#im going to bite a tree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ccazimi · 2 months ago

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To Be Human...

cw: kitsune reader x trueform sukuna, femreader, heian era childhood au, fluff, angst, mentions of blood/violence/death, non-sexual nudity, a little bit of smut (inappropriate usage of sukuna's stomach tongue)

wc: 8k

a/n: first time writing sth like this so im kinda nervous :P listened to zombie by the cranberries on repeat hehe

He’s only around ten or eleven when he finds you.

Your inky fur gleams in the pale light of the moon as you lay there, the bottom half of your body pinned under a large stone.

The lax tripwire attests to what has happened — you’ve been caught under a hunter’s deadfall trap. The leaves and dirt have been messily disarrayed around you, evidence you’d tried your best to escape until you’d given up.

Now you lay there, eyes glassy and chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as you await whatever fate has in store for you — likely a hunter coming in the morning to skin you and turn you into a pelt for nobles.

You don’t give any sign of acknowledgement as the four armed boy approaches you except for the slightest twitch of one of your ears, and Sukuna knows its bad based on your lack of reaction alone.

Sukuna kneels and looks at the state of your body under the rock. He can’t see much but he can smell the blood tinging the air.

Stupid creature, he thinks, it’s almost deserved for falling into such a dumb trap.

But still with a sigh he tries to move the rock.

It barely budges but that slight movement makes you whine faintly.

You’re lucky it only caught your hindlegs — anywhere else and you would’ve died on impact.

And so he stands, lifts his fingers, and—

“Dismantle.”

Instantly the large stone is diced and falls apart, a few falling on your body, but none large enough to do further damage.

It takes you a moment to realize the pressure pinning you down has been removed, and when you do, you try to move.

The most you can do is slightly drag your mangled lower body by pulling yourself along with your front paws, and even that much seems to be a struggle for you.

Sukuna thinks you look so pathetic like this that he steps forwards and crouches to lay his fingers on the fur matted with blood.

You flinch and look back, but there’s not much you can do in your current condition, even as a warmth begins to flow from his touch, spreading across your flesh and building till it feels like a searing burn.

He huffs and holds you down as you yelp in agony and begin to writhe about. “Just stay still, I’m trying to help you.”

And just as you’re about to bend back and bite him, the pain is gone.

All of it.

Tentatively you stand, confirming that all of your wounds have been healed, bone and flesh mended together.

Sukuna steps back, expecting you to run away now that you’re able to do so.

But instead you just stand, staring at him with those dark soulful eyes.

He frowns at you. “What? You can go now. Shoo.”

Sukuna feels a little agitated at the way you’re staring at him, possible even a little self-conscious as though he’s being stared at by another person.

Instead, you sit before laying down fully, resting your head on your paws as you look up at him.

“Dumb mongrel.” He mutters, deciding he’s done with this, and turns away ready to move on.

He continues walking along in the forest, but not even a minute later and he hears the softest noise behind him.

He stops and turns to find you silently following him.

Sukuna crosses both pairs of his arms. “Leave. I’m not your mother.”

You make no signs of doing so, so he gives up and continues along, choosing to simply ignore you following him.

Eventually he finds a suitable tree with a hollow and decides it’s good enough to sleep in for the night.

He settles down, opening the light hemp sack he’s carrying to take out some dried meat and nibble on it.

There’s not much left, but he’s used to the hunger.

You follow suit, laying down a few feet in front of him. Sukuna half expects you to beg for food but you don’t, just laying there.

He squints.

Even in this dim light he can make out the structure of your skeleton, poking through your gaunt frame.

You’re starving, just like him.

Fuck it.

Against his better judgement he tears the piece of meat he’s eating in half and throws a portion to you, where it lands by your nose.

The movement catches your eyes and you sniff it cautiously before inhaling the entire thing in one go.

When morning comes, you’re gone.

Sukuna isn’t surprised — you got what you needed from him and left when he had nothing more to offer. He would’ve done the same himself.

That day he searches unsuccessfully for some game, and when night comes there’s nothing to show for his efforts. So he settles back down to sleep so that he can conserve his energy, or at least to distract him from the constant pit in his stomach.

The next day his luck is the same, and like the night before he once again prepares to sleep with an empty stomach.

A bit later, he hears it — shuffling within the undergrowth.

He sits up, raising his hand, ready to attack whatever’s about to show itself.

But he isn’t prepared for what actually does come — a black fox holding a dead rabbit in its mouth.

Sukuna can hardly believe what’s happening as you come up to him and drop the carcass at his feet. It seems fresh.

He doesn’t say anything but when he cooks and hungrily eats the rabbit, he gives half of it to you.

Later that day he finds you playing with a small pearlescent white ball that you seemingly got from nowhere.

He knows then what you are — likely a rather young one judging by the fact that you didn’t seem so strong and couldn’t shapeshift yet, but a fox spirit nonetheless.

Weeks pass, and he grows accustomed to your presence. You follow him everywhere, shadowing his every move. Even when you vanish—sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for an entire day—you always return. Often with small game clenched between your teeth, a silent offering at his feet.

If he eats, you eat. If he doesn’t, you both endure the hunger together.

The first time you come back injured is after one of your longer disappearances. You limp into his sight, a chicken dangling from your jaws—an arrow lodged deep in your flank.

And still, you make it back to him, staggering but determined, dropping the bird at his feet before finally collapsing onto your good side.

Only then does he realize how you’ve been getting the livestock. You’ve been stealing from villages. A death sentence.

In times like these, even a starving thief would be hunted down without mercy.

“No more.” His voice is sharp as he presses a hand to your side, pinning you down. You yelp as he rips the arrow free. “They’ll kill you.”

The scent of your blood is sharp in the freezing air. But then his palm flares with heat, and in a single burst of power, the wound vanishes—sealed as if it had never been there.

Months pass. The air turns bitter, the trees skeletal, and game becomes harder than ever to find. Food dwindles. Even the smallest scraps are a battle to obtain.

And still, whenever there is something to eat, he shares it with you.

The nights grow relentlessly cold, and soon your arrangement shifts. You begin curling up beside him as he sleeps—sometimes pressed against him, sometimes sprawled on top of him, clinging to whatever warmth his body provides. He doesn’t push you away.

Starvation forces his hand. There is no choice but to move closer to civilization, to raid villages in search of food. You assist, of course—darting through the shadows, quick and unseen.

More than once, these raids end in blood. Villagers fight back. Some die. More than once, you and Sukuna barely escape with your own lives—sometimes without even a morsel to show for it, because the common folk are just as starved as you.

Yet still, you remain by his side.

Finally, winter passes, and the plum blossoms bloom to herald another year of survival.

It should be easier to find food now that the cold has receded, but early spring is the cruelest season—the time when game remains scarce, crops have yet to sprout, and the last of the winter rations have run out.

Even raiding villages yields little, and hunger begins to loom like a specter. You both find yourselves resorting to anything you can find—grubworms, grasshoppers, crickets—desperate scraps to stave off the gnawing emptiness.

Despite the harshness of this life, it’s easier to forget the hunger when you’re together. The small moments of shared mischief, the absurdity of it all, make the suffering feel distant, if only for a fleeting second.

He doesn’t understand the first time it happens, how, despite walking straight ahead, he ends up back at the very same tree he started from. He’s sure he’s not going in circles. Right?

Then the thought strikes him, and he glances at you—sitting innocently, looking up at him with wide eyes.

And he knows.

“You.”

His suspicion is confirmed when you burst into high-pitched laughter, your tail swishing with glee as his glare sharpens.

But it’s fine. He finds his own ways to bother you.

He quickly learns that you absolutely hate having your head patted, and the longer strokes of his hand along your fur are even worse—especially when he adds, “I think you might have fleas…”

When he tugs on one of your whiskers, you nip him in annoyance, your teeth flashing sharp in the dim light. He can’t help but laugh at the frustration you so clearly wear.

And Sukuna learns his lesson when you cackle throughout the night, refusing to let him sleep, your giddy laughter echoing in the still air.

During moments of quiet, he hones his cursed techniques, while you entertain yourself with that shiny little ball of yours. He finds it almost comical how obsessed you are with it.

But the real trouble starts when he snatches it from you and tosses it into a bush, teasing, “Fetch it like a dog.”

You retaliate instantly, a wave of vertigo crashing over him so violently that he crumples to the ground, unable to stand for minutes.

Sukuna grumbles under his breath, his head spinning, hating when you mess with his mind.

And still, the young boy harbors an intrinsic belief that he is your protector. It’s an instinct, perhaps, that keeps him tethered to the last vestiges of his humanity. Little does he know, it is you who considers yourself his guardian.

So when that fated day arrives, and you hear the band of sorcerers and their tracking dogs, the ones sent to hunt down the four-armed creature who’s been terrorizing the villages—stealing food, killing—you are flooded with panic. Not for yourself, but for him.

Lately, his presence has drawn more and more attention. The bounty on Sukuna’s head has put a target on him, and several groups of sorcerers are scouring the land for him. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up.

You feel their cursed energy before you see them, smell the dogs before you hear them. Instantly, you leap onto the sleeping boy, shaking him awake, flooding his mind with urgency, pushing him to move faster.

Sukuna is strong, unnaturally so for his age and circumstances, but he is still a malnourished child. You doubt he stands a chance against a group of sorcerers, specially trained and sent by the capital itself to hunt him down.

The cursed energy suffocates the air, thick and oppressive, and while Sukuna stirs beside you, one of the dogs finds your scent. Its bark shatters the silence, alerting the others to your location.

He scrambles to his feet, but something sharp slices through the air, embedding itself into the tree with a sickening thud, narrowly missing his head.

The cursed weapon’s affliction spreads like an ugly bruise across the trunk, and soon, the men emerge, bursting into the clearing with cold determination.

Sukuna runs instinctively, as do you, but more cursed projectiles whiz past you, and you know—there’s no way both of you will make it out.

Another hiss, and you feel it—agony in your hind leg. The curse digs into your flesh, poisoning it, embedding deep into your bone.

In your mind, you thank Sukuna for these last two years, for saving your life, for giving it meaning. Because now, you know without a doubt, it’s over.

