shadows around him to immediately disappear from sight.

“Gojo…” you muttered under your breath as you looked at the two male sorcerers right in front of you in horror as you came to the realisation of the situation you were facing.

‘Mother…..I’ve been found…..’

ꕥ

“Hey!’ the teacher cheerfully greeted while waving an arm to his student as a short greeting. “I wasn’t planning on coming, but man, you’re roughed up,” Gojo explained, before leaning forward as if he was taking a closer look at Fushiguro to which then caused lead to his hand to go into his pocket as he proceeded to pull out his mobile phone. “I should show the second years, face this way!” the sorcerer playfully stated as he began to take a multitude of photos of the ‘roughed up’ student, leading to the subject of his images to turn away while covering his face with his arm.

Looking at the scene with anxiety looming above you like a rainy cloud, you swiftly turned your head back to see if you could find a way out without both of them as well as Itadori noticing as they were distracted for the time being.

‘Shit, the only way I can escape is either jumping from this floor or going through the large gap behind me, but that’s gonna make them notice. What am I going to do?!’

“Ah! Miss, I know you are already there, so no need to escape!” Gojo suddenly stated, causing you to quickly turn back with widened eyes - surprised at the fact that he knew what was on your mind - to find the teacher waving at you with the same greeting he gave to Fushiguro as if he had known you for some time, like an old friend one would say.

‘Ah…..what a drag….’ you thought, as you then carefully picked up the katana that had landed in front of you when the curse was exorcised before slowly sliding it back into the casing that was behind your back.

“The higher-ups wouldn’t such up with a special-grade cursed object gone missing, so I stopped by while doing some sightseeing,” Gojo explained while looking down his phone like he was checking something when in your mind, you assumed that he was going through the photos that he took of Fushiguro due to his jolly smile that was displayed on his face.

‘Maybe, if you damn sorcerers got the cursed object sooner before the damn protective seal was ripped off, WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS SITUATION!’ you argued in your head, as you slowly began to realise the reasonings why your mother never took a liking to the higher-ups, to begin with.

‘Those higher-ups are so useless, all they do is command other sorcerers to do their dirty work while acting if they are superior dear. If I could, I would kill all of them’

“So, did you find it?” the blindfolded teacher asked, as he looked up from his device only for your schoolmate to interrupt the sorcerer’s conversation as he raised up his hand in a guilty manner. “Um...Sorry, but I ate it,” Itadori confessed, as he then pointed to himself to emphasise the statement leading Fushiguro to look down to the floor in what seemed to be in shame while Gojo turned to look at Itadori with a shocked expression.

“For real?” Gojo asked, trying to make sure that it wasn’t some sort of joke.

“For real,” Itadori and Fushiguro answered simultaneously, confirming that it wasn’t a joke at all.

In a complete rage, you slowly made your way towards your schoolmate before grabbing his shoulders with as much might as you could as you then turned him around to face you.

“I don’t know who broke that damn seal I placed on that stupid little hut, but maybe if you haven’t taken that finger, we wouldn’t be in this situation where these two dumbass sorcerers would be in our lives right now!!” you screamed in frustration leading to the two mentioned sorcerers to look at you with dumbfounded looks painted on their faces while Itadori just peered at you with an extremely surprised expression.

During the school hours, Itadori had seen you a few times around the hallways and in his class when you had to collect something for another teacher. From what he could read off, you were the calm and collective type, someone who was on top of their academics while being able to maintain close relationships with other students between the three-years that Sugisawa Municipal Highschool offered. Even though you came off a bit blunt from time to time when calling something or someone a ‘drag’, the students liked that from you since that meant you were being honest to them as well as to yourself, just like the time when you surprised everyone when you rejected being part of the school’s council's committee much to the President’s begging.

“But...shouldn’t you like sorcerers since you seem like one?” Itadori questioned with a confused tone, leading you to look at him with a rather both understandable but irritated expression which caused him to be nervous somewhat due to you being out of character.

“Just because I am one, doesn’t mean I like any of them!” you counted back, as you pointed towards the direction of Fushiguro and Gojo before continuing with “it was such a drag when Fushiguro was here this afternoon and it’s more of one now that two of them are here!” as you then let go of his shoulders before turning away to lean against the crooked metal balcony to relax your vocal cords after screaming so much.

Taking the opportunity, Gojo leaned to the side as if he was inspecting Itadori like he was painting before coming closer to the teenage boy with his hand on his chin as if he was thinking what he could do now. “Hehe, damn, it really did combine with you. That’s hilarious,” Gojo amusingly stated, causing you to turn back to look at the scene with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

‘What is hilarious about the situation right now? This isn’t something to find assuming Gojo’

“Anything off with your body?” Gojo questioned, after straightening his back leading itadori to inspect his body for a quick few seconds.

“Not particularly,” Itadori answered.

“Can you swap out with Sukuna?” Gojo then asked, leading you to then fully turn back to look at the special-grade sorcerer with extreme confusion and astonishment as you begin to wonder what hit Gojo’s head before coming here to the school.

“Sukuna?” Itadori confusingly stated as he looked at Gojo with a perplexed expression.

“The curse you stupidly ate,” you quickly answered, as you gave Itadori a serious glance before letting out a sigh of frustration leading Fushguro to quickly tug your arm as you dropped down to his height before you snatched your arm back, worried about what the Zenin relative would do to you.

“Oh…Yeah, I think I can do that,” Itadori clarified, as he placed his hand on his hip before giving a nod to emphasise this statement.

Stepping back, Gojo suddenly began to stretch in a weird position, which suddenly reminded you of a certain baseball player, but you couldn’t recall who before stating with confidence, “then give us ten seconds, once ten seconds are up, come back to us.”

‘Great, I’m going to die young…” you jokingly thought, as you looked to the side with a grim look as if you were staring at the death ripper at this very moment in time.

“But..” Itadori wavered, as he started to be concerned about Gojo's request since he didn’t know what damage Sukuna could do or how the teacher was going to be at the end of it. “Don’t worry, I’m the strongest,” Gojo confidently stated, leading to another grim look to appear on your face, as you were getting annoyed at his constant confidence even though you knew he had the right to be.

“Megumi, hold on to this,” Gojo demanded before throwing the bag towards his student, leading to the catcher to catch it with his hands before looking down on the paper bag with curiosity.

“Megumi?” you quietly questioned as you suddenly discovered that the sorcerer next to you had a feminine name - since it was quite rare to hear a male have a name that was generally used for the female gender.

“What is this?” Fushiguro asked before his teacher stretched his arms right in front of both of you before answering, “Kikufuku from Kikusuian! It’s Sendai’s speciality, and it’s super good! I recommend the zunda and cream flavour!”

‘So...this man bought mochi when people here were dying, ah...that was dumbass~’

“It’s not a souvenir, I’m going to eat it on the bullet train home,” Gojo stated as if he needed an explanation for his actions. However, what got your full attention was the black markings that were gradually coming onto Itadori’s skin before he suddenly jumped up into the air while Gojo was still explaining his reasoning for this purchase.

“Uh Oh~” you commented, as you stared at the sky with widened eyes before Fushiguro screamed for his teacher’s attention at the curse directing an attack from behind. However, it seemed like his teacher wasn’t fazed on second as he continued explaining the reason why he bought the mochi, “Kikufuku’s not like other souvenirs…”

‘I THOUGHT YOU SAID IT WASN’T A SOUVENIR!’ you screamed in your mind before ducking your head down as Itadori’s body finally crashed back to the ground, trying to make sure that the debris didn’t blind you at all. Quickly looking back up to check what was happening, you suddenly came into eye to eye contact with a bright shade of ruby mixed with a hint of malevolence. You came to the realisation that it was Sukuan who was now in front of you while Gojo was casually sitting on his hack like a horse.

“And the whipped cream inside is simply exquisite..” Gojo continued talking, causing you to give off a confused expression on what really was going on inside the special-grade sorcerer’s mind and what his main priority was right now. Suddenly, Sukuna made a 180 degree turn to aim for another attack, yet the second Gojo clasped his hands together, he once again missed and as well as the other attacks he tried to execute.

Unexpectedly, Gojo appeared behind Sukuna’s back before leaning back to say something within his ear, “my student and a little sorcerer’s watching, so I’m going to show off a little.” Instantaneously, Gojo disappeared once again before grabbing the curse vessel’s arm as he then processed to hit Sukuna’s face with his arm, leading to Itadori’s body to slightly fling itself up in the air.

‘What is he manipulating? Time? No, that’s not it….is it like a vacuum? But that means he would be controlling empty space with no particles…’

Suddenly, you slightly noticed the slight manipulated on the air as Gojo’s arm begins to swing leading you to come to the conclusion that Gojo’s cursed technique might be the control of space at an atomic level, leading to a massive pressure to hit the King of Curses as his body smashed into the only part of metal railing that wasn’t bent.

“For crying out loud, you jujutsu sorcerers are always trouble, no matter what era!” Sukuna declared as he, once again, jumped into the air while somehow carrying massive pieces of the broken wall along with him before slamming down at Gojo’s direction. “Though that doesn’t mean much to me,” Sukuna arrogantly stated, with a smirk on his face as some of the windows processed to smash.

However, the second the thin debris started to clear up, Sukuna’s expression quickly twisted into shock as a brightly lit barrier enclosed his opponent, yet he wasn’t the one that had a surprised expression on his face. Turning back around, Gojo found you kneeling next to Fushguro with a flat palm on the ground as your curse energy flowed down to the ground as if the box just didn’t just end on the ground that they were standing on right now.

“This is such a drag,” you muttered before standing up straight as you observed the walls making sure that there wasn’t a single crack when the rocks could have hit. “Seven, eight, nine, ten,” you counted and right on time there was a sudden change in curse energy pressure around you leading you to come to the conclusion that Itadori was now switching back, surprising Sukuan once again at the circumstances that he was in.

“Oh, was everything okay?” Itadori innocently asked, one the marking disappearing leading you to undo your curse spell as the walls slowly started to fade away with little blue parts flying away like they were little fireflies.

“I’m shocked, you really can control it!” Gojo cheered while Fushiguro looked onto the scene with such surprise and confusion on what was happening.

“He’s kind of annoying, though,” Itadori commented as he continuously smacked his head, “I can hear his voice.”

‘And is smacking your head gonna make it better, idiot?’

“It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing,” Gojo stated, with a smirk on his face as he began to walk towards Itadori before suddenly placing his middle and index finger on the salmon-haired forehead, causing Itadori to freeze for a second before giving in to the suddenly unconscious feeling empowering his body to which lead to his falling within the teacher’s arms.

“What did you do?” Fushiguro asked with slight worry in his tone.

“Knocked him out,” Gojo then answered. “If he isn’t possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, he might have potential as a vessel,” the white-haired sorcerer explained as he then turned to his student with a question in mind.

“Now, I have a question for you, what should we do with him and the little miss, who is trying to run away?”

Confused, Fushiguro turned around, only to find you with your back turned to both of them as your foot halted the second his teacher had mentioned you. Turning back around Fushiguro then looked at his teacher with a serious expression displayed on his face, “even if he is a vessel, jujutsu regulations demand Itadori be executed. However, I don’t want to let him die!”

“Your personal feelings?” Gojo playful asked his student with a smirk on his face before Fushguro quickly answered, “yes, please do something about this.”

“Hehe~ Now it’s a request from a previous student,” Gojo stated, as he proceeded to lift up the unconscious teenager onto this shoulder. “Leave it to me! But also, what do you want to do with Miss runaway?” Gojo commented, once again leading you to halt your movement as you surprisingly made some distance between you and the two sorcerers now staring at your back.

‘Ah…..caught again…..’

Turning around, you looked towards the two sorcerers with a nonchalant expression displayed before giving them the hand gesture of ‘shooing them away. “There’s nothing you got to do with me, take Itadori and make sure to do what you’re planning to do, don’t drag me into your mess,” you commented, as you turned around once again, only to find the infamous sorcerer to be standing right in front of you with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Come on~ Jujtutsu Tech is so much fun, you get to make a few friends and you get to bug Megumi!” Gojo cheerfully tried to persuade you, only for you to scoff in annoyance at this futile attempt to invite you to the school that your mother informed you all about.

