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𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞— gojo satoru
pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: even after you leave the jujutsu world behind, gojo satoru finds himself unable to get over you. genre: fluff! some angst but happy ending, friends to lovers notes: inspired by the song "haunt me (x3)" by teen suicide, gojo is awful at realizing his own feelings and dealing with them wc: ~4.8k
the day that you leave tokyo jujutsu tech is a dull one.
gojo think this must've been months in the planning, especially considering the fact that you're standing with nothing but a backpack slung over your shoulder with the rest of your belongings nowhere to be seen.
(he later learns that they had already been moved to your new apartment, and nanami and shoko had helped you move out over the course of a month.)
he also discovers that he's the only one that hasn't been informed of your departure, especially since he seems to be the only one taken by surprise as you stand by the entrance and say your goodbyes. he wonders if it's his fault for taking so many missions after geto's defection, and he feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably when he realizes that he's been so distracted that he once again couldn't see something happening with one of his friends.
and now you're leaving.
"you have to promise to visit," shoko says, engulfing you in a tight hug. gojo feels his mouth run dry at the sight, and he can't help but feel panicked when you give shoko a soft grin.
"i'll certainly do my best," you respond, reaching over to tug on her hair. she sighs in return, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you gently as she stares you down.
"answer your phone, ok? you can't ignore my texts now that you're leaving."
a quiet laugh leaves your lips at her words, and you nod reassuringly before giving her a loud smooch on the cheek and moving down the line. gojo watches you closely as you say your goodbye to yaga, the older man turning away from you to brush a fake tear away from his eye. he presses a soft, floppy doll into your hands before you move away from him, and gojo can see the distinct shine in your eye that lets him know that you're holding tears at bay.
he looks down at the ground when he realizes that he's the only one left for you to say goodbye to, and he can't help the way he tenses up when he sees your shoes come to a stop in front of him. there's a moment of silence during which gojo can feel everyone's eyes on him, and he begrudgingly looks up at you and removes his sunglasses.
if this is the last time he's seeing you, he's going to make sure he remembers every little detail.
there's a sharp intake of breath as you steadily meet his gaze, and you find yourself rendered speechless at the sight of his eyes. gojo can hear shoko cough lightly, and he steels himself before giving you a forced smile.
"so you're leaving," he whispers, his eyes widening slightly when he realizes what he's just said. you seem to be caught off guard as well, eyebrows raising in surprise before giving him a nod. he takes a moment to breathe, aware of shoko's lingering gaze as the two of you face each other. "oh. i didn't know."
"yeah," you breathe, rubbing your arm as you look away from him. "i hadn't gotten the chance to tell you. it seems like you're always off on a mission these days."
"you could've texted," gojo attempts to say jokingly, wincing when his words fall flat. you laugh lightly at his words, recognizing the teasing undertone even if the delivery had been less than perfect. you always seem to understand gojo, regardless of whether or not he wants you to.
"we both know you never look at your phone," you tease back, giving him a pretty smile that he hasn't seen in a while. he chuckles breathlessly at your jab, and he nods his agreement before glancing at shoko.
"neither do you," he shoots back, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile when you follow his line of sight. "you gotta get better at that. can't risk pissing shoko off."
the space between the two of you is filled with uncertain laughter at gojo's remark, and you take a moment to study gojo before taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. he stumbles back a step or two at your sudden action, tensing up when you tuck your face into the crook of his neck.
"i'll miss you," you whisper, your breath warm against his neck. he tries to ignore the goosebumps that rise up along the smooth expanse of his neck, too focused on wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him when he feels you start to step away.
gojo knows that everyone else is watching the two of you, he can feel shoko's soft gaze and yaga's sad look as he does his best to ignore them and bury his face into your hair. there's an intense urge to ask you to stay building up inside of him, and he clamps his lips shut tightly in order to keep himself from blurting out his plea. the two of you remain in each other's arms before you finally take a deep breath and step away, giving gojo a watery smile.
"i'll miss you, satoru," you whisper, looking away and blinking back your tears. "i'll see you later, yeah?"
gojo nods dumbly as you finally walk away, giving everyone one last wave before slipping into the car that's been waiting for you this entire time. it isn't until he sees it disappear from view that gojo realizes that he didn't tell you that he would miss you too.
he wastes no time in slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes, clearing his throat quietly before turning and making his way back inside the building.
a week later, gojo hears that nanami has left jujutsu tech as well, and he can't help but wonder if he'll ever see either of you again.
gojo likes to think that he's matured, even though shoko might say otherwise because she's certain she's right. and also to piss him off.
but the truth is, he's no longer the same spunky, reckless teenager he was before everything went wrong in his life. he knows how to sort of work through his emotions now— in a way he thinks is healthy, he might add, but he can't help but find himself frozen in this very moment. there's a weird ache in his heart, one that he silently notes seems to be brought on by the flurry of emotions he's feeling in that very instant.
he wonders if they're visible on his face. they are.
gojo satoru is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in japan, maybe even in the world, and yet he feels like he's been reduced to almost nothing when a familiar face slides into the seat across from him.
five years is clearly not long enough to forget you, gojo realizes, physically wincing at the way his heart seems to race at the sight of you. his eyes meet yours, and he holds steady eye contact with you for a few seconds before ducking his head and quietly excusing himself from the table.
he takes a deep breath to attempt and soothe his rattled nerves as he takes a seat at the bar, squishing himself into the corner so that he's not visible from your table. he orders a soda from the bartender, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets in return before he ambles off to prepare the drink.
gojo has barely taken a sip of the soda before shoko is crashing into his side, settling onto the barstool next to him and digging her elbow into his side as she calls her order out to the bartender. neither of them speak until shoko gets her drink, and she immediately lifts it to her lips and takes a big sip that makes gojo shudder with disgust.
"surprise," shoko says dryly, glancing at gojo as he spares a look in your direction. he notices three extra people at the table, and he lets his shoulders drop in relief when he sees familiar heads of blond, white, and brunette.
"yeah, quite the surprise," gojo huffs, taking another sip of his soda. he stares at shoko until she turns to face him, a mildly displeased look on her face as she takes in his furrowed eyebrows. "i didn't know you still kept in contact with them."
"i didn't know you didn't still keep in contact with them," shoko shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she studies gojo's conflicted expression. she continues before he can gather his thoughts, earning a loud sigh as she speaks. "you kept in contact with nanami just fine. in fact, all he does is complain about how you never leave him alone."
gojo swallows harshly at shoko's words, and he thinks long and hard before deciding to remain silent for the time being. he can't find it in himself to admit that the thought of reaching out to you hurts him more than he cares to admit. you had left the jujutsu world, the one part of your life that included him, behind. even if he wanted to, gojo doesn't think he can find the words to express how he's feeling.
"switch seats with me when we get back to the table," gojo says suddenly, pausing to slurp up the rest of his drink. shoko glares at him when he sucks on nothing but air, the obnoxious sound causing her to reach over and flick him in the cheek. gojo grins widely when she hits nothing but air, his infinity protecting him from shoko's incredibly violent wrath.
"no," she says, getting off her barstool and picking up her drink. gojo realizes too late that she's heading back to the table, and he scrambles after her in an attempt to get there before her. his attempts are fruitless, and he finds himself awkwardly standing behind shoko's seat as she takes her place two chairs down from you.
gojo acts normal when everyone turns to glance at him, and he stiffly makes his way back to his own seat, avoiding your questioning gaze as he sits down. it takes a second for the table to break out into chatter again, and gojo doesn't hesitate before turning to the seat next to him and striking up a conversation with utahime. he notices mei mei grab your attention out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help but sigh in relief as he focuses on utahime once again, disregarding her annoyed look.
gojo is certain that ignoring you is much easier than dealing with whatever the hell is causing him to feel like he's dying inside.
the days that follow the dinner at the restaurant are unnervingly quiet, and gojo finds himself sitting on his couch and wondering if he should reach out to you.
there are no missions to take at the moment, and gojo is left with nothing to do but stare at his phone and wait for a message that never comes. megumi takes note of his sullen behavior, and although a part of him is curious about gojo's sudden attitude change, he doesn't think he actually cares enough to ask the white-haired sorcerer about what seems to be bothering him.
a few more days pass before gojo ultimately decides that reaching out to you would do more harm than good, especially with the way he completely ignored you at dinner. he's given no time to even think about changing his mind, and the very next day, he's being sent out on yet another mission.
he eventually falls into the same monotonous routine his life had prior to his run-in with you, and he wonders what would've changed if he had decided to take the chance and reach out the day after seeing you. there's a dull ache in his chest that seems to linger even after he makes his decision, and it only seems to get worse whenever shoko deigns to share updates about you with him.
the two of them know that gojo is more than grateful for her updates, even if he refuses to ask about you outright. he's certain that if he were to fully give into his curiosity that his heart would feel like it's giving out on him, and not even shoko's displeased looks are enough for him to get over himself and just ask you directly. he's even stopped pestering nanami, too afraid that he would give in and ask him questions about you.
it isn't until a long time passes (a year and a half; he's kept count) that gojo thinks he's finally getting over it— getting over you. his heart finally starts feeling lighter and breathing becomes a little bit easier and he can't help but think about how silly he was being, staying hung up for so long on somebody who probably never even thought twice about him.
they're small improvements but they're still improvements, and gojo reminds himself of that even as he walks down the busy streets of tokyo. he breathes out a sigh of relief as he slips into the local pharmacy, the cool air conditioning a welcome reprieve from the sticky heat outside.
he mumbles to himself as he moves through the aisles, scanning the shelves as he looks for children's allergy medication. the sudden weather changes had affected megumi and tsumiki in a way none of them had expected, and gojo was left alone to deal with their pitiful sniffles and soft complaints.
"allergy meds," he whispers, reaching out to grab a box only to put it back when it's not the one he's looking for. "there's so much cough syrup, where's the aller—"
"gojo?"
so maybe he hasn't improved, gojo thinks to himself as he freezes up at the sound of your voice. he holds his breath as you approach him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your sleeve brush against his.
six and a half years isn't enough to forget about you either, it seems.
"it's been a while, huh?" you ask, giving him a soft glance before looking at the shelves in front of you. there's a light hum that escapes your lips as you bend down to grab something before straightening up and holding out a box in your hand. "allergy meds, right?"
gojo nods silently as he takes the box from you, quickly scanning the text on it to make sure it was the right brand. there's an awkward silence as he thinks about what to say, and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind when you turn your face away from him.
"it's not for me!"
a noise that gojo thinks might be a giggle leaves your lips at his proclamation, and he mentally kicks himself for starting up a conversation with you.
"it's for megumi, right?" you ask softly, unaware of the way gojo's eyes widen at your question. "that zenin kid you took in?"
when you notice gojo's shocked look, you hastily ass onto your statement. "shoko told me about him when i asked about you."
'shoko told me about him when i asked about you.'
gojo thinks he feels his head spin when he hears those words come out of your mind. he does his best to remain calm, reaching out a hand to lean against the shelf comfortably and wincing when he instead knocks down a row of the cough syrups he had been studying earlier.
"uh, fushiguro, actually," he mutters, doing his best to focus on straightening out the products he knocked down. "his dad took his wife's last name or something like that. but yeah, the medicine is for him and his sister."
he finds himself shuffling awkwardly as you look down at your watch, eyes widening slightly when you take note of the time. he watches as you turn to face the shelf behind you, quickly plucking some eye drops off the shelf before turning back to him.
"i have to go, i'm running late for a meeting," you say sheepishly, giving gojo a soft smile. he gives you a half-smile in return, accompanied by a lazy wave as he waits for you to leave. you stand in front of him for a second, hesitating slightly before leaning in and wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. gojo tenses up in your embrace, his breath catching in his throat and hands freezing mid-air before he hesitantly places them on your back. you pull back slightly after a few seconds, looking up at gojo with a stare that makes his heart feel like it's about to beat out of his chest before you address him once more. "it was nice to see you. we should catch up sometime."
you're gone with a smile and a wave, quickly paying for your eye drops before darting out the door. gojo remains in his spot for five minutes after your departure, only moving when he sees the amused look the cashier seems to be giving him. he doesn't speak as he pays for the allergy medication, and he hastily makes his exit back into the stifling heat. he starts walking down the street as he tucks his change into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when his fingers brush against a piece of paper that hadn't bee there before.
there's an annoyed grumble from a passerby when gojo suddenly stops in the middle of the street, his fingers clutching onto the paper that contains very familiar handwriting.
'can't wait to see you again! :)'
the line is followed by what he assumes to be your phone number, and gojo can't help but wonder when you had the chance to write the note. he begins moving down the street again, his steps sluggish as he hesitates near a trash can. before he can think any harder, he lets the paper flutter into wastebasket, only pausing for a brief second before moving away.
not seeing you over the past year and a half made his heart feel lighter, yet all it took was a five minute interaction with you to make his heart feel worse than it ever had before.
the world loves to play cruel jokes on him, gojo thinks.
the past two years have been a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, and he's had no time to stop and think about you while dealing with geto, sukuna, and the emergence of the cursed spirit that calls itself mahito.
if he really thinks about it, he's had no time to sit and rest. from geto's attack to yuuta's training to megumi's missions to yuuji's interesting choice that led to him eating sukuna's finger, he's had no time to sit and truly enjoy the little things life has to offer.
(not that he's ever had the time. the life of a special grade sorcerer is a busy one, but gojo can't deny that things weren't always as complicated as they have been the last couple of years.)
so when yaga tells him that nanami is returning to jujutsu tech, gojo thinks that it's the perfect time to let yuuji learn from someone other than him while he takes care of some unfinished business. what he doesn't expect however, is to see you standing next to nanami, a pretty smile on your face as you greet yaga with a hug.
ten years. ten years and somehow, you still manage to make gojo feel the same way he did way back then.
there's something wrong with him, he thinks, especially because it's starting to seem like he's cursed to always somehow coexist with those he cares about without ever fully being a part of their lives. there's no way he can turn around and pretend he never saw you, not with the way yaga is already yelling at him to go over and greet the returners.
gojo wonders why this happens every time he sees you. he doesn't know how to label what he feels whenever you pop up in his life, and it isn't until you give him a hesitant greeting— your tone shy and awkward after receiving nothing but radio silence from him— that gojo thinks he might finally know what it is he feels for you.
and when the thought of him being in love with you crosses his mind and makes him feel like he wants to die, all he can do is tamp down his swirling emotions with a goofy grin aimed at nanami.
"nanami! what a pleasure to see you here," gojo sings, immediately pulling the blond man into a reluctant hug. he gives you a polite nod in greeting, and he can't help the way his heart sinks when you nod in response and look away.
"likewise," nanami replies, his tone strained as he pulls away from gojo. he fixes his shirt as he steps over to you, and the two of you stand silently as you wait for yaga to speak.
"introduce them to yuuji," yaga says, turning around and heading back towards his office. "and don't cause trouble. i mean it, satoru."
gojo giggles at yaga's words before clapping his hands and motioning for the two of you to follow after him, leading you down a series of hallways before you come to a stop in front of an empty room.
"yuuji! there's someone i'd like you to meet!"
you're taken slightly aback when your eyes meet bright, brown ones, and you can't help but stare as a teenage boy with pink hair comes to a stop in front of you and nanami.
"this is nanami kento!" gojo all but yells, once again slinging his arm around nanami's shoulders and swaying him back and forth. the boy, yuuji, looks at nanami curiously, his eyes focused on the glasses perched on his nose. he has no time to speak before gojo is introducing you as well, his voice softer than it had been when introducing nanami. yuuji's eyes sparkle as they shift to you, and all of a sudden he's breaking out into a boyish smile that only serves to remind you just how young he really is.
"woah! i didn't think you were actually real!" he proclaims, earning a strained laugh from gojo. "when gojo mentioned you he said you were really p—"
the rest of his words are muffled, gojo's hands clamped tightly against his mouth as he pulls yuuji away from you. out of the corner of your eye, you can see nanami staring at you, and you only give him a shrug in return as gojo pats yuuji's head and lets him go.
"you'll be following them around on missions," gojo finally explains, pushing yuuji towards you and nanami. "they're both grade 1 sorcerers so don't worry, you'll be safe! now if you'll excuse me, i have to go."
gojo's out of the room before either of you can breathe out a goodbye, and you tense for a second before excusing yourself and following after him. he hasn't gotten terribly far, but his long legs give him the advantage of staying ahead of you even as you start jogging lightly in an attempt to catch up to him.
"gojo!" you call out, huffing lightly when he ignores you and turns a corner. "hey! gojo, wait! satoru!"
the sounds of his given name has his steps faltering, and he reluctantly turns around when he hears your footsteps getting closer and closer. there's a rigidity to his stance that you've never seen, his shoulders hunched in an almost defensive way as you finally come to a stop in front of him.
"yeah?" he asks, an uncomfortable grin settling on his lips as he looks anywhere but you. he's grateful for his blindfold in this very moment, the dark fabric preventing him from seeing you in your entirety and preventing you from seeing the way he can't seem to look at you for more than half a second.
"i—," you say, starting to speak and cutting yourself off before looking down at the ground. you sigh softly, shaking your head lightly as your shoulders slump. "never mind. forget about it."
you turn to walk back to the room, and gojo feels like he might actually keel over and die right then and there if he lets you walk away yet again.
"how have you been?"
gojo's question hangs in the air, and he can't help but flinch when you finally look at him again, your eyes swirling with hurt and sadness and other emotions that pass so quickly that gojo isn't sure he could figure out what they were even if he tried.
"you'd know if you hadn't thrown my phone number away," you retort quietly, crossing your arms as he approaches you. gojo breathes in sharply at your words but remains quiet, his throat going dry as he realizes that you had seen what he did that day. "why, gojo?"
gojo weighs his options, vacillating between telling you the truth or spewing a lie. the words seem to spill out of his mouth before he can even think about whether or not to say them, a trend he notices is extremely common whenever he's in your presence. "because you've ruined my life."
okay, so the truth it is.
your eyes widen in hurt when you take in his words, and it takes everything you have to not burst into tears on the spot. "oh, i see."
"wait," gojo says, scrambling to fix the situation that just keeps getting worse and worse with everything he says or does. "that's not what i meant."