Sukuna runs, believing you’re still right behind him. An illusion that you’ve spun.

You’ve stopped. He sprints ahead, his feet crackling over dead leaves, unaware of the fate that has already befallen you. You turn, facing the sorcerers. They see not the injured fox, but a weakened Sukuna, collapsed on the ground.

The years pass, and Ryomen Sukuna becomes the monster the world had declared him to be from the moment of his birth. His title as the strongest is solidified after he obliterates clans of the most powerful sorcerers in the land. Fear and awe grip the people, and they kneel before him—not out of reverence, but to avoid his wrath.

Sukuna feels no remorse. Not when he stands amidst the dead, surrounded by limp corpses and the stench of blood. Not when the pleading voices of his victims are cut short by a swift, merciless slash. Remorse is for humans, and it was decided long ago that he was not one of them.

Yet, in the midst of the carnage, there are moments—a fleeting sense that he is being watched, a slight unease that causes him to hesitate, just for a fraction of a second, before he cleaves through another innocent.

Sometimes, as he sets villages ablaze, he freezes, thinking he glimpsed the silhouette of a black fox slipping through the smoke, its movements graceful among the burning ruins. It vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Tricks of the mind, perhaps some remaining stain of his humanity.

Years later when he sleeps at night within the abandoned estate he’s settled in with Uraume, he occasionally dreams of a black fox playing with a small white ball.

They are the only dreams he ever has.

Then, one day, the woman appears at his estate, asking if she can stay. She tells him she’s been exiled from her village, with no place left to go, certain that she’ll starve if left to wander alone.

Sukuna eyes you with careful assessment. There’s something in your gaze—a quiet resilience, an unfamiliar comfort—and despite everything, he agrees.

It’s strange. Really, he should’ve killed you on the spot, or at the very least, kept you as a potential meal for later. But there’s something about the way you look at him, like you’re not a stranger but a distant echo of something he’s lost, something that feels almost like home.

But he’s still Sukuna, and you’re still a random woman. So he lets you stay, under the condition that you help around the estate—gathering firewood, tending to small chores, and foraging for food in the forest.

Over time, he gets used to your presence, though he doesn’t acknowledge it out loud.

Yet, there are strange things about you that he can’t ignore.

For one, you eat with no sense of decorum, devouring your food like you’ve been starved for days. And every time he eats something, you look at him with pleading eyes, asking for a taste of whatever it is.

Your reaction to his taste for human meat also stands out. Where others would be horrified, you remain unfazed, even uncomfortably comfortable with it, despite the fact that you won’t eat it yourself.

Something about you doesn’t seem quite right, but Sukuna can’t put his finger on it.

Then there are the little oddities—like how he starts losing things more often. Little things at first: a knife misplaced here, a thought forgotten there. He walks into a room and then forgets why he came. It’s disorienting, and the more he tries to track it, the more elusive it becomes.

And your sleeping habits… They’re just as strange. You nap at odd hours, usually finding yourself curled up in places he wouldn’t expect—on the rooftop, in the middle of the moya, even once right in the doorway, where he nearly trips over you.

Though you’ve been harmless enough, there’s something unsettling about you—or perhaps it’s the way you make him feel. It’s like he knows you, even though he’s certain he’s never seen you before the day you showed up on his doorstep.

One day, while you’re gone foraging in the forest, Sukuna finds himself walking into the eastern pavilion that’s become your chamber. He’s not sure what he’s searching for, but as he looks around, he discovers some dried fish, likely the ones Uraume had been searching for a few days ago, and a set of scrolls of his that had gone missing without his notice.

A thief, it seems. Nothing too surprising; it’s a small problem, but it’s one he’ll have to deal with.

He’s about to leave when something catches his eye—a flash of white, glimmering from within the folds of your bedding. Curiosity pricks at him as he steps closer. There, nestled among the fabric, is a small ball.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

You finally return in the late afternoon, laying out your haul—persimmons, chestnuts, a few ginkgo nuts, acorns, matsutake mushrooms, and lotus root.

Sukuna watches, humming thoughtfully before asking, “Anything you wish to tell me?”

You pause, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Anything you wish to hear?”

He simply stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. After a long moment, you finally relent. “Okay, fine! I took some of the dried ayu—I just get hungry at night sometimes…”

“Anything else?”

You huff. “I took a few of your scrolls too. I was bored. And yes, I drank some of your sake, but it was just a small taste, I swear!”

Sukuna frowns, the realization dawning on him. That’s why he’d been running out of sake so quickly—he thought he’d developed a drinking problem. He shakes his head in exasperation but holds out a small white ball to you.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for that!” Your eyes light up, and you lunge to snatch it from his hand, but he raises it just out of reach.

“Are you serious? Do you have nothing to say for yourself, fox?”

You look up at him, the playful glimmer in your eyes. In that instant, Sukuna realizes what you’ve been doing—playing a game all along, waiting for him to figure out who you were.

“Do you think this is funny?”

You grin, and Sukuna finds himself wanting to be angry. But the truth is, there’s something else bubbling inside him—something he can’t shake. He wants answers more than anything else.

“How are you not dead?” he asks, his voice softer now, and a flicker of old memories rises to the surface. Memories of you, the fox who had saved his life, who had stayed loyal when others would have abandoned him. Compassion, something he had rarely received from anyone.

It stirs something in him—a weakness he thought buried, a lingering part of his humanity he had long tried to abandon. But that thought is fleeting, buried again beneath his frustration.

“A magician can’t reveal their secrets now, can they?”

Sukuna fixes you with a stern look, his expression hardening again. “Fine, keep your secrets. But you won’t be getting your stupid little ball back.”

“Hey!” You glare at him in indignation. “What if I tell you whatever else you want?”

He agrees, and so you begin to explain. You tell him of your desire to live as a human, about how, when you learned to shapeshift, you sought out a life within the villages.

But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how you fit yourself into their world, kitsune are not human, and the forces of nature demand that they keep moving—transitory, untouchable. It is not in a kitsune’s nature to stay in one place for long, especially amidst human society. So, one way or another, you were always forced to leave, wandering from village to village, never able to stay.

Sukuna listens, but there’s a strange disconnection in his gaze. He doesn’t understand your desire to be human. He scoffs when he learns that kitsune see humans as the superior form, and he can’t help but mock your longing.

You, however, simply smile, not bothering to argue. You know him—his rejection of his humanity, his dismissal of what makes him human. While you don’t share his sentiment, you understand it in a way he may never realize.

You don’t say anything, just smile softly when he mocks your desire to be human, a soft acceptance in your eyes.

Sukuna begins to regret taking in a nocturnal creature, for you become restless at night. Eventually, you decide that it will be him who bears the burden of your boredom.

So, there you are in the dead of night, sneaking into Sukuna’s room, which—unfortunately for him—is warmer than your own. You crouch beside him, leaning in close.

This might just be the worst trick you’ve played on him, though you’d never admit it. There are no limitations in the realm of dreams, after all. And even more unfortunate for Sukuna? Your creativity knows no bounds.

You have no idea whether he was dreaming before, but as of right now, Sukuna’s been shrunk down to the size of a caterpillar, trapped in a jar by you, and shaken vigorously until his eyes shoot open and he wakes abruptly.

He stares at you, sitting innocently by his body, a sweet smile on your face. And he immediately knows exactly what’s happening.

“Bad dreams?”

Sukuna’s glare is sharp as a blade. “I should’ve killed you the night I found you pinned under that stupid rock.”

You grin, completely unbothered. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

He glowers, exasperated. “What the hell do you want, mongrel?”

“I’m bored.”

Sukuna groans in frustration. “Go and chop the vegetables for breakfast or something.”

The next morning, Sukuna is less than pleased when Uraume nervously informs him that all the vegetables have been minced so finely they’re practically paste.

After a few nights of this, Sukuna gives up trying to come up with things for you to do. Whenever you wake him in the middle of the night, he knows what’s coming—your malicious compliance.

So the next time you go to wake him, he shifts over, leaving an empty space on his bedding. “Get in and sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I know. Just get in and try.”

Sukuna hopes that having another warm body beside you will somehow help lull you into sleep. But you just huff, reluctantly crawling in next to him on the silk-lined shitone that smells faintly of smoke and musk—his scent. It stirs something in you, but you push it aside, focusing on trying to sleep, wondering if he’s asleep.

Sukuna thinks he’s finally found a way to subdue you, but then he feels it—a gentle touch, your fingers tracing his face, brushing against the markings on his skin.

You’ve always been too comfortable with him, touching him out of curiosity, with nothing better to do. He tries to ignore it, but when your fingers trace the edges of his mask, he growls, his hand shooting out to grip your wrist and yank it away.

“Do you mind? Go to sleep, brat.”

But it’s too late. Now, your curiosity has been piqued, and the questions begin.

“Does that side of your face hurt?”

“No.”

“What about your tattoos?”

“What about them?”

“Did they hurt?”

“No.”

Your curiosity doesn’t let up. “What happens if you eat two different things, one with your normal mouth and the other with your stomach mouth? Do the flavors blend together?”

Sukuna makes a noise of frustration, more exasperated than ever. “I liked you better as a fox, you know? Less talking.”

Living with you is certainly not easy. You torment him at every opportunity, badger him for his food, lie about completely nonsensical things for no reason at all. Sukuna’s caught you more than once trying to convince Uraume to team up against him, and let’s not forget the time you made Uraume cry by telling him Sukuna planned to eat the young boy.

Sukuna had to step in, reassuring Uraume with a dry smirk that if he were going to eat anyone, it would be you.

You try to show your apologies in your own way—by leaving piles of dead bodies at the front of the estate the next morning. These are wandering travelers you lured into the forest, then deceived into stabbing each other to death.

It’s almost comical to Sukuna. Here you are, aspiring to be human, yet your moral framework is... questionable at best. It doesn’t take him long to piece together why you’ve been repeatedly exiled from the villages you’ve stayed in.

Take, for example, the time you tried to prank him with a tea made from aconite tubers. At first, he thinks it’s an assassination attempt. Then, he realizes you honestly didn’t see the danger in it. You were “pretty sure” it wouldn’t fully kill him.

Almost… pretty sure.