“I rather not be near anyone belonging with the three clans,” you irritatedly declared as you placed your hand on your hip trying to keep a distance between you and the teacher. However, this statement of yours caused Gojo and Fushiguro to look at you with surprise painted on their faces. How much did you know about the Jujutsu world? How did you have the acknowledgement of the three great families? Who were you and how much you had the strength to stop Sukuna’s attack within a millisecond?

“L/N!” Fushiguro stated, leading you to turn to him with an angered expression on your face which caused Gojo to peer at you with seriousness clouding his entire body.

“L/N huh?” Gojo curiously questioned, “no wonder your curse technique is familiar to what those old documents have told.”

Taken back to his discovery, you turned back to look at Gojo will a deadpan expression leading him to then carefully suggest, “Since you are part of the lost L/N clan, I won’t tell the higher-ups about your existence but rather have you twist your name slightly when you enrol, how does that sound?”

Glancing at the teacher with suspicion, you tried to hide the gut-wrenching feeling that there was not a possible chance of you now escaping from this. You had been caught and found and there was no way to lie yourself out of this situation you were in, not when Gojo had discovered who you really were while Fushiguro seemed to look clueless on what was going on between his teacher and the female sorcerer in front of him.

Letting out a sigh of frustration once again, you looked up at the sky, letting the same moonlight bathe your face as it did for Sukuna a few minutes ago.

“What a drag”

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zukkoxx · 3 years

Text

mha boys doing the hickey prank on you

(w/ bakugo, kiri, shinsou)

bakugo 💥

you and bakugo’s relationship started with bickering and annoying each other till you drive the other crazy.

and that didn’t stop when you started dating.

now, it’s more of pulling silly little pranks on each other.

and each time you would try to one up the other.

well, the last prank you pulled in bakugo had him fuming, he was mad for a week.

so obviously he had to get you back even worse.

he got mina to help him, figuring she’d be best at making the makeup look like the actual thing.

she berated him the whole time, telling him if he broke her best friend’s heart she’d shoot acid in his eyes.

he brushed off her comment. you deserved this.

it was a little late in the evening after you get to bakugo’s dorm, finished with all the tasks you had to do today.

“hey kats.” you greet, placing your things on his desk and joining him on the bed where he was sitting on his phone.

he looked up at you, almost feeling bad when you gave him a genuine smile before snuggling up next to him. “whats up?” you say when he doesn’t respond.

“nothing. how was your day?” he quickly asked.

the two of you talked for a while about random stuff, and at some point you went up to kiss his cheek, laughing at a comment he made.

but you freeze when you see a dark, purplish mark on the side of his neck, in plain sight.

you furrowed your brows, wondering how you hadn’t noticed to before.

“katsuki...what’s this?” you ask, making him turn from his phone and look at you.

“what’re ya talkin about dumbass?”

“don’t call me a dumbass, what the hell is this on your neck?” you speak louder, pressing a finger under the mark.

“it’s nothing, probably a bruise from a mission-”

“bakugo.”

the blond widens his eyes at your deep tone and the way you said his name. he never really heard you speak like this unless it was towards a villain. but even then, you never sounded this serious.

“you and i both know that’s not a fucking bruise.”

he stares at you silently, not knowing if he should end the prank or not.

he decides to push on.

“i don’t know what you want me to say.” he shrugs, looking away from you. he couldn’t stand seeing the hurt in your eyes.

you scoff, trying to get rid of the pressure building in you throat. “you really are just a big asshole, aren’t you?”

he stayed quiet. “if you wanted to break up with, you could’ve just told me.” you try so hard to keep your tears at bay, not letting them cross your waterline.

but it feels like a dagger had been stabbed through your heart.

“and to think, i thought you could have actually loved me.” you chuckle darkly before trying to get off the bed.

upon hearing your words, bakugo quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you against him.

“i do love you-”

“let me go you asshole!” you push his chest, tears finally escaping. “we’re done! that’s what you wanted right?”

“y/n it’s not real! calm down.”

he holds your waist so you were sitting on his lap, keeping you still. you look at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about. “what the hell do you mean it’s not real?”

he stared at you for a second, almost scared that if he looked away, you’d be gone. but he eventually reaches to the table beside his bed and grabs a makeup wipe mina lended him. he quickly wiped the mark, staring at you intensely.

“see?” he turns his head, and you find the purple mark gone, only a slight red pigment left from where he wiped so harshly. “fake.” he holds up the wipe so you see the purple stains covering it.

“it was a prank.”

you felt like you could finally breath again, but your relief quickly turned into anger, and you punched bakugo’s chest out of instinct. he didn’t react.

“i hate you. why would you do this?”

“you pranked me last week!” bakugo states, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“i put pink dye in your shampoo katsuki. this was overboard.” you mutter, wiping your cheeks to get rid of sparse tears.

bakugo frowned, feeling even more bad about the whole thing. he had to admit, he took it too far. “you’re right. i’m sorry.” you didn’t respond, but accepted his apology.

“hey.” bakugo lifted your chin to look at him. “you know i love you, right? more than fucking anything.” you nod. “don’t ever doubt my love for you, or i may have to blow myself up for making you feel that way.”

you laugh slightly, bending down so you could hug when, pushing your face into his neck.

“you know i’m getting you back for this.”

kirishima🪨

kirishima often does things without thinking ahead.

not fully comprehending the consequences of his actions.

this was one of those moments.

it was april fools day! great right?

except kiri and the boys made a bet, wondering who could pull the best prank on someone in their class.

kiri took a while thinking about who he should prank. and eventually, a perfect prank to pull on his precious s/o came to mind.

a hickey prank. haha....ha. -_-

he had seen tons of videos where someone made a fake hickey and pranked their s/o with it. he always laughed his ass off at them.

this would be the perfect opportunity!

so he sprinted to ochaco’s back room, hers being the closest, and asked for some makeup he would return quickly.

he went to his room, doing his best at imitating the red, purplish bruise you’d often give each other.

when he thought he did the best he could, he leaves his room, trying to find you so he could get the prank over with.

he sees you in the kitchen, eating a bowl of fruit, chatting with jiro.

he makes his way over slowly, nervousness creeping up his spine with the amount of people in the common area at the moment.

he didn’t want to embarrass you, but he didn’t want to give any of the boys 50 dollars either.

he stood behind you, awkwardly waiting for you to finish talking to jiro.

jiro looks past you, motioning for you to check. you turn, eyes brightening as they land upon your boyfriend.

“hey kiri, what some fruit?” you push the bowl towards him, and he shakes his head with a dopey smile. “no thanks babe. just checking on you.”

you melt at his kind words, about to respond when jiro speaks up beside to. “i think you should be checking on yourself kiri. jeez y/n, are you human or a leech?” she covers her moth to stifle a laugh, pointing to a very specific spot on kiri’s neck.

you halfheartedly laugh, confused, and glanced at the area yourself.

you breath stops when you notice a big purple mark covering the side of his neck.

you didn’t do that to him...

kirishima stands uncomfortably still, not real really knowing what to do this far into the prank.

“kirishima? wha...” you can’t even speak, just utterly astonished at what you’re seeing.

you stare at him and shake your hands, waiting for him to explain himself.

“are you going to say something!?” you ask, the hurt in your voice making his heart break.

he didn’t like this. not at all. why did he do this?

“...fuck you kiri.” you spit, ignoring the fact that you still used his nickname while you were mad at him.

you walked away in a hurry, leaving jiro glaring at kirishima.

“what did you do?” she asked.

“i-it was a joke! a prank! i...it’s april fools!”

“well go tell them that!” jiro says, pushing kiri to go follow you.

kirishima runs after you, getting to you as soon as you enter the elevator to go to your dorm. he sprints inside, crashing into you in the process.

he looks at you with wide eyes when he sees tears running down your face. “why are you here?” you quickly yell.

“y/n it’s a prank! it’s april fools day, please baby! i’m sorry!” he goes to hug you. you don’t return it but you don’t push him away either.

“what the heck eijiro! that wasn’t funny!” you yell in distress. you were happy it wasn’t real, but the feeling from being absolutely heart broken to feeling better in the span of seconds was overwhelming.

“i know. i know it was stupid of me to even attempt this. i made a stupid bet with the others. i am so sorry. you know i’d never do this to you. please, forgive me.” he begs, holding onto you for dear life.

“i’m really upset with you right now, eijiro.”

“you should be. i don’t blame you y/n. but please, don’t leave me.”

you sighed, finally going to hug him back. “i’m not going to leave you kiri. i was scared you were leaving me!”

“i’d never! never in a million years!”

“i know, just don’t do that again. you really scared me.”

he nods against you. “never again.”

shinsou 🌀

shinsou was never good at expressing his emotions.

he was very reserved and even though you were his s/o, you often had trouble figuring out what was going on inside that complicated head of his

so when you laughed at izuku’s jokes, or praised shoto’s quirk

of course he wouldn’t tell you how jealous it made him feel. how it made all his insecurities rise up.

you didn’t mean to make him feel this way, god no. you had known the two boys longer than him and were used to having the comfortable playful conversations with izuku and serious quirk related talks with shoto.

but shinsou didn’t like all the attention you gave them.

and he couldn’t find a way to let you know how he felt that didn’t involve telling you. which he wasn’t going to do.

so he ended up doing the next best thing that came to mind.

make you feel what he was feeling.

he gets some makeup from someone he had already forgotten the name of and went to his dorm, doing his best to make the fake hickey at least a little believable.

he didn’t want the prank to be too serious, just to hit you with a quick realization that you had been making him feel this way.

so he waits for you to meet him in his dorm like you always do, and even leaves the makeup out in the open to see if you’d catch on yourself.

“hellooo my love.” you say cheerfully, and shinso smiled at your happy mood.

“hi y/n. had a good day?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his bed as you approached him, standing between his legs.

“mhm. but i missed you.” you muttered, pushing his face against your stomach as you hugged his head.

hitoshi frowned at your words. maybe this wasn’t a good idea. maybe he’s been overthinking and this stupid prank will just make things worse.

“so, what did you do today-”

you pull back from hitoshi and catch a glimpse of a bruise on his neck. you grip his chin, turning it to the side with slight force and narrow your eyes.

“what happened here?” you asked curiously

“nothing babe.” your boyfriend shrugs

“hitoshi is this a fucking hickey?” you asked after getting a better look, hoping to whatever god there was that his answer would be no.

“what does it look like?”

“don’t talk to me like that, you prick.” you seeth, and push his head away until he falls on his back on the bed.

“we’re over! i hate you.” you say the last part quietly, still not wanting to believe what you saw was real.

“wait y/n, it’s fake!” hitoshi yells before you could leave his dorm.

“how is it fake hitoshi? what, you had no real feelings for the bitch that sucked on your neck? do you think i’m stupid or something?”

“the hickey is fake y/n. i made it.”

you stared at him with deceiving eyes, crossing your arms and tapping your foot. “is this some type of mind joke hitoshi? i told you don’t use that shit on me.”

“please babe, c’mere. wipe it off.”

you slowly made you way back to him, gripping his chin to turn his head again and swiped at the mark. it smeared a little, but didn’t come off. you licked your thumb before rubbing it into the mark, finally making it disappear.

you pushed him back slightly, eyes still angry. “what was that all about? why’d you do that?” you ask.

“just thought it’d be funny.” he lies, looking away from you. you knew he was lying. he always looked directly at you when talking about something. especially something serious.

“do not make me even angrier than i already am shinso. fess up.”

hitoshi groaned, putting his hands over his face before looking at you with tired eyes. “fine, i got jealous of you hanging out and being friendly with midoriya and todoroki. i just wanted to get you back in a way.”

“so you pretend to cheat on me?”