"then what did you mean?" you ask sharply, your eyes narrowing slightly as you stare him down.
"what i mean is that i think i love you," he says in a rush, ignoring the way your eyes widen in surprise at his admission. he doesn't give you the chance to respond, too focused on saying everything that's been building up for the past decade before he gets cold feet. "you've ruined my life, you know? it's been ten years but it's damn near impossible to get over you. my heart still feels as heavy as it did the day you let, maybe even heavier, and i threw away your number because i didn't see any benefit in reaching out to you. why would i torture myself by keeping in contact with you when i belong to the world you wanted to leave behind?"
"i wanted to leave the jujutsu world behind," you interject softly, taking a hesitant step towards gojo before coming to a stop. "that doesn't mean i wanted to leave gojo satoru behind."
"oh," gojo breathes. he wonders if you can hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest, and he decides that maybe he doesn't care. "does that mean that—"
"i liked you?" you interrupt, nodding your head softly. "or like, i guess. i agree, ten years isn't enough to get over you."
"i was talking about you," gojo mumbles dumbly, earning a shrug in response from you. a loud crash sounds from the direction of the room you had left nanami in, and you give gojo a hesitant look before motioning in the direction of the noise.
"i should probably go and check that out," you say quietly, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. "y'know, make sure that nanami is okay."
"um, yeah. yeah that sounds reasonable," gojo says, his mind still focused on your impromptu confession.
"i don't think this conversation is over yet," you continue, breathing out a laugh when gojo nods in agreement. he jumps slightly when you take his hand in yours, slipping a piece of paper into in before tugging him down to press a kiss to his cheek. "let me know when you're free, yeah? maybe we can get dinner or something and talk."
"are you asking me out on a date?" he asks cheekily, doing his best to compose himself.
"maybe i am," you say slyly, squeezing his hand once before letting go. you turn to walk down the hall, only pausing to look at him over your shoulder once before you turn the corner. "don't lose my number this time, okay?"
gojo chuckles at your words, nodding in agreement as he gives you a lazy salute. "i wouldn't dream of it."
it isn't until you're out of sight that gojo realizes his heart feels the lightest that it's ever felt in years, and he finds himself once again wondering when you had gotten the chance to write the note.
reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!
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maybe some ghostface g!p wonyoung?🫣 fucking u with a knife pointed at ur neck oooh we love some extreme dubcon🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤
i love love love scream sm and ghostface asks just make me giggle and kick my feet in the air YEAH IT’S WEIRD IDC BUT IT FUELS MY BRAIN SEND MORE 🤪 this is once again another drabble that might be disturbing/triggering for some so please read at your own risk!!
[cw: extreme dubcon, violence, brainwashing, manipulation, knife play, blood kink, murder 😭]
now hear me out… photographer!wony who has grown obsessed with amateur model!reader during your time together as colleagues.. you’re a fresh find in the industry, only having involved in a few small projects and you considered working w an acclaimed photographer like wonyoung such an honor! you practically worshipped her—studied her work through the hundreds of magazines she has worked on and you even keep up with her social media accounts bcs even the photos she takes on her phone are art! but truth to be told, wony wasn’t all too enthusiastic about working with a rookie but you were pretty enough that she sucked it up! plus, she was tired of all the bossy older, experienced models who always thought they knew better than the girl behind the camera 😒😒
wony being so pleasantly surprised with your talent that after the first time you worked together, she becomes very willing to work with you again! and again, and again.. until the two of you were eventually acquaintances, but that was also when wony starts getting… well, territorial over you 🫣 but she wasn’t stupid. she knew it wasn’t normal to want to gouge out the eyes of every man that looks at you for a second too long.. but wonyoung really can’t help it! 😣 you’re such a precious little gem that she just wants to lock you up in her basement and make herself the only person to ever set eyes on you…
getting comfortable around wony to the point that you allow her to be in a changing room with you as you dress up for a photoshoot,, asking her if you look pretty and never once catching that dark look in her eyes or the way she licks her lips as she thinks about all the things she wants to do to you… ugh, she gets so hard just looking at you in your pretty little outfits.. sometimes it comes to the point where she pretends to fix something in the outfit just so she can be close to you and inhale your perfume… as well as press her bulge against your ass.. even though you pretend not to notice it, wonyoung always takes note of how your breath hitches and how you move closer to her slightly,, fuck every time there’s a break, wony has to run to the washrooms to jerk off bcs the feeling was sometimes overwhelming.. but gosh, did it all feel good 😵💫😵💫
it wasn’t until you start gaining more and more attention that wonyoung loses her head though.. she goes on a killing spree in a ridiculous fucking costume, mercilessly taking the life of those that thought they could ever take you from her.. you were the one who noticed the odd pattern: all of those that this ‘ghostface’ killed has interacted with you at least once.. and more than half of them have tried to woo you, so in a sense, this ‘ghostface’ would be protecting you in a really messed up way but you had no idea who would do such a thing for you 🫣🫣 unfortunately wonyoung fucks up one day; after one of her kills, you come over to her home for a quick rundown of another one of your projects together.. and while the two of you sat on her bed, that was when you saw a piece of the dark cloak ‘ghostface’ always wore stuffed haphazardly in wonyoung’s closet.. and then you just noticed the little droplets of blood on the carpet floor.. so dark and have clearly been there for a while…
wonyoung had already noticed that you already pieced it together and made her move before you can say or do or think anything—“not a word, little mouse.” and then you feel it: cold steel. the side of a knife being pressed flat against your neck, the sharp edge being so dangerously close to your collarbone.
no bcs?? you can’t tell me wony wouldn’t find pleasure in your reaction when she lists down all the suitors she has killed.. something in her sick, twisted mind dances happily every time the fear in your eyes gets bigger and stronger, you were practically frozen on her bed as you listened to the exact ways wonyoung murdered her victims.. some of them were close coworkers, acquaintances, friends. and gosh, ofc wony takes this opportunity to finally get her hands on you! 🤭 sitting there while her one free hand explores your body :(( squeezing your breasts, gliding down from your stomach all the way to your core.. “you’re wet? you’re a little freak, aren’t you..? getting turned on despite being touched by a murderer??”
having no choice but to follow her every command :(( laying down all comfortably in her bed, crying silently while wonyoung takes her sweet time taking her clothes off before mounting you, her bare cock dangerously close to your clothed entrance.. “not gonna try and run? smart girl. i wouldn’t want to kill you.. i love you, (y/n)… you can’t let me do that.. so be good.” her kisses were sweet and soft and for a second, you thought that even if she fucks you against your will, maybe she’ll be gentle.. but you were dumber than you actually looked bcs the second you let your guard down, wonyoung creates a small cut on your collarbone and quickly licks it.. practically moaning at your wincing and how you blood tasted eugh she was so freaky! 😭
also, she would be laughing while you struggled against her?? being so scared that she’ll hurt you again you actually try to break free of her hold and shit but she’s just cackling while you thrash underneath her.. feeling so, so weak while she cuts your clothes up.. she’s giggling and everything! so excited to finally see you naked and touch that delicate skin of yours.. and it rlly takes her all of her willpower to not just cut you up and see just how beautiful you’d look with blood all over you 😰😰 you’d beg and beg for her not to hurt you, feeling the cold metal of the knife against your neck as you cry and plead to wonyoung who was rlly just having the time of her life… but things were weird! she has violated you, hurt you, literally killed people you’ve come to know… and you find her so attractive with her face all scrunched up and her head thrown back while she rocks her hips and rams her cock inside you…
at some point you even wrapped your arms around her waist bcs it felt so good 😵💫 you forgot that you were fucking with a murderer and could only think of the wonyoung you knew from before… jang wonyoung, your role model.. and well, suffice to say that was enough for you to agree to everything that she was saying to you and have her cum inside you 🥴 and it wouldn’t even stop there! with or without your consent, wony would be fucking you all night! just in case something happens that would separate the two of you after this night..
ya’ll can’t tell me that she wouldn’t try to manipulate you even more after that day! 🫣 scaring you into not saying a peep about her identity, threatening your career and your whole fucking life if you even think of going to the police.. ofc she was successful! and yes she still continues to be ghostface ofc 🫢 every time someone hits on you while wonyoung was around, your heart would sink low to your stomach knowing she was going to get rid of them.. but not after reminding you who you belong to in an empty changing room 🤭🤭 would also love to think that she would be fucked in the head enough to mold you into her little sidekick?? telling you about her ghostface ways and feeling immensely proud when you claim your first kill who happens to be another model who was way too interested in your wonyoung-nim! 😣
wonyoung would only be completely satisfied after she has turned her favorite doll into a cute little puppet 🤭
#ive smut#ive x reader#ive x fem reader#ive scenarios#ive imagines#jang wonyoung smut#jang wonyoung imagines#jang wonyoung scenarios#jang wonyoung x fem reader#jang wonyoung x reader#wonyoung smut#wonyoung imagines#wonyoung scenarios#wonyoung x reader#wonyoung x fem reader#girl group smut#girl group x reader#girl group imagines#girl group scenarios#girl group x fem reader#g!p ive#g!p idol#g!p jang wonyoung#g!p wonyoung
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when you listen to the rhrn album can you please give your thoughts about like the mixing? Live albums typically don’t always have the greatest mixing but this one like confuses me
alright anon, I'm using your ask to make my official HYP TALKS RHRN SOUNDTRACK post
tag list: @devilsandstarlight @jazz-bazz @skele-bunny @azureseacloud @lilhoechlinsbae @delusionalbitchinthehouse @fallen-iii-ghost
A disclaimer, any negative-leaning take is not hate or "I would've done a better job" (because I would not), it's only my opinion that I was asked for multiple times due to what I do here on tumblr
Okay so I can divide the tracks in two categories when it comes to mixing and all that stuff:
1. Awesome mixing – more depth, better instrumental and vocal balance – Spillways – Cirice – Call Me Little Sunshine – Twenties – Marry On A Cross – Kiss The Go-Goat – Dance Macabre – Square Hammer
2. Less fortunate mixing – some flatness and chunkiness, less balance – Kaisarion – Rats – Faith – Absolution – Watcher In The Sky – Rats – Miasma – Respite On The Spitalfields
I’m not putting If You Have Ghosts into any of these categories because it’s a different world entirely. It’s actually just brilliant, but it’s not as hard to find balance with so few and such instruments as with the other songs on the album. I think Copia is a little too sharp for this vibe and I'm pretty sure they tried to help with reverb. It was a nice touch, but I think it could’ve been more smoothed out. But also I kinda hear Terzo in the second half of it, not Copia, SORRY. The vocal ghoulette could’ve been put either fully on the middle or all stretched all around to surround Copia and the instrumental and fill the space, if that makes sense
In general the mixing is strange in some places, even in the better made songs, it’s just like they lose the plot sometimes. It's possible (and very likely) that it was prepared with vinyls or CDs in mind, not headphones, but that doesn't explain why sometimes it's better and sometimes worse. Some general stuff about mixing I picked out:
1. Dew isn't really on the right, he's more to the middle than Aeon who's totally to the left. Dew could be louder actually in some places, Aeon could be stretched more to the middle 2. Bass has a great definition, we can finally hear how nice some fillers are and how good Rain actually is 3. The girls got some very much deserved highlights, but they did Swiss dirty. I’m outraged for my bbg, but not only because I love him. It would be a genuinely better technical decision if he was louder and/or placed somewhere else. The entire thing is very off balance. It's lead guitar and strong female vocals on the right, and rhythm and basically nothing (Swiss) on the left. It just doesn't make any sense!!!
Now some stuff about specific songs:
1. Rats – So dirty, the mixing failed a little here, the audience just sounds like noise instead of actual good background – DEW DID A PINCH HARMONIC (I manifested it) – Cirrus!!! It’s hard to hear her most of the time and she rocks here – Aeon and Dew had a very good harmony, they work so good together wtf (sorry Aether but they win here)
2. Faith – Aurora and Cumulus completely slay – I adore Dewdrop’s little addition to the 1st solo – But he missed a note in the 2nd solo heh
3. Spillways – FINALLY Swiss in Spillways – It’s the best mixed song in general and I’m not only saying that because of Swiss (who I love), all the instruments and voices are balanced so much better and so much more fluid – There’s less tone definition on bass though
4. Cirice – Dew does some fancy lil harmonic tricks in Cirice, I LIKE – It’s also very well balanced when it comes to instrument, SWISS IS AUDIBLE – Something went WRONG with Cirrus’ synth here, like omfg they did my girl dirty
5. Absolution – I talked about Absolution extensively here
6. Watcher In The Sky – Love the synth on it, why not do that setup for Cirice pls – But also Swiss is always the loudest at the beginning, why not here!? – It’s on the worse list, but it’s not horrible, the backing synths fill it nicely so it’s not as chunky as Rats for example – I think someone forgor Dew is lead, not Aeon, but at least we can appreciate the bug’s skill some more like that – Mounty slamming those bitches at the end, go baby!
7. Twenties – Very glad they highlighted the drums and the bass so much in this one, it’s what Twenties is FOR – Both Dew and Aeon’s palm muting game is so yummy here – Oh, Swiss how I love you – But what are they doing with the solo mixing, why is the bitch moving at the beginning? It’s like someone was late to press some buttons (It might have been on purpose but trying to do some fancy effects doesn’t always work)
8. Miasma – Miasma lands somewhere between the worse and better mixing category but that might be the lack of vocals which takes away some of the needed balance, but it is rather chunky – I don’t like the synths shoved totally into my left ear but that’s just me, not an actual flaw – But then what are they doing at c. 3 minutes??? Again, more fancy doesn’t always mean better and Miasma is fancy and full enough as it is – I think the mixing in Miasma changes from worse to better along the way because the ending is so much better and smoother, around when the sax comes in so they might’ve adjusted some things just to fit it – OMG RAINY GO FANCY AT THE END (the tiniest solo ever <3)
9. Mary On A Cross – Cumulus oh my fuckckk – The vocals before the chorus is such a good touch, nice ascend into the change in melody, love it – Same with Aurora’s solo part the next time, it’s so good that they put her on the middle for that, it’s perfect – The girls do slay the end but Swiss could balance it nicely if only he were just a tiny bit loudeeeeer – And again what are wed doing with these weirdly sustained layered synths??? That’s just slightly unnecessary
10. Respite On The Spitalfields – Swiss should be louder here, too – Respite is in the slightly worse category because this one sounds very flat to me for most part, it’s like only the drums and bass give any depth (or rather force some depth into it) – Once again Aeon’s palm muting is top tier – Girls slaying as usual – I’m not sure why the strings are just forcefully shoved behind Dew but okay… – The mixing here is a crime!!! It’s so flat and this is a song that deserves to be all around and fully immerse you. I’m actually sad about that one – And where are the solo vocal parts???
11. Kiss The Go-Goat – Now why is KTGG deeper and more melodic than Respite??? We’ll never know ig, but yeah, it’s on the better category – Did Nihil fucking mix this album or what??? – Cirrus’ solo in KTGG should be as loud as Dew’s, period
12. Dance Macabre – Dance Macabre is on the better category too, you can even hear Swiss – Glorious bass here
13. Square Hammer – Now Squammer, very good mixing for the finish but I still think that the girls should be more to the middle and wider, especially in backing vocal heavy tracks like this one – YES Dew bestie go ham on it at the end, slay, make your tech angry – OHHHH AEON’S THING UGHGFHNGHGHHG (he was probably wobbling his pickup switch with one of them turned off so it was basically sound on–off–on–off)
Also not really from the technical side but they cut out some strong tracks and it's honestly a big shame :(
Some gear stuff nobody will hear but me (/hj): 1. Rain definitely still has steel strings ‘cause COME ON, the TONE!!! 2. Aeon’s palm muting skills rock 3. The difference between Aeon’s ceramic humbuckers on the Fantomen and Dewdrop’s Hot Rail single coils is on the Strat so prominent AHHH 4. Aeon missed on the CMLS solo a little but Dew covered him up hjfgsdh 5. Slightly funny addition, but I love that Aurora’s voice and Dewdrop’s guitar can be mistaken for one another sometimes because of the tone and pitch lmfao
And that's it heh I'll gladly elaborate on some aspects or answer any questions that might come up so you know, my askbox and dms are open :3
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Heyy can you do J,I,Y,X,V,S,N,E,F,B nsfw alphabet for ratonhnhaké:ton please 😊
Thanks for sending this in hun! Y'all feel free to take a gander at my NSFW Alphabet and send in some more requests! Happy reading!
Ratonhnhaké:ton:
B= Body Part (favorite body part of their own or their lover's)
Connor’s favorite body part(s) of his own are his arms
His favorite body part of yours is your lips (he's also quite partial to your cheeks and hands)
Connor admires the strength of his arms, how easily they allow him to carry you, and caress you and comfort you when the occasion calls for it
He likes your lips because they’re soft and oh so kissable
He could spend an eternity just gently kissing you, savoring the way you taste and holding you close *swoon*
E= Experience (do they know what they're doing )
Connor…sort of knows what he’s doing
Initially
He really doesn't really have all that much experience, mostly on account of the fact that, y'know, he's a busy Assassin/Captain/Business Owner🙃
I personally headcanon that Connor lost his virginity to the person he married; in this case, let's say that's you
In the beginning, Connor is hesitant but very teachable
He really just needed a gentle, encouraging hand to help him along and before long, he’s practically an expert at making you feel good
F= Favorite Position
Con-con man’s a bit of a vanilla guy so I’d say something intimate like missionary or spooning
He’s also partial to just your basic cowgirl
I= Intimacy (do they prefer to "fuck" or "make love”)
Connor prefers to “make love” 9 ½ times out of ten
The rest of the time he’s probably hopped up on adrenaline or something and needs to properly “fuck” the energy out
J= Jack Off (do they masturbate & how often)
I wrote about this once before but I imagine that Connor actually masturbates fairly often
Which probably sounds counterintuitive given that I just said he’s a busy man but just hear me out 😂
In that drabble, I noted that he has a high libido, and, looking at it from the perspective of an average, sexually healthy person, the reader couldn’t always keep up/doesn’t feel like takin’ it to the bed all the time
So, as a remedy to the issue of essentially always being ready to go, outside of like quickies, Connor just masturbates and it helps
Not necessarily a whole lot, but it helps nonetheless 🙃
N= No (turnoffs or flat-out no no's)
Connor will not hurt you in bed, no matter how you plead and beg and whine and moan
If that’s one of your kinks
Connor’s already lived his life around so much violence and he’s gotten his fair share of scars and injuries, and he would never want to inflict something like that onto you
Yeah yeah, he knows how to be gentle and maintain self control and he could feasibly play rough but he just prefers not to
Connor’s a big ole’ teddy bear ok, just let ‘im be soft 😭
S= Stamina (how many rounds per night, how many nights/times per week)
Rounds per night: As many as you’re able to go and then some, so if I just absolutely had to give a figure it’d probably be 3-4
Nights/times per week: Again, as many as you’re up for, but on his own, he could go the aforementioned 3-4 rounds every night of the week
V= Volume (are they loud, do they talk & if so, what kinds of sounds do they make)
Connor doesn’t talk loudly, but he may whisper sweet words in his native language and even swear in it and English when things get really heated
Other than that, he makes the usual grunts, sharp intakes of air through his clenched teeth and, if you’re fortunate, you may even pull a throaty moan from him on occasion *waggles eyebrows*
X= X-ray (length, girth, any special attributes like piercings, veins, tats, etc.)