There are also times when you just vanish randomly from the estate, only to return with “gifts” — though most of them are, at best, bizarre, and at worst, useless. Rare herbs, a finely crafted knife, a silk sash… all of these Sukuna assumes you stole from some village. However, it’s not long before he checks back on these “gifts” only to find that many times they were just illusions—turning out to be nothing more than piles of dead leaves.

More often than not, though, you don’t even try to hide the absurdity of the “presents.” He’ll wake up to find fishbones scattered in front of his door, a single slipper that isn’t his, or even a live bird flapping around in his room like some sort of wild, unnecessary spectacle.

Then there was that time you appeared out of nowhere, holding a rock with the most solemn expression.

“For you,” you said, handing it to him with careful deliberation.

Sukuna stares at it. A rock. Just an ordinary, dusty gray rock. He looks at you, deadpan. “Why would I want this?”

You beam brightly. “It reminded me of you.”

Sukuna stares back at the rock in his hand. No unique markings, no rare qualities. Just a mundane rock. Your thought process is a complete mystery to him.

He yells at you to get lost but when you sneak into Sukuna’s room later to snoop through his stuff you find the rock stored in his cabinet.

Dinner time begins as usual with you, Sukuna, and Uraume each settling into your respective meals. You’re always the first to finish—no surprise there.

As soon as your bowl is empty, your eyes immediately lock onto Sukuna’s. He glares at you, bringing his bowl closer to his mouth. “No.”

You put on your best pleading face, batting your lashes with exaggerated sweetness. “Just one bite, please?”

Sukuna eyes you suspiciously. “It’s human.”

“No, it’s not,” you argue, “I asked Uraume, and he said it’s deer.”

Uraume chokes on his food, eyes widening in panic as Sukuna turns his gaze to him. Uraume quickly looks away, hoping to avoid the wrath he knows is coming.

Sukuna turns back to you, glaring. “Stop begging, like a greedy mongrel.”

Uraume keeps his gaze to the ground, shrinking back in preparation for what’s coming next, as it always does.

“Don’t CALL ME THAT.”

“Then quit acting like it.” To further annoy you, Sukuna casually sets his chopsticks down, then proceeds to dump the entire contents of his bowl into the maw on his abdomen, swallowing it whole.

You stare, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. “What the hell? You can’t do that, it’s cheating.”

He grins, the kind of grin that says he’s enjoying every second of this. “Mad, mutt?”

In your anger, you lunge at him tackling him to the ground while he just laughs at you. And the great Ryomen Sukuna, known for destroying villages and massacring innocents, lets you, fighting back with maybe five percent of his power just to let you have your fun.

At some point, you’ve decided that anything of his is yours too—his food, his space, and especially his bed. It’s become a nightly ritual for you to “move in” to his room, claiming your room is too cold to sleep in. Sukuna knows better than to argue, especially since he’s aware that you barely sleep anyway.

“Get out,” he mutters, his voice laced with exhaustion. “I know you’re just going to bother me instead of actually sleeping.”

“I won’t! See how sleepy I look?” you counter, feigning tiredness with an exaggerated yawn and wide, glassy eyes.

Sukuna eyes you, the expression on your face a far cry from the exhaustion you’re pretending to have. With a resigned sigh, he shifts over to make room for you, though the action seems more reluctant than welcoming. Perhaps a part of him, deep down, enjoys the warmth of your presence—your body pressed against his while he tries to sleep, even if it means enduring your never-ending stream of nonsensical chatter.

And, as predicted, the moment you settle in, you begin—

“Your body would be the perfect meat farm, did you know that?”

There it is. Sukuna exhales sharply, already dreading where this is going. “What? Actually, don’t elaborate—“

“I’d cut chunks out of you whenever you’re hungry since you’d just heal up again, right?” You’re practically gleaming at the thought, unfazed by his annoyance.

Sukuna, desperately trying to ignore your incessant ramblings, stays silent, hoping it will dissuade you. It doesn’t.

“Oh, and that big juicy tongue down there... you can grow that back too, right? Because I think that would be my favorite part of you, slow-cooked and simmered in some br—”

Sukuna’s patience snaps. “Enough. Keep talking and I’ll cut out your tongue and eat it myself.”

You only grin wider. “Oh, what, so it’s only okay when you cannibalize people?”

Weeks turn into months, and somewhere along the way, the nights spent in Sukuna’s bed become something more. Each time, you find yourself sleeping closer to him, your limbs winding around his, your head resting against his chest, your nails softly tracing the surface of his scalp in the dark. It happens without words, but the comfort of it feels so natural, so undeniable.

But as soon as the sun rises, the two of you fall back into your usual roles. The playful tormenting, the biting remarks, the petty battles. Not a single word is spoken about the closeness shared in the night—there's a mutual, unspoken agreement between you both to pretend it doesn’t happen.

It’s as if it never existed, just another fleeting moment in the chaos of your lives.

Sukuna swears he doesn’t care about you—no matter how many nights you stay gone from the estate, no matter how many times he finds himself checking the door for your return. He tells himself he doesn’t care, not even when he finally leaves the estate to search nearby villages, convinced that you’ve gotten yourself caught stealing again.

And of course, he finds you, tied up in the center of a village, your face smeared with ash as a mark of your supposed crime. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, razing the entire village to the ground in a fiery, brutal display of wrath.

You watch through it all, your gaze steady and knowing. You don’t beg for mercy, nor do you cheer him on as he tears the place apart. You’re indifferent, unfazed by his fury as if you’ve seen it all before, and perhaps in some twisted way, you have.

He drags you back to the estate, more irritated than anything, and when he finally reaches the safety of his home, he grabs you by the arm, his voice low and stern. “You’re not running away again, got it? No more stealing from villages.”

He expects you to throw a snarky comment back at him, to tease or mock him, as you always do. But this time, there’s nothing. You’re silent, your eyes fixed on him, an unreadable look on your face, like you’re studying him, trying to understand the contradictions that make him who he is.

It’s a gaze he knows all too well, the same kind of observance that followed him during all his years of killing and maiming, of playing the role of the monster.

He crosses his arms, fingers tapping impatiently as he narrows his gaze at you, expecting something—anything—from you. “Speak, fox.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“It’s rather curious... when you act like the monster they say you are… I see something so undeniably human in you.”

Sukuna’s expression tightens, and he clicks his tongue in frustration, dismissing you with his usual indifference. “I’m not in the mood for your riddles. Next time, I’ll just leave you to rot.”

But despite his words, something shifts in the air between you. His eyes linger on yours for a moment too long, and for the briefest of moments, the monster he tries so hard to be seems less certain, less absolute.

But he won’t admit it.

Not to you. Not to himself.

Later that night, Sukuna jolts awake to a warm weight pressing against his chest. His vision clears, sleep fading fast, and he finds you straddling him, keen eyes peering down at him. He meets your stare with a glare of his own.

"Can I help you?"

You don’t answer.

Because how do you tell him that despite his name being spoken like a curse, despite the terror that follows him like a shadow, he looks more human in sleep than those who recoil at the mere mention of him?

With the brazier’s dim glow casting flickering light over his face, the xyloid mask embedded in his skin, and the dark ink slashing across his jaw, he should look like the monster they say he is.

But he doesn’t.

So instead, you grin from above him. “No. I’m sleeping here tonight. You’re quite comfortable.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue. "Tch. I could be carved from stone, and you’d still say that."

Yet two of his hands find your hips—not forceful, just firm enough to keep you there.

You sigh, sinking down, the soft curves of your body molding against the solid planes of his. The steady heat of him seeps into you, his scent—smoke and something distinctly him—wrapping around you like a soothing weight.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, another one of his hands lift, fingers brushing through your hair, tucking away a stray lock behind your ear. His touch lingers a moment longer than necessary.

"Tsk. Stupid thing. You got lucky today that they didn’t just kill you outright."

"I’m sure they wouldn’t have. It was only petty thievery."

"You underestimate the cruelty of humans," he murmurs. "What were you even trying to steal?"

"Red bean rice."

You don’t add that it wasn’t just for you. That you had gone to steal sake for him, knowing he was running low.

Sukuna clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Red bean rice? Really? You could’ve just asked, and I would’ve gotten it for you."

"You would’ve burned down the whole village trying to do so."

"I did that anyway. Could’ve at least gotten the rice."

"Well—"

A hand clamps over your mouth. "Just keep quiet if you won’t even admit your mistake."

You only huff against his palm, nuzzling closer as his grip shifts, fingertips trailing absently down your spine.

The silence between you is fragile, the kind neither of you wants to break—not when his touch is this soft, not when his breaths are this deep, rising and falling beneath you.

You’re warm all over—your cheeks, your ears, your blood, your lips. And they only grow hotter when his fingers ghost over the front panel of your kosode, slipping into the lining but going no further.

They wait.

A silent bid for permission.

You swallow, reaching up to curl your fingers around his, tugging at the fabric in quiet invitation. Neither of you looks at the other as he slowly peels the garment from your shoulders.

It falls away, exposing the bare plane of your sternum. The night air whispers over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth between you.

Then, his hands find you—not lewdly, but reverently.

His touch is slow, unhurried, mapping you with a careful kind of curiosity, gliding over your curves, lingering at the swell of your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples in a teasing caress, making them stiffen under his touch and pulling the breath from your lungs.

Drowsiness creeps at the edges of your mind, weighing down on your eyelids, but before sleep can take you, your fingers drift lower, tracing the band of his hakama. You tug—just slightly, a wordless request.

He obliges.

One set of arms holds you close as the others tug the fabric away, leaving nothing between you but heat and skin.

His hands roam lower, fingers pressing into the soft curve of your hips.

You breathe him in, letting the moment fold around you, silent and unspoken, like something neither of you dare name.

And, wrapped in his warmth, you finally slip into sleep.

The nights have settled into a quiet routine—skin pressed against skin, a shared warmth beneath the covers. It’s a delicate kind of intimacy, one that exists only in the dark, when the teasing and bickering of the day give way to something softer, quieter.

Lately, though, you’ve found a new way to amuse yourself— your teeth.

During the day, you nip at any exposed inch of his skin before scampering away, reveling in the way his irritation simmers beneath the surface. A graze along his forearm, a sharp bite to his shoulder—it’s a game, one you always win.