“i’m sorry. it was really immature of me and i should’ve just talked to you. the makeup is right over there if you still need proof.” he points to his desk and glance at it, seeing the makeup sprawled on top.

you sighed, not wanting to forgive him so easily. but you couldn’t help it with the way he rubbed the back of your legs soothingly and looked at you with love filled eyes.

“ugh, you’re lucky i love you.” you state, trying to stop the smile growing on your face as you see him smirk softly.

“and i love you. more than anything. thank you for forgiving me.”

“and...i’ll try not to make you jealous. i really didn’t mean to.” you say, remembering the reason for the whole situation.

hitoshi shook his head. “you can hang out and be friends with whoever you want. i know you wouldn’t leave me or be unfaithful. and i’d never be unfaithful to you. i’m so thankful for you.”

.....

“stop getting all mushy on me.”

i always see hcs where the boys get pranked, i thought it’d be cool to do the reverse. i can still do y/n pranking the boys if you guys would like that! hope you enjoyed this! leave a request here! -> 🥀

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bored-storyteller · 3 years

Note

Hey! I really like how you write about Sally Face, I love how you highlight his kindness but also his strength. It struck me a lot how he wonders if anyone will ever love him, I guess it's hard for him to believe in someone's love for him, from a romantic point of view. I thought ... could you write something about a reader in love with him, who gets rejected for that reason but still loves him until Sal dies? You don't have to do it (also because you prefer angst / comfort right?), But I try to ask you ... I'd like to see it written by you. It will hurt but it will be worth it.

Dear Anon,

I hope you like this because I suffered the pain of hell writing this :3

But jokes aside, I hope it does justice to your expectations, I hope I have treated everything with the right delicacy.

Warning: ANGST and SPOILER (I say this for safety)

The story is set in the canonical plot, even if there may be slight differences (after all there is always one more character, you). But for those who haven't played Sally Face this could be revealing.

77- Sally Face, Sal Fisher x reader (Angst)

“The sunflower that cannot bloom “

"I love you."

Those words had slipped off your lips with one of the most beautiful smiles Sal had ever seen.

You weren't perfect, but you were tailor-made for him. Somehow, he had thought that from the first day he met you, by mistake, on a black day. You had offered him a sunflower, a huge yellow flower that shone like the sun in the midst of his misfortunes, and his black day had grown better.

This was you, what he needed when the weight was too much to carry, when he found himself snorting one too many times, when he felt like crying.

Still, even though you were tailor-made for him, he wasn't tailor-made for you.

He would have liked to believe you, with all his heart, he would have asked for nothing more than to be loved by you.

But he couldn't believe it.

"No, you don't ..." His voice was gentle, as if he were explaining something important to a little child.

Your brows had furrowed as you pointed your gaze into the depths of his soul.

"You do not believe me?" Your tone wandered between uncertainty and offense "Do you think I'm lying to you?"

A sigh rang through the empty hollows of his mask: “No, you're not lying to me. I just think you… don't really know what you're saying. "

Your expression deepened as you prepared to argue back. He had seen the wound open inside you and he had looked away; he couldn't watch you while he hurt you.

Oh, he was so good at making himself loved. The river of emotions that had overwhelmed you had died out as soon as his one living eye was separated from you.

Disappointment, anger, sadness had disappeared in favor of affection for him.

His mask was flat, helpless, cold towards his heart, yet he communicated more than anyone else with that immense little soul of him.

"Sal ..." finally you called him gently, reassuring, while your fingers lovingly brushed the cheek of the cold prosthesis.

"I love you." You repeated it, and he turned to tell you to stop. He couldn't be loved, he didn't feel capable of being loved.

He would never have a love like that of movies, or even like that of normal people, like Maple and Chug. He, as he was, could never have been loved, not even by you.

He was going to tell you, to tell you everything, but you stopped him softly: "but it's okay if you don't want to."

You barely laughed, as if everything was really okay with you, and you leaned on his shoulder, cuddling against his neck.

"I have my whole life to make you understand." You said cheerfully, and he just looked at you, accepting that little stubbornness of yours.

Even though he was aware that one day he would see you happy in the arms of someone you really would love, for the time being it was okay for him to bask in that little illusion you were giving him.

---

Life had been cruel.

"I had no choice."

Those words had pierced your brain.

The first time he had told you with a force that you almost confused with anger. His body had never been so rigid in front of you, motionless, sitting on the other side of the table in the visiting room of the prison, surrounded by other inmates like him.

You wondered if you were sane, because you looked into the eyes of a murderer, a killer who had exterminated families, who had even killed a little girl, yet your tears were for them, but also for him.

Whatever it was, Sal hadn't changed, and behind his mask he was more broken into pieces than you were. He hadn't had a choice, for some reason he hadn't had a choice.

It was weird and unreal, but you had no doubts about him, even though your mind still couldn't believe what happened, and Sal probably didn't really realize it either.

However, the second time he told you "I had no choice" his voice was different. He was different, and so were you. You had grown up, but both of you had stood still in what had happened. At that moment he was telling you so that you believed him, so that you knew it was not what he wanted, because if he could have chosen at that moment you would have been together in front of a pizza, telling you how boring the day had been.

"I beg you ..." You whispered so as not to let him hear how broken your voice was "... tell me what I have to do to save you."

It was the first time you used that word, out of pure desperation.

For a moment he hesitated and hoped you wouldn't see his uncertainty behind the mask. Finally, Sal shook his head in silence; he didn't know if it would do any good, but at least he would try to protect you.

Your hand was holding his for the first time in years, and you both knew it would be the last time you would hold it. You had done everything to be able to have that last contact, to still be able to hold him before they took him away from you forever.

You didn't want to cry, you wouldn't have done it on your last time together, but your heart was so heavy that you thought you would die as soon as you separated.

While you massaged the back of his hand with your thumb, you tried to record every detail in your mind that belonged to him, to burn the heat of his palm against yours, to remember the exact weight of his touch.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, you never stopped doing it, not a second you stopped giving him your best side, and you would have given it only to him also in the future.

"You are so important to me, Sal ..." your blue sky under which sunflowers bloom.

"Thank you ... for always being with me."

Part of you died when you let go of his hand that day.

---

Until the last you hoped that something would happen. A ghost that suddenly appears, an angel, a new discovery ... anything, as long as he was kept away from that electric chair.

When your phone rang, you were deluded for a moment.

"Hey…"

"Sal?"

"They ... allowed me to call whoever I wanted ..."

Your heart fell on hearing his voice. It was his last day, his last day in your own world, that was his farewell to you.

"Sal, I-" Your words broke into a sob you couldn't hold back "I'm with you, I'll always be with you."

Silence invaded the line between the two of you as you tried not to give him your tears as your last caress.

"I know it." He was holding back the crying, you could hear it "And I'll always be with you too, know that."

You were tailor-made for him, and his heart would remain for you, even if you moved on, you would love someone worthy sooner or later, or at least he hoped you would, that the demon would not devour your future. .

"Bring me some sunflowers if you can ... ok?" That request trembled "They always make me think of you."

You forced yourself to cover your mouth with your palm to stifle your agony: "I'll fill you with sunflowers."

Something told you that even if you couldn't see him, he was trying to smile: "It's a bit a cliché but ... be happy."

You would have preferred to have died in that very moment.

"Sal, wait!" You begged for him now, holding on to the phone like it was him, like you could hold him there.

He hesitated at the desperation of your voice.

"I can't ..." his voice was soft, light, like when he consoled you years ago, when all this seemed simply impossible.

“I beg you…” You didn't know who you were really praying for, but you weren't ready to hear his voice go out.

One more minute, one more touch, a hug.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry you had to put up with this." A sob from him too. “Please… fight for your happiness, okay? You deserve all the happiness in the world. "

"Sal ..."

The answer that followed was the only intermittent sound of the blank phone line.

It's over, you'll never be able to hear Sal's voice again. You won't be able to talk to him anymore.

And he never believed you loved him.

---

How could you ever be happy?

His mask still looks at you as it always did, but behind the empty gaze there are nothing but blades of grass growing above his burial.

How could they bury him without his mask? He will feel uncomfortable.

Now you don't have to be strong for him anymore, you can collapse, break, destroy yourself, scream like you've never screamed, ask him to come back, because you need him.

Your fingers caress the cold, hard cheeks of his prosthesis as they always did, as if he were still behind it. Next to it, the sunflower he asked you for, like the one you gave him the first time you saw him.

"I love you Sally face ..." your words now go to the wind, they cannot be refused.

"I really love you."

---

Where you don't know, where you are not, a guy who has the weight of the world on his shoulders thinks about how much he could never be loved as people love each other in movies, or how people love each other in the world. But suddenly, like a ray of light, in the darkness he is facing, the yellow of a sunflower blooms. It's just a thought, but for a moment it's warm, and sweet, and it carries your voice with it.

You exist only within him, but you give him the love he needs, the one he didn't believe in, but which instead exists.

It is a tormented love, which suffers, but still welcomes him and wraps him as your arms did.

You are not there, you are far away, unreachable.

But he feels it, you're still there with him

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher #sally face sal #angst #death of a character #spoiler alert #gaming #horror

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I fear I will be ripped open and found unsightly

Summary: After Spencer fails his firearm recertification, the FBI believes some hand-to-hand combat and self-defence training is in order, and who better to administer it than the BAU's very own, Derek Morgan? Everything goes swimmingly until Derek decides to simulate an attack from above, and Spencer's thrust into the throes of a horrific flashback.

Tags: hurt/comfort, past abuse, platonic cuddling, angst with a happy ending, friendship or pre-slash, crying, panic attacks, flashbacks, episode: s01e06 LDSK, protectiveness TW: !!Discussions of Underage Rape/Non-Con including Molestation and Incestuous Sexual Abuse!!

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid (Platonic or Pre-Slash)

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

It’s a dreary day in late October when he fails his recertification test. Later, he’ll look back on this moment with a strange mixture of thankfulness and stone-cold dread, but in the moment all he can feel is the burning of his cheeks and the festering humiliation sat heavy in his chest.

Hotch is kind about it, because Hotch is kind about everything.

“Do you know what happened, Reid?” he asks with a complete absence of judgement, and it’s clear from everything about his body language and tone that he isn’t angry and he isn’t being critical, but Spencer feels his defences rising regardless.

He shakes his head and shrinks back in his seat, avoiding Hotch’s eyes.

“Did anyone do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?”

His eyes snap up to meet Hotch’s and he shifts to sit a bit more upright as he shakes his head with more vehemence this time. Sure, he didn’t particularly like the evaluator, but only because he seemed unimpressed with Spencer from the moment he laid eyes on him, acting as though evaluating someone who was doomed to fail was a waste of time.

Spencer can’t exactly blame him.

Hotch sighs. “Listen, Spencer,” he says gently, “I know you can handle yourself in the field and I know you can handle a gun just fine, but you know how many requirements were overlooked for you to join the unit in the first place, and you also know that your position in the BAU has been controversial with a few of the higher-ups. So, here’s the plan. I’m going to be your evaluator for your next recertification in two weeks, and in the meantime, I want you to do some hand-to-hand training with Derek to improve and consolidate your field and self-defence skills.”

Realistically, he knows that this is the best he could’ve hoped for, and he knows how hard Hotch and Gideon fight his corner when he’s questioned by everyone from witnesses to local PDs to the director of the bureau himself.

That does not mean he has to be happy about this.

He acquiesces because he has to. “Okay,” he says quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound as defeated as he feels.

“Reid,” Hotch says, redirecting his attention from the spot on the carpet he’s staring at. He waits for Spencer to look at him before smiling slightly and looking at him with a raw kind of earnest he knows is privileged to witness. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

It’s Spencer’s turn to smile, brightening up from his miserable disposition slightly. “I do.”

⭑⭑⭑

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says cheerfully, slamming his locker closed just as Spencer enters the FBI gym. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

Spencer sighs, opening the locker next to Derek’s and putting his messenger bag inside before opening the grocery bag he’d brought his gym clothes in. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says drily as he pulls out his clothes and heads towards one of the two private changing cubicles.