So…here’s the thing
I think we as a community have collectively decided that Connor is, for lack of better term, packin’
He’s big, and I would even imagine he knows it 😏
Let’s say about 8 ½ inches in length, a little greater than half an inch thick, with prominent veins running along both sides
And that’s not even me being generous
Honestly I could imagine him to be a bit bigger but I don’t want this to become too unrealistic
Even though he’s a fictional character but I digress 🙃
Y= Yearning (a look into their libido)
As previously mentioned, Connor has quite the libido
Contrary to what one might assume from observing his personality and mannerisms, Connor has a naturally high sex drive and he practically runs on adrenaline, so while he’s not perpetually hard exactly, he’s pretty damn close 😂
Plus him being so adoring of you doesn’t help, simply observing you do the most simplistic things sends his drive through the roof
He’s just in love ok, leave my baby alone 😤
I believe that’s everything this time ‘round. I hope you enjoyed! 👋🏾
#ratonhnhaké:ton#connor kenway#ac3#assassin's creed 3#connor kenway smut#ratonhnhaké:ton smut#ratonhnhaké:ton x reader#connor kenway x reader
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i present you: grub species swap! avian cub and vex grian with some vex scar trying to eat everyone on the side (so warning for cannibalism mentions but like in a funny way). can also be read on ao3 here!
backwards
“What did you do?!” Grian basically screams as he lunges at Cub with almost inhumane speed. Cub steps to the side, avoiding Grian more easily than he should have been able to.
Right.
Grian is considerably smaller and easier to dodge without his big bright wings that easily triple the amount of space the man needs around him even when they are neatly folded against his back. The wings that are currently not on Grian’s, but Cub’s back.
Which brings them to their current problem, which isn’t even Grian’s confused anger. At least that isn’t the main problem and Cub is fairly certain he can hopefully deal with it, though he’s no Grian-whisperer.
“Man, I didn’t do anything!” he replies, raising his hands in surrender. It was true – for once. He had nothing to do with this. The wings on his back shift as he moves, feeling unfamiliar and weird. “Not my fault, I swear!”
“You have my wings!” Grian stares at Cub like he has grown a second head instead of wings, his deep black eyes even more ominous than usual.
“Not by choice,” Cub argues. “Not everything is always someone else’s fault, y’know.”
Grian glares at him and Cub shrugs. The weight of the wings seems to put pressure on muscles Cub didn’t even know existed – hell, maybe they didn’t exist before this, who knows what the extent of these changes to his body really was? Whatever it was, it was certainly making him uncomfortable.
“I’m having kind of a hard time believing that you here, Mr. Vex Magician, don’t have anything to do with you mysteriously having my wings, ouch-” Grian flinches suddenly and pauses, sticking out his tongue. “Bit my tongue, dude, that hurt .” Cub watches the blood bleed on his lips blue. His eyes widen in realization and Grian looks at him questioningly. “What? Stop staring, you’re being weird.”
Cub sucks in a breath and ignores the feeling of feathers puffing up behind him. “You’re a vex,” he says.
Grian’s face twists from confusion to some sort of furious disbelief. “I’m what!? ” he shrieks. “Cub, what did you just say!?”
“You’re a vex,” he repeats. Suddenly things make more sense – still not enough sense, but more nonetheless. Something is very wrong, that much Cub can tell. “I’m a bird, you’re a vex.”
“An avian,” Grian corrects sourly as if that was the biggest of his concerns right now. “What do you mean? How can you even tell?”
“You’re bleeding blue,” Cub points out and Grian instantly wipes his mouth on his sleeve, staring at the stain left behind, dumbfounded. He opens his mouth to say something and Cub notes the row of pointy teeth clearly visible. “Also your teeth are sharp, like vex.” He watches Grian run his tongue over his teeth and does the same himself, noticing his own teeth are no longer like little daggers lined up but instead flat like humans and hybrids that didn’t have special diets tended to have.
“What does this mean?” Grian asks, sounding alarmed by the new discovery. “Being a vex, what does it mean for me?”
Cub thinks – what does it mean? He’s so used to his own nature and all the big and small quirks that come with it that it’s not as simple of a question as one might think. Now that he knows to look, he can tell Grian’s nails are sharper too and there’s a light blue tint to his face where normally he’d be flushing red.
“Hopefully not much,” he ends up shrugging. “If we get this fixed quickly.”
“That’s a pretty big if, considering neither of us seem to have any idea what happened!” Grian huffs. “What if we can’t get it fixed quickly, what then? Cub, vexes are weird creatures! I don’t know how any of this works!”
Cub snorts, not taking offense. “Can you hear them?” Grian shakes his head, visibly confused. “Good, good. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t think so?” he replies, taking a moment to focus on his now rather foreign-feeling body. “I feel like I could eat something but not hungry, I don’t think? Wait, what do you mean by hearing them? Can you hear them?”
“That’s normal, if you’re not feeling hungry then there’s nothing to worry about,” Cub hums. There might, most likely will, be something to worry about in the future if they can’t get this solved, but right now he’d prefer to… avoid going into certain details unless he absolutely has to. “I can usually hear the vex, but not right now though.”
He’s grown so used to the little yells and screams in the back of his head that he hadn’t even realized they weren’t there anymore. The silence is odd now that he pays attention to it, but he’s relieved to know the cacophony hasn’t moved into Grian’s head instead.
“What do you mean you can usually hear them?” Grian asks, sounding so horrified Cub is even more glad Grian apparently can’t hear them. “That’s awful, can Scar hear them too?”
“Yep,” Cub replies. He would have assumed Scar would have told Grian, considering the two were good friends, but then again, it really wasn’t that much of a big deal. “It’s kinda annoying but we’re used to it by now. It’s not too bad.”
“Doesn’t sound like something ‘not too bad’ to me,” Grian insists. “Does Xisuma know?”
“If he knows anything about vexes, then probably yeah. Seriously, it’s no big deal, I’m sure there are some bird things you don’t think are odd but others do,” Cub says, rolling his shoulders. The wings are starting to feel uncomfortable like things aren’t in the right places. “Like for example how itchy these wings are,” he mumbles, trying to reach for the itchy spot before realizing that one, he can’t reach it, and two, the wings aren’t moving in the ways he thinks they should be. “How do you even deal with this, mine are never like this-”
“You can preen them,” Grian points out with a shrug. “I’m kinda lazy with that though, so I’ve just gotten used to the discomfort. Hold on, what do you mean by your wings?”
“My vex wings. You do know that vexes have wings, right?”
Grian gapes at him and Cub pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I know the little creatures have wings!” Grian defends himself as Cub sighs in fake disappointment. “Don’t act disappointed, I’ve never seen yours or Scar’s wings, how was I supposed to know?!”
It was true neither of them really kept them visible, as they weren’t really all that useful and it was often easier to keep them hidden than to have them be on the way all the time, but still. Did this guy really know nothing about vexes at all?
“I don’t know, maybe like, look behind you or something?”
Cub watches Grian turn around a full circle, only to realize he’s trying to see something on his own back, and then trying to look over his shoulder. The wings are transparent and nearly invisible, but still very much there, just like Cub had thought they would most likely be, considering Grian would not know how to hide them with magic. Grian gawks at the wings with his mouth open, looking quite stupid in Cub’s honest opinion.
“Shut up!” Grian yells before Cub can even open his mouth to say anything. Instead, he raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I don’t know anything about vexes but that just means we really need to fix this even faster. I don’t want to like, start hearing them, or whatever that was about.”
Cub decides to not argue that he can usually hear the vexes because of his connection to the vex, which despite apparently having his species swapped with Grian, should not transfer over like that.
“Right,” he says instead. “We should probably go find Xisuma once he comes back online.”
Grian plucks his communicator out of his pocket and Cub watches his face drop in real time as he realizes they’re the only ones online. “Dude, this sucks. What if it’s a bug and the others will come back wrong too?”
The communicator in Grian’s hand pings. “We’ll see, I guess?” Cub says, recognizing the sound of a player logging on to the server.
“Scar!” Grian shouts. He makes a weird attempt to jump and it takes a second for Cub to realize he’s trying to fly. Before he can say anything, Grian has already noticed his mistake and taken off on foot, running towards the location of Scar’s base. Cub hurries behind him clumsily, weighed down by the wings against his back.
-
“So what exactly happened?” Scar asks curiously, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice as he watches Grian pace around the room. Cub had sat down as soon as he could once they made it to Scar’s base, tired from the running. “Cub is a bird and you’re vex? Like you got swapped somehow?”
“Cub is an avian,” Grian grumbles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “And we don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, I don’t like it.”
“You’re feeling fully normal?” Cub asks Scar, who certainly looks normal. No weird wings, none of his usual visible traits missing. Cub can’t sense him like he usually can through his vex magic, but that seems like a given considering the current situation.
“Yep!” Scar grins and Cub can see the row of sharp vex teeth in his mouth glimmer in the light. Yeah, everything seems normal. “Never been better in my life!”
“Can you hear the vexes?” Grian asks and Cub rolls his eyes.
“Why, of course I can!” Scar replies cheerfully. “I’d be worried if I couldn’t. They’re a little irritated that they can’t reach Cub right now, but it’s probably fine.”
“Probably,” Grian repeats, not nearly as convinced as Scar seems to be. “We need to fix this, I don’t want to end up on the vexes’ bad side because of this or something.”
Cub snorts and Scar bursts into laughter.
“Don’t laugh!” Grian hisses. “Dude, this is what people mean when they say vexes are vicious little creatures, I’m losing my marbles over here and you two are laughing!”
“You’re not going to make an enemy out of the vex because of something like this,” Cub assures, though he feels like his tone probably wasn’t as comforting as needed, considering the glare Grian sends his way.
“Cub is right! It’s very unlikely,” Scar chimes in to add. “It would be really funny though.”
“It would not!” Grian argues exasperatedly, dragging his hands down his face. “This is impossible. How is today the one day when barely anyone is online?”
“Don’t be such a downer! You both should try to get all the fun out of this while it lasts!” Scar says with an excited smile. There’s a glint in his eyes Cub can recognize as the one that never means anything good. Grian looks suspicious of Scar’s suggestion. “Cub, can I eat you? I’ve always wondered if avians taste like chicken-”
“Scar!” Grian screeches, horrified.
“Fine, can me and Grian eat you?” Scar corrects himself.
Grian stares at Scar in horror. “No one is eating anyone!”
Cub shrugs – it wasn’t the wildest thing Scar could have suggested. If he had some clue what had happened and how to fix it, he would probably be taking the opportunity to do some experimenting too. “It’s probably better we don’t die and respawn before we can figure out what went wrong,” he says. “So we don’t mess things up even more.”
“Boring,” Scar laments.
“Wait, you said you’ve been wondering what avians taste like?” Grian stares at Scar. “Have you been wanting to eat me ?”
“Well, not necessarily you,” Scar says thoughtfully. “I don’t think you would agree so it would be kinda pointless.”
“And Cub would?” he questions further.
“Usually!” Scar says happily at the same time as Cub replies, “Yes.”
The expression on Grian’s face twists from suspicious disbelief back to looking absolutely horrified as his gaze flicks between Scar and Cub like the two weren’t known cannibals due to their vex nature. Grian hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, but with how things seemed to be going, he should probably start getting used to the thought.
“We really need to fix this,” he says, looking a little pale. Scar chuckles and Grian glares at him.
“Yeah,” Cub agrees, again trying to reach for the colorful wings on his back to ease his discomfort. “I need to get these itchy wings off my back.”
“I told you that you can preen them if they feel uncomfortable,” Grian points out, taking a step towards Cub. Scar watches them curiously, tilting his head a little. It’s a habit he has that Cub is certain he subconsciously copied from Jellie.
“You do realize that I don’t usually have feathers and barely know what that means, right?”
“Well, you could have said that!” Grian exclaims, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “You can ask for help, y’know? I’ll help you sort them out.”
Cub moves back a little, noticing the wings folding even closer to his back as he shies away when Grian tries to approach him. “I don’t want you touching me,” he says, and Grian stops to stare at him.
“So you’d rather suffer with uncomfortable wings,” he phrases his question as a statement. Cub nods and Grian rolls his eyes.
“I can help!” Scar offers, perking up a little.
“It’s true,” Grian confirms. “He knows how to preen. Kinda.”
Cub blinks – he was not aware of Scar having such skill. “Really?” Scar nods enthusiastically, always eager to help. “Okay, sure, you can help. It’s just this one spot I can’t reach that’s bothering me.”
Scar stands up and makes his way behind Cub and the chair he’s sitting on with a few swift steps, seeming to easily find the feathers that had been bothering Cub. It’s a weird feeling as Scar touches the feathers, the discomfort becoming more obvious before disappearing as he seems to rearrange the feathers.
“Why does Scar get to do that but I don’t?” Grian asks, sounding more curious than offended. Cub suspects he wasn’t all that excited to help out of the kindness of his heart, but rather feeling obliged to do so considering Cub did have his wings.
“Vex privilege,” Scar hums easily as he straightens out a few more feathers and Cub feels the bad feeling slowly disappear and some tension he hadn’t even noticed melt away from his body.
“I’m a vex now though,” Grian remarks.
“You don’t count,” Scar says cheerfully, stepping away once he deems he’s fixed the feathers. “Doesn’t work like that. You gotta sell your soul to the vex first and then you get the vex privilege.”
Cub chuckles at Scar’s explanation that isn’t really all that far-fetched despite being told like a joke. Grian doesn’t seem particularly amused by it, nor does he seem to have taken it too seriously, which is ideal considering Cub doesn’t feel like explaining the details of the vex bond between him and Scar to anyone today if he doesn’t have to.
“That hardly sounds worth it,” Grian retorts, crossing his arms.
“It’s not too bad, it’s not too bad,” Cub shrugs.
“You guys have to eat people.”
“Like Cub said, it’s not too bad!” Scar adds cheerfully. “If you’re that disturbed by it, we better get this solved before you get hungry or we’ll have to eat Cub!”
“I’m not eating anyone!” Grian argues.
“Correction, we better get this solved before you get hungry or I’m going to have to force-feed you Cub before you go insane and cause irreparable damage to yourself and others.”
Grian gawks at Scar and this time Cub has to admit that was a pretty wild thing to say, even if Scar wasn’t exactly wrong. Vexes did not like being hungry. The horrified silence that had fallen is broken by a ping from Grian’s communicator.
“Xisuma is back!”
-
“Oh my goodness.” Xisuma looks rather caught off guard as he stares at Cub and Grian before him, confusion visible even through his helmet that hides most of his face. “You two certainly look… a little wrong.”
“Isn’t that a little rude?” Scar comments from the side. “I don’t think they look that bad.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” X sighs and Cub sees Scar’s trademark little smirk appear on his face as he tries to act all innocent. “What happened? Is it just you two? Scar seems fine.”
Scar smiles proudly and Grian rolls his eyes.
“Just me and Grian, so far at least,” Cub explains. “I just logged on after testing some redstone stuff in a private world and suddenly things just kinda were like this. We might have logged on at the same time or something.”
“I see… Something must have gone wrong during the materialization process. Code problems happen but I haven’t seen them like this,” the admin mumbles mostly himself. “And you’ve both been feeling alright? No sickness or glitching?”
Cub shakes his head.
“I’m starting to grow a little sick of Scar but nothing aside from that,” Grian snickers.
“Hey!” Scar exclaims, pretending to be offended.
“You threatened to force-feed Cub to me!”
Xisuma looks a little helpless as he looks between the two in confusion, eyes occasionally flicking to Cub who is mostly just enjoying the show, already more than used to Scar and Grian’s shenanigans. He shrugs and Xisuma sighs. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down now,” he says, pulling up the admin panel in his communicator. “I’ll see if I can find something in your code.”
Scar and Grian stop, freezing into an odd position that looks like Grian is trying to tackle Scar to the ground, and Scar is trying to bite Grian’s arm, before standing up straight as if nothing happened. Cub gives them an unimpressed look.
The three of them not-so-subtly inch closer to their admin to see what he's doing on his communicator as he scrolls through the lines of code none of them aside from him are familiar with. Grian yelps a little when Cub accidentally hits him with the wings, still not used to needing more space than usual.
“I’m looking at the arrival logs,” Xisuma says thoughtfully. “Cub is right, it seems you both joined at the exact same time, down to milliseconds. The server must have gotten confused trying to materialize both of you at the same time.”
“And?” Grian inquires impatiently. “Can you fix it?”
“I can correct the species you’re both assigned right now to your actual species and then hopefully a relog should do the rest.” The three of them watch Xisuma type something in the admin panel. “Alright, there we go. That should do it, hopefully.”
Grian looks a bit suspicious but nods. It’s not like they really have other options, Cub supposes. At least if something goes wrong again, Xisuma is here to help them right away this time.
“Should we just relog then?” Cub asks, quite frankly rather excited to have his own traits back.
“Yes, I think that should fix things,” Xisuma replies, looking at Cub and then Grian. “As long as you don’t log back in on the same exact second again,” he adds, amused.