But tonight, your mischief doesn’t settle even when both of you are undressed, bodies relaxed into the familiar comfort of each other. Instead, you straddle his torso, fingers tracing idle patterns along his chest as his eyes drift shut.

And because you’re you, you lean down and nip his cheek.

Sukuna’s lower eyes crack open, glowing faintly in the dim light of the brazier. He exhales sharply, clearly unimpressed.

“Cut that shit out, brat. You’re fucking insufferable.”

You hum, unbothered. The restless energy in your limbs doesn’t fade, and the only thing that seems to relieve it is the press of your teeth against his skin. So you bite him again.

A low growl rumbles from his throat. His fingers twitch against the sheets. **“**Do that again and see what happens.”

There’s a challenge in his voice, the kind that sends something electric down your spine. You grin. And then you do it again.

The response is immediate—before you can pull back, two of his hands shoot out, one tangling into your hair, the other pressing firmly against the nape of your neck, holding you in place.

The last two grip your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you still.

“Sukuna—” you start, but you don’t get to finish.

He shifts beneath you, tilting his head, and then—warm lips press against yours, firm and deliberate.

You freeze.

And then you melt.

Your breath hitches as his mouth moves against yours, slow at first, testing, tasting. He parts your lips with ease, his tongue sweeping into warm wet cavern of your mouth, claiming every inch, every sound you make. His grip on you tightens as you kiss him back, heat curling low in your stomach.

It’s almost infuriating, how easily he turns the tables, how effortlessly he steals the air from your lungs. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’re tangled in him like this, not when his hands are on your body like you belong to him.

And maybe in some way, you do, the same way he belongs to you.

You savor the taste of him, making out sloppily until amidst the heat you feel skin opening up from beneath where your core is pressed against his abdomen.

Before you can process what’s happening, something hot and dripping presses against your damp slit, and you buck your hips in surprise, yelping into his mouth.

You feel his lips stretch into a grin against yours, refusing to let you pull back for air as the large tongue languidly strokes your clit in teasing licks that send electric sparks shooting up your spine.

He takes the chance when you pant and moan softly to slide his tongue deeper into your open mouth, tangling your tongue with his as the one below parts your drenched folds and slips in, slithering into your tight channel before rubbing harshly against that one spongey area that makes your mind blank and whimper needily into his mouth.

He’s everywhere— invading your mouth, shoving his tongue so far down your throat you think he’s trying to taste your lungs while the muscle in your cunt pushes up even deeper till it’s nudging, lapping at the fleshy wall of your cervix.

You mewl, squirming and bucking your hips, feeling so impossibly full of his tongue, and he groans into your mouth as well at the taste of you all over — the flavor of your mouth along with the way he can feel your walls clenching around him below as he tongues the entrance to your cervix faster and more intensely like he’s trying to eat you from the inside.

Another hand grips one of your breasts somewhere along the way, squeezing and massaging the pliant flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers, as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip and suddenly it’s all too much—

Your orgasm crashes over you, flooding your senses with ecstasy and the maw on his abdomen with a warm gush of your liquid seeping out of your walls as he continues to juice you, pushing against that sensitive spot and making the fluids continue to drip into his large mouth as he sucks on your tongue, hungrily swallowing all your moans and cries of pleasure.

And finally you still and his hold on you loosens, letting you break away with only a gossamer strand of saliva connecting your mouths that snaps as you look down at him with flushed cheeks, trying to come back to your senses.

He smirks deviously at your disarrayed state as one of his hands caresses your backside softly. “Who knew that was how to shut you up this entire time?”

You huff but lean back down, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press delicate, loving kisses into his skin, eventually falling asleep.

He holds you, trying not to let his hard-ons poke into you, content enough for now to simply embrace your satiated body and feel the warmth of your skin that seems to seep through the cracks within hardened muscle and flesh into his own heart.

The first dream comes that night.

You stand beneath an endless night sky, the cool air brushing against your skin. In the distance, a snow-white fox watches you, its fur glowing silver under the moonlight. It does not speak. It does not move. But its gaze is knowing—waiting.

Then, it turns and walks ahead, leaving behind a trail of faintly glowing pawprints. An unspoken invitation.

You do not follow.

The fox stops, blinking once—slow, understanding—before vanishing into the mist.

You wake with the certainty of what has happened.

You have wandered the mortal realm long enough, and finally Inari has found you.

The goddess calls you home, offers you ascension, a chance to become a true kitsune. A way to escape death—whatever fate awaits spirits who linger too long in the world of men.

But you don’t take it.

And the dreams continue.

Torii gates, endless in number, stretching into the mist, each a door to the path you refuse to take. A golden rice field under the full moon, shimmering—until the stalks wither beneath your touch. The chime of a shrine bell, growing louder as you step forward—then fading the moment you turn away.

Every night, the same quiet plea. And every night, you deny it.

Because no divine warmth, no promise of something greater, could ever compare to him.

To the way his hands rest on your hips. The way his lips ghost over your skin. The playful bickering, the teasing—things reserved for you alone. The flicker of something softer in his crimson eyes, fleeting but real.

Of course, he knows nothing of these dreams.

Nothing of the choice you’ve been given, and chosen to ignore.

Because you were never Inari’s to claim; you were bound to Sukuna since that day he found you as children.

You spend four years by his side, yet they slip through your fingers like grains of sand. You see him in his violence, in his carnage—just as you do in his quiet, in his stillness.

And soon, the whole country speaks his name in fear, his apotheosis complete—a cursed plague upon mankind.

Sukuna welcomes the title. He renounces his humanity, denies it so fervently that even you begin to wonder if he truly believes it.

"You’re human," you tell him once.

He scoffs.

Could a human kill like he does? Maim like he does? Look like him? No—there is nothing human about him. So he thinks.

But the universe disagrees. It still calls him human. And because he is human, you tempt fate by daring to stay.

You defy your own nature, forsaking it in exchange for something fleeting—a life with him. A human life, a simple life. One where mornings are filled with your teasing remarks, your relentless chatter as you wipe the blood from his skin, scolding him like he’s anything less than the calamity the world sees him as.

Sukuna doesn’t acknowledge it, not explicitly. But sometimes, in the quiet, he looks at you like you are something unknowable. Like you have seen a future he refuses to believe in.

He’s right.

You know your time with him is limited. You know the universe will not tolerate your defiance forever. You know, with certainty, that this life you have chosen will end in tragedy.

And yet, to you, it is worth it.

Even as the years pass, even as four beautiful years slip through your hands like water, you never regret it.

Not even when the universe finally comes to collect.

You wander out from the estate that day, but you return later than usual.

Sukuna waits. Then waits some more.

When night falls, he exhales sharply, annoyed, and finally resigns himself to search for you.

There’s a weighted feeling in his chest. A whisper in his bones. It unsettles him, but he shoves it down, replaces it with irritation. Focuses instead on how he’ll admonish you when he finds you.

Probably off doing something stupid, unaware of how late it’s gotten.

The night stretches on. He pushes through the forest, frustration mounting—until suddenly, it is gone.

Because finally, he finds it.

At the base of a towering cliff, a massive boulder sits still, unmoving. And beneath it—a pair of legs stick out.

The sharp, metallic scent of blood floods his senses, sinking deep into his marrow, making his own pulse hammer against his skull. A feeling he hasn’t known in years swells inside him.

Fear.

"DISMANTLE."

The boulder shatters into dust.

And the feeling in his gut—the one he’s been ignoring all day, all night, all his life—finally takes him under.

Your body lies there. Mangled. Crushed beyond recognition.

But he knows. Even if his mind refuses, even if he does not want to believe it—he knows the scent of your blood. Whether you are fox or human, you have always bled the same blood.

Still, he refuses to accept it.

This cannot be you.

Because whoever this corpse is—they are dead.

And you?

You are not dead.

You cannot be dead.

Yet the body lies still. The air smells faintly of urine. The muscles, emptied of life, have already gone limp.

But it isn’t you. It can’t be you.

So he tells himself it must be someone else. Some other poor soul.

Then, his gaze catches on something small—glistening under the moonlight, peeking through the dust and blood.

A small, white ball.

@onwinedarkseas i finally finished this!!

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

sparkling juice

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, dubcon, drugging/tricking reader into drinking, established relationship, innocent/shy!reader (at least at first wink wink), kinda dark!rafe but really he just wants to bang reader reaaaaal bad

“this is so sweet, rafey.” you coo, your hand held firmly in his.

“anything for you baby.” rafe pulls you along the path, further out into the meadow until you get to a shaded area under a tall tree.

“here is perfect.” rafe says, setting the picnic basket down and draping the large blanket he brought with him.

“thank you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before sitting down.

“i brought all your favorites.” rafe says, taking a spot next to you and opening up the picnic basket.

you let out a little squeak in excitement and seeing all your favorite foods before your brows scrunch together as you point at a bottle. “what's that?”

“that's um… sparkling juice. that's all, baby.” of course, rafe knows that's not all it is, but you don't need to know that yet.

rafe pulls out some food for you to snack on, not hungry himself, happy to watch you nibble on crackers and bite into juicy strawberries.

“wanna try some juice with me baby?”

“mhm, of course rafey.” you watch his large hands as he fills two plastic cups, handing one to you. “drink slow.”

you nod in response before taking a sip, pulling away and sputtering. “ew!”

“oh, baby.” rafe pouts. “do you not like it? im so sorry i thought you would.”

“let me… let me try to drink it again. i think im just not used to the carbonation.” you take another sip, able to control your reaction better. “it's not bad!” rafe can tell you're lying, but he lets out a fake sigh of relief and smiles at you.

“so glad, baby. we can keep drinking while we talk, yeah? tell me about your day.”

rafe knows the easiest way to get you distracted is to have you talk, and so as you describe your day, which leads into your plans for next week, which leads into how much you love rafe, you keep taking sips as rafe refills just your cup.

“i… my head feels kinda fuzzy.” you frown, setting the drink down, realizing your fingers are also slightly numb.

“uh oh.” rafe pouts, drawing his thumb over your cheek. “maybe it's the heat. why don't you lay down?”