He hears Derek chuckle to himself before he calls back to him as he opens the door to the gym. “I’m gonna set up, you come through when you’re ready.”

Spencer procrastinates for as long as he can, making sure his shoes are tied perfectly and the bows are even sizes, folding all his work clothes as neatly as possible and placing them carefully back into the grocery bag, but before long, there’s nothing more he can do and he has to face the music. He inhales deeply, steeling himself for the next hour, before putting his bag in his locker (closing it with much less force than Derek did earlier) and walking into the gym.

It’s a fairly big hall that’s usually used for academy recruits, large scale demonstrations, and the various sports teams that have cropped up in different divisions of the FBI. Spencer knows that Derek currently plays basketball for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime team, the department that the BAU is part of.

Right now, though, Derek has them set up in a tucked-away corner, both hard and soft mats laid out on the ground surrounded by various equipment Spencer couldn’t hope to identify correctly.

“You took your time,” Derek says when Spencer approaches him, eyebrows raised and an obvious note of amusement in his voice. “But now you’re here, let’s get started.”

They begin with a short conditioning exercise that Derek says is supposed to ‘get the blood pumping’ but in actuality has Spencer panting like a dog and soaked with sweat within minutes. Maybe those higher-ups have something of a point. He knew he was unfit, but this is just embarrassing.

“Okay, now with the warm-up out of the way—”

“That was a warm-up?”

Derek doubles over with his laughter and Spencer can’t help but join in, despite how out of breath and red in the face he might be.

“It’s supposed to be, Spence, but maybe I over-estimated things a little,” he concedes once their giggles have died out. “Alright, alright, let’s move on to some basic self-defence moves. I know you probably already know most of these, but this is supposed to be a refresher, yeah? And to remind you that you can hold your own in the field, whether you pass your recertification or not.”

Spencer winces. “I don’t know, Derek, I mean I did fail every single physical aspect of the academy examination.”

“See, that’s what I mean, pretty boy,” Derek says, standing up from the mat and helping Spencer up, too. “You’re in your own head, and when you’re out in the field, you have enough enemies without making your own mind one as well. You know this stuff, Spence, I’m just here to remind you of that.”

“Alright,” he nods, holding in his sigh. He doesn’t mean to be negative, he just can’t help the way he’s feeling. The last week has been rough.

“Okay, so let’s go through front-facing attacks first,” Derek says. “What’s the first move you can do to protect yourself in that situation?”

“Elbow shield,” Spencer replies, holding out his arm and blocking Derek from coming any closer with his forearm acting as a barrier that Derek presses his chest against.

“Exactly, and what can you do to inflict damage in that position?”

Spencer responds by sliding his forearm up to Derek’s neck and applying light pressure, not wanting to actually hurt him.

“You got it. Okay, now what if I manage to grab you and pull you closer, what’s your move?”

He keeps his forearm locked to keep Derek from advancing too close, but this time he grabs his bicep with both hands and uses his core to bring him closer before he raises his shin and mimes kicking him in the groin.

“See, you know this stuff,” Derek says brightly. “The only note I have is to just remember to keep your thumbs in line with the rest of your fingers, not wrapping under my arm.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. The thumb is easily broken, although the most common injury associated with a broken thumb is actually damage to the larger bone of your hand, the metacarpal.”

Derek chuckles. “Exactly.”

Funnily enough, Spencer actually finds himself having fun as they walk through some other basic defensive movements as well as the best way to use tactical punches to overpower or debilitate an unsub or attacker. They frequently burst into peals of laughter, as can be expected when two close individuals find themselves having to do semi-serious work together, and before he knows it, forty-five minutes have flown by.

“Okay, I want to end with some more up close and personal attacks and the best way to stave them off, alright?” Derek says as he puts away the boxing gloves and pads.

Immediately, Spencer feels a small glimmer of nerves and anticipation for how this might make him feel, but he brushes it off. He knows he’s safe with Derek, and the whole point of the exercise is to defend himself. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Let’s start with an attacker coming at you from behind,” Derek decides, coming up behind him. “I’m going to cover your mouth, and you’re going to use your skills and knowledge to remove me, alright?”

Spencer nods, hoping Derek doesn’t read the hesitancy in it, and he supposes that he doesn’t because soon enough a large palm is tightly covering the lower half of his face.

For a brief moment, he isn’t a twenty-five-year-old agent training with one of his closest friends in the gym in the basement of the FBI Headquarters, but a scared and lonely ten-year-old in his childhood bedroom, trying to fight the persistent, evil man on top of him, wondering why his dad would do this to him—

He snaps himself out of it by opening his eyes and forcing himself to take in the surroundings, and before long instinct takes over and he’s gripping at Derek’s wrist and using his core and bodyweight to bend forward and free himself from the restrictive hold.

“Good job, Reid!” Derek says encouragingly, and there’s no evidence on his face when he turns around that he noticed any sort of hesitation or deliberation, so he suspects that his flashback really was only for a second, no matter how everlasting and all-consuming it felt in the moment.

He manages a shaky smile, and invites his next method of torture. “What’s next?”

“Okay, what if I was to grab your t-shirt and immediately start punching you?” Derek asks, immediately miming doing exactly like that.

Fighting the instinct to go into protective mode, he instead turns around elbow first and uses his other hand to mime punching Derek while his knee goes up to attack his groin.

“Perfect! That’s the spirit, kid. No unsub’s ever gonna get the best of you.”

Spencer blushes a little at the praise, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to meet his eye, but inside he’s beyond pleased, both with the encouragement from Derek and his own self-confidence he can feel flooding back. Maybe he really does have a handle on the more physical side of things. Maybe he isn’t just good for his brain.

“Alright, let’s finish off with some on the ground stuff, okay?” Derek says, sitting down on the mat and inviting Spencer to join him with a pat on the space beside him.

He hesitates a little, and this time Derek notices, his face softening.

“Listen, I know this one is a bit more uncomfortable than the others, but we’re almost done, right? Let’s just get a few moves consolidated and then you can go and have a shower and head home to relax.”

Spencer nods finally and joins him, laying on his back as Derek instructs. The vulnerability of the position has him feeling deeply uncomfortable, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s safe with Derek, but he forces himself to lie still. If nothing else, he doesn’t want to reveal this very personal and private detail of his childhood to his best friend. He just needs to keep reminding himself that he’s safe.

“Right, let’s practice the pinned wrist escape, okay?”

Before he knows what’s happening, before he can process the words and prepare him for what’s about to happen, Derek’s straddling him and resting his full weight over his hips and his wrists are wrapped in a tight grip, pinned to the mat above his head.

It’s so sudden and the sensations so overwhelming that he can’t help the immediate fear response that’s triggered, because he’s not in the FBI gym with Derek anymore, he’s somewhere else entirely.

“No, please,” he begs, voice strangled by a sudden, all-consuming dry sob that heaves his chest, “please don’t, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, please, dad, don’t—”

His sobs suddenly overtake his words and he’s left crying pathetically on the floor, too trapped in the memory to notice that the pressure’s been removed from his hips and he’s free to move his arms, too consumed by the physical and emotional anguish that came with the abuse to hear Derek’s desperate, heart-broken pleas from beside him, begging him to come back to himself.

“Spencer!”

A voice finally manages to break through the fog of panic, and he slowly regains consciousness, the white hot glaze of fear and crippling memory fading incrementally until he can see the high beams of the gym ceiling, until he can hear Derek’s gentle, soothing words beside him.

“It’s alright, pretty boy, I’m here, you’re safe,” Derek tells him gently, although Spencer can hear the urgency in his voice, even in his scared and overwhelmed state.

He covers his face with his hands as his desperate, heaving sobs transform into wet, humiliated cries.

“Hey, hey, Spence,” Derek murmurs beside him, “is it alright if I touch you?”

He considers shaking his head, but really, he wants some comfort right now, no matter how much he’ll hate himself for embarrassing himself further later. He’s glad he does though because Derek very carefully and very slowly lifts him up until he’s wrapped up in a comforting hug, his face buried in a strong chest. He’s not sure he’s ever felt safer than in this exact moment.

“You’re alright, pretty boy, I got you.”

Spencer continues to cry, the overwhelm of having a flashback that intense still wracking his body, but eventually, he starts to calm down, the tension slowly bleeding from his muscles as he collapses, boneless against Derek’s body.

“Here, why don’t you have this granola bar and some water,” Derek suggests gently when his tears have dried up, reaching over to the edge of the mat where he was clearly hiding some post-exercise rewards.

Spencer accepts them tiredly, not moving from his position slumped against Derek’s chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asks him once he’s sipped his way through half the bottle and the granola bar is gone.

As much as he’d like to get things off his chest, as much as he trusts Derek, he just— can’t. So he shakes his head and pulls himself into a sitting upright position, although he still doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes.

“Okay,” Derek says softly. “I’m gonna drive you home. Come on.”

Spencer numbly walks through the locker room and the halls of the FBI with Derek guiding him until they reach his car, and the motion of climbing in brings a little bit more awareness back to him.

“Thanks,” he whispers as Derek starts the engine and drives them out of the parking garage.

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy. No thanks needed.”

They don’t speak on the journey home, and Spencer contents himself with looking out the window at the passing scenery until they enter the city and trees transform into tower blocks. His mind drifts, but he’s just grateful that it doesn’t keep circling back to the flashback, having somewhat successfully resealed those memories like he always does, pushing them down and smothering them with as much good as he can collect in people and memories and things.

The silence between them prevails until Derek steps into his apartment behind him, closing the front door and helping Spencer out of his jacket before hanging his own coat up on a hook and steering Spencer towards the sofa. “You are going to sit here,” he orders, picking up one of Penelope’s hand-knitted blankets from its position neatly folded over the arm of the sofa, “while I get some tea and something to eat. Fancy anything in particular?”

Spencer remembers the satsumas and macaroons Penelope brought over the other day and tells Derek as such, following the other man with his eyes until he disappears into the kitchen and he’s left alone with his hazy thoughts for a couple of minutes.

They pass in a blur, though, and before he can blink, Derek is pressing a mug of warm chamomile tea into his hands and placing a small plate of a satsuma and a couple of macaroons on the coffee table.

The weight of Derek sitting down on the sofa next to him, and the grounding feeling of his palm wrapped around his ankle, has his hazy mind clearing until he’s in a much more present and aware headspace, enough so that Derek clearly notices it.

“You feeling a bit more like yourself?”

Spencer nods, and offers a small smile, trying to ignore the curls of humiliation and self-loathing working their way up his throat. Thoughts he hasn’t had in years are bursting at the seams Spencer had sewn tightly around them, brought up by physical memory alone, and he’s trying to hold them back, but somewhere in the back of his head, there’s his dad again, whispering dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, di—

“Hey, Spence,” he hears, and he snaps his head up, his dad’s voice shutting up and making room for Derek’s — Derek’s soft and gentle reassurances, his promises that he’s here and he’s safe and everything will be okay. “You got a bit lost in your head again there, kid. You alright?”

Spencer sighs tiredly, and a tear runs down his face unbidden. He’s not crying exactly, just— leaking. Leaking in the way a tap that hasn’t been turned on for years does when it finally experiences a much overdue release of pressure. Leaking in the way Spencer Reid does when he has a flashback to the sexual abuse he experienced as a child for the first time in two and a half years.

“Spencer,” Derek says, and something in his voice catches his attention, something serious, something earnest. He looks over at him. “Spencer, I know what you’re going through.”

His cheeks pale and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears because those words, that means— surely not, right? How could Derek— how could he—

“It happened to me, too.”

And there’s the confirmation. There are the five words that have him breaking down again, tears splashing into hot chamomile tea and onto cold, cold hands, sobs wracking his sore and tired shoulders. No one should have to go through what he did, no one. Especially not— God, especially not—

“Hey, Spencer, listen to me,” Derek says urgently scooting closer on the sofa until he can lift Spencer’s chin up with his hands and raise his head until their eyes are locked on one another and he can bear witness to the pain and the openness and the concern swimming in his dark brown irises. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re safe. Don’t cry, pretty boy, everything’s gonna be just fine, I promise.”