“Good luck!” Scar chimes.
Grian and Cub share a look before nodding in unison. Cub watches Grian dematerialize next to him before disconnecting from the server as well.
He waits a moment before logging back on to make sure Grian has a chance to log on first.
Cub instantly feels more comfortable as the familiar world appears before his eyes. He blinks a few times, his gaze focusing on his friends standing where they had been when he left – his eyes are automatically drawn to the large and colorful wings behind Grian and a relieved sigh leaves him.
“It worked!” Grian cheers, his wings opening behind him as he does something that looks like a big stretch. Now that he knows what the wings feel like, Cub can imagine how nice that must feel. Grian flaps them a few times, gathering air under them before jumping into the air. “Oh man, how I missed flying!”
There are happy little high-pitched giggles in Cub’s head, joyous and gleeful. He smiles a little – everything feels normal again. His teeth and nails are sharp, he can tell his wings are there even if he can’t see them. He can feel his connection to Scar, and from the man’s grin, Cub can tell he can feel Cub again too.
“That was pretty wild, that was pretty wild,” Cub laughs. It feels good to be fully himself again. “Thanks, Xisuma.”
“No problem,” the admin replies as he watches Grian soar through the air. Cub can hear his smile even if he can’t see it. “I’m glad it was a simple fix, though I’ll have to look into the server code to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Cub hums in agreement.
“Grian!” Scar shouts, trying to get the avian’s attention. His hat nearly falls off his head as Grian flies past him. “Now that you’re a bird again, how do you feel about the whole eating thing?”
“Scar! ” Grian screams in horror. Cub and Xisuma laugh.
Everything’s back to normal.
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@mysterysnail reblogged my post about Layton music saying they were trying to learn the basics about music.
I'm sure there are better resources, but here's what I know (skip to the very end if you just want to hear me analyse some Layton music).
Let's start with some definitions of things that make up music:
Notes: the individual sounds made by an instrument/voice. I often use it interchangeably with pitch, but they are different terms.
Pitch: How high or low the note is. In UK/US etc systems each pitch is given a letter name A to G then which repeats. Other European countries often use 'do re mi fa so la ti' instead. I don't know about other places because our system just copies the UK naming conventions and that's ingrained in my head.
Accidentals (sharps/flats): pitches are separated by semitones (half a tone), which is just a set distance in pitch (the Jaws theme, dah-duh, is two notes separated by one semitone. the second and third notes of Happy Birthday (-py birth-) is a tone, a gap twice the size). An increase or decrease by one semitone makes a note sharp or flat, respectively. You can get multiple notes with the same name (B sharp = C natural), this sounds confusing but it makes sense when you write/play music. Natural means there is no sharp or flat.
Scales: a set of notes ordered by ascending pitch. Each scale has a 'mood' or flavour associated with it. For example, minor scales are often considered sad, while major are happy. The flavour is determined not just by the choice of notes, but by the role of each note in the scale. Often a scale played starting from a different note will become a different scale (if you play C major starting from A, you get the A minor scale). This is because a new note has become the tonic, the base pitch that roots the scale.
Key: the scale used to write a piece of music. This is not always set in stone and deviations are allowed. It is determined by a mixture of factors, most importantly which pitch the piece is centred around. The key can change in a song (key change, or modulation).
Chord: a set of two or more notes played at once. Chords come in many types, but the typical three note chords are major, minor, diminished and augmented. They are named after the the note which defines the chord (e.g. CEG make the chord C Major).
Arpeggio: a chord split up so the notes are played separately.
Interval: the gap between two notes. These go unison (no gap), second (two 'letters', e.g. A to B), third, etc then octave for eight (A to A or C to C etc). After octave you can keep going with ninth etc, but it's rare for jumps that large. Intervals can also be classified as major, minor, perfect, diminished or augmented.
What's a little more generally useful than understanding each of these things is the elements that make up music:
Tempo: how fast/slow all the notes are
Rhythm: the duration of each note. The 'horizontal axis' in sheet music. It's different from tempo since you can play the same rhythm at different tempos. It's like word length in a sentence while tempo is how fast you say the words.
Melody: the movement up or down in pitch. The 'vertical axis' in sheet music. It is tied to the key of the music (the scale/set of notes the piece uses), but with a focus on direction and the 'shape' of the music.
Harmony: the consonance (agreeing sounds) or dissonance (clashing sounds) that occur when you have chords or layered melodies.
Chord progressions: moving from one chord to another, you get certain patterns. This is like the chord version of melody.
Texture: how many sounds are layered on top of each other. How thick/dense or thin/sparse the music is.
Dynamics: how loud or soft (quiet) the music is.
Timbre: the unique sound of the instrument. It's like how a note played on a piano sounds different to when it's played on the flute. This is qualified by adjectives like airy, metallic, brassy, warm, crisp, nasally etc.
Articulation: how the note is made. Is it detached from the other notes (staccato), is it smoothly joined (legato, slurred) is it emphasised (marcato, accented)? Some instruments have different ways of playing separate to these instructions, like a violin can play plucked (pizzicato) or bowed (arco) but it can still be staccato either way.
Ornamentation/improvisation/embellishment: grace notes, trills, glissandi, etc etc. These are little flourishes that add tiny little notes between other notes. I'm including improvisation here because these are all sort of playing around with the basic melody of a piece of music.
There are other things you could consider but this will do.
Below the read more, I'll apply some of these ideas to a song from Layton to illustrate how it all comes together
Let's use Folsense for our example because I happen to have the sheet music for it handy.
So, it opens with a solo piano. We've got melody in the upper register (high notes) and the chords in the lower register.
Note that this isn't the actual score. I think I adapted it from here.
It's fairly slow (63 beats per minute). This fits into how the town feels aged and weary.
The key is ostensibly F Major or D minor, due to the key signature (the sharps/flats before those two fours): there's one flat (B flat), which matches both those keys. This means every B will be B flat. You can see though that we have an accidental, an E flat, in the lower part, which doesn't fit with either of the proposed keys. The music also doesn't really anchor itself to an F or a D.
This can be felt in the music: Folsense sounds rather untethered and ethereal. The whole song, like the town itself, doesn't quite feel real or settled.
The sparseness adds to this, with only one or two instruments ever really playing at any moment. It evokes a sense of loneliness and emptiness: the town in the game feels oddly unpopulated and so does the music.
At about 35 seconds in we get a lot of long, sustained notes on the violin. These are bowed and quite smoothly connected, which almost exaggerates their length.
Note that the rhythms of the piano's chords don't line up with the violin. The violin notes are also of an unusual length. (I forgot to say this, but the two 4s at the start is the time signature and it means "4 crotchets per bar" where a crotchet (quarter note for Americans) is half a minim (half note) which is half a semibreve (whole note). 4 4 is the most common time sign, and means you can count the beat with an even 1, 2, 3, 4). The violin holds a note for three and a quarter beats. This length, combined with the (I'm getting flashbacks to high school exams, sorry) mismatched rhythms in the melody and harmony parts is unsettling, and further emphasises that something in Folsense is not quite right.
At 1:00 we get a return to the opening melody, but instead of accordion we have a trumpet (I think?). This has a brassy, nasally timbre. It feels warm, but there's a certain warbling quality to it which makes it sound plaintive and sad.
The melody is incredibly simple, and its often just ascending notes, with very small intervals. This, combined with the warmth of the strings, brass and accordion, along with the crip, clean sound of the piano, should evoke a sense of calm and maybe even joy. But there is a constant dissonance throughout the piece. It's notable in the second fragment I showed that while the second bar (bar 10, a bar is the space between two black lines and made of 4 beats in 4 4 time) had E flat major as the chord on the bottom (E flat, G, B flat), the melody plays an A, which uncomfortable sits one semitone below the B flat.
All music can be boiled down to tension and resolution. Unpleasant-sounding chords are only unpleasant in that the ear cries for them to be resolved. If you play the chords CEG (C major) then GBDF (G dominant 7th) on a piano, you'll feel a tension. If you play another CEG, it'll be resolved. Resolution feels complete, like the music has properly ended.
Here we have a tension that is never resolved, due to the lack of a defined key and the recurring dissonance, which creates this interplay between joy and sadness. Just like Folsense, brightly lit up but strangely quiet, the piece never feels right. It is trapped in a constant state of inertia, just like the town is stuck in the past and slowly decaying.
#the analysis of Folsense went on a bit longer than I expected#I hope people find it interesting#I was good enough at this stuff in high school but I never really studied it after#my explanations of music theory stuff may be a tad simplistic#but it'll serve its purpose and now I can point people to it if I ever decide to do more music analysis#and that way I can use words like timbre or dynamics and people will know what I mean#professor layton and pandora's box#professor layton
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Soft
a/n: here to feed your delusions once again. this one could be a two parter if anyone is interested. let me know :)
summary: drunk words are sober thoughts
word count: 1032
warnings: drunk will, mention of girlfriend and drinking, an appropriate amount of angst
- - -
It was hard; being his best friend right now. Every night for the past month or so around 12:30 am you’d get a call. Most of the time he just wanted to talk about his stream, how many viewers he had that night, what he’d done. Other times he asked you to come over. Those were the nights he hadn’t streamed. The ones he reserved to go out with Tommy and you. He’d always cancel plans about an hour before you’d meet - give some lame excuse about how his girlfriend wanted to stay in or he had to edit a video. Those were the calls you were dreading because you knew how you’d find him when you went to visit.
It was 2:49 am, this night. Your phone lit up with a photo of you two in central London you’d taken months ago, before he started dating this girl, but just after he broke up with the last one. Your eyes barely opened to make sure it was a call worth answering, but since it was him, you rolled onto your side and tapped the green button.
“Will, are you alright? It’s late.”
“She left me.” He mumbled, the wine or beer he had certainly been drinking almost seeped through the phone screen. “She left angry and texted me to say we were done.”
“Can I come over?” You were already slipping on shoes. A blurry ‘yes’ came through the speakers and you left your flat. Thankfully he was only around the block, and you kept him talking as you sped to him. “I’m here, come let me in.”
“It’s open. I’m up in the bedroom.” He spoke through the phone, sounding a little more aware than he had only ten minutes ago. It calmed the worry in your gut a bit, but the fact he’d left his doors unlocked while he was inebriated kept the knot in your stomach tight. Once you were inside you hung up the phone and shouted up to him.
“I’m just taking off my shoes!” carefully lining them up next to his - where her’s would normally be. You could hear a little shuffling upstairs but nothing that added to your concern. That is until you heard glass hit and shatter on the floor. You almost slipped as you raced up - soft socks and hardwood stairs not a good mix. “Will?”
“I’m ok.” He shouted from his room. “-is just my glass.” He was sprawled across his bed, arm outstretched to reach the table that had an open bottle of wine and now cup-less coaster. At least he cared for his furniture. His hair stuck to his forehead and you could tell he hadn’t gotten up in at least 8 hours, the blankets around him flattened from his long stay in bed.
“You’re not hurt?”
“Physically, no. Emotionally?” He smashed his face further into his pillows instead of answering.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” You ask, carefully picking up the largest pieces of glass shards that had scattered across the floor. You grimaced at the small spots of red that had spattered on the light walls, making a mental note to clean it up when he was feeling better.
“We were drinking a bit at dinner. Something red that she’d wanted.” He curled his long body into himself as he recounted the evening's events. Wilbur was a sad drunk, but also a chatty one, so his story went on for a few minutes while you finished cleaning the glass. His eyes followed you as you moved about the room and he pulled his head up a bit once his story was finished.
Once the mess was cleaned, or at least the sharp shards put into the trash, you sat yourself by the edge of his bed and leaned your head in close to his. “How can I help you, Will?” You whispered to the man. He shrugged so you offered a few options. “Do you want me to make you something to eat? Maybe while you shower and sober up a bit?”
“I’ll shower but will you just sit outside? I don’t think I wanna be alone right now.” He whispered the last bit. You nodded and helped him up. Once he was sitting on the edge of the bed, you standing in front of him, he wrapped his long arms around your waist and tucked his head into your stomach. Your hand pulled his head in, running your fingers through his hair.
“We’ll get through it. I know we will.” You spoke as he clung to you. “And hey, this means Lovejoy will get some really good songs after this, huh?” You teased as he pulled away. That put a smile on his face as he stood and lumbered to the bathroom. You took your place on the floor near the bathroom door and listened as Will rambled about whatever had happened on his last stream. You could hear the water hitting the floor as he washed his hair. Soon enough he was out and changed, pulling you into another hug.
“Better?” You asked him and he let out a deep breath.
“Yeah. Definitely still drunk though.” He mumbled into your hair. “Will you stay with me?”
“Do you think I have anything better to do at three in the morning?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and pulled you into the bed with him. Once you got comfy he arranged his long limbs over you, resembling a starfish. A longboard sigh left his lungs as he nuzzled a little into his pillow. You realized at this moment this isn’t what best friends do. Best friends don’t cuddle or wait for the other to get out of the shower. Will’s breath steadied next to you as your mind began to swirl with thoughts as to what could cause that girl to leave such a soft and sweet man.
“It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it? The argument I mean.” You asked into the dark room, expecting an answer. Instead, you heard a quiet snore and realized that Will had fallen asleep, head tucked into your neck. Guess that conversation will have to happen tomorrow.
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Okay so I read your pinned post and omg having pitch-colour synesthesia sounds so interesting! I'm curious if you also see those colours/visions(?) when you yourself are singing? Also, did you notice anything interesting with game OSTs like Ace Attorney? (I don't know much about synesthesia so if any of this was weird, feel free not to answer haha)
Not weird at all friend! I love answering synesthesia questions and this one has made my day <3
Generally since much of my singing is done in either a performance or rehearsal/practice setting (and the latter is in preparation for a performance so they’re not that different to me functionally—and even when I’m singing for fun I still end up treating it like a performance a lot of the time), my synesthetic visions usually take a backseat to the more technical aspects of my performance such as proper breath management, good intonation, strong diction, and important elements of musicality like dynamics and emotional expression among other things. That said they are still very much there in the back of my mind and sometimes even influence my performance a little—for instance keys with darker colors tend to make me want to sing with a darker, fuller tone (this one in particular is a double-edged sword because it can be to my detriment if the piece in particular doesn’t really call for that kind of sound).
I have MANY little scattered observations about the Ace Attorney soundtrack—I’m not sure if you’re asking for synesthesia thoughts or general thoughts so I guess I’ll do a bit of both.
A few synesthetic observations:
The Turnabout Sisters theme is in A flat major which in my head is the same shade of purple as Maya’s haori! I always love when a composer’s key choices match up with my synesthetic interpretations like that <3
Objection! 2001 and Objection! 2002 are in G minor and F minor respectively which are blue ENOUGH harmony-wise to match with Phoenix, but Objection! 2004 is in D minor which is closer to a sea-green so I end up associating it more with Godot. Which is odd but it is what it is
A few general observations:
Distant Traces of Beauty actually shares melodic material with The Fragrance of Dark Coffee! In the former you can hear it in an arpeggiated melody at the end of the loop which is the exact same as the first five notes of the latter, which serves as really awesome musical foreshadowing for Godot’s relation to Dahlia!
First-Class Reasoning (Sebastian’s theme) modulates (changes keys) several times over the course of the loop—it starts in C major, then moves to F major and then G major then goes back to C major when the loop replays. It also uses a lot of decorative accidentals (notes outside the key, so for C major which has no sharps or flats an F# would be considered an accidental for example) in its melody—both of these elements are meant to symbolize Sebastian’s winding and sometimes nonsensical logic <3
#ask#muffin-mikaela#music nerd shit#musical analysis#about me#maya fey#phoenix wright#godot#dahlia hawthorne#sebastian debeste#aa#this was very fun to write thank you <3
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love is stored in the sonata
Connor Lassiter thought he'd stop hearing the Graveyard's piano once Risa Ward left. Y/N L/N may prove him wrong. It does not hurt him as much as he thought it would. Far from it, actually.
masterlist
Connor Lassiter almost thinks he’s hallucinating when he first hears the piano.
It’s not that he’s so far removed from any semblance of humanity that the possibility of culture and art is obscene; despite what Proactive Citizenry would like to argue, AWOLs aren’t gremlins nor creatures of destruction only. Connor can stand to hear a melody. He just isn’t used to it. Not here.
Certainly not since Risa was abducted. The piano did not desiccate into ash and dust when she left, and the fact that she’s being held hostage somewhere unknown to Connor does not glue all the keys in place nor stop them from being played. Every Unwind here has the capability to bang out a tune if they so desire. They just don’t, either out of respect to Risa’s memory or perhaps a lingering fear that someone will see a prodigy in their fingers and try to carve the skill out of their digits themselves.
Connor stands motionless in the shadow of a grounded jet, listening to the chords echo off of the rusting metal. It kind of feels like he’s being haunted by the Ghost of AWOL Girlfriends Past, even though he and Risa never agreed on anything of the sort. However, referring to the lingering feeling of wrongness nestled between his lungs and ribs as just, like, the Ghost of Crushes He Thought He Had but Maybe That’s Just What Happens When The Only People You See On A Daily Basis Are A Tithe, Roland, And One Token Girl, is way too many words.
So, Girlfriends Past works. Kind of. Not really. What does work properly around here, though? The Graveyard lives up to its name. Kids come here carrying with them only the memories of when they understood what was going on around them. You can find a job to do, and you can like it enough to make the days pass by until you survive to seventeen, but it’ll never fit you like anything did before you came here. Functionality is best. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to keep you alive.
Connor thinks this mysterious piano player might have to agree. He can hear occasional slip ups in the music, nothing too jarring but still there if you care to listen. He is, of course, hanging onto every note like it’ll save him from all of the Juvey-cops combined, so he listens.
This, if nothing more, is how he knows it isn’t Risa. Risa always stopped when she made a mistake, every single time. Even if it was something as simple as a skipped rest or one forgotten flat. It was like she was looking for excuses to point out her imperfections, subconsciously proving that StaHo Ohio 23 was right to kick her out.