“yeah.” you nod, laying back onto the blanket, surprised how plush it is from the soft long grass underneath it. “im-” you let out a sudden giggle. “im like really in love with you, rafey.”

“im really in love with you too, kiddo.” rafe adjusts himself to lay next to you, propped up on his side to keep an eye on your reaction as the alcohol you didn't know you were drinking slowly takes effect. “that's why i planned out this whole picnic for you. and brought you special juice.”

“was there-” you hiccup, words slurring slightly. “anything special in the special juice?”

“hm.” rafe sits up, picking up the now half empty bottle. his eyes widen in fake shock as he reads the label. “oh no baby! i must have grabbed the wrong bottle! i meant to get us sparkling juice but i got us sparkling wine!”

“im… im drunk?” you put together what rafes words mean, mind working slowly.

“im so sorry.” rafe moves to hover over you, cupping your cheek. “will you forgive me?”

“course.” you nod quickly. “was an accident.”

“you're so sweet baby.” rafe brings his lips down on top of yours, kissing you wildly, mouths and tongues a passionate mess.

“should we go get some water to help… get rid of this feeling?” you ask rafe as he shifts to kissing your jaw.

“that's so smart, baby, but i can't drive us home drunk, and you don't have your license.”

you knew how to drive well enough, but in your 20 years of life, never felt the need to actually get your license. your parents drove you around as a kid until you started dating rafe a year ago, and then he drove you around everywhere.

“oh, right.” you nod, letting out a small gasp as rafes kisses move lower, exploring your neck. this is where you usually stop him, pull his head back up to kiss your lips and remind him you want to wait. not necessarily until marriage, but a bit longer, until the time is right.

“we should do something to pass the time, baby. until the alcohol is out of our system.”

“doesn't eating help?” you try to remember what you heard your friends talk about, since you're not a drinker yourself. “we could share the rest of the crackers.”

“i was thinking… we could finally make love.” rafe suggests, pulling back to look in your eyes, watching the way your brain is fighting against the alcohol in your system.

“well, you did take me on this nice picnic…”

“mhm.”

“and we have been dating for over a year now.”

“yes.”

“so… i suppose we could.” you shove down any doubting voices in your head, letting the looseness of your inhibitions guide your actions as you lean forward to kiss rafe again.

“thank you baby.” rafe repeats his words between kisses, his weight shifting to his elbow as his other hand holds your waist, before moving up until it's cupping your breast.

“oh!” you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. rafe smiles, tugging at your dress until the material is below your bra, pushing your breasts up.

“what if someone sees?!” you hiss out. it's not likely someone would come by, but rafe doesn't want to ruin his chance to finally have you.

“okay.” he pulls your dress back up, settling for touching you over the material as he distracts you with soft kisses once again. “ill just push your dress up. that way if anyone comes by you can easily cover yourself up.”

“mhm.” you nod, eyes sliding shut, head fuzzy from the alcohol and now from the pleasure building in your system.

rafe reaches down to pull his cock out of his pants, leaving himself mostly covered as well. he begins to slowly stroke himself, already halfway hard just from the excitement.

“oh!” rafe hadn't even realize your eyes had opened up until your outburst.

“it's okay, baby.” rafe says. he's well aware this is your first time seeing his cock as he waits for you to form a reaction.

“i… i want to feel.” you reach down, cautious hand, still numb at the fingertips as you stroke over rafes length, eyes widening when you realize how hard it truly feels..

“can you… can you not look?” you ask shyly, hand still slowly moving as you speak. “at me.”

“baby, you know i find you beautiful. all of you… but if that's what you want, okay.”

“just… look away for a minute.” you wait for rafes gaze to turn to the meadow, watching the flowers sway in the breeze as he hears you shuffling around on the blanket to take your underwear off.

“okay.” you say.

rafe looks back to you, smile growing as he realizes you're laid back down once again, dress pushed up to your thighs, just enough to hide your privates.

“ill be nice and slow, okay? and you tell me if anything hurts.” rafe moves over you, waiting for you to nod before reaching down with one hand to grab his cock. he keeps your skirt as far down as he can while tucking his dick between your thighs. he moves until he bumps skin, letting out a breath when he realizes you are wet.

he rubs his cock through your folds, watching the way your face twists in pleasure, brows pulling together and mouth dropping open.

you let out a moan when rafe hits what he assumes is your clit. he focuses the head of his cock on it for a moment before sinking lower to your entrance.

rafe manages to keep his word, pushing in slowly. he may have been buttering you up for an entire year just to get in your pants, but now he wants more than just once, you're well and truly his, and he plans on exploring with you until you're transformed from innocent girlfriend into personal slut.

“oh! oh, rafe!” your hands move to grip his shoulders. “that… that feels really good!”

“doesn't hurt at all?” rafe can tell he's stretching you somewhat, but clearly by your rapid shaking of your head no, you're not feeling any pain.

“gonna f-make love to you now then.” he swings his hips back before pushing forward, and soon your moans are filling the meadow, being carried away by the wind as he thrusts into you.

“so, so good, rafey.” you cry out, back arching off the picnic blanket. rafe smiles. your first time, and you're already behaving like this. he's going to turn you into a whore sooner than he thought.

“fu-fudge!” you shout out, making rafe chuckle softly as you use your curse word substitute just like you prefer doing.

“you feel so good round me, baby.” rafe says, bending down to kiss your neck. “love the way you're squeezing me.”

“harder.” you whine out. rafes eyebrows raise, but he doesn't question your demand, pushing his hips faster, slamming into you more. your dress pushed up from all the motion to reveal rafes cock burying itself inside your pussy.

he lets out a moan as you grip onto the blanket, not caring about him being able to see you as you feel a high building inside of you.

“i think im close.” you say.

“cum for me baby. ill cum with you.” rafe says, bringing a hand down to your clit, your moans doubling as he rubs over it with his thumb.

your high hits you suddenly. it takes a perfect thrust from rafe a long with his thumb flicking over your clit and your wall breaks with a scream, hips rising off the checkered fabric as you cum, pussy clenching around rafe as he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.

you both collapse in a heap, faces flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly.

rafe pulls out of you carefully before flopping onto his back.

“that was really good, rafey.” you cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“thank you for trusting me enough to do that with me, baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“of course.” your eyes are on rafes cock, still halfway hard despite just cumming. you reach down, ghosting your fingers along his length before swirling your fingertip over the head then against his slit as rafes hips twitch from the overstimulation.

“do you think we can do that again? and then maybe when we get home? after you're good to drive, of course.” you look up at rafe with what he thought were big, innocent eyes, but he's quickly realizing you've got a different side just below the surface.

-- six months later --

“ugh, rafe!” you groan as he presses buttons on the controller, eyes firmly on the screen.

“promise baby, will be done in five minutes.” he says, barely glancing to you.

you're tired of being ignored as you pull off the only clothing you are wearing, a big t-shirt of rafes to cover yourself. rafe glances over, realizing you're now completely nude as his fingers freeze.

“i want to fuck. if you're not gonna help me, im gonna go help myself.” you shrug.

rafe tosses the controller onto the floor, a proud smile on his face. you've become just who he's always wanted you to be. “of course im gonna help you baby, come get on this dick.”

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desperate-gay · 2 months ago

Note

Frido, in Sweden, "You have to stop forgetting a jacket just so you can wear mine, im cold 😐"

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Fridolina Rolfö x fem!reader

“The temperature is going to drop some. It’s going to be a bit chilly.” Frido informs with her hand resting on your thigh while focusing down on her phone.

You’re both parked outside a cafe you both love, deciding to stop and grab your favorite drinks before your small date-like activity.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay.” You murmur softly, rubbing your hand over the soft skin of hers, causing her to look up at you with a gentle smile.

“Of course.” The blonde whispers in agreement, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your lips before starting the car to head to your next destination.

Because of international break, both you and your girlfriend are back in her hometown of Kungsbacka, which, luckily, is only minutes away from Gamla Ullevi stadium, where she plays. There won’t be another game for a few days, so you both figured you’d use her free time to do something together.

She immediately suggested Kungsbackaskogen, a place she loved to wander around when she was a child. Frido also knows your love for nature, and this time of year is perfect for admiring the trees.

“It’s almost as beautiful as it was when I was a kid. Maybe just a bit less colorful.” Frido comments, reminiscing on old times while pulling into the lot.

The moment you open the car door and step out, the breeze hits you—a sharp reminder of the warning your girlfriend gave you just minutes ago. You instinctively pull your thin cardigan tighter around yourself, glancing over at the blonde, who is already rounding the car to meet you, a smirk plastered on her face.

“I did tell you the temperature was dropping.” Frido says in a sing-song voice, ultimately teasing you before wrapping her arms around your face. “Would you like me to grab your jacket, min kärlek?”

“Um, about that...” You trail off already feeling the disapproving gaze the taller girl is giving you.

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your coat when you’re in Sweden!”

“Don’t scold me! I was just excited to do this with you, and I forgot.” You shrug with a sheepish smile, batting your eyelashes in innocence.

“Mhm.” Frido hums unfazed, already having an idea of what’s coming next.

“Maybe my beautiful, tall, sweet, gorgeous girlfriend you has lived here all her life would like to, I don’t know, share her coat?” You continue your flattery expressions, but it your girlfriend’s unimpressed look doesn’t waver.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?” You gape, not expecting to be turned down so quickly.

“I mean no.” Frido raises her eyebrow with a grin, dragging out the word just to annoy you.

“You really want me to freeze out here? In your beloved childhood forest? I can see the headlines now. ‘Famous Swedish football player’s partner freezes in the woods of her childhood!’” You enunciate each word dramatically, throwing a hand to the sky.

“You’re so dramatic.” Frido huffs, rolling her eyes in amusement before walking toward the entrance of the trail. “Are you going to join me or not, miss dramatisk?”

You stare at her blankly, not believing she’s actually refusing to give you her coat. Usually, she’d cave right away, but for some reason, today is not one of those days.

Frido takes a few more steps before glancing over her shoulder at you, her smirk only growing at your unmoving stance. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it only makes you pout harder.

“You’re really just going to leave me here?” You call after her, crossing your arms over your chest in stubbornness.