He pauses to give Spencer a little time to catch his breath, but after a couple of minutes he speaks up again. “Would you like me to tell you about it?”

Spencer knows it will break his heart to hear. He doesn’t want to listen to a story in which Derek Morgan was the victim and not the hero, not his hero, but part of him knows that he needs to hear it; needs to know that he wasn’t and isn’t alone. And he can’t help but wonder whether maybe Derek needs to say it. Whether he also needs to tell someone what happened and have them empathise completely, have them say “I understand, I know what you’re going through” and have them mean it.

So he nods.

“His name was Carl Buford,” Derek says, resting the hand not clutching Spencer’s ankle on his knee, “and he was my football coach. A hero of the community. After my dad died, I got in a little trouble on the streets, right, and as a result, I got a record. Eventually, that record was expunged, and I learned that Buford had done it. I was confused, obviously, but he told me I had potential, that I was special, that I was going places and he was gonna help me get there.

“And so we started spending more time together. At first, it was just one-on-one football training and some run of the mill mentoring, and I finally felt like I had a real father figure again, someone who I could look up to and talk to and trust. Until one day when he took me up to his cabin. He gave me Helgeson wine to intoxicate me, and then convinced me to go skinny-dipping in a lake with him but when we came back to the cabin, he started— he started rubbing up against me. It eventually spiralled into… molestation and rape. He used to say "You better man up, boy, look up to the sky" when I would cry out for him to stop, or later — when some shameful part of me had accepted it — when I would wince in pain or he could sense I didn’t want to be there.

“And that went on for years until I guess I outgrew his preference and he— I mean— I guess, I guess he must have moved on.”

Spencer wants to be sick, and he’s pretty sure Derek feels the same, so all he can do is lean forward and wrap Derek in the tightest hug he can manage while they cry together.

“Did you ever tell anyone?” Spencer asks after a little time has passed.

Derek nods. “When it started affecting my football career in college, I started seeing a therapist, and I’ve really gotten to a place now where I’ve come to terms with it. As much as I’m ever going to be able to anyway. Half of that therapy was me grieving for the childhood I lost, expressing the anger I felt towards Buford in a healthy way, and then accepting that there isn’t anything I can do to undo the pain except work my ass off at the BAU putting guys like him behind bars since I lost my chance with him.”

Spencer nods. “I’m sorry he isn’t in prison.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders a little, pulling out of the hug. “I keep tabs on him. If I ever so much as catch a whiff of him hurting one of the boys at the centre I’ll be on him in no time. Just… waiting for the evidence, I guess.”

Spencer takes the hand resting on top of his knee and squeezes it, a show of solidarity his tongue can’t manage.

They sit in silence for long, comfortable minutes before Spencer finally feels like sharing. He knows that Derek isn’t expecting anything: if he never wanted to explain, he knows Derek would understand completely, but something about knowing he’ll understand like no one else can, that he can share and feel safe in doing so has his own story rolling off his tongue like it never has before.

“It was my dad,” Spencer says quietly, a confession he’s always been too ashamed to make. “The first time it happened was the night of my sixth birthday. He said that the day was his own celebration, because he’d waited so long and he was finally going to get his prize. He raped me. It wasn’t like that every time, sometimes he’d stop at… touching or— or fellatio, sometimes he’d come into my room and stand over me, getting off on how scared I was anticipating the act that never came.

“He left when I was ten, not far away from my eleventh birthday, and a big part of me always wondered whether the main reason he left was that I wasn’t in his preferential age group anymore. But when I was thirteen, I bumped into him in a hotel in California of all places, and even though I was bigger and stronger and nowhere near as vulnerable, he still got the best of me, he still weaseled his way into my room and took advantage of me again. After that time I carried pepper spray everywhere I went until the FBI issued me a gun. I swore I’d never let it happen again.”

Derek looks desperately sad when he finally meets his eyes again, and before he knows it he’s being wrapped in another hug, and they’re both in pieces again. However painful these memories are, though, the release of them is more cathartic than anything Spencer’s ever experienced; crying together with another survivor over everything they lost, the people that stole their childhoods and abused them for years on end, their younger, scared selves, desperate for someone to save them.

It hurts Spencer’s heart, but he also doesn’t think he’s ever felt safer than right in this moment.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about this, Spence?” Derek asks eventually, with his cheek resting on the top of Spencer’s head.

“Yes,” he admits, another tear dripping onto the hands curled anxiously in his lap.

Derek pulls away and looks him in the eye, cupping his face gently and brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m proud of you.”

As broken and unseemly and ripped open and torn apart as he feels right now, as exposed as this entire ordeal has made him feel, for the first time, he thinks he agrees with Derek.

His trust was destroyed by the person supposed to protect him, and he’s carried the trauma of being sexually abused as a young child around with him for the last two decades, and still, he’s here. He’s brave enough to share himself with Derek, and he’s strong enough to cry and grieve and ache for the scared six-year-old boy he wishes he could go back in time and save.

Right now, in the early evening light of the flat and the safe and supportive arms of his best friend, he’s proud of himself, too. And that feels really damn good to finally say.

Please practice self-care after reading this, especially if you are also a survivor. RAINN Rape Crisis UK International Help for Survivors

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @enbyspencer @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @cmily @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (taglist form)

125 notes · View notes

ilyrafe · 3 years

Text

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, a brief panic attack, forced kiss.

word count: 3,2k

taglist: @runawayolives @kmuir1 @marytudorbrandon @lharrietg @shittingdicknipple @alexa-fangirl-forever @mis-lil-red @amberangel112 @ohmygoodie @itmejado @radaofrivia @scarlets-widow @ragamuffin285 @thereisa8ella @titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo

a/n: shit goes down from now on just saying..........

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

his guilt and conscience do not allow him to fall asleep and rest in his bed. if he wants to be civil and reciprocally, he needs to recognize when he is in the wrong and apologize. she didn’t do anything wrong, he shouldn’t have set such high expectations.

he puts on his robe and goes to the duchess’s chambers. strangely, he thinks it is a good thing that her room is far from his, just so he has time to think of the right words. it’s not the first time he’s been intimidated in her presence, and stuttering in front of her seems pathetic.

he takes a deep breath and knocks three times on the door. to his surprise, beatrice answers the door.

“your grace.” she bows to the duke.

as he steps into her room, he smells roses and cinnamon, a different combination of scents, but just as pleasant. he can’t help but look into the duchess’s main environment, which is lit by candles in certain places. there are books everywhere and flowers from the garden that he recognizes. her dressing table has few items, just a small jewelry box, a brush, and a few hairpins, but her desk has lots of papers and a small leather-bound notebook that looks like a diary. being the curious creature he is, he’s already starting to wonder if she writes about him.

“charles?” y/n’s voice calls out to him, and she looks a little confused as to why he’s in her room in his nightwear.

she runs to put on her robe, even though charles saw her more exposed than usual. sensing her presence is no longer needed, beatrice excuses herself and leaves the duke and the duchess alone. charles mentally thanks the young woman as she leaves, because privacy is what he wants the most right now.

“i owe you an apology.” he starts. “i admit i should not have been rude to you at dinner, i hope you will forgive me. it will not happen again.”

once again, she can hear the sincerity in his voice. perhaps the image she has of charles is twisted. what if she is wrong about him?

“i owe you an apology, too.” she admits.

“what for?”

“for the way i have been treating, or mistreating you these past months.”

seeing her in a position of vulnerability is nearly shocking. it’s not even that much exposure from her, but charles sees her as a tough person, and hearing her words comforts him, because just like her, he feels sincerity and honesty in her apology. more than anyone else, he knows how hard it is to admit when you are in the wrong.

“oh, do not worry. you have your reasons and i understand.”

“even so, i shouldn’t have been such a monster to you.”

“it is all in the past.”

a small smile appears on her lips. apparently a white flag indicating a truce had been raised. charles says goodbye and goes back to his room, no longer feeling the pain in his back as he is always tense in the presence of y/n. his shoulders are relaxed as is his posture. with a smile on his face, charles goes back to his bed and for the first time since he got married, he sleeps peacefully.

(...)

a few weeks have passed, the eighteenth birthday of king henry’s new wife, katherine howard, approaches. the friendship between y/n and charles just blossoms, which makes the duke happier. conversations over dinner gradually linger, and making her laugh is almost a duty he gives to himself. it’s the most pleasant sound, and he finds it adorable when she covers her mouth when she laughs a little louder than usual.

they have a quite a lot in common. contrary to what she assumed, charles is far from arrogant. in fact, he doesn’t seem so fond of so many formalities. the way he talks about his parents, who are sadly deceased, is a little disheartening. he seems to need approval from others constantly, something she can relate to.

little by little, y/n manages to humanize in her own head the man behind the broad, strong body that charles has. there’s a sweetness in his blue eyes that she has been allowing herself to notice.

it’s difficult to get more information about her, though. y/n is very reserved and still prefers to spend most of her time by herself, which bothers him a little, and he still notices a little sadness in her eyes. he’s almost positive that something still disturbs her and he tries to make her feel comfortable enough to open up, but all of his attempts have failed.

give time to time, he keeps reminding himself.

(...)

the birthday party is grand, something the court and guests await. king henry always goes out of his way to show off to his subjects. the royal castle is a dream of gold, the most expensive flowers are everywhere, only the best food is being served, and the guests wear their most sophisticated attire. the king is ecstatic over his sixth wife, he will never spare any effort to make her happy.

the carriages keep arriving and more and more people enter the king’s castle. in one of them is charles and y/n, and both are as well dressed as the others in the royal court. y/n’s dress is stunning, and it’s completely different from the ones she’s ever worn in public. its rich emerald tone compliments her entirely, and the pearls in her hair soften her youthful appearance. charles is as well groomed as she is, but he opted for a monochromatic black attire, which makes him look even more imposing. regardless, they look complementary to each other.

“do not be surprised if male attention is focused on you.” he comments with a subtle laugh.

her puzzled expression cheers him a bit. he knows what is said about him and his wife, both the nasty comments and the most lustful ones.

he helps her down from the carriage and, with arms entwined, they enter the royal castle. as they are announced, all eyes turn to the couple. the king, upon seeing his longtime friend, goes to meet him with a proud smile on his face. the duchess’s distaste for the king is clear, but she knows how to hide it, for the sake of etiquette. after greeting each other briefly, charles and y/n follow to the main table, where the king is reunited with his wife.

“oh, you must be y/n!” the queen cheerfully says, properly ditching said etiquette. “your dress is marvelous!”

“thank you, your majesty.” y/n smiles.

the bubbly nature of the queen is pleasant; even charles thinks she’s quite funny with her antics. the age gap between her and the king is quite alarming, but she seems to be what holds him down a bit.

the music is loud, and the guests are all over the ballroom, either dancing or talking. for some reason, y/n feels unquiet. maybe it’s the heat, the loud noises or the constant glares she gets from other women. they don’t even try to hide when they’re obviously gossiping about her. she’s not entirely aware of her ‘fame’, but she knows she’s the subject of many conversations.

enthusiastically, the king taps his cup with silverware, drawing the attention of all the guests.

“first of all, i want to thank you all for coming to my beloved wife’s birthday, your majesty, the queen.” he says and hears applause for the sweet queen katherine. “happy birthday, my love. may the next few years of your life be as beautiful as you are.”

katherine blows her husband a kiss and he raises his wineglass to the guests. everyone raises their glasses and takes a sip, celebrating the queen’s life.

“i wonder how long this marriage is going to last…” charles comments under his breath, only y/n is able to hear, and she chuckles in response.

“i give it a year.”

they exchange a look, and when the music starts to play again, a few of the guests begin to dance in pairs.