By contrast, this latest would-be maestro just doesn’t care. They could actually be flawless, or they could just be human. Either way, the melody keeps going. Connor decides that he likes it better that way, which is pointless, because the music doesn’t need his approval. It’s also kind of mean to Risa’s legacy, but Connor’s mind is still Connor’s with or without Risa there, and he likes the melody with accidental sharps instead of flats regardless.
Impulsively, Connor slips out from his hiding place underneath the jet, searching around for the distant sound of chords until they get louder. It reminds him of being at a public pool when he was younger, playing a game with his brother. Marco. His footsteps seem to crash through the relative quiet of the Graveyard; everyone else has ceased work for the evening, but he’s here anyway. Polo. The piano sounds out a path for him to follow.
He takes one last turn and then it’s there right in front of him. The piano has gotten a little dustier since it first appeared out of nowhere in the airplane junkyard, but they’ve all attempted to clean it off every now and then. A figure is seated at the bench, and after a moment of squinting, Connor recognizes them. Y/N, Y/N L/N. They’d arrived recently, all things considered. They never knew Risa but they know him. Isn’t that better?
They lay off playing abruptly when Connor steals too close. “Sorry,” they murmur, eyes wide, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Connor shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Keep going.” He realizes belatedly that sounds a little harsh. “If you want to, of course.”
They crack a cautious smile. “You sure? I can pick up another time if it’s disturbing people’s work or sleep.”
Connor glances back at the slumbering hulks of metal and flight machinery behind him. “No, I think they’ll be glad for it. It’s been a while since we’ve heard someone play.”
Y/N’s expression turns bleak. “Yeah, I heard about that. Risa Ward used to play this piano, right?”
They start to draw their hands back from the keys. Connor reaches out an arm, as if to physically drag them to the ivories once more. “She used to, but you do now, right? Don’t let her stop you.”
Y/N blinks up at him, and Connor is starting to wonder if he can perhaps call a parts pirate to just take him away now forever when they smile again, cautious and sweet, and put their fingers back on the keys. Good.
Connor leans against the curve of the piano, and he lets the music vibrate through the instrument and into him. If he tries, he thinks he can feel it pressing against his bones, his blood, his organs, invisible surgeon’s hands not trying to dissect him, just to remind him that he is still alive. This is almost the opposite of unwinding. It feels as if he is being put back together.
A few minutes, or perhaps centuries of unadulterated time, later, Connor registers that the music has ceased. He’s not sure how long ago Y/N stopped playing, nor when his eyes closed, but perhaps everything has always just been in his head, anyway.
He looks over at Y/N, who is looking at him, and he is struck by the magnitude of all the things he wants to say. He should compliment them on their skill, or at least appreciate their courage for playing when people like him could hear, but instead of anything good or at least neutral, he coughs once, and asks, “Am I being weird?”
Y/N laughs, easy and clear. “No, you’re not. Really, you’re not,” they add, upon Connor’s face twisting doubtfully. “I’m glad to know someone likes it. It would be more weird if everyone thought I was terrible but they were all too afraid to say something about it.”
Connor chuckles. “Well, there’s no chance of that, trust me. If they try to complain, I’ll fight them off.”
Y/N grins. “Well, if you’re going to be my guard, you might as well stay. You can sit, if you want,” and they gesture to the empty space next to them on the piano bench.
Connor stares uncomprehendingly at the open spot, and then moves cautiously to sit down by their side. They almost touch, and the ghost of that would-be contact makes him feel far more alive than if their shoulders were pressed all the more firmly together.
“Another song?” They ask him.
“Please,” he answers, and the fingers are placed upon the keys once more.
Connor tilts his head back, staring up at the sky. He imagines what it would feel like to leave this body, this world, behind, and soar all the way up to the sky. He could leave these fears and dangers behind, these rumors of parts pirates and Juvey-cops and parents who did not want him enough to keep him. Listening to Y/N’s music, he thinks he is halfway there already.
unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @locke-writes
#unwind#unwind dystology#unwind imagines#unwind x reader#unwind oneshot#unwind fanfic#unwind dystology imagines#unwind dystology x reader#unwind dystology oneshot#unwind dystology fanfic#connor lassiter#connor lassiter imagines#connor lassiter x reader#connor lassiter oneshot#connor lassiter fanfic#unwind connor#unwind connor imagines#unwind connor x reader#unwind connor oneshot#unwind connor fanfic
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Blood thicker than Water
Summary In which Tubbo makes a thing for someone he hates. Tommy also gets shot.
Notes Tubbo, Philza, Tommy, Jack and Sneeg curse because they do that.
This is partially speculation on the history of Tubbo's current Origin, and partly a challenge to for myself to get Tubbo's characterization on the OrginsSMP right.
Story
It was a surprisingly quiet day up in the pub. Tubbo, Jack and Charlie were having a mead identification contest again. Tommy and Philza were chilling nearby watching the trio as Charlie and Jack put small shots of mead on the counter for Tubbo to identify.
Jack looked incredibly smug, while Charlie was getting increasingly frustrated. The younger Blazeborn man had known Tubbo for a while, so whenever he started brewing up new alcohols with honey, he always got Tubbo to taste test. It was the pair’s favorite little game to mess with people by getting them to bet on if Tubbo was able to identify the plants the honey used in the mead came from.
Philza smiled as the trio’s voices rose as they got more excited.
A sharp rap on the door to the pub startled the five within the building. They were all so used to everyone knowing that this was a public space, that knocking was incredibly uncommon. The door opened, and a tall blonde female in golden crystalline armor, carrying a shield made of the same stuff as her armor, entered. Her features were sharp, the way she carried herself just screaming ‘well-trained soldier’.
But the most interesting thing about her was her black antennae and matched pair of translucent wings, basically identical to Tubbo’s. “Tubbo.” She stated, her voice flat and monotone. “Come.”
Tubbo’s cheery expression had fallen flat as soon as the woman spoke. He held up a hand to Jack who had set a new shot of mead on the counter for him. “Hold up. I’ll be right back.” He slowly stood, and took a bracing breath. “I hope.” His last statement was barely audible, but those who did hear it felt a wash of concern for the young bee.
As soon as Tubbo left and closed the door, Philza sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck sake.” He growled.
“What’s up, Phil?” Jack asked. He picked up the shot glass on the counter, eyed it then knocked it back. He was never one to let good alcohol go to waste, after all.
Philza let out an aggravated sigh, and shook his head. “I had hoped that those lot would leave Tubbo alone. They were the ones who kicked him out, after all.”
“Who are ‘those lot’?” Charlie asked, cocking his head in curiosity.
“Tubbo’s OG Hive. You know how wild hives have a Queen and a bunch of workers who are also her daughters, right? Well, before a Queen dies, she produces a Princess, and a bunch of drones. When the princess is old enough, she mates with a couple of drones and takes over the hive after eliminating the previous queen.” He shook his head sadly. “The drones that don’t get mated with either get to bum around the hive waiting for a chance to breed with the queen, or get kicked out.”
“And, what does this have to do with Tubbo?” Tommy asked, his brow furrowed.
“Well, Tubbo’s people also have a very female dominated society, with males being born only from the queen. They are usually seen as breeders only, and are either treated very well, or very poorly, depending on the hive. Tubbo, from what he told me, is from one of the former.”
“If he’s from one of the ones that treated him well, why did he get kicked out?” Jack chimed in.
“Well, you know how Tubbo is really good at tinkering and engineering? That’s why. He was too smart.” Philza stated.
“Oh!” Charlie said, nodding. “You said the males are generally seen as breeders, so I’m guessing that they want to keep the males nearby to have babies with. Uh. Hold one, let me get the thought together...Like that one story someone told me about with the race that requires three individuals to have kids. The culture keeps the third sex repressed so they can have babies whenever and they are scared that if the third sex learns they can do whateve they want, their species will die out, right?”
“Along those lines, yeah.” Philza nodded. “I’m...not a fan of the bee culture, but it’s their culture and they have had pressure to change from others before. Tubbo’s people pushed back. Hard. It wasn’t pretty. Full on war.”
Tommy’s expression had fallen as he listened. “Will he need to go back?” He asked, his voice soft.
“I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t know.” Philza said.
“Fucking no!” The loud angry voice of Tubbo came from just outside the door. “Never. No way in hell! Get out!”
The door of the pub slammed open, and an angry Tubbo stomped in. The female stood just outside the door, her expression unchanged. “She is sure you will change your mind, Tubbo.” She said, raising her voice so all within the pub could hear her.
Tommy’s face went white and he scrambled to his feet to get to his friend as soon as possible. Jack held out a full mug of mead to the seething bee. Tubbo took it and took a long draw. “Fuckin’ bitches,” He growled.
Jack frowned at the woman who still stood at the entrance to the Pub. He let out a frustrated sigh, and stepped out from behind the counter. “Look lady. You are obviously not from around here, and you seem to be causing a problem with one of my regular ‘customers’. As such, I will have to ask you to leave the premises immediately.” He stared her down until she turned and leapt off the edge of the floating island and flew away.
“Thanks Jack…” Tubbo mumbled.
“Bah.” Jack waved a hand dismissively. “She rubbed me the wrong way the second she opened her mouth. Makin’ demands of my friends like she owned the place. Makes me wanna stab her with a rusty sword and pin her to the wall in a glass case.” Jack shook his head and headed back behind the counter to refill Tubbo‘s mug of mead.
Tubbo sipped the mead, his wings occasionally buzzing slightly. Tommy had known Tubbo long enough to know that his wings doing that meant he was Not Happy. It was difficult to pin down exactly what Tubbo was probably feeling, but Tommy could take an educated guess.
The young Avian perched on the stool beside the one Tubbo was on. After knowing him for so long, he felt that Tubbo just needed someone nearby, for now.
-oOo-
Tubbo slammed the switch within his workshop that closed the door. He didn’t want anyone intruding right now.
He perched on his work stool and stared down at the blank roll of graphing paper, his fingers itching to draw out the plans in his head. He shook his head, frustrated. When he had left the hive of his birth, he had sworn to never pay them any more ‘favors’.
The softVwoop of his partner teleporting into the room made him turn and half smile at the lanky young man. “Mornin’ Ranboo.”
“Hey. Tommy and Charlie said something happened. Well, Tommy babbled what happenedat me. Could barely understand him.” He leaned against one of the less cluttered tables. “Want to talk about it?”
Tubbo pursed his mouth, considering. He let out a sigh. “One of the soldiers from my old hive found me. The Queen wants me to do something. But I’m scared, Ranboo. What if this ‘just one thing’ turns into ‘well, you did the one thing, what’s another’?” He shook his head.
Ranboo nodded somberly. “You made your choice when you left. This is your choice now. None of us can make it for you.” He shrugged. “But, I know you. You’ll make the right choice for you.” He smiled slightly.
Tubbo sighed and rubbed his face. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be out in a bit.” He half watched as Ranboovwooped out of the workshop. With a sigh, he turned back to the graphing paper. He stared down at the paper and pencil on the table. He shoved away from the table, and stood. While plans were buzzing in his head, he had to distract himself from the past.
His hand rested on the lever that unlocked the door to his workshop, and he paused. His head dropped back and he groaned. He turned back to the table, grabbed the pencil and began sketching out the plans.
It didn’t take long, being a simple design. Tubbo dropped the pencil and sighed. He stood, flipped the lever and left the blueprint on the table in the dark. He stood outside the room, squeezing his eyes closed. He let out a slow breath and closed up his workshop.
-oOo-
The plans and the uninvited guest were almost gone from his mind again, until they weren’t. The soldier was waiting outside the Bee Inc. Ammo Shoppe, and her presence immediately soured his mood.
Sneeg was perched on the counter inside with a very displeased look on his face. He was carefully and pointedly sharpening his sword, his gaze trying to burn a whole in the back of the soldier’s head.
“Tubbo.” The soldier stated, upon spying the young bee. “We must speak.”
Tubbo glared at the woman, and felt a small flash of amusement when she took a step back. “No.”
Sneeg, upon spotting Tubbo, hopped down from the counter and scurried out the small hatch that had been installed for him. “Hey boss!” He said. “This bitch,” he jerked a thumb toward the soldier bee, “has been here since before I got here. Want me to chase her off?”
The soldier’s hand drifted to the handle of the short sword at her side.
Tubbo took a breath, and turned to face the woman. “Piss off. You aren’t welcome here.”
She glared, her hand fully resting on the handle of her short sword now. She smirked. “Telling me to go away. Hah! I shall take it as an admission that you are utterly incapable of completing the project.”
Tubbo scowled at her words. “I left because of that exact sentence. I do not take challenges of my knowledge lightly. Be glad that I don’t want to start a war because of killing you.” He stomped toward the door, opening it just wide enough that he was able to enter, then slammed it in the woman’s face.
Sneeg ducked in through his hole and deftly climbed up on the counter. “Give me the order boss, and I’ll make sure that she...ahem,‘encounters a venomous creature on her way home’ .”
A smile tugged at the corners of Tubbo’s mouth. “Nah. It’s fine. I’ve dealt with this sort of crap before. Being rude as hell is the best way to get them to piss off.”
-oOo-
Tubbo slammed his fist against his workroom table, some of the smaller bits jumping at the force.The plans were spread across the table below the parts and the unfinished device. He grabbed his pencil and scribbled on the plans, altering them slightly. He let out a frustrated sigh, and picked up the thin tongs and mallet to try and get the device to work.
He had taken the challenge personally, as he did any challenge of his knowledge. Ranboo had been concerned when he came home and beelined it straight for his workshop.
Tubbo carefully slotted the price into place and tapped the activation plate. The machine briefly hummed to life then shut down after a few seconds. Progress. Awful progress but still progress. He popped the plate off and extracted the circuit beneath. He clamped it so he could work on it more precisely and pulled down his goggles swapping to a magnifying lens.
The feeling of making a thing and having it work was always a glorious one. It didn’t take long to finish the modifications, and he slotted the circuit back in place. He replaced the activation plate and tapped on it. The machine hummed to life, and Tubbo waited, with bated breath. It hummed for about a minute, made a low ding and shut off.
Tubbo grinned, and picked up the machine, moving it off the plans. He rolled the paper up and stuffed it in his inventory bag. He picked up the machine and flew out of his workroom. “I’ll be back, Ranboo!” He called out, heading through the Nether portal.
Tubbo flew through the portal to the Pub and out the door, startling Tommy. “Tub-!” Tommy started.
“No time! Bye!”
Tubbo found the woman exactly where he expected. Outside the Ammo Shoppe. He paused, then leveled a glare. “This is the one and only time I will do this. If anyone comes looking for another ‘favor’, I will kill them.”
The woman shrugged. “Very well. I will pass your desires on to the Queen.”
Tubbo extracted the device from his bag.
“TUBBO!” The familiar voice of Tommy interrupted. “DON’T YOU DARE!”
Tubbo froze as Tommy came barreling out of the sky, ramming into the shorter Bee.Tubbo’s body jerked at the force and his arms lost their grip on the device, dropping it to the solid stone patio outside the shop.
There was a long silence from the trio. Tubbo whipped around, leveling Tommy with a glare. “Tommy. What the fuck.”
Tommy froze, staring at the badly dented machine on the ground. “Whelp! I need to go!” He said, his voice pitched higher than usual. “Goodbye!” He turned and bolted.
Tubbo drew his shortbow, ran the flat of an arrowhead across the inside of his wrist, coating it with his poison. He knocked the arrow, drew and fired. It sliced past Tommy’s arm, delivering the poison quickly.
Tommy stumbled as the slight paralyzation effect set in, and Tubbo shook his head. He drew the plan from his bag and held them out. “Here. This will help the egg-heads build a new version. Again. I don’t want anyone coming to me ever again. The plans work. Bye.”
The woman took the rolled paper, and nodded stiffly. She spread her wings and took off like a shot.
Tubbo sighed and shook his head. He hoped that they would keep their word. He didn’t doubt that they would, but the queens were clever. He spread his own wings and flew up to the pub. Tommy was gulping down a glass of milk when he arrived.
Tubbo whacked the back of Tommy’s head, delivering another sting. Tommy’s arms stiffened. “What the fuck, man!” Tommy yelped, stiffly bringing the glass up to take another sip.
RanbooVwooped in, and saw Tommy basically folded over a glass of milk and Tubbo looking disappointed. “Okay. What happened?” He sighed.
Tubbo grinned, feeling more relaxed than he had in a little while. “I shot him!”
#my fic#mcyt#origins smp#osmp#osmp tubbo#osmp jack#osmp slimecicle#osmp tommy#osmp philza#tommy survives unfortunately#imma be honest tommy’s a bit of a punching bag in this one
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A Game
Summary: Tony suggests a game that you, the unfortunate intern, get dragged right into the center of: who can make a woman cum the fastest?
Pairings: all dark!: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader, Tony x Reader, implied natasha x reader
Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON (oral: f-receiving, fingering, tiny smidge of analplay) VOYEURISM/EXHIBITIONISM, BLACKMAILING, OVERSTIMULATION. The characters in this story are NOT good people. After reading the warnings, your media consumption is your own responsibility!
As Stark’s party mellowed down and all the guests left, you, the unfortunate intern, were called over to the small group of five Avengers seated in a section of couches.
“Y/n, come!” Thor’s voice boomed.
“Y/n, come!” Sam mimicked, deepening his voice to make fun of Thor’s.
You approached them as the men snickered at Sam’s joke.
“What can I do for you?” you ask, a fake smile plastered on your face.
Stark cleared his throat and raised a brow at you; a silent command.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“A round of drinks please, and add this to Sir Barnes, Sir Rogers, and I’s drinks.” Thor handed you the flask of his Asgardian liquor and you accepted it, hiding the slight nervous tremble of your hands.
“Of course, sir.”
“Someone’s been learning their manners,” Steve taunted, and it took all your restraint to not snarl at him.
“Easy there, Rogers,” Stark interjected, noticing how your fingers clenched Thor’s flask tighter. “Pretty sure Barnes fucked the brat outta her couple days ago when he came back from that shitshow of mission in Bosnia. Got a lot of pent up rage there, Buck?”
“Mission just put me in a bad mood,” Bucky shrugged. “Either way, I don’t think I fucked all the brat outta her. Got anything left for me, doll?”
“I have nothing for you, you self-righteous, ignorant prick,” you spat venomously.