“Yes, unless you choose to join me on our date.”

That word suddenly pulls you out of your dramatic fit and finally makes your way towards the blonde.

You wish you could enjoy the nature of your girlfriend’s hometown, but only a few minutes into your walk and the wind is sharper than expected. The chill bites at your skin, making your cheeks rosy and leaving the snot in your nose frozen.

“Fridolina, snälla.” You beg suddenly, tired of feeling like you might shatter if you bump into anything.

“Weren’t you the one who looked at the weather before we even left the house?” Frido questions, quirking an eyebrow as you somehow shrink further into your cardigan. “You knew it was going to get cold, didn’t you? And you still didn’t bring your jacket!”

You give Frido a guilty smile, caught red-handed in your plan. The taller girl tries to be stubborn, but watching you shiver tugs at her heart. With an exasperated sigh, she quickly shrugs off her coat and wraps it around your smaller frame.

The moment the soft material touches your skin, you sigh in relief, sinking into the warmth. Frido watches as you bring the fabric up to your nose, inhaling the familiar floral perfume she always wears.

“Du har tur att jag älskar dig.” Frido mutters before throwing an arm over your shoulder affectionately, guiding you forward.

“You have to stop forgetting a jacket just so you can wear mine, now I’m cold.” Frido whines only a few minutes later with dramatic stomps of her feet.

“But it smells like you.” You mumble sweetly, usually a way to make the blonde melt but not this time.

Frido lets out a dramatic groan. “You can smell me whenever you want, just don’t take my coat when it feels like the world is about to freeze over!”

“How about we go back home and sit in front of our warm heater, yes?” You offer, guilt creeping in.

“Yes, please.” Frido sighs, her thick accent slipping out in her mild distress.

“I’ll give you as many kisses and cuddles as you want as a reward for being so chivalrous.”

Frido perks up immediately, eyes wide with interest.

“Can you make that dessert I like too? You know, for being extra chivalrous?”

“Of course, baby.”

#fridolina rolfo x reader #fridolina rolfö #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso

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velvetypoets · 6 months ago

Text

Mister pitch perfect

The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective

havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!

this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!

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It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.

[ part 1|part 2|part 3 ]

He was confident, charismatic, spotless.

And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.

"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"

"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.

"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."

"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.

He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.

James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.

——————————————————————————

The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.

He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.

You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."

James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"

Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?

"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.

"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."

You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."

"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.

You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.

James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."

You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."

This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.

'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.

You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"

James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."

You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"

She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.

You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."

She looks good in my color

Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.

"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"

Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"

He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."

You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."

"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"

"Oh shut it, Potter!"

——————————————————————————

Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.

He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.

Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.

Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.

James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"

Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"

"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.

"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.

Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.

James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.

You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.

You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."

"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.

Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."

And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.

James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.

"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"

He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.

Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"

James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.

He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james fleamont potter #marauders fanfiction #james potter fanfiction #forbidden love

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emmyrosee · 3 months ago

Text

Sunlight trickles in the kitchen as he watches the birds outside nibble on the feeder hung in the tree, the tea in his hands warning his entire body as it comes to from the slumber.

Hayato has always been far more of a morning person than not, relishing in the warm beams coming from the sun that shimmer with the new break of day. He closes his eyes and takes a calming breath through his nose, smiling softly to no one in particular- until he hears your bare feet padding into the kitchen of your small home.

“Morning.”

“Hnnnnmmmgggg…”

You? Not so much.

Hayato chuckles as he spins on his heels to face you shambling into the kitchen, cheeks puffy from the pillow and eyes heavy from the wake-up. You’re grumpy, you’re always a little grumpy when you wake up, and he extends an arm open for you to burrow into his chest, which you quickly do. ��Sleep well?”

“No,” you lie. “Don’t smile so bright, the suns already blinding enough.”

“Im sorry,” he hums, taking another sip of his tea, his thumb gently stroking up and down your bicep. “But flattered to know you enjoy my smile.”

“Eugh,” you grumble. “I’m not flirting with you. It’s too early.”

“I’m always grateful for any compliment you send my way- even if it is shrouded in morning grumpiness.”

“Eugh,” you repeat. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“I say it to you almost every morning, and every morning, you tell me not to say it; you ever going to ring true on your threat?” He asks, smiling down at you as you glare up at him.

“I’m gonna bite you,” you hiss. “But not in the cute way- in the ‘ow it hurts please stop’ way.”

“Is that right?” Hayato asks, brows raised expectantly and cheeky smile still plastered on his cheeks. “My feral little creature.”

“‘Creature’ is crazy, hayato.”

“So are you,” he assures, pressing a kiss to your temple.

He loves being a morning person.

It’s his favorite kind of you.

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luigisbambinaaa · 1 month ago

Text

Soft Spot Pt. 2 ~

summary: spring break trip to cabo, luigi gets wiped out, and you’re sent to help him ;)

content warning: smut, oral (both receiving), p in v, luigi gets bruised

an: hi!! thank you to everyone that liked, shared, and commented on part 1!!!! also thank u to my homie palmersluvr for help with the formatting tho im still figuring it out. idk the word count but this shit is sooo long but i had so much fucking fun writing this so i hope you all enjoy :)! take a shot for every single time i said “rhythm” lol.

part 1

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weeks passed, and despite the playful texts shared between you and luigi, he wasn’t able to come back for a second “appointment”.

not because he didn’t want to. but because midterms had everyone busy— especially him.

sleep schedules were fucked up, group chats barely active, and every inch of the library taken over by students running on iced coffee.

luigi had practically disappeared— only proof of his existence being the many students that he tutored making jokes about how their TA had a spot reserved in heaven for all the hard work he’s done for them.

and yet, despite the chaos, there hadn’t been a single mention of back pain from him or his friends.

if anything, everyone noticed he seemed lighter. maybe your hands really had worked some sort of magic.

and eventually you were all able to taste the sweet freedom of spring break. friends of friends all headed to cabo for a well deserved get away.

instagram buzzing with photo dumps of tan lines and tiny bikinis, camera roll full of coconut drinks, beach sunsets, and grainy late-night dinners.

the resort ridiculously beautiful— picked out by luigi and others. shady palm trees stretching over the infinity pool, balconies overlooking the ocean, music a constant hum in the background no matter the hour. every corner full of beauty.

spending mornings with your girls walking the shoreline, tucking cute little seashells into your beach bag. afternoons spent exploring, wandering through colorful local markets, vendors beckoning you over in spanish, taking polaroids of everything. chaotic dinners with messy seafood platters, one too many margaritas, and tables full of friends cramming in every space they could.

and always, luigi was there, lingering just close enough to keep you on your toes. the flirting having been buried under study guides and endless cups of coffee— but not entirely gone.

you felt it in the way his eyes lingered on you in your sundresses, in the way he saved the empty chair next to him for you, in the way your fingers would brush when passing certain items across the table, yet neither of you said anything.

it was the kind of tension that hung in the air without needing to be addressed aloud. sweet, aching, and unbothered— until it wasn’t.

all the boys had decided to go out early that particular morning to catch some waves, lugging huge surfboards down to the beach while you and the rest of the girls stayed behind for some late brunch at the resort cafe.

you were mid-bite into a piece of french toast when someone burst into the outdoor patio, face red and out of breath.

“luigi wiped out bad on a huge wave,” they panted, trying to catch their breath, “board slammed him in the back, he should be okay, but he’s out for the day. they took him back to the room to rest.”

your stomach dropped. you honestly didn’t even realize how much you’d been hoping he’d show up that day, maybe just for lunch or just to sneak a few glances at you.

“can someone go check on him?” one of your friends asked, glancing around the table. “he’s probably fine, just milking it. but still.”

many of them shrugged, too caught up in their delicious breakfast food or downing their drinks to volunteer.

“you’re the nicest one here and have the expertise,” another added, pointing her fork at you with a smile. “can you go make sure he’s still breathing? im sure he won’t bite.”

they didn’t know. shit, nobody knew about you two. and so you nodded, wiping your hands on a napkin and standing slowly.

you headed back to your room first— not wanting to show up empty-handed. grabbing some essentials from your suitcase like some peppermint oil, aloe vera, the same lotion you used on him in your dorm, all thrown into your tote bag.

when you stepped back out into the hallway, one of the guys had caught up to you and handed you a spare key card.

“he’s in one of the oceanfront suites so i figured you might need this since he’s probably bed ridden”

you mutter a thank you and walked a few doors down the hallway. with the door clicking shut behind you, you stood still for a second, just admiring.

everything was nicer, sleek, clean, and expensive. the king sized bed resembling a cloud , a perfect plush comforter thrown over. floor to ceiling windows letting in sunlight that kissed every surface in gold, and a soft sea breeze drifting in through his open balcony door. and then there was a hot tub, massive and polished. half sunk into the floor near the balcony, something out of a dream.

your breath hitched.

“luigi?”

you called out gently, stepping further into his room. and then you saw him.

sprawled out across the bed, shirtless, eyes half closed, with a pillow or two tucked under his lower back.

his swimming trunks were riding low, dangerously low. low enough that your eyes traveled down the faint trail of hair leading down his stomach— the one you didn’t get to appreciate too much before.

your fingers clenched slightly around the strap of your tote bag, heart skipping a beat.

“…hi.” he replies softly and shyly.

you don’t say anything at first, tossing your bag on the dresser and kicking off your sandals without a second thought.

the bed dips slightly under your weight as you carefully climbed up beside him, leaning in slowly, one hand going to cradle the side of his face, your fingers instinctively tangling themselves in his curls, scratching his scalp softly.

“what the hell happened?” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. “how bad is it?”

he leaned into your touch just a little, lashes low and heat radiating off of him.

“hurts like a bitch,” he admitted, lips twitching into a tired grin, “but seeing you kind of helps.”

you rolled your eyes, but your thumb still stroked gently over his cheek.

“you’re such a baby,” you muttered, “let me see.”

he blinked up at you, hesitant. you pull back enough to sit on your knees, glancing down at the way his arm was draped over his stomach.

“come on, turn over so i can see, or do i need to do it for you?”

he grumbles something about you being bossy, but shifts anyway to let you get a good look. wincing slightly as he moved his arm, revealing an angry red mark blooming across his lower back and side— already beginning to bruise, dark and raw.

you sucked in a quiet breath.