“would you grant me a dance?” he asks.

as she looks around, she sees that her attention is focused on the king and queen. a dance won’t do any harm, she thinks.

“of course.”

he takes her to the center of the room by her hand, and soon they stand opposite each other to dance. if his memory serves him, he’s never been this close to her, and he takes this moment as an opportunity to really get a closer look, maybe he notices a new detail on her beautiful face? if he could, he’d spend hours memorizing every detail of y/n, because she’s so stunning, and with every observation she makes—of any subject—she becomes the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

y/n, however, is fighting all of her instincts. she doesn’t quite allow herself to look at charles. even though they are in a peaceful territory, he’s still the man who has been with her friends, he’s still the man who accepted her father’s offer to marry her in exchange for a mere position at the court. she’s certainly noticed his looks, and can’t deny that he isn’t as awful as she made herself to believe, and now she knows he’s an excellent dancer.

he guides her so masterfully and firmly, she feels safe, even though she isn’t very fond of dancing. regardless, he makes it feel pleasant. his eyes doesn’t leave hers for a second, but she looks around every now and then.

that’s when she sees a very familiar face, amidst all these people. one she would recognize anywhere, but the spin of the dance makes her lose sight of the person.

“is everything alright?” charles asks.

“yes…” she replies, toneless.

the dance continues, faster now. small heels mark the final part of the dance, and the noise of several shoes on the floor makes her uncomfortable. who is that person? the rhythm of the music picks up, people are talking loudly, the dance gets more energetic, and all she wants is to recognize that face. it can’t be.

she keeps searching for that face, but there are so many people in that ballroom, it’s pointless. the dance is making her feel a bit nauseous, she even contemplates leaving charles on the dance floor by himself, but when he bows down to her, she realizes the dance is finally over.

finally!

when they return to the main table, henry calls them to introduce them to the duchess of jämtland. even from afar, y/n can see how different the duchess is. pale complexion, light, straight and fine hair, bright blue eyes. she can’t help but compare herself to her. beside the duchess is her husband.

james.

the face she had seen. it’s him.

“charles and y/n, i would like to introduce you to my friends from sweden, your grace annika and her husband, james.” king henry says.

with each step she takes, y/n’s body freezes more and more, her heart beats faster and faster, and her breathing gets shorter and shorter. james is not at all shocked, more like afraid. only he knows the reason for the terror on y/n’s face at that moment, as much as she tries to hide it, he knows her better than anyone else in that room. she cannot move a single finger to greet the duchess and her husband.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” charles says to annika and kisses the back of her hand.

when he turns his attention to james, y/n feels like fainting. as if her two worlds are about to collide.

“this is my longtime friend, charles, the duke of suffolk and his wife, y/n, his duchess.” henry says.

“it is an honor to meet you, your grace.” james says, repeating the same gesture as charles, but now with the woman he once promised to love forever.

y/n is unable to move throughout the entire greeting process, and the situation only gets worse when she notices the annika’s subtle bump, which she doesn’t seem to hide that she is pregnant, as she takes her belly in with her hands.

“they are here to visit my kingdom and james is possibly going to war with us. sweden is our partner against france.” henry informs charles, completely unaware of the history between james and y/n.

“my apologies,” y/n speaks, trying to regain herself. “i’m not-”

“would your grace grant me a dance?” james interrupts.

he looks at charles with a silent request, and the duke looks at his wife.

“she doesn’t require my permission.” charles explains.

“ah, of course! a dance! charles, take annika to dance, james, you take y/n to dance. let’s all dance!” the king shouts, clearly a little inebriated.

everyone gathers in the center of the room and starts dancing. y/n’s hands are shaky and a bit sweaty, and james tries to soothe her with his gaze. he tries to apologize, but knows she will never forgive him. after everything that happened between them… it’s almost impossible to believe it.

“i can explain.” he mumbles.

“don’t.” she simply says.

her odd behavior hasn’t gone unnoticed, though. charles has never seen her so pale before, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. he glances at them, and he knows she’s on the verge of tears. he isn’t dumb — it takes charles less than a few minutes to realize that james is the man y/n claimed to love, months ago. the way they’re looking at each other is more than enough proof.

“y/n, please.”

“she is with child.” y/n’s voice trembles with her own affirmation.

james is heartbroken, more than he was when they saw each other for the last time, over a year ago.

“we can still be together.”

his speech outrages her, and she is forced to withdraw. she runs as fast as she can to the large and vast garden of the castle, and hopes that no one will find her, but charles and james have gone after her, and a small commotion is caused in the hall, which is quickly contained. the poor swedish duchess is left confused.

she feels that the walls are getting tighter and tighter, or maybe it’s the dress that is too tight on her body that doesn’t let her breathe.

breathe.

breathe, y/n.

only when she manages to get out of the castle and into the huge garden is it possible to hear the silence and breathe fresh air, no matter how cold it is. it’s behind a big tree that she finally stops running. her chest is tight, beating faster than ever. it’s all so disappointing and confusing, she just wants it to be over.

she thought she had experienced pain before, but now it’s different. a mixture of hatred and disappointment washes over her like a wave, and she reduces herself to tears. the more she thinks about it, more tears roll down her face and her heart feels tighter.

she hears footsteps approaching, and to her surprise, james finds her. he looks just as haunted as she is, and he’s panting from running so fast to find her.

“my love-”

“no!” she protests. “you betrayed me, james! how could you?!”

“y/n, please…”

“how dare you?!” she inquires through her teeth, not even able to hide her anger. “how dare you come to me with a wife? with a pregnant wife?!”

“you must listen to me, y/n.” he says as he grabs her by her shoulders and forcing her to look at his eyes. “i could not get to you if i did not marry someone... important. i did this for you, my love.”

he pulls her against him and kisses her forcefully, but y/n manages to punch him in the chest and break free of his embrace. she pushes him away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand harshly.

“don’t you dare touch me.” she barks through gritted teeth, her voice is full of rage. “you went to bed with her for me? how fucking stupid do you think i am, james? don’t you know me at all?!”

unbeknownst to them, charles is near, watching the fight, prepared to attack him if need be, but from what he sees, y/n is able to fend for herself. there’s no doubt he is the man she told him about, and charles can’t deny his jealousy, not even to himself. he’s never seen y/n so heartbroken before, and all of his instincts are telling him to intervene.

“i still love you!” james claims desperately.

“i suggest you leave her alone.” charles says with the calmest tone to his voice.

y/n is only able to breathe when she sees the duke, because he brings her a sensation of security. she’s even able to breathe a little better.

“who do you think you are to talk to me with this tone?” james challenges. “i couldn’t care less if you are her husband, your grace,” he says with a mocking tone. “we all know this is an arrangement. she loves me.”

“i am trying to be peaceful for her sake, but if you insist on testing me, i’ll lose my composure and end you.” the duke threatens, and his tone is as cold as winter nights.

both men are now face to face, close to each other, and the possibility of the fight becoming physical makes her desperate, as the last thing she wants is a scandal.

“both of you, stop! now!” she exclaims as she pushes the two tall, strong men apart. she knows james, and he can certainly be scary. he’s a tall, built man with fighting skills, but it seems that charles is his elevated match. “i will not tolerate a scene.”

“he started it!” james barks.

“stop it!” y/n protests. she regains a bit of control over herself and wipes her tears with the back of her hands. “leave,” she pleads. “we have nothing else to talk about.”

“y/n-”

“james, please! i do not want to see you ever again.”

outraged, james does as she says and leaves, but not before pushing charles with his shoulder on his way out.

“did he hurt you?” charles asks as he cups her face in his hands. the scary look is no longer on his face, as he is now concerned. her teary eyes break him completely. she looks so broken and hopeless.

yes. deeply.

“please, i must go home.” she begs and sniffles, never before having felt so small. “please, i am begging you.”

“yes, absolutely.”

charles takes her in his arms and soothes her before they leave. for the first time, they’re in each other’s arms, and both of them feel complete somehow. in this very moment, charles represents the security she needs, and she is the equivalent of what is missing in his life. the comfort she finds in his embrace is something she didn’t even know could be real. not even in james’ arms she felt such care.

did james care for her at all?

the most heartbreaking thing is that she can feel her love for james turning into absolute hatred and it is terrifying.

“i am here for you, y/n.” charles whispers before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

---

feedback is always appreciated!

#my writings #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #the tudors #charles brandon #charles brandon x you #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon fanfic

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sugarmint-farm · 3 years

Text

Summertime crushes (pt 1)

Sebastian sighed, wiping his forehead with a rag and unknowingly leaving a grease stain behind. The oppressive heat was horrid, but it meant that Demetrius wouldn’t be leaving the house today. That meant it was the perfect opportunity to work on his motorcycle without disruptions or nagging. Sam and Abigail had come over too, and were playing music in the shade.

He rolled out from under the bike and sat up, stretching out and groaning in relief. “Toss me a beer?”

Sam grinned and pulled one out of the cooler, throwing it over. “How are things under there?”

He knocked off the cap with his wrench and took a sip. “Good. The chain needs cleaning, and I’ll need some new brakes soon.”

Abigail perked up. “Going into the city soon, then?”

“Probably.” He shrugged. “Why, you want to come?”

“Yeah! Bee has been talking about a concert she wants to take me to next friday, would you bring me?” She pouted towards him, puppy eyes glistening.

He laughed a little. “Those haven't worked in years. But sure.”

She pumped a fist. “Hell yeah! Thanks, Seb!”

He grinned and took another sip of beer, the cool drink providing a small bit of relief.

“Oh, speaking of concerts, I found this great band I’ll show you at practice, I think they’re really awesome.” Sam spoke up, grinning. “They’re Zuzu based, so maybe we can even catch a show one time.”

“I’m the only one with a car. Of any sort. And it’s a two person cycle.” Sebastian deadpanned.

“Do y’all need a car?” Sebastian perks up almost imperceptibly at the farmer’s voice. Sam grins and waves them over, beaming. Abigail grins too.

“Ayy, (Y/n)!” Sam called out. “What’s up?”

You plop down on the grass next to Sam, directly across from Sebastian. Sebastian flushed, grateful that he was already red from the heat. Your muscular arms and shoulders were on display today, and as much as he hated the heat, he couldn't help but be thankful that it let him see this.

“Honestly, not much. The sprinklers your mom helped install have been a real lifesaver this year, and I’ve been able to go fishing more. The other day I even pulled a massive halibut! Enough about me, though. What’s this I heard about needing a car?” The others looked to Sebastian to explain, and he froze up, so Sam took over.

Sebastian honestly wanted to explain, he did! But you were so pretty and you were smiling at him which like nobody but his two friends and his mom did and he just panicked. His cheeks burned in shame, and he ducked his head down in a poor attempt to hide.

“Oh, Breakfast of the Damned? I could totally bring y’all there! I actually know the bassist, so I could probably get you some cheaper tickets.”

Sam gasped. “What! No way!” He reached over and grabbed his shoulder, shaking it. “Seb, they know the bassist!”

Abigail was bouncing slightly. “That’s so cool, (Y/n)! You would really do that for us?!”

You laughed at their excitement. “Yeah, totally. Would you like to come, Sebastian? I think Jax would like you.”

He blinked, and glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

You beamed, and from the corner of his eye he saw Abigail’s eyes widen briefly. He dismissed it though, simply basking in your full attention. “Awesome. I’ll text them and ask when the concert dates are.” You grinned at Sam, and then turned to Sebastian again. “Off topic, I heard you were the guy to go to for wifi hookups?”

He relaxed. This was comfortable territory. “Yeah, don’t you have it already though?”

“Nah.” You shrugged.

Sam gaped at you. “No way! But you’ve already been here like a year and a half!”

You shrugged again. “It just wasn’t important.”

Sebastian hummed. “Well, I could get it set up within the week if you were willing to wait.”

“Of course! How much?”

He would do anything for you, he’s not going to make you pay for it. “Nothing, consider it payback for boosting Mom’s business so much.”