“There she is. I always love a challenge.” Bucky smirked at how your knuckles were turning white around the flask. “Now didn’t Thor ask you to go fetch us some drinks?”
You huffed, opting to bite your tongue rather than lashing out, and spun on your heel toward the minibar.
Three-months ago, you would never have imagined your internship interview at S.H.I.E.L.D to bring you here. Your interview had been conducted by Captain America himself, and just as things began to look promising, it was interrupted by a sharp knock from Tony Stark. Tony had brought Steve into the hall, leaving the door to the conference room open, and you could only sneak glances through the window of the room, hearing Steve whisper about how it was “a question of morality” while they both kept looking back at you.
You got the position, and the next day, Tony sat you down and gave you an offer.
The Avengers needed to be ‘taken care of’, as he put it, and you being a ‘stress-reliever’ would boost morale around the team. Most of the them never had time for the outside world (apparently saving the world was a big commitment?) and were rarely ever able to make lasting relationships. You could accept the position, be compensated monthy, and get to live in the compound, or you could decline, and walk away with your mouth sealed by the confidentiality contract you signed before the interview. Something about S.H.I.E.L.D. work being linked to a lot of top secret information, meaning you weren’t allowed to speak any details of the job to outside parties unless you wanted to get sued for every penny you were worth.
You had been on the cusp of taking the second option before Tony mentioned your sister’s job as S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent. She was half the reason you’d interviewed for an internship. A couple words from Tony about her possibly falling into a fatal accident on a mission, and you took the position offer in a heartbeat.
You almost overfilled the glass while getting lost in your train of thought. Setting down the bottle of expensive whiskey, you placed the last glass next to the others on the silver tray, and picked it up, gracefully yet begrudgingly making your way back to the small gathering.
“Y/n, finally. We were just talking about who here can make a woman cum the fastest.”
The complete utter bluntness of Tony’s words caught you entirely off guard, and you tripped over your own feet, stumbling in your high heels to keep the tray of drinks from falling before Sam reached an arm out to catch the tray and another arm to hold your hip and steady you.
You ripped yourself from Sam’s touch without acknowledging or thanking him, to disturbed by Tony’s previous words to do so. You began passing out the glasses of dark liquid. “And you’re telling me this why?” Your voice was flat in hopes of showing Tony you were completely disinterested in any plans he might have.
“Why, we need your aid, Lady Y/n,” Thor answered a little too cheerfully for your taste.
“I won’t be partaking in your little immature competition of toxic masculinity.” You crossed your arms and continued. “It makes it seem that women are nothing but prizes. Games to be played by boys as they fight over the highscore. Toys.”
“Aren’t they?” Steve cocked his head, eyes glimmering with amusement while a smirk painted his face. The rest of the men chuckled at his reply.
“I think HR would be shocked to hear that Captain America is being a sexist dick to a woman in the workplace,” you bit back, but your threat was weak and they all knew it.
“I think HR would be to busy writing a condolence letter to your sisters family if, let’s say, on her mission with Sam tomorrow in Russia, a stray bullet hit her,” Steve replied. A quick reminder at the stakes.
Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock sympathy. “Those darn Russians and their careless aim.”
He abruptly pushed himself off the couch and clapped his hands together. “I wanna go first,” he declared.
“Just remember, you can’t use your dick,” Tony added. “Some of us don’t have super soldier serum enhanced fuckwands.”
“Please never, ever say fuckwand again,” Bucky said, scrunching up his nose. “Besides, the hydra serum didn’t do anything down there.” He waggled his eyebrows while elbowing his enhanced counterpart. “Don’t think I could say the same for this punk here though.”
Steve muttered a ‘shut up’ while the group snickered.
All while they compared sizes like a bunch of teenagers, Sam manhandled you onto the coffee table in the center of the couches. You let out a grunt as you were shoved onto your front, stomach pressed into the tabletop while your pelvis was slammed into the edge.
Sam kneeled behind you and brought up two fingers to your mouth.
“Get ‘em nice and wet for me, baby.”
The men around you went quiet, entranced as you reluctantly took Sam’s fingers into your mouth, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around them.
When Sam finally pulled them out, he looked back at Tony.
“You ready?” Sam asked.
Sam hiked the flowy skirt of your dress up your legs causing you to squirm and pathetically thrash; a desperate attempt at putting an abrupt stop to this stupid game.
“You’re on the clock.”
At Tony’s words, Sam immediately stopped your desperate attempt at worming away from him by catching you by the back of your neck and slamming you back down hard on the coffee table. Much to your disdain, the rough treatment made you wet, and that was the last thing you wanted them to see.
But when Sam pulled your lacy panties down, you could tell it was the first thing he noticed.
“Fuck babygirl, I didn’t need you lubing up my fingers, you’re already drenched,” he noted.
You let out a soft moan as Sam worked two calloused fingers into your pussy. Although they’re thick and long, they were nowhere near the size of his dick and you silently thanked whatever was out there that he wasn’t splitting you in half with it at the moment. Sam released the grip on your neck, moving to settle the hand on your ass before giving it a light squeeze and a slap that elicited another moan from you. While Sam slowly began moving his fingers- twisting, curling, and pumping them- he leaned over you, caging your body under his broad chest, to speak dirty words into your ear.
“Baby, you’re so wet right now, I think you like having them watch you.” Your cheeks burned in shame while he picked up the pace. “You want them to see how well-behaved you are for me? Want them to see how you come on my hand like a good little slut?” he cooed.
Slow pumps now turned to quick thrusts from his skilled fingers and Sam groaned as you fluttered around him.
“That’s it. You’re taking me perfectly.”
Twisting his wrist so his thumb could also strum your clit, Sam was moving so fast you’d easily mistake him for a superhuman.
“Yes, Sam, please,” you cried out, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“Uh-uh, babygirl. Wrong word,” he scolded, although his pace never slowed as his fingers brutally fucked into you.
“Daddy!” you screamed. “I’m cumming!”
You chanted those words, cunt clamping down on his merciless fingers. He gave you no reprieve, mercilessly thrusting into you, until you squirted, your release coating his hand and dripping down his forearm. Only when you were almost crying, did he finally remove his hand from your abused cunt.
“Now that-,” Sam stated, grinning while he stood. “-is how you make a girl come.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever Birdbrain.” You don’t have any strength to look at Tony as he speaks. “Give her a couple minutes before whoever’s next.”
Whatever the conversation was between them (you couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in your brain), it was much too short to your liking. The few minutes Tony gave you only felt like a few seconds before Bucky was getting up.
“Guess I’ll take a crack at it,” he announced, rolling his head from side to side.
“No one says “take a crack at it” anymore, old man.”
“Keep talking when your in last place, Sam,” Bucky quipped, however, his tone was still light.
You felt a metal hand on your hip before you were rolled over onto your back, now facing Bucky while your eyes pleaded with him.
“Please dont,” you croaked.
Bucky just scoffed, kneeling down between your legs and wrapping both arms around your thighs as he pulled you closer.
“Tony?” His hot breath fanned your pussy as he spoke and you inhaled sharply at the feeling.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Stark said.
Bucky wasted no time the moment the words left Tony’s mouth. He started by licking up from your hole to clit over and over, the lazy stripes already driving you wild. Letting go of one of your thighs to bring his flesh hand to your pussy, he pulled the hood of your clit back, pausing his licking to blow on your engorged bud.
“Such a pretty pussy, doll,” he murmured before turning his head around and speaking louder. “You guys seeing this?”
He moved his head out of the way to showcase your glistening folds. A couple groans from the men on the couches had you trying to close your legs, but Bucky’s grip was like steel (especially considering his hand was metal).
“Wasting time Buck,” Steve commented and Bucky just rolled his eyes.
“I’m pretty sure I can still beat Sam and have time left over,” he scoffed.
Bucky directed his attention back to your folds, this time, diving in right away. He still had the hood of your clit pulled back as he encased the bud with his lips causing you to writhe at the intense sensation. And yet, you were held down with practically no effort as he methodically played with you. Each time he groaned against you, you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, and by the time he started sucking on your clit, you were wrecked. Your hand found home in his brown locks of hair while he quickly moved his tongue back and forward on your sensitive nub that was trapped in the vacuum of his mouth. The coil inside you wound tighter and tighter, and suddenly, while Bucky began shaking his head from side to side, it snapped. Your clit pulsed rapidly while encased in his hot mouth, and you screamed, legs locking around his head while your hand held his head in place. He worked you while you rode out your orgasm on his face until you could barely move.
Bucky got up from his knees, grinning down at you, so weak, you couldn’t muster it in you to glare back.
“Now I think I really fucked the brat out of you,” he said. “What was that?” He cupped his ear. “Did I hear a thank you sir?”
“Thank you, sir,” you whimpered weakly.
You were so fucked out, all the next events were but a blur.
Thor had feasted between your thighs the same as Bucky but was more sloppy, although, your body seemed to love ‘sloppy’. His tongue was constantly lashing and worming around your clit, the wet muscle accompanied by lewd slurping sounds, and in record time, Thor’s suckling and licking had you tensing and building up so much that your orgasm felt like a waterfall crashing over your body.
Steve was just as methodical and precise as Bucky, also pumping his fingers slowly in and out of your pussy. He was sweetly slow, dragging out your pleasure to the point where you were begging him to come. His warm tongue dragged across your sensitive cunt, while another hand reached up to grab a breast and pinch a nipple. You felt like your body was on fire. It wasn’t until Steve had inserted a thumb into your ass that he finally allowed your body sweet sweet release.
Your head span as finally collapsing on Tony’s floor, listening to the muffled voices above you.
You didn’t even register Stark’s words as he announced Thor had won and Steve had come in last. You barely even heard Steve’s defense that he was just enjoying himself too much in the moment.
Although ten-minutes later you had a somewhat sense of clarity, after hearing their conversation, you wished you were just unconscious. Even better, dead.
“I’m tellin’ you man, I made her squirt. She definitely came the hardest with me.” Sam’s voice rang.
“Dude- she was literally grinding against my face and holding me in a headlock with her legs,” Bucky argued.
“I literally made the brat beg to cum,” Steve inserted.
“I’d say that by bringing her to release the fastest, it was most intense with me,” Thor declared, victoriously.
You were on the brink of tears as they talked about you. Until another voice cut into the room. A female voice.
“What do you boys think you’re doing?”
It was Natasha. Your head jolted up as you felt a glimmer of hope surge through you.
That glimmer of hope was quickly extinguished at her next words.
“Not inviting me to the boy’s party?” she scolded. “You think a girl might beat you by a landslide?”
Nat squatted down next to you, running a soft hand on your cheek.
“Well you’re right. I’ll beat Thor’s record and cut it in half.”
She began unbuttoning her pants.
“And I’ll do it while riding her face.”
#sam wilson x reader#bucky barnes x reader#thor x reader#steve rogers x reader#dark!sam wilson#dark!steve rogers#dark!bucky x reader#dark!tony stark#dark!natasha x reader#dark!sam wilson x reader#dark!thor#dark!steve smut
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Kinktober Day 24: Monster (The Asylum)
Day 24: Monster Title: The Asylum Pairing: Mothman Shigaraki x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Noncon, monster mind control stuff, oviposition, cumflation, belly bulges, breeding, forced orgasms, some slight descriptions of gore and blood, yandere Note: The Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum is a real place, although parts of what I wrote is fake, mostly the part where they close down a second time in the fic. IRL, they’re still open and doing tours. Tagging @ichor-and-symbiosis and @kazooli as two of the OG Mothura writers 👀
Sequel: The Brood
Kinktober Masterlist
You’ve always loved urban exploring, going to old mental asylums and hospitals to look around and see the decay of places that used to be so bustling with people. You especially liked the places that had tragic pasts, the ones where horrific things occurred. It sounds morbid to anyone you talk to about your interests, but it was the truth. You’ve always believed in monsters and ghosts just out of sight of humanity, lurking in the dark corners of abandoned places.
That’s why you instantly planned a trip to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum the second you heard about it. It had been abandoned years ago due to extreme abuse of patients. A historical society had moved in later, renovating the place and making a history tour of it that also did ghost tours at night.
But even they ended up abandoning the place due to the fake ghost tours apparently starting to become real ghost tours. People began to see creatures out of the corner of their eyes, something they said was much larger than a human, with wings on its back and piercing red eyes.
It was initially dismissed as overactive imaginations, people who wanted to see ghosts so badly that they were seeing things that weren’t there. Or people who just wanted to start tall tales for attention and were flat out making things up in order to scare the rest of the group.
But then the disappearances started to happen. It was almost always young women who got separated from the tour group, although a few times it was a boyfriend and girlfriend who got lost together. The tour guides scoured every inch of the asylum looking for the missing people, but they found no trace of them. At first it was dismissed as the people getting scared and running off without telling anybody.
Until one day, a regularly scheduled tour group stumbled across the bodies. Not the bodies of the missing girls, but their partners. They were viciously torn apart, with limbs scattered all over the room. Their blood covered the walls, the floor, even the ceiling of the room. The women were alive but traumatized, rocking back and forth in a corner of the room absolutely covered in blood, none of which was their own.
They told the same tales that the rest of the people did. They were captured by a monster, around 8-9 feet tall, with large moth-like wings and red eyes. The creature was surprisingly gentle to them, they said, at least until they saw that they were with someone. The creature had become enraged, tearing their partner to pieces as they watched. They knew for certain that they would be next, their eyes squeezed tight as they waited for their death.
But the creature did nothing, simply turning away and leaving the room like they were not what the creature wanted.
Although everyone agreed that something horrible had happened to the young women, none of them believed their story. They had stayed in that room for several days, covered in the blood of their loved ones, not knowing if they were ever going to make it out. Of course they were traumatized, thinking they saw monsters. But monsters aren’t believed to exist, and so everyone began to look for a human murderer that was never found.
The asylum tried to recover from the tragedy, but it was never able to. The amount of bad press they got for having lax safety standards and not taking care of their tour groups caused everybody to stay away. Finally, having no other choice in the matter, the asylum had closed.
When you heard this story, you were over the moon excited. Not just a historical landmark, but also a place with a possible real life monster sighting. Nothing was going to stop you from going there and seeing the place for yourself.
And now here you stand, in front of the building with a backpack full of supplies slung over your shoulder. You had your phone, flashlights with spare batteries, a spare change of clothes, matches and lighters, even a rope and various other tools should something happen inside of the building.
And so, with a deep excitement bubbling up in your stomach, you find your way through a hole in the fence and walk through the front door. The first thing you see is the reception desk with various odds and ends left over from the closure. There are even still brochures describing the various types of tours and listing prices.
You walk down the first corridor you see, going past various closed off rooms that look to be basic examination rooms. There is surprisingly little decay, mostly everything still looking rather clean and intact besides a thick layer of dust and cobwebs covering everything. You’re a bit discouraged but decide to continue on to see if things get more interesting.
After all, the murders occured in the basement, and you’re not anywhere close to that yet.
Soon you find yourself in the medical ward where the patients were kept, and you instantly realize one of the reasons this hospital was so nightmarish. The rooms are even smaller than jail cells, leaving barely enough space for patients to lay down in. There are so many rooms of that exact size that you wonder how the staff could accurately take care of the amount of patients there had to be. But you remember your research, remember the fact that they couldn’t.
That was why so many brutal procedures were performed such as lobotomies, in order to keep the peace at the asylum and make things easier for the doctors and nurses. You give a quick shudder and begin to move on, feeling a strange sensation that you desperately want to get away from.
The decay gets worse and worse the closer you get to the basement, rust and decay beginning to cover every surface you see. You walk past some of the surgery rooms and feel horror at the utensils and instruments you see in them. The historical society tried to keep things as accurate as possible, and as such, they had kept most of the equipment that you would see back in those days.
You’re beginning to wonder if this is a good idea, as that strange sensation continues to worsen and worsen. You realize with a start what this feeling actually is.
It feels like someone is watching your every movement. You whirl around, shining your flashlight in every direction as you try to see what’s watching you. But there’s nothing but darkness and the decaying walls of the hospital. You shake your head, laughing quietly at the fact that you’re spooked out by a few weird shadows and an odd feeling.
You’re not going to let it stop you from your goal, however, and you continue forwards until you get to the doors of the basement. The feeling here is overwhelming, simultaneously telling you to run and move forward all at the same time. The conflicting emotions leave you off balance and light headed, and you reach your hand out instinctively when you sway on your feet. You touch a section of the wall and instantly pull your hand back.
The wall is warm, not cold like it should be. A sense of unease crawls up your spine, and you decide then and there that it’s time to go. Making it to the basement is not worth this, whatever it is you’re feeling. But then you hear a soft humming and the flapping of wings, coming from deep within the basement of the hospital.
Instead of being terrified, however, you feel entranced. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, and it’s calling you. You open the basement door without even thinking about it, walking down the stairs in a dreamy haze. You don’t even pay attention to how heavy the rot here is, how the walls are entirely blackened by decay that spreads out like veins on a body.
You don’t pay attention when the door slams closed behind you, locking you in with whatever is calling you closer. All you can think about is getting to that beautiful sound, that lonely haunting call that seems to burrow deep into your brain. You walk as if you’re in a trance, turning corridors that you’ve never seen before but somehow know where they’re going.
Finally, you get to a door that is deep within the bowels of the basement, a bright red door that seems to beckon you inside. You push open the door with no hesitation, walking through and letting it close behind you.
And you finally come face to face with the creature. He is about 9 feet tall, towering over your small form. He’s not overly muscular, but he has a thin wiry look to him that says he is deceptively strong. His red eyes bore into you like they’re staring directly into your soul. On his back are two massive wings, spread to their full wing span and utterly gorgeous.
The creature makes a small chittering noise as he motions you towards him, and you follow like he’s a puppeteer holding your strings. He pulls you tightly into his body, burying his nose into your neck and taking a deep whiff of your skin. His hot breath on your sensitive skin pulls a shudder from you. and he tightens his grip as if he’s worried you’ll get away.