“jesus, luigi…”

you reached for your tote bag and rummaged through it, pulling out the lotion and peppermint oil, warming it up in your hands.

“this might sting a little,” you warned.

“i trust you,” he murmured, eyes falling closed again.

your hands pressed carefully to his skin in slow, gentle circles at first, barely any pressure. and his breath hitched, not from pain, but from you and how you knew exactly where to touch without asking.

you kept your focus low, jaw clenching and unclenching, pretending not to notice the way his hips twitched slightly when your palms smoothed along the curve of his waist.

“relax,” you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

your fingers moved in slow, practiced motions, the familiar rhythm calming the both of you. he was quiet under your touch, face buried into a pillow, muscles slowly uncoiling under your hands.

“you’re so dumb,” you said gently, a little laugh slipping out. “what were you even trying to do? show off? impress the ocean?”

luigi letting out a small groan and barely lifting his head mumbles, “was tryna ride the wave,” his words slurred with exhaustion and comfort.

you pressed your thumbs in a little deeper to the sides of his bruises, careful but firm.

“and it rode you huh?”

“mhmmm…”

you smiled, shaking your head, continuing— moving a bit lower, tracing along the edges of his blooming bruises. he let out a low whimper, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, his fingers slightly curling into the sheets.

“seriously gi,” you murmured, softer now. “you could’ve really hurt yourself.”

“m’sorry,” he breathed, voice small now. “didn’t mean to.”

you leaned down just a little, hair falling over your shoulder as you whispered near his ear. “you gotta stop being reckless. who’s gonna fix you up next time if i’m not around?”

his only answer being a quiet, needy whine— his head tilting slightly towards you.

and with you leaning over him like that, face being close and hair brushing his skin, he lifted his chin just enough to press his lips to yours. soft and tentative. you froze just for a second, then kissed him back just as gently.

you’re the first one to pull away, giving his hair a light tug. “you better behave,” you whispered, breath warm against his mouth. “or i won’t finish your massage.”

he grinned, lazy and dazed. “im behaving,” he mumbled, already slumping back into the pillow like your kiss was enough to sedate him.

you scooped up a little more oil into your palms and worked quietly for a few more minutes— slow and careful movements over the bruising, his muscles loose now.

and then, a soft murmur:

“i think my back’s good now… think you could get my shoulders?”

…

“…and maybe my chest too?”

you smirked and glanced down at him.

“whatever you want princess”

he began to turn over, shifting on his side with a groan, but as you were about to guide him onto his back—

“wait not like this.”

before you could even reply, his hands slid over your hips and in one quick motion, he brought you right into his lap.

you let out a quiet gasp, straddling him now, palms braced on his bare chest as he looked up at you— eyes dark and blown out.

“like this.” his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t say anything, just swallowed hard and nodded once. your fingers dipped back into the oil, rubbing it between your palms to warm it up before sliding your hands over his chest.

he was pretty still beneath you, save for the tiny shifts of his body. sharp inhales when your thumbs pressed into his skin, the subtle twitch of his thighs when you pressed too low.

“shit,” he breathed, voice hitching higher this time, soft and strained. “feels so good…”

your hands moved to his shoulders, thumbs circling into tight knots just beneath his neck. it was a bit of a stretch from your spot in his lap, so you leaned forward, your chest brushing against his, your breath grazing his jaw.

and then his lips found yours again, lazy and slow. he kissed you without urgency, one hand sliding to the small of your back, and the other on your thigh, trying to keep himself grounded.

you kissed him back, just as slow. before pulling away slightly, catching your breath, and going back to his shoulders as if nothing happened.

he groaned again, though not from the massage this time.

“not fair,” he muttered.

you laughed under your breath, going back to press into a particularly tight spot behind his shoulder blade.

“too bad.”

you leaned back down, lips finding his again and this time it gets heavier. his mouth opened beneath yours, teeth dragging your bottom lip between his, and his hips shifting beneath you.

he groaned into your mouth, deeper, and then—

his hips rolled up. just once. slow, instinctual, and desperate.

he sighed, lips parting as he dropped his head back into the pillow, his chest rising and falling fast under your palms.

“fuck…”

you didn’t move at first. just stayed still in his lap, enjoying the rise of fall of his chest. and then softly, you leaned in again.

you kissed the corner of his mouth— a gentle peck, then another, and another. then along his jaw. then that sensitive spot just below his ear, that always makes him shiver.

you worked your way down slowly, kissing along the edge of his throat, his collarbone, your mouth lingering all over as he tilted his head back to give you more access.

“baby…” he whispers, his voice wrecked.

his hands slide up your sides, slow and kinda unsure. when his fingers brushed the hem of your swimsuit coverup, you let your arms fall to your sides, silently giving him the permission he wanted.

he sat up slowly, groaning softly at the movement and peeled the fabric from your body in one slow motion, letting it fall somewhere in the room.

then his fingers reached the tie of your bikini top. he tugged at it gently, watching you the entire time. when you didn’t protest, he undid the knot with shaky fingers and let the top slip away.

his breath hitched.

“fuck, you’re—“

he didn’t even let himself finish before his mouth was already on you. soft kisses at first, then his lips closed around the swell of your breasts, tongue flicking, hands pressing you closer to him as you arched your back.

your quiet gasp became a whimper.

“oh…”

his groan followed instantly. he sucked a little harder, peppering warm, open mouthed kisses near your nipple.

“ you sound so pretty,” he mumbled against your skin. “don’t stop.”

then, without another word, he took your nipple into his mouth, gentle and almost hesitant at first. his tongue swirled around it, his lips closing in a tight, wet seal as he suckled, like you were his favorite lollipop.

you let out a sharp little moan, surprised by how sensitive you were and how good it felt to have him care for you as well. he groaned in return, the sound vibrating through your chest.

his hand slid up your spine, holding you steady as he moved over to your other nipple, showering it with the same attention— his tongue flicking, lips tugging just right to make you whimper again.

you threaded your fingers through his curls, breathing uneven, your thighs tightening around his hips as his mouth latched onto you. each moan that escaped your lips, pulled a groan from his— almost like he couldn’t help it, like your sounds were enough to unravel him.

your hips started to move before you even realized with small, slow rolls against his lap, the friction sending sparks between your thighs with every pass.

luigi’s breath hitched.

his hands gripped your waist tighter, thumbs brushing over your bare skin as he tried to ground himself, his eyes fluttering shut as your bodies rocked together in a lazy rhythm.

“fuck… that feels so good,” he murmured, forehead resting against your chest.

your fingers carded through his curls, your lips brushing over the top of his head, all tender and affectionate while your hips kept working him over.

but then—

a sharp inhale.

“ah- shit-“

he winced, body tensing up beneath you, and you froze instantly.

“your back?” you whispered.

he nodded, jaw clenched, and brows drawn tight.

“just moved a little weird, m’okay,” he exhaled, trying to wave it off.

you shook your head and cupped his cheek.

“nope. lay down babe. let me take care of you.”

he didn’t argue. just sank back into the pillows with a groan, arms falling to his sides like he had no fight left.

you kissed down his chest as you moved, slow and deliberate. letting your mouth explore every inch of his skin, from the curve of his pecs to the soft dips between his abs.

he was already breathing harder by the time you reached for the faint trail of hair leading down— that happy trail you admired earlier.

you licked a slow stripe down it and then another, watching him twitch slightly under you. his hips shifted again, his swimming trunks now tented and clinging low to his hips.

you hooked your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down in one smooth, letting him spring free, the weight of him softly slapping against his lower abdomen. his hissed, not from pain, but from need.

you hovered above him, eyes locked on his face as you leaned down and gave him a single, teasing kitten lick across the tip.

he groaned, loud and frustrated.

you did it again, this time even slower. and then another, barely brushing his sensitive underside.

his hips flexed, but you pulled back just in time, smiling softly.

“be patient,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his thigh.

you kept it at that— delicate little licks of your tongue that barely counted as relief. just enough to make him squirm, to make him whine, to keep him right there on the edge.

“please,” he gasped, hips twitching upwards only for you to press them down.

“please, i can’t— i need—“

but you didn’t give in. instead, your hands held his hips steady, fingers digging into his warm skin, and your tongue tracing lazy circles around his sensitive tip.

another kitten lick, then met with a breathless groan.

he was shaking now, head turned to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep his composure. his thighs tensing under your touch and his voice falling into almost incoherent whimpers.

“amore, please— im gonna—“

and then he did.

luigi’s whole body arched beneath you with a strangled moan, hips stuttering as he came hard against his stomach, all hot, messy, and sudden.

you kept going, soft and unrelenting, licking up everything he gave you with gentle care. every flick of your tongue making him twitch and sigh, oversensitive but too far gone to protest.

once you had cleaned him up, you leaned in close and pressed a tender kiss right to his tip. he let out a breathless laugh, eyes glassy and lips parted.

you smiled, resting your head just above his hips as you looked up at him, taking him in. you stayed like that for a bit, fingers tracing light circles on his thigh as he caught his breath.

his chest rose and fell in soft waves, his skin still flushed and forehead a little damp with sweat, lips parted in a dazed smile.

you leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his abdomen, another to his chest before moving upwards to curl into his side. your palms smoothed over his stomach, resting there while your nose brushed his jaw.

“how’s your back?” you whispered.

he chuckled weakly, still breathless, “honestly? im not even worried about it anymore.”

you scoffed and giggled into his neck, letting your fingers shift lower again, brushing over the curve of his hip.

then he turned his head, eyes burning behind the softness they had.

“let me return the favor,” he murmured. “please.”

your heart skipped a beat.

“luigi…”

but he was already moving. hands finding your bikini bottoms, fingers sliding against the strings at your hips as he untied them, tossing the fabric somewhere into the room.

his voice was hoarse, low and pleading.