You frowned. “What? No. How about... 2500? Might have lowballed it a bit, though.”

He choked. That would be enough for a new monitor. No way was he letting you pay that much. “No way! 500, max!”

You rolled your eyes. “3000, last offer.”

“NO!” He shouted, then flinched back.

You laughed. “3000 then.” You pulled out a pouch, heavy with gold, and cupped his hands over it. He couldn’t even hand it back, stunned by the gentle pressure of your hands on his. He couldn’t even move, honestly.

Sam laughed. “Ha, you broke him, (Y/n)!”

Abigail laughed, though it was slightly off. “Y-yeah, you broke him…”

You flushed. “I just don’t want him to undervalue himself so much! It’s hard work!”

Sam smiled. “I’ve been telling him that!”

You nodded. “Thank you, Sam.” You stood up and dusted off your shorts, and Sebastian grew even redder as his face was level with your toned thighs. “Hey, Sam, wanna come with me to the cave to grab some of the beer I tried to make? We can bring it back to try.”

“Sounds great!” The two of you walked off, talking cheerfully.

Sebastian mumbled out, “Holy shit they held my hand.”

“What?” Abigail said.

“Holy shit they held my hand.”

Abigail choked on her drink, then cackled gleefully, leaning back as Sebastian’s face burned. “I thought I was imagining things! You like them! Sweet Yoba, this is amazing.”

Sebastian spluttered. “N-no, no I don’t! I just- I... “ He hangs his head. “Yeah.”

“Oh, you’re a total simp too, aren’t you.”

He slumped lower. “Yeah…”

Abigail laughed. “Well, I’m pretty sure that you have a shot.”

Sebastian snorted. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that the day Demetrius asks me about my job and listens.” He rolled his eyes and stood up, going back to work on his bike.

Abigail sighed. “Stubborn idiots.” She mumbled.

{time skip}

Sebastian was just finishing up as he heard a loud crash. He jolted and hit his head on the bike, then rolled out holding his forehead and glaring. “WHA-” He startled backwards as he registered how close you suddenly were.

“That sounded nasty, Sebastian. Mind if I take a look?”

He nodded mutely, and you gently cupped his cheek and tilted his head upwards towards you. He promptly felt like combusting and regretted agreeing very much. You were… stunning, even with your brows furrowed in concern. He stared helplessly up at you as you brought out a handkerchief out to clean his forehead off, subconsciously leaning into your touch. Your every movement was gentle, and he bit back a sigh at how wonderful it felt to feel like he was worth being gentle for. Not even his mother had been this gentle with him since he was a kid. Yoba, you were amazing.

The moment was over too quickly, and he followed your palm briefly as you pulled away, before jolting back in embarrassment. You grinned at him. “Your head seems okay, Sebastian. Some ice might help, but it would likely help more with the heat than the headache.”

He nodded. “Thanks. For helping. With that.” Yoba, why did he keep pausing? Why was he so awkward? Strike him down now, please.

You laughed. “No problem. I’m glad you’re okay.”

He hesitantly smiled back at you. “Yeah.”

You grabbed his hand, and tugged him up. “C’mon, Sam and Abigail set up near the lake, we’re gonna swim some!” You pulled him along, chattering away, and he followed you, listening in quiet adoration. He really, really liked you, and he desperately hoped you felt the same.

#stardew sebastian #sdv sebastian #sdv #sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian x farmer #reader insert #gender neutral reader #sebastian stardew valley #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #fanfic #writing

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!)

feat. Tsukkishima Kei

requested for by @animestheticz (hope you enjoy it bb!)

Previously:

Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro.

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 2k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Tsukkishima / Reader

A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask!

(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)

Oh and this is just shameless advertisement for my other fic - but I’m also writing a multi chapter fic based off Your Name / Kimi No Nawa featuring Akaashi Keiji (i.e. a bodyswap AU featuring our favourite Tokyo pretty boy). Check it out here!

——————————————————————

“P-please? Just this once?’ Yachi begs, fingers gripping your sleeve like a vice.

You’re sorely tempted to refuse her ridiculous request, but you can’t bring yourself to. This is Yachi Hitoka, your best friend, though currently she’s a nervous wreck fretting over her first date with Yamaguchi Tadashi. The sweet, freckled Hufflepuff chaser has finally worked up the courage to act on his painfully obvious crush on Yachi - both veritable balls of sunshine, so sweet and anxious and caring that you can’t imagine a better match.

So you don’t understand why on earth you’re being asked to tag along on a double date with one Tsukkishima Kei.

It’s not that you dislike the guy – far from it. You’ve had a crush on him yourself ever since Yachi started hanging around Yamaguchi in your third year, sucking you and Tsukkishima have been sucked into their orbit, reluctant moons revolving around twin suns. But you’ve tucked it away since Tsukkishima doesn’t seem to have an interest in anyone at all – in fact, half the time his snarky replies and cold silences make you think he barely tolerates Yamaguchi as a friend, let alone yourself.

Still, refusing Yachi is tantamount to kicking an injured puppy, so you swallow your reservations and agree.

‘Thank you!’ Yachi cheers. ‘We’ll have fun, I promise!’

-----------------------------------------

It’s summer, and your blouse is sticking to your back as you dash through Diagon Alley. Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi are already waiting in front of Flourish & Botts, the former barely even granting you a nod, though he does give you the courtesy of removing his headphones, while Yamaguchi bounces on the balls of his feet to greet you cheerfully.

‘Woah there Yamaguchi – keep your enthusiasm for your date’, you joke, and he grins back at you. And he does – stuttering and blushing as Yachi arrives. Yachi herself is no better – you swear you can hear her teeth chatter as she greets all of you, though she beams when Yamaguchi presents her with a small posy of flowers with clammy hands.

‘They’re cute’, you remark to Tsukkishima as you walk beside him on the way to the first stop - Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

‘Mm’, he responds, his face blank.

You know he doesn’t suffer fools – worse still, talkative ones, so you fall silent until you reach the ice cream store. To your surprise, he pulls the chair out for you, and accepts your offer to share a cup of ice cream with you, a tilt to his lips when you automatically order a strawberry shortcake sundae – it’s his favourite after all.

Yachi and Yamaguchi seem to have gotten over their initial shyness, chatting up a storm in their own little world. You’re excluded, as you expected, but you’re glad for their sakes.

‘Excited about the last year of school?’

You glance up from your melting sundae, surprised that Tsukkishima is the first to break and initiate a conversation. From your interactions with him, he’s deliberate and methodical in his thoughts and words, so you take a few beats to formulate a response.

‘Yes and no, really’, you answer honestly.

He raises a thin blonde eyebrow, wordlessly beckoning you to elaborate.

‘I’m excited for our classes, the syllabus seems really interesting this year’, you say, wincing at how desperately nerdy you sound – but you’re a hopeless Ravenclaw, and advanced Arithmancy and Astronomy excites you. ‘But it’s scary isn’t it – knowing that it’s our last year, and having to make all those important decisions that are going to affect us, years down the road?’

He hums thoughtfully. ‘I get that’, he responds, hands steepled under his chin. ‘I’m deciding between doing further studies in magical history and going pro – just for a few more years. But I know no matter what decision I end up making, I’ll probably end up second guessing myself’.

‘Why can’t you do both?’ you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows a notch. ‘You’re great at both, and I can’t see why you can’t as long as you put your mind to it’.

You cringe at your cheesiness, expecting him to snark at you for your Hufflepuff-like optimism the way he does with Yamaguchi, but you’re surprised once again when he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’, a flush high in his cheeks, and then asks - ‘And what about you?’

You wonder if he’s merely being polite, but his tone is serious, and his eyes are intently focused on you, so you tell him about your plans of taking on further studies in Arithmancy, perhaps even enroll in a Muggle university to study Mathematics for a semester or two, before working in Gringotts. The goblins may be archaic in their beliefs about the magical world, but their application of mathematics is extremely advanced.

‘It suits you’, he comments. You want to ask him what he means by that, but Yachi pipes up from across the table.

‘If you’re done with your ice cream, do you guys want to check out the magical menagerie? Yamaguchi’s going to get a cat!’

Before you can agree, Tsukkishima tells Yachi and Yamaguchi to go on ahead, drolly reminding them that they’re on a date, and they should go spend some quality time together. So they head off with wide smiles, shoulders bumping. They’re so sweet together it almost makes your teeth ache. Well, at least you’ve been dismissed as their reluctant chaperone, and you’re about to wish Tsukkishima a polite farewell when he taps your shoulder.

‘Let’s go check out Flourish & Botts. I’m sure you have books you want to check out’.

You blink – because you do, but you don’t expect Tsukkishima to accompany you, let alone be the one seeking out your company. He doesn’t even wait for your assent before he sets off, and you have to jog to keep up with the pace his long legs set. Thankfully, he notices you’re still lagging behind and slows down, though he teases dryly – ‘you know, at the rate you’re walking, I’m not sure we’ll get there before sundown’.

You pointedly look up at the sun, still high in the sky, before levelling an unimpressed glare at him. He only smirks in response – and you’re so flustered by how attractive his expression is that you nearly trip over the threshold to Flourish & Botts. He catches you with a steady hand to your elbow – and now your heart is fluttering – is this how Yachi is like all the time? If so, you should really cut her some slack – the thoughts crowding your mind so distracting that you hardly hear Tsukkishima call your name in concern until he shakes your shoulder gently.

‘Are you alright?’ Tsukkishima repeats, with a frown.

‘Y-yes’, you reply, cursing your traitorous heart again. He doesn’t look like he believes you, insistently pushing you towards an empty couch.

He clicks his tongue. ‘Don’t move’ he orders, before he disappears, probably to get the books he has his eyes on.

You sink into the cushions, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment. An hour spent in his presence and you’ve already turned back into a lovesick fool. You’ve told yourself countless times to just get over your silly crush on him already because it’s not going to do you any good.

Yamaguchi’s complained to you and Yachi countless times about girls asking him if Tsukkishima is single, but you don’t see him taking an interest in anyone at all – spending all his time instead in the library and on the Quidditch pitch.

He’s the stone faced beater from Ravenclaw. People wonder sometimes if ice flows in his veins – but they don’t see the determined set of his jaw when he’s ploughing through homework and assignments because he knows he’s going to have to spend the whole day in training the next day, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes whenever he wins a match or scores a good grade, the patience he expends tutoring Yamaguchi (along with Hinata and Kageyama) in Ancient Runes –

Oh Merlin. You’re a hopeless case.

You jump when he returns and drops into a seat beside you.

‘Oi, what’s wrong with you’, he mutters a tad scornfully, though he drops the book you were eyeing onto your lap.

‘N-nothing. T-thanks!’ you answer, internally cursing yourself for even picking up Yachi’s speech patterns.

Get it together. You’re not a fool.

He hums, browsing his own book.

It’s pleasant spending an afternoon in a nook reading books. It’s not so pleasant when your heart palpitates every single time his knee grazes yours - and if you shift just a tiny bit to the left you’re pressing against his side and - oh

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ he asks, frowning again, when he notices you’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes.

‘F-fine’, you stammer, warmth flooding your cheeks when he leans his face dangerously close to yours, bringing his palm to brush against your forehead.

‘Your temperature’s fine’, he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away – and oh gosh, you’re so close you can count every single lash on his eyes, your traitorous heart causing you to drown in the quiet concern in his eyes – and oh -

You’re not quite sure who makes the first move because your eyes flutter close, your nose bumps against his and you feel his chapped lips against yours for a split second before he pulls away.

You open your eyes.

Did that truly happen?

Judging from the blank expression on his face, the past few seconds were probably just a fever dream. But there are signs that cool, quiet Tsukkishima isn’t his usual self - a flush creeping up the back of his neck, his fingers gripping the pages of the book so tightly it starts to crinkle.

‘What was that?’ you blurt out, confused.

‘What was what?’ Though his voice remains calm and collected, his flush has traveled all the way to the very tips of his ears.