A long tongue pokes out of his mouth, licking at the pulse point that is frantically beating. “Mine,” he groans into your skin, sharp teeth grazing you. “Mate.” You’re lifted up off your feet before being laid down on the ground, hips in the air and face down on the floor. He rips your pants off easily, leaving your panties on as he lowers his head down. You feel a flash of embarrassment as he sniffs them like he sniffed your neck, groaning again as his tongue drags across the wet abric. “Fertile,” he whispers as he pulls your panties aside, “fertile mate.”
The haze parts from your mind long enough for you to feel a sharp flash of fear, and then his tongue is lapping at your folds and the fear is quickly chased away again. You dig your nails into the floor as you feel him work his tongue inside of you, using it to fuck you like a cock would. You gasp when he hits your cervix with his tongue and keeps going, wiggling against the barrier like he’s trying to break through it.
Something in his saliva causes your body to heat up and your muscles to loosen enough for him to batter his tongue harder against you and push through. Your scream echoes through the walls of the room, but not of pain. Instead, a fierce pleasure overtakes you as your cervix gives way to the creature’s tongue, allowing him to enter into your womb.
The feeling of this tongue wiggling around in your empty womb causes you to tip over the edge and cum around the creature’s tongue as he eagerly laps at your juices. He withdraws his tongue, causing you to let out a whine of disappointment, only to be surprised when you feel something prodding at your entrance. It doesn’t feel like a human cock at all, with ridges and bumps along the length and much thicker than a human cock would be.
You have a single moment to wonder how it will fit inside of you before it’s pushing in, stretching out your tight outer ring of muscles and causing a sharp burning in your lower stomach. You whine and try to pull away, only for the creature to let out a snarl as claws dig into your hips, causing your blood to drip down onto the pavement.
Even though there is no pain, only more pleasure, you learn your lesson and don’t try to move away as the thick cock slides even further into you. It’s so much thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you’re shaking like a leaf when he finally bottoms out inside. You think he’ll start thrusting like a human male would, except that he doesn’t.
He keeps pushing, humping into you with sharp movements designed to force your cervix open even further. You squeal as the cock makes it past the barrier, burying deep inside of your womb. You glance down and let out a choked sob at the bulge in your stomach where the tip of the creature’s cock is.
“Pretty - pretty mate,” the creature says hesitantly, rolling his hips experimentally into you and drawing a groan from your throat. “Tomura,” he adds, and it takes you a second to realize that’s the creature’s name.
“Tomura,” you murmur, and the creature chitters happily at the sound of your voice saying the name. You try to think of something else to ask, maybe even to beg to be released as the haze seems to clear a bit, but Tomura begins to hum again, and you instantly smile in bliss as all of your concern fades away.
You feel something else pushing into your entrance, and it takes a long moment to realize what it is as you feel it slip up your stretched out tunnel.
Eggs. The creature is filling you with eggs. Instead of being horrified, however, you moan as they continue to move inside of you. There are multiple eggs at once, small and gooey, and they coat your insides with wetness as they make their way to your still stretched out cervix.
You feel them pass through the opening to plop down into your womb, and you cry out and cum hard, pussy wildly fluttering around Tomura’s cock. He lets out a deep grunt of pleasure as he rocks his hips against you, and you feel more eggs pushing into you. This time, a few of them get stuck against a spongy spot inside of you, and you scream out your orgasm, legs shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“Fuck, oh god, shit, Tomura - “ you babble mindlessly as more eggs push into you, “it feels so good, why does it - “
Before those eggs can push fully in, there are already more entering you, and you feel so incredibly full. They drop down into your no longer empty womb, wringing another orgasm from your tired body. The skin of your stomach is stretching, making you look bloated, and Tomura still isn’t done.
You lose track of time completely, only aware of your body twitching and convulsing as more and more eggs push up into you, settling into your womb with the rest of them. Your stomach already looks 9 months pregnant, and you can barely hold yourself up.
Tomura sees this, and he gently picks you up and lays you down on your back. “Pretty mate,” he leans and kisses your forehead, “look so good with my children. Our children.”
“Oh god, no more, please no more, I’m so full Tomura,” you whimper as more eggs push into you. “Please, so full - “
Tomura hums softly at you, and you smile with bliss as the final eggs plop down into your womb. His movements become more savage, thrusting hard into you as he grunts and groans. The force of his thrusts has you sliding up, breasts bouncing and your belly jiggling. The feeling of the eggs moving around inside of you has you howling out your orgasm, blackness dotting the edge of your vision as you almost lose consciousness.
Finally, Tomura is finished, and his cock begins to twitch inside of you as hot ropes of cum fill you up, shooting directly into your womb where the eggs reside. You sob as you watch your stomach bulge out even more as the creature’s cum fertilizes the eggs inside. You can no longer see the dents and valleys of the eggs along your stomach, and you reach down to gently run your hand over your bloated stomach.
You can feel the eggs through the barrier of skin, and it causes your eyes to roll back at the pleasure. Tomura gives a soft, happy chirp as he places his hand over yours on your belly, rubbing it gently. He pulls out slowly, causing a mixture of your cum and his to gush out of your now gaping pussy.
He reaches down to pick you up as he walks towards a door in the back of the room that you hadn’t noticed before. You’re shocked by what you see when you walk through. It’s an utterly untouched room, still looking brand new and with none of the decay that covers the rest of the basement. There is no bed, but there is a pile of clean blankets and pillows in the corner, piled up high and in a circle.
A nest, you realize. It’s a nest. For you. He tucks you in gently, chirping again as his clawed hand runs over your pregnant belly. “Mate,” he says happily, “my pretty little mate.” He stands up and walks towards the door, turning to you one last time as his gaze narrows and darkens just a bit.
“No running. Don’t want to have to tie mate down.” He continues to gaze at you, as if waiting for something.
“I won’t run,” you say quietly, and the dark look on his face is gone instantly as he beams at you.
“Good mate, good.” And with that, he’s gone.
With his absence, some of the haze lifts and you’re able to realize the horror of the situation you’re in. Nobody knows where you are, and you’re trapped. Even if you wanted to run, you don’t think you could with how large your belly is. No escape and no help coming for you, and the creature already seems so possessive of you that he’s not going to let you easily escape.
If only you had listened to your instincts earlier, if only you hadn’t been so fascinated with the grotesque, if only you had simply chosen to stay home.
You’ve always believed in monsters. You just never thought you would find one.
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @dee-madwriter, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby��, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main
#kinktober 2020#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki smut#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki#mha x reader#mha smut#yandere mha#bnha x reader#bnha smut#yandere bnha#mha kinktober#bnha kinktober#tw: noncon#tw ovi#tw oviposition
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euphoria ; itadori yuuji
synopsis; a serene beach date, followed by intimacy at home
pairing; itadori yuuji x fem!reader
genre; fluff, smut
warnings; smut! unprotected sex, which i do not condone this is fanfiction people. curses i guess? yuuji being cute as fuck <3
note; all characters are 18+ . please don’t read the smut if you’re a minor. there’ll be a page break separating the fluff from the smut! this shit is like over 4k words rip im sorry if there are mistakes
━━ it's not the first time he's seen you in a swimsuit. it's not even a bikini this time, and he's seen you in much more revealing clothing. you've laid bare next to him as the sun seeped through the curtains and woke the two of you up, and taken countless showers with him, soaked in the water inside a bathtub, his revealed chest to your naked back. and yet, yuuji gawks at you like it is the first time.
you only huff out a laugh as you slip the cover up off your shoulders, kneeling down to roughly fold it in your bag. his gaze is piercing, but you like the lingering presence of it. he whistles as you stand to your full height again, before eagerly removing shirt with a grin, reaching for the neck hemline and pulling it off. "so hot," he tells you, earning an eye roll from you. you're not given much warning before his strong arms are wrapping around your waist, picking you up off of the sand.
"yuuji, put me down!" you exclaim, but he only lifts you up higher, tossing you up on his shoulder.
he grips your waist with one arm, the other reaching up to grasp at your thighs as soon as you see the waves of the beach dance over to where your boyfriend stands. he continues inward, the water rising up to his waist, before he whispers out a measly apology, something like, "sorry, babe," before he's throwing you off his shoulder into the salty water.
a scream ripples out of your throat as you flail around, but there's no stopping it. you hit the water suddenly, initially freezing cold, before you move your limbs frantically to push your head out of the water. scowling at your boyfriend, who's cackling as if he were a wizard that's defeated his lifelong enemy, you push your hair out of your face. "what was that for!" you ask, swimming over to where he is.
he sinks below the water before you, his chin hovering over the water as he laughs. "it was out of love," he argues. "i wish i'd recorded it; your scream was hilarious."
instead of wallowing, you paint a mischievous grin on your lips as you plant your feet onto the sand beneath you, and leap up, aiming to dunk your boyfriend's head beneath the water. he's trained though, maybe not exactly for situations like this, but his reflexes are as sharp as ever. he catches your wrists easily, shifting his grasp of them in one hand, before using the other to grab your waist and push you beneath the water again. your eyes sting at the intrusion of salt water, throat burning, but the only true, lingering thought on your mind is just how easy it was for him to deflect you like that. you're terribly aware of yuuji's athleticism and strength, and yet it always manages to catch you off guard.
"no fair, yuuji," you say, pouting up at him as you blink away the residue of salt in your eyes. "that's twice in a row!"
yuuji only laughs again, reaching out for you beneath the water. his hands settle on your waist, but it's a soothing touch this time. no mischievousness behind them, only safety and security. he urges you closer to him until you rest your forearms on his shoulders, and then he leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose. "i promise no more slam dunking in the water," he tells you, lowering his lips to finally meet yours. you kiss him gently, enjoying the taste of salt that linger on your tongue when he opens his mouth for you. maybe it's a little lewd of you, openly making out with your boyfriend in a public beach's waters, but who can blame you really? he's breathtaking.
and you don't hesitate to him so. "you're mesmerizing, yuuji," you confess, lifting a hand to brush through his damp hair. some strands are sticking to his forehead, the pink of them more evident underneath the sunlight. you think that maybe he's left you this way, so mindlessly in love with him, because of the kiss. but really, you always feel this way for him. even if subconsciously.
"maybe i should slam dunk you more often," he teases you, but ultimately, he leans in for another kiss. "i think you're pretty neat."
"pretty neat, hm?" you wonder.
he hums. "yeah. the coolest girlfriend i could ask for, maybe," he continues. "prettiest, too." you humor him, and nod diligently. "by a long run, baby."
you press one last kiss on his lips, a quick peck, before pushing yourself out of his arms' hold, laying back atop the water. "help me float," you ask him, and then you feel his hands settle flat on your back, leaving a trail of heat along your spine. he's clueless of his effects as his face hovers over yours, shielding you from the sun, and you're insistent on keeping it that way, offering him a small smile.
he helps you dance above the waves for a few minutes, occasionally asking you random questions that you, honest to god, weren't sure if anyone had the answers to. and then, inevitably, he pouts down at you, complaining in a low voice, "m'hungry, babe."
thankfully, you'd prepared in advance for this date. rushing out of the water, with yuuji's hand in yours, you race across the sand to where your belongings were, an umbrella propped up for shade. you shiver as a breeze travels past you, painting goosebumps along your skin while your boyfriend urges you to move faster. as soon as you're there, he picks up your towel first, quickly wrapping it around your trembling frame and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm you up.
"all good?" he wonders, and you nod, even if you're still freezing, because he's still yet to dry himself off. finally, the two of you settle on the ground, a cloth beneath you acting as barrier to the sand, and you pull out the snacks you'd packed from your bag. all of his favorites. "you really are the best," he tells you, moaning as he takes a bite into his food. you offer him a sincere smile, shuffling nearer to him for both his body heat and to rest your head on his shoulder while you eat.
there really is no telling how time will pass when you’re with him. sometimes it’s slow, languid, the universe taking its time to stretch out the moments between you two, allowing you to lose yourself within every little thing. every kiss felt like a hundred, every embrace lasted years, every glance left a lingering tingle at the bottom of your spine. other times it’s quick, breathtakingly fast, but you still feel everything as strongly as you would on the opposing days. your heart just beats a little faster, racing to catch up with the way time speeds around you. his touch is fleeting, but the effect he has on you is always eternal. today, the earth seems to slow down with you, to accommodate with your need and desire to feel every moment to the fullest. it sympathizes with you, makes sure you catch even the tiniest of movements from yuuji, like the way his eyes blink rapidly to rid himself of the intruding salt dripping from his hair, or the way he’s moving closer to you to rest his head above yours.
god, you’re such a sap.
there’s another breeze that flies by, and you shiver again, instinctively pushing yourself closer to him. yuuji takes note, lifting his arm to wrap it around you, encasing you in his warmth.
“if you could be any animal, what would you be?” he asks you. it’s not sudden, the type of question, but his voice so near you is.
you only shiver again as you shrug. “i don’t know. never really gave it much thought,” you admit. “maybe a seal or something. they seem to be doing great.”
“a seal?” he wonders, then cranes his neck to look down at you with an approving grin. “nice one, babe.”
you snort, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, sighing against his collarbones. “what about you?”
his grip tightens around you as he rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly. then, he replies, “maybe an eagle.”
“because it symbolizes freedom?” you ask.
yuuji shrugs softly. “maybe. or just because i’d like to fly. i’d carry you on my back and take you wherever you want,” he fantasizes.
“baby,” you start, sitting up straight to face him. “that’s what planes are for.”
the look on his face emits loud laughter from you, but he pinches the skin of your upper arm with a playful scowl, scoffing, “yeah but planes aren’t free, are they?” you hum, falling back into his embrace. he easily places his arms back around you, fitting you against him perfectly, before he speaks again. “where would you want to go?” he asks.
you sigh, “anywhere with you.”
he freezes for a moment, before he lets out a giggle. “you sap! god, you’re so in love with me.”
you can’t find it within yourself to tease him because, yes, you really are so in love with him. and you had meant it. his laughter fades out into happy sighs, and then he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m so in love with you too.”
maybe you should’ve anticipated that this is where you’d be the moment you arrived back home with yuuji. it’s not that you minded; if anything, this is probably your fault more than his. it was evident in the way even the smallest of his touches, specifically today, lit a familiar fire in the pit of your stomach. inevitably, you figured, you would have found yourself in his lap anyways, knees perched on either side of him, legs spread and a flush traveling from your cheeks down to your chest.
you’d gone home with him with tired eyes and a glow to your skin. showering together hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, either. it was simple, intimate, also hilarious when a wad of shampoo had fallen into one of yuuji’s eyes, prompting screams from him you never thought you’d hear. it’s after the shower that trouble started.
he had lazily leaned against the bed, only a towel wrapped his waist, his head tossed back against the wall. the tired sigh that left his lips mesmerized you, but you knew your thoughts were to remain as that, simple imaginations, because there’s no way either of you have a speck of energy for anything. you’re proven wrong when your boyfriend beckons you over onto the bed, not giving you much chance to even slip off your robe and into something slightly more comfortable. instead of allowing you to sit next to him, he’d lead you over onto his lap, propping you up, before capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.
you’d returned it, of course, because nothing feels better than kissing yuuji. nothing feels better than kissing yuuji with your hands on his neck, on his sturdy chest, down to strong stomach. the kiss turns feverish quickly, his grip on your covered waist tightening considerably before they travel down to your hips. he lifts himself up to sit more upright, guiding you closer to him, closer to where he wants you to be, before pushing you down harder onto him. against his mouth, you moan instinctively, hands traveling to tug lightly at his hair. a breathless gasp escapes his lips when you finally start grinding your lower body against his, his hands enforcing a bruising grip on your hips. you’re still covered, and so is he, but it isn’t long before the adrenaline truly takes over, and yuuji’s lifting his hips up to rid himself of the towel.
you’re about to follow suit, but even beneath you, he takes charge, untying the robe and slipping it off your shoulders hastily. neither of you dares to break the kiss as you’re finally completely bare before each other, and yuuji reaches forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pushing your chest flush against his. the action elicits a moan from the both of you, and you feel your nipples hardening as they brush against the muscle of yuuji’s chest. tiredness is long forgotten as your hips begin to grind aimlessly along his lap, and, in response, yuuji unfastens his left arm from around you, using the right one to steady you on top of him, as he brings one hand down between your legs.
his fingers brush against your folds, and he groans loudly at the first feel of you. he pulls back, breathlessly, to look into your eyes, noticing how hazy they’ve become, your pupils fully blown. then, he says, “wanna make you cum on my fingers, yeah?” a whine tumbles out from your lips and you nod frantically, giving him your answer to his indirect ask for consent. he collects some of your wetness on his fingers, before slowly slipping in his middle finger. although your mind had expected it, the intrusion is sudden to your body, and you lift yourself up reflexively. yuuji’s stronger than you though, and the grip of his right arm doesn’t falter as he sinks his finger deeper into you. he watches you through half lidded eyes as you throw your head back, welcoming easily the feeling that’s slowly beginning to overtake you.
he pulls out his finger to the first knuckle before pushing it back in, repeatedly, until he hears a breathless, “more,” fall from your lips. your wish is his command, and when he pulls his finger out, a second joins, filling you up even before. it’s incredible how easily you’re falling apart right before him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your chest heaving as his fingers speed up their ministrations. he leans forward, clasping his mouth around one of your nipples, earning an even louder moan from you. your chest rises against his mouth, and his teeth clamp down lightly, pulling at your nipple, abusing it, as his fingers continue to drill in and out of you. his thumb reaches up to rub lightly against your clit, strengthening the fire filling your veins.
you’re making a mess of him, you’re sure, and you have half a mind to finally open your eyes and glance down at him. he’s fixated on you and your pleasure, mouth eager on your chest, arm flexing as he pushes two of his fingers in and out relentlessly. “m’gonna cum,” you whine helplessly, trembling in his grasp. he hums against your chest, letting your nipple fall from between his lips as his tongue dances along the perks. “yuuji, i’m gonna cum!”
he laughs, looking back up at you when you throw your head back, uselessly attempting to rock your hips in time to meet the thrust of his fingers. teasingly, he retorts, “nothing’s stopping you, darling.”
you’re already shaking in his grip, gradually losing more control of your body’s reactions. then, his eyes meets yours as he looks up, the same time his fingers are curling inside you and his teeth reach out to tug at your nipple —
you scream when you cum, sobbing helplessly as his fingers work you through your orgasm. your thighs involuntarily flex and you lean forward, unable to hold yourself up. his mouth leaves your nipple to allow him the pleasure of watching you properly. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant in a whisper, head falling onto his shoulder. his fingers don’t stop however, and you have to reach in between you to grip at his wrist in a silent plea.
yuuji laughs again, finally slowing down his hand’s movements until he eventually pulls his fingers out. “feel good baby?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as he feels your breathing slowly steady itself. you’re still slightly trembling atop him, but you know that you’re not even close to finished for the night.
you hum in response, nodding against him. lifting yourself up, yuuji beams up at your state, skin flushed and hair damp — he’s not sure if it’s the sweat or the shower from earlier, but either way, you look too gorgeous for your own good. unexpectedly, he feels you lift up his hand, gripping at his palm, before your mouth falls open, tongue slipping out, and you place his sticky fingers onto the muscle. his breathing halts when you wrap your lips around the digits, and he silently curses when he feels you suck lightly, tongue dancing over, around and in between his fingers.