‘Nothing’, you answer, dropping your eyes back to the open book on your lap, your mind in a whirl. Surely you didn’t imagine that, right? Did you just - did he just - wait, you’re confused again, what’s going on?

Your thoughts are interrupted by elegant, long fingers slotting between your own. ‘Silly’ he mutters, but there’s a fond twist to his lips and a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only silly one here’, you respond, in a sudden swell of confidence, though your pulse is sending tremors down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the silly one too’. You curl your fingers over his and lean into his side.

He hums diffidently. ‘I guess it might seem that way’.

You both share a shy smile.

-----------------------------------------

Yachi is smug when you confess to her later that Tsukkishima - no - Kei asked you out as he walked you home that evening.

‘I told you that we’d have fun!’, she says, grinning cheek to cheek. Then she starts rambling on and on about future double dates with her and Yamaguchi in Madame Puddifoots, where you can share couple sundaes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate - wouldn’t that be wonderful?

You resist the urge to tell her that Kei has sworn off any future double dates - let alone at the white and pink lace bedazzled monstrosity of a cafe, and his suggestion of a quiet afternoon spent at his favourite bookshop cafe sounds far more inviting to you.

You’ll let Yamaguchi break the news to her later, on a more appropriate date.

Instead you just smile to yourself, thinking of the quiet affection in his voice as he wished you farewell, and the suppressed delight in his eyes when you called his name just as he was about to turn away and surprised him by pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his cheek.

Yachi’s right. You did have fun after all.

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plant-flwrs · 3 years

Text

ruined parties // older brother draco (implied fred weasley)

masterlist!

a/n: i didn't know how to label this without it looking like an incest fic and I just want everyone to know it is most definitely not an incest fic and I don't know how to make it look better why is this my life

i just saw this in my inbox unreasonably late and I loved it sm so I wrote this little overprotective big brother draco fic :) I wanted to thank @gaycatlord-stuff for the message and the meme because I loved it sm and it rly got the juices in my sahara desert brain flowing.

summary: Draco is a relentlessly overprotective brother who ruins all romantic opportunities for you.

(2k)

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Sometimes, you wondered how different your life would be as a muggle. You wondered if your wealthy parents would have shoved you off to a nanny rather than house-elves; if you would have gone to a muggle boarding school and studied classic literature for an actual class and not just for fun, which Draco loved to remind you was one of the weirder things about you; if you would have learned to do laundry and wash the dishes and comb your hair without the brush levitating with a flick of your wand.

You wondered, most of all, how Draco would manage to beat up all the boys who showed interest in you as you grew up.

Draco went through his phases of the ways in which he would 'protect' you. He had really enjoyed the bat-bogey hex for a while in your first year. In second year and most of third year, he went with the safe option of the jelly-legs jinx. By fourth year he had matured to more advanced methods of transfiguration. He had managed to turn Michael Corner into a raccoon for at least a whole day when Michael had offered to carry your bag for you in the hall.

Fifth year was bad. He had been taken in by Snape, who offered him a number of tips and tricks in the world of dark magic. You insisted Draco didn't need dark magic, and he insisted that you mind your own business.

Draco was irritable and nearly unbearable by sixth year. He hovered over you like a vulture, sending glares to anyone who even looked at you. Your friends started calling him Bloody Mary because he was always haunting over your shoulder. You knew it was because your parents were putting a lot of pressure on him and his crush on Harry Potter was becoming inhumanely large, but still. It was annoying.

It was even more annoying when Draco seemed to have met a suitable match in Fred Weasley.

You had a bit of a liking for muggle things. The school year was your only chance to inhabit this hobby, with your father removing all your muggle posters from your room the second you left for the train. You took Muggle Studies and begged Dumbledore not to tell your parents. You had mostly muggle-born or half-blood friends, which you also told your parents nothing about. Draco found this all the more reason to 'protect' you.

"You ought to dye your hair," you gritted out, sulking over your breakfast and resisting the urge to kick Draco's shin under the table.

Draco didn't respond, shoveling beans into his mouth with an unamused look.

"Seriously," you continued. "Your hair doesn't match your energy. Black would be very striking. You and your boyfriend would be matching."

Draco kicked your shin under the table, making you regret not taking your chance earlier. Harry was a sore spot for Draco, but Draco had just done a wandless spell on Ernest Macmillan before he could ask you to Hogsmeade, and he deserved it.

"What are you reading?" He grunted, offering an unspoken truce he knew you would take.

You shielded the cover, "Killing your brother 101. Enlightening."

"How far into it are you?"

"Almost done. I'd prepare yourself if I were you."

Draco hummed, unfazed by your murderous threats.

"You finish the notes for Charms?" you shut your book, stealing a piece of cantaloupe from Draco's plate.

"Yes," Draco looked at you eating the stolen fruit unapprovingly, pulling some sort of older brother superiority with just one look at you. Infuriating.

"What's the time?" You abandoned the Charms notes, no longer willing to admit you didn't do them.

"Just past 7," Draco pushed his plate away from him, standing and straightening his tie.

"See you at dinner," you began putting your things away and Draco mumbled a goodbye, setting off for his own classes. You were just shoveling the last of the beans he left on his plate into your mouth when a foreign group of bodies were across from you in your peripheral.

You lifted your head, hunched over the beans and still chewing, to see Fred, George, and Lee.

You squinted, chewing slowly and leaning back as to avoid any sort of tripwire for a prank.

"Malfoy," Fred said pleasantly, which was not how people usually said your last name.

"Big brother leave you by your lonesome?" Lee added, also not taking the cruel tone most would when talking about your brother.

This was odd.

"What do you want?" you swallowed your food, eyeing them suspiciously.

"I thought she was meant to be the better of them," George stage-whispered to Lee.

"We are here to formally invite you to a party we are hosting," Fred continued, unperturbed.

Lee and George watched you, waiting for your reaction.

"Alright," you agreed and stood, joining your friends in the hall to walk to class.

"That was easier than I expected," Lee said cheerfully, visibly relieved now that he was not in your presence.

"I told you," Fred puffed his chest out confidently and place his hands on the table as he stood, "Without Draco around, she's perfect."

The party was in full swing and Draco was drunk. With one guess, you would have to assume it had something to do with the way Harry kept offering to top off his glass, his hand hovering on the small of Draco's back as they talked into each other's ears.

Drunk Draco was a luxury you were not often afforded. Drunk Draco meant living a life of your own, doing things without his watchful eye.

So you also got drunk. Your friends used the term 'waisted' the next morning, but we will say 'drunk' for maturity purposes. And drunk you got!

Fred was always suspiciously close to you, and suspiciously nice once you thought harder on it. You tried not to leave any drink unguarded while he hovered and stayed with friends as often as possible.

You eventually found yourself on a large leather couch in the center of the room. Ron was next to you, stoned out of his mind, and digging around in the pocket of his flannel for more rolling papers. On the other side of you, Luna's head rolled around her neck, falling onto your shoulder and the couch and finally landing on Ginny's lap when she passed out. You watched Ginny stroke her hair, occasionally tracing a line down her nose. Sighing, you accepted the blunt when Ron finally passed it your way.

You were passing it back, sufficiently stoned out of your gourd, when it was plucked from your hands. You thought you had dropped it, jolting back and looking around frantically until you saw those awful, bony, white fingers dangling the now soggy blunt in front of your face.

"C'mon!" Ron groaned, face twisting through the stages of grief as he saw his ruined creation.

"Pot?" Draco said as if he were 40 and with a mortgage.

"Pot," you replied as if you were 17 and at a party.

One of you had an accurate hold on reality. The other held a soggy blunt.

Ron took the soggy blunt and attempted to salvage it, sinking down to his knees to work on the coffee table in front of you. Draco took his seat and set his drink on the table to his side. He didn't drink from it, presumably because of a blunt that had been swimming in it for a moment.

"I thought you were with Harry," you said slowly, torn between wanting to hurt Draco if something had gone badly with Harry and actually wanting to know why he wasn't still with him.

"Yeah, he went up to bed," Draco answered, not sounding pitiful and mournful like he had a habit of sounding after interacting with Harry.

"He didn't take you with him?" you slurred, leaning into Draco's strong and seemingly sober shoulder.

"Shut up," he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your side and hauling you off the couch. You reached into his pocket, finding some loose bills you knew would be there, and slipped them to Ron as compensation before you left.

You felt accomplished, drunk and high, leaving a party after a fun time. It was also a highlight to have given Ron Weasley Draco's drug money.

As per usual, you didn't have a date for Hogsmeade. Your friends were all in Madam Puddifoot's with their dates, gazing over the table at each other like lovesick puppies. Draco currently had you in a headlock while he rubbed his knuckles into the top of your head.

You shoved your heal into his foot, making him release you.

You both returned to your drinks with slightly labored breaths and scowls.

Draco was upset because Harry wasn't at Hogsmeade and you were upset because you were in Hogsmeade with Draco. You would have fallen at his knees and begged him to release you from the chains of this sibling dynamic if he weren't the one buying lunch today.

You ate, still scowling, and walked around scowling, and returned to Hogwarts scowling. You hugged each other, scowling, before bed and went to your respective dorms.

It was hot and there was no wind. Really, absolutely no wind. The water on the black lake was eerily reflective and the trees were unmoving.

You were walking with some friends, charmed fans moving around you as they blew cold air in your faces. You were returning from Hogsmeade with ice cream, very happy from the outing without Draco.

Regretfully, Draco did not seem to be as happy.

Stepping into the courtyard, you felt a drop of your ice cream land on your hand, sticky and cold and messy, and at the same time, you saw Draco hurl himself at Fred Weasley.

Fred sprawled across the courtyard, landing on some poorly transfigured pillows that you guessed were the product of George's wandless magic. His head was cushioned from what would have been a nasty hit on the stone. He squirmed under Draco, long arms and legs flailing against the steady weight Draco was putting on him.

You watched Lee and George leaning against a wall, presumably letting Fred fight this battle on his own.

You decided to do something similar.

You watched as Fred wrangled himself free, both boys tripping over the pillows until George vanished them. In the free space, they circled each other with their hands raised. It was funny to see two pure-blood wizards fighting so viciously without a hint of magic.

Draco took a step forward with his left foot, tricking Fred out to lunge at him from the right. He had Fred's leg and then Fred was on the ground again, grunting in pain. Draco flipped him and pinned him, knee resting on Fred's back and hands holding his arms together. Deciding Draco had enough fun, you walked over.

"Fight Club?" you offered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Did you go to Hogsmeade?" Draco ignored you, panting slightly. Up close you saw he had a nasty bruise on his cheekbone and some blood coming from his nose. Fred must have gotten a few hits in.

"Yeah," you licked your ice cream, "bloody scorching out."

"Hm," Draco hummed, adjusting his grip on Fred's arm and causing Fred to yelp in pain.

"How are you?" you asked politely.

"Alright. You?"

"Alright."

Draco nodded.

"So, what's this about?"

"He said he was going to prank you," Draco said, shrugging and adjusting Fred's arm again on purpose.

You gasped in faux shock, crouching down to look at Fred.

"A prank?" you asked him, smirking.

"No!" Fred yelped when he tried to move his arms.

You looked to Draco, whose eyebrows were furrowed. "I heard you! You said you were going to take her out!"

"Draco."

"Draco!" Fred yelped, finally getting his arms loose and crawling from underneath Draco's grasp.

"Oh my fucking god."

"Merlin," Fred mumbled, looking at your face and then Draco's guilty expression.

"Oh," Draco said simply, head tilting as he added up the moment's events in his head.

"Oh my fucking god," you repeated.

Draco got his feet under him.

"Oh my fucking god!" you hurled your ice cream cone at his back, hitting him hard as he ran. You chased him, narrowly avoiding the trail of melted strawberry ice cream he was leaving through the halls.

#draco #draco malfoy #malfoy #big brother draco #fred weasley x reader #fred has a crush on the reader #draco is an overprotective brother #draco is stupid #draco loves harry #drarry #humor #harry potter #hp #hogwarts

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