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he admits to you, and you hum again around his fingers diligently. “come on,” he urges you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and placing both hands on your waist. “can’t let you have all the fun.”
you giggle, nodding in agreement as you place your hands atop his. “want me to be on top?” you suggest.
“yeah, if you want me dead,” he jokes, before easily flipping the two of you over. you can’t help the squeal that cuts from your lips, but he swallows it easily with his mouth on yours, replacing it with a throaty moan. you can feel his dick hard against your thigh, leaking precum, smudged along your skin. he lifts himself up further along your body, pressing down against you until his heavy cock is trapped between your lower abdomens.
“yuuji, come on,” you whine up at him. your hand slides down to between you two, gripping the head of his cock, thumbing the slit. his figure falters above you, his arms trembling slightly at the feel of your hand around him.
his hand comes down to yours, swatting it off, before shifting down slightly to line himself up at your entrance. with his other hand, he spreads your legs further apart, hooking one onto his arm. once he’s satisfied, he settles the tip of his cock near your dripping sex, reveling in the noises that are spewing out of you — countless moans and breathless chants of please, please, please. he loves you always, but especially like this, all spread out for him, the heat of you nearly sucking him in as he teases your pussy.
“you look so pretty like this, baby,” he voices. you whine again as he rubs the head of his dick against your clit, throwing your head back and reaching out to grip his arm.
“please, yuuji,” you beg, and maybe if he had an ounce of self control within him at this rate he’d drag this out a little more. he’d tease you endlessly, till the sun came up again. but there’s a hunger within him that’s pleading and begging to be sated, so against all odds, with his fist wrapped around the base of his cock, he slowly enters you.
you muffle a cry at the feel of your walls stretching around him to accommodate him, and he can physically feeling you spasming around him already. he groans as he continues to sink in, his hand reaching out to fist the pillow by your head. your breath is heavy, labored, when he finally bottoms out. you feel so warm around him, it’s dizzying. “fucking tight,” he groans, his jaw tight.
he steadies himself, waiting for you to relax slightly. he doubts he’d be able to move even a little with how tight you felt around him, but slowly, surely, he feels you lift your hips slightly. “more, yuuji,” you mumble, eyes cloudy. he lifts his hand from near your head, gripping your hip instead, and with your leg lifted up on his shoulder, he pulls out, before slamming back in. your back arches as a loud moan rips from your throat, mindlessly cursing, “fuck!” he does it again, encouraged by the noises you’re making and the way your body’s reacting to him. you’re so fucking wet, dripping down onto the bed beneath the two of you, but he can’t even begin to think of anything but the fact that he’s reducing you to this state.
he continues to thrust diligently into you, his hips snapping against yours repeatedly. with the angle he’s fucking you, he continuously hits a specific spot within you, leaving your head cloudy and your spine tingling. he’s splitting you open in half at this point, but all you can do is lay there, muscles tight and exhausted, skin slick with sweat and chest flushed, rising and falling rapidly. your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you’re convinced he’s fucking you stupid as your eyes roll back, your back arching off the bed.
“fuck, you feel so good,” he praises you. “so good, pretty.” his voice is breathless, deeper too, and you look up at him for a split second. his eyes are trained down to where your bodies are connected, watching as you take him so well, his gaze never wavering.
when he leans forward, dropping your leg to wrap it around his waist instead, you know he’s getting close. his cock twitches inside of you, his hands coming to rest by your waist on the bed. his fingers, suddenly, come to work at your clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves harshly. “it’s too much! too good!” you wail, and he drinks it at all, his fingers growing slick again with your wetness.
“i wanna feel you cum all over me,” he tells you, thrusts somehow deeper. you let out a broken sob, your nails digging into his shoulders as he works you over to the edge. he’s given no warning other than the relentless squeezing of your pussy around him and your repeated cries of “cumming, cumming, cumming!” before you’re trembling beneath him, struggling to catch your breath as your hips lift up off the bed. the orgasm continues to rock through as yuuji’s thrusts grow sloppier.
“where do you want me?” he shakily asks. despite the overstimulation and the over sensitivity, you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his quiet moans music to your ears so close to you. “darling,” he groans, gripping your waist as he uses your body to bring himself closer to his high.
“inside, yuuji,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple. “please, please, plea—“ a gasp tumbles out as he suddenly stills, your words sending him over the edge. his muscles flex, slightly trembling within your arms, his small pants spreading heat along your skin.
slowly, he fucks into you, riding out his high, pressing chaste kisses along your neck and throat. “love you so much,” he mumbles, finally stilling.
you feel sticky, sweaty, and not at all clean in comparison to when you’d just stepped out of the shower. but you also feel blissful, euphoric, hazy and completely satisfied. yuuji lifts his head up finally, lifting himself up slightly to pull out of you. his cum trickles out slowly, but he pays it no mind as he flops half of his body atop yours, and you let out a pained laugh.
“yuuji!” you whine. “you’re heavy.” he only hums tiredly, his arm slung along your middle, his cheek against your shoulder. you bring a hand up, the one he isn’t immobilizing, to brush away his hair. his eyes are barely kept open, but he still manages to smile dreamily at you. your fingers ghost over his features, admiring them, tracing his soft skin, unknowingly lulling him to sleep. “okay, king of aftercare,” you joke, and he huffs out a laugh.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “aftercare tomorrow.”
you nod, beaming brightly, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. his chest begins rising and falling slowly, telling you he’s already asleep, but when you mumble out, “i love you so much, too,” and press a kiss to his cheek, you swear he smiles.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen smut#yuji itadori x reader#itadori x reader#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori smut#itadori yuuji smut
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i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back
character: dabi | todoroki touya
notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques
warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use
words: 7.1k
part 2.1 | part 2.2
synopsis:
“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—
But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.
Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.
She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.
You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.
It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.
It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.
You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.
But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?
You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.
He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.
Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.
The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.
It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.
The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.
He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.
He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.
✰ ✰ ✰
To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.
This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.
You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.
Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.
You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.
Touya must have a lot of things imported.
You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.
After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…
You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.
You don’t ask—no one ever does.
You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.
You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.
The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.
“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.
“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.
You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.
“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”
You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.
Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”
“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.
But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.
So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.
“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”
It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.
And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.
It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.
And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.
Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.
Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.
Who are you to deny him that, really?
✰ ✰ ✰
The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.
He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.
You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.
You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.
Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.
Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.
Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.
His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.
“You had niichan worried,”
You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.
“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”
Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”
“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”
Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.
Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.
“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.
“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.
He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.
“I…I did?”
Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”
“Wh-What?”
Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.
Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.
“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.
But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.
“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.
“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”
“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”
“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.
“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.
“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”
His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.
“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—
But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.
Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.
✰ ✰ ✰
He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.
Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.
A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.
Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.
It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.
“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”
The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.
✰ ✰ ✰
It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.
A nightmare.
You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.
You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…
Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.
You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.
That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.
Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.
He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.
“Princess? What is it?”
You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.
“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”
You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.
But he plays along.
“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”
Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.
“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”
The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.
Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.
“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.
You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.
These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.
Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.
“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.
His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.
Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.
It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.
“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”
You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.
“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”
You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.
“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.
“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”
“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”
He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.
“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”
Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.
“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”
He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.
Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.
And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?
“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”
Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.
“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”
And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?
Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.
“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.
Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”
He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”
Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.
Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”
Of course. Of courses you do.
Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.
“But you gotta get it wet first,”
You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.
He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.
They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.
He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.
Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.
“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.
You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.
But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.
He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.
“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”
✰ ✰ ✰
You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.
He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.
And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.
“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?
Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.
By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.
“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.
As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.
He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”
You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.
✰ ✰ ✰
He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.
But eventually, he returns.
The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…
He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.
And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.
With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.
“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.
“So what if I am?”
“What did you take?”
“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”
Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.
“Can I try some?” you ask instead.
All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.
“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”
Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.
He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.
“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”
“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.
You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.
“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”
You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.
“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.
He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.
“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.
“Wh-What?”
“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”
Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.
Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.
“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.
“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”
You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.
Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.
A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.
The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.
You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.
His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.
“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.
He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.
Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.
Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.
You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”
He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.
But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.
And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.
“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.
He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”
#todoroki touya x reader#todoroki touya#dabi x reader#dabi smut#touya x reader#dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma#tomura baby i’m so sorry#promise u don’t horrify me at all oof#pls come horrify me more#christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools#a buncha clowns#anyway this is my first time posting something like this#n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time#so pls be nice#actually u should always be nice#so pls be extra nice#no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn#the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’#dabi shut the fuck up challenge#prone to monologuing this boy is#also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas#apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences#idk i still kinda like em tho#i like oscar#tw pseudo-incest#tw noncon#tw dubcon#tw emotional manipulation#tw somnophilia#tw drugs
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MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...
‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!
Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4
*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.
There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-
“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”
And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!
((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))
Luci-dad
So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.
“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”
Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”
“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”
Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)
MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.
Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.
...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.
MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.
Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child
Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.
“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”
The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.
“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”
MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.
“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”
Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.
“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”
MC perked up. “Who?”
“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”
“What’d you do?!”
Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”
MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”
“Really now?”
“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”
“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”
You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.
“Ouch...”
Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!
MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.
For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.
That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)
Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.
“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”
The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.
“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”
“Hello.”
“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.
Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”
“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.
“I don’t need a babysitter!”
Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’
MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.
Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.
“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.
“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”
“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”
Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”
“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”
“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”
“Driving?”
“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”
The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!
Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!
At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-
That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)
He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!
Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!
Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.
They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?
Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.
“Ugh!”
The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-
“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.
Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-
Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.
“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.
“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”
Henry 2.0 did not respond.
“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”
“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”
MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.
The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.
Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.
Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”
“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”
MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.
The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)
Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.
Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”
MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.
“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.
“Meow.” The backpack replied.
“I said shhhhh.”
The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.
“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?��
Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”
When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...
It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!
Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.
“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.
“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”
MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”
Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.
“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”
MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”
With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.
The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”
Thirty minutes later.
“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”
Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).
Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.
At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.
The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-
Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.
That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.
Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!
Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?
“Asmodeus-”
“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”
“Asmo-”
“No, not these ones either...”
“ASMODEUS.”
Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...
“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”
“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”
MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”
“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”
“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”
“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.
“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.
“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.
“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”
“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.
“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”
“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.
Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”
MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”
The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.
After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.
Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.
Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)
“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”
MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.
Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.
The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)
Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.
Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.
Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?
...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.
The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!
Mmm... peas...
“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.
“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”
“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”
“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”
MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.
“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.
“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”
MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...
“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”
Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”
MC nodded. “I... hope so.”
Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.
“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”
“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”
Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.
The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)
Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.
Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.
A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.
(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)
Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.
What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.
Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.
“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.
“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”
Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.
“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.
Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.
“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.
“Lucifer.”
“Afternoon, father.”
Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.
Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-
“You three..!”
Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!
“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”
“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...
Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...
Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.
“Try not to suck so bad.”
“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”
“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”
Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.
Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)
A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!
Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.
Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!
He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.
He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...
Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.
(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)
Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.
“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”
Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”
Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”
“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.
Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.
“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.
MC suddenly feared for their safety.
“Okay MC, catch!”
Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.
“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”
“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.
Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”
“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”
“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.
“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.
“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”
Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.
“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”
“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”
“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”
Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.
“M-mammon?!”
“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”
Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.
That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.
(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)
#Obey me#Obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#Obey me Headcanons#If you got through all of that... thank you! you’re a real one!#obey me! headcanons#Obey me Lucifer#Obey me MC#Obey me Mammon#Obey me Leviathan#Obey me Satan#obey me asmodeus#Obey me Beelzebub#Obey me Belphegor#Obey me Diavolo#obey me dialuci#Dialuci#Obey me! Lucifer#obey me! belphegor#obey me! beelzebub#Obey me! Mammon#obey me! leviathan#Obey me! Satan#obey me! asmodeus#Obey me! Diavolo#Lucifer’s Kid#This was legit so fun to write! I’ve been thinking about this idea for a while now and it’s so nice to see it finally in written format!#keep in mind: I wrote this with the idea that MC was 13/14 years old
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Hello, can I request hcs of Vil and Leona having a crush on f/reader that happens to be a princess?
summary: headcanons for leona and vil crushing on a princess
warnings: gendered reader, possible character spoilers
word count: 1.1k
author's note: hi anon! what a cute idea! speaking of leona, have you seen his birthday ssr personal story yet? cheka is such a cutie, i adore him. how dare leona not treasure such adorably sweet gifts ;; anyway, i hope you enjoy!
To be honest, there's a possibility you've met Leona before. It's not uncommon for royal families to meet each other in an attempt to foster goodwill, after all.
Even if that was the case, however, Leona most likely wouldn't remember. If he had even bothered to attend (or was even asked to) such an event, he most likely didn't care enough to remember. You might actually remember him!
Though, to be fair, there aren't many who don't know who the second-born prince of the Afterglow Savanna is.
When you did meet Leona, however, he still was sure to give you proper respect. Not only are you a girl, but you're also a princess. At least those years of etiquette training aren't going to waste...
Despite the respect he shows you, however, he doesn't seek you out. A princess is bound to be trouble and acting so politely is tiring. He'll pass, thank you.
The more you bother him, though, the more he'll start coming around to you. It's not obvious at first, but he'll at least stop making overly passive-aggressive comments about why you should leave him alone.
His crush on you starts off small and completely blindsided him. He didn't even realize it at first. But he eventually found himself seeking out your company. Not that he'd actively go and look for you, but when a student came by his hiding places during the day, he'd hope it'd be you instead of some other Savanaclaw random.
He often smiled at you with his sharp-toothed grin. Could a dainty little princess even handle the rough and tumble way of his dorm, or would your little herbivore self be gobbled up?
It's not that he really finds you pathetic or fragile, he just enjoys teasing you. It's how he shows affection, you see.
He's annoyed by his crush on you. He didn't really want to fall for you. Hell, Leona wasn't planning on crushing on anyone any time soon, let alone some pompous spoiled girl from some other country.
He often grins at you, asking if you need to be escorted from place to place. His heart flutters a bit if you ever say you'd be happy if he'd accompany you...
Sometimes, if you had found him during lunchtime, he'll split the sandwich Ruggie brought him in half with you. No, he's not blushing. The ears laying flat on his head and his sheepish expression don't mean anything! Stop talking about it! Just eat the damn sandwich already before he takes it back!...
Heaven forbid Cheka or Farena find out about his crush. They'd never let him hear the end of it! Not only would they insist on meeting you, but they'd also be asking him how you're doing every single time they send him a message. Not to mention all the work dating a princess would come with. There are all the fancy ceremonies, the two families meeting often - it's all so tiring and Leona doesn't care for it!
That is if this overgrown house cat ever does buck up and confess his feelings to you. You've probably figured out how much he likes you by now, as he teases you with shallow words about being a pampered little thing, despite not truly meaning them or thinking so lowly of you.
It's bad enough when Ruggie figures it out. He teases Leona about it endlessly, all with that stupid grin and gleeful laugh. The one thing Leona can't argue with, however, is when Ruggie says he should just ask you out already. Ruggie's certain you like Leona back, anyway.
All in all, having Leona crush on you is a truly wonderful thing. The banter the two of you share is often lighthearted and fun, never dry or truly hurtful. He always looks out for you as you navigate your way through this school he's grown so accustomed to together.
A princess? Well, at least that means you know how to hold yourself.
During the first little bit of knowing Vil, he almost treats you at arm's length. He's not warm, but he doesn't shun you. He treats you like the royalty you are, but not a friend.
Eventually, however, you really wear down on him. You break your way past his walls and into the heart of the true Vil Schoenheit. You better be prepared for what that comes with.
Being the object of Vil's affection comes with more pros than cons, really. One of the things that could go either way, though, is the standard he holds you to. Not only is he determined to make sure you look and act your best as his crush, but you are also a princess! There can be no slacking when it comes to how you hold yourself!
Every now and then, his words may be a bit harsher when directed toward you. It's more of a tough-love thing, you see. He wants to help make sure you're always reaching your full potential, and it stems from the love he has for you. He always is sure to not cross any lines, though.
He's not surprised if you can get your hands on any well-known brands like Ténèbres. Rather than be jealous, he's proud of you for being able to get something so well-suited for someone of your position.
He delights in when you allow him to see them, though. In fact, he gets surprisingly excited if you allow him to see any of the more regal and expensive clothes you have. You'll let him style some outfits for you, won't you?
His smile is sincere as he assures you he will bring out only the finest beauty from you.
Vil crushing on you is quite the experience. There are things he's willing to do for you that he doesn't do for others. Are you struggling somewhat in Potions? Worry not your pretty little head, he's setting aside enough time as you need to sit down and work through it with you.
The amount of passion Vil has for just a crush is honestly surprising, but not out of character. He is a man who puts forth all his effort into everything he does, is he not? That includes his pursuit of you. He's determined to make sure you feel like you are important to him before he ever even considers really asking you out.
Overall, having Vil crush on you is perhaps one of the best things you could ask for. He's caring and thinks about you a lot, even if it's hard to tell behind his sometimes harsh words. He looks out for your well-being and always strives to help you do the best in every field possible. Together may you both blossom into beautiful queens one day.
𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕠𝕪𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕗𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤
#twisted wonderland#leona kingscholar#vil schoenheit#twisted wonderland headcanons#twisted wonderland x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#leona headcanons#vil headcanons#twst#twst leona#twst vil#gendered reader#sweet treats#cinn-anon rolls
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