“wanna taste you. been thinking about it since the day you made me take photos of you in that tiny bikini with your polaroid on the beach.”

you didn’t argue with that and let him guide you up his chest. letting his lips brush your skin the whole way up, until your thighs framed his face and your knees sank into the mattress on either sides of his head.

his hands gripped your hips, eyes looking up to meet yours as he exhaled, “let me take care of you too.”

he barely gave you time to settle above him before he was pulling you down hard. his grip tightening around your thighs, dragging you fully down onto his mouth, his tongue already parting you before you could even exhale.

your gasp nearly hit the ceiling, luigi wasnt soft nor gentle, he was hungry.

he moaned into you like he was starving— like just the taste of you was enough to keep him alive. his mouth moved so recklessly, tongue licking broad, wet stripes before curling into where you needed him most, lips sealing around you in a filthy, perfect kiss.

you tried to lift yourself just slightly, just enough to catch your breath but his arms locked tighter around your thighs, pinning you down against him.

“luigi—“

you barely got his name out before— crack!

his palm landed a sharp slap to your ass. not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you he was in control right now.

your whole body jolted, letting out a surprised moan as you instinctively ground yourself down harder against his mouth and started grinding. slow at first, trying to find the perfect rhythm, and then faster and messier, as he just let you ride him, his pretty nose nudging against your clit.

he sucked, licked, devoured.

“fuck baby— you’re so good.” you moaned, voice shaking as your fingers tangled themselves in his curls, tugging hard.

“you’re making me feel so fucking good— i can’t—“ and he groaned under you, the sound vibrating against your pussy, making your thighs clamp tighter around his head. and still, he didn’t let up.

just kept licking like a man possessed, grip tightening, strong hands digging into your thighs, keeping you locked in place.

your body was trembling, skin flushed, that heat ready to snap— and luigi knew it.

and right when you were teetering, mouth hung open and breath stuttering— his lips latched onto your clit.

not soft or teasing, just purely desperate.

he sucked hard, his tongue flicking mercilessly, drawing fast, tight circles that made your vision go white.

“oh—fuck—luigi!”

the loudest moan tore out of you, sharp, raw, and damn near broken as the pleasure slammed into you. your thighs crammed around him, fingers yanking on his hair, hips jerking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit with a violent force.

and he held you there, through every gasp, twitch, and tremble. sucking, licking, chasing every last drop of your cum like he couldn’t fathom letting any of it going to waste.

even as your body gave out and you tried to pull away— he didn’t let you. he stayed there, moaning into you, drunk on your release.

your body still trembling when he released the tight grip he had on you, letting your thighs relax, pressing soft, tender kisses along the inside of your legs. and when you looked down at him, he was already watching you with wide eyes, swollen lips, and cheeks tinted pink.

“c’mere,” he whispered. barely having the strength to move, but you wanted to be close, needing it. you climbed down slowly and he met you half way— sitting up, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

your chests pressed together and noses brushing as your foreheads touched, “you okay?” he murmured, stroking his thumb over your hip.

“yeah,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “are you?”

he smiled, just a little, “never been better.”

your lips met again, slow as his hands roamed your back, your thighs, and your waist— like he couldn’t get enough of you.

and as your hips instinctively shifted against him, he let out the softest groan against your mouth. you felt him, already hard and ready, pressing against your pussy.

he reached down, lining himself up carefully, and you sank down on him, both of you letting out content sighs. both stilling for a moment, getting adjusted.

and then slowly, you began to move, grinding, rocking, and meeting him half way every time he lifted his hips. his hands held your waist to anchor himself in the moment, just feeling all of you.

your name left his lips like a prayer and your moans soft and breathy as your bodies rocked against each other in perfect rhythm.

your lips brushed over his jaw as your hips rolled against his, “you feel so good,” you whispered against his skin. “So deep…”

luigi groaned, tightening his arms around you, the sound buried in your shoulder, “you’re fucking perfect, pussy’s so fucking tight.” he breathed, voice low and thick.

his hands slid from your waist down to the small of your back, guiding you gently, helping you move just right— until his cock hit that sweet spot inside you that made your body jolt.

“yeah? right there?” he asked, lips brushing the shell of ear.

you nodded, nails lightly digging into his shoulders. “yes—right there, baby.”

he adjusted his angle slightly, and then a slow, precise thrust upward, so deep. and it hit, your whole body clenching around him, and your moan came out softer, higher than before.

he pulled back just enough to get a good look at you, eyes glassy, lips swollen, and tits littered in love bites. your forehead pressed to his, your bodies meeting in such an intimate rhythm.

“you make me feel so good, so full,” you whispered, barely able to speak through the heat pooling low in your stomach.

he kissed you, harder this time and then he took over, just a little. guiding your hips with one hand while the other slid down to hold your thigh as he angled his next thrust perfectly into that soft, sensitive spot inside you.

“there we go,” he rasped, dragging his lips along your neck.

“let me take care of you, baby. let me give you everything.”

his rhythm had started to slow, a bit overwhelmed. from the way your body clung to his, from how tight, how wet, how delicious you felt wrapped around him. his head dipped to your shoulder, breath ragged against your skin, big hands grasping your hips attempting to ground himself.

but you felt ready now, your body humming with energy again—refueled by every groan, every helpless twitch of his hips, and every shaky breath that tumbled from his lips.

so you started to move. a soft bounce at first, just enough to shift the angle, taking in more of him. then another. then faster. luigi gasped, back arching slightly, eyes squeezing shut as you rode him with more control.

your lips hovered near his ear, voice warm and broken in between moans, “you’re so deep inside me, gi...” he let out the quietest whimper, hands trembling against your skin.

“so big… stretching me so good. you feel it, don’t you? how wet you make me?”

he could barely speak, just nodded. barely.

and then—click. the door handle turned.

your bodies froze, just for a second, before luigi pulled you tighter against him, shielding you, even as your hips never faltered.

“yo luigi! how you holding up man?” a familiar voice called through the narrow crack in the door. he hadn’t fully stepped inside, just peeked the door open a few inches, only being able to see the edge of the bed and maybe luigi’s bare shoulder. the rest, being you fully naked and still grinding in his lap, was completely hidden by the angle.

luigi’s eyes blew wide, his breath catching in his throat.

“you—you gotta stop,” he hissed into your neck, biting back groan. “please—“

you leaned in, brushing your mouth against his ear, voice was sweet as candy while your hips rolled again, deep and slow.

“answer him.”

“let him hear how good you’re feeling.”

luigi’s hand flew to your waist, attempting to still you, but it was no use.

“i—uh,” he choked out, voice shaking. “yeah—i’m good man, just resting.”

his friend paused, “cool, just making sure. let us know if you need anything.”

you didn’t let him get a chance to recover. the second the door clicked shut, you pushed him backwards, your palms resting on his chest as you eased him down against the bed, his eyes still wide and wrecked under you.

his head hit the pillow, curls sticking to his forehead, and his chest heaving as you straddled him fully again.

“you’ve been so good,” you whispered, voice shaking with need. “but now i need more.”

and then you started to really move. your thighs burned as you began bouncing harder, hips slapping against his with wet desperate sounds, so intense, overwhelming, and fast. luigi’s hands scrambled to hold you, his fingers digging into your waist like he might slip through the bed if he didn’t anchor himself to you.

“f-fuck baby—“ he gasped, voice breaking. “that’s—too much—“ but he didn’t stop you.

he bent his knees suddenly, feet flat on the mattress and thrusted up. hard. your whole body jolted, a choked moan spilling out of your mouth as he met your bounces with the same fervor. each thrust slammed deeper and harder, matching the way you rode him until all that could be heard was skin slapping and both of you chanting each other’s names over and over.

“yesyesyes—lu, just like that—“ you cried out as he fucked up into you like he was trying to split you open from the inside.

“you feel so fucking good,” he groaned, eyes hazy and voice raw. “such a tight little pussy amore— so perfect, can’t even hold back anymore.”

your movements became sloppier, desperation seeping through, your bodies completely lost in each other. just full of need. just you and him, chasing that sweet finish with matching desperation.

your name tumbled from his mouth in broken gasps, sweat slicking his chest where your bodies met, the heat between you two unbearable in the most delicious way.

and then his voice cracked out, desperate and strained, “i—fuck—i should probably pull out.” but his hips never slowed, because he didn’t really mean it and you both knew it. you leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, mouth by his ear as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

“don’t,” you begged, breath heavy and hot. “i wanna feel you. want you to stay inside me.”

his groan was guttural, almost pained with how badly he had been waiting for that permission.

“fuck—fuck—“

your nails dragged down his back, your body grinding back into every one of his thrusts, and then everything shattered.

you came first, gasping, shaking, clinging to him like you wouldn’t survive without him.

“luigi—oh god baby, don’t stop—don’t—“

he followed instantly, crying out your name into your neck, hips buried to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his body trembling beneath yours as the outside world faded away.

your bodies stayed tangled for a while, skin to skin, limbs loose, and breathing slowly coming back down. the room was quiet now, except for the soft hum of the ocean breeze drifting through the balcony door.

luigi’s heartbeat thudded gently beneath your cheek as you laid against his chest your fingers tracing absentminded shapes against his ribs. eventually, he shifted beneath you, careful and slow, kissing your shoulder as he murmured, “be right back.”

he slid out from the bed with a little wince, his legs shaky and muscles drained. you watched with a sleepy smile as he padded naked across the room, grabbing a small towel from the bathroom and returning a moment later.

“here,” he whispered, eyes soft as he knelt between your legs and cleaned you up. “i got you.”

your heart fluttered.

luigi had already crawled back into bed, arms stretched behind his head, eyes half-lidded and warm as he looked at you with a soft, post-bliss smile.

you sat up slowly, reaching for the bikini top that wads left at the edge of the bed. “i should probably head back to my room,” you murmured, voice gentle. “so you can rest comfortably…”

you didn’t even get to finish your sentence when his arm reached out fast, firm as his fingers curled gently around your wrist to stop you.

“what?” he asked, brown furrowed slightly as he tugged you back down towards him.

“baby no.”

you blinked as he guided you back into his arms, your body slotting effortlessly into the space next to his.

“i wanna rest here,” he whispered, lips brushing your shoulder.

“with you.”

your heart skipped a beat as he tugged the covers up, over both your naked bodies. he nuzzled into your chest, one arm round your waist, the other lazily cupping one of your tits.

“m’tired,” he murmured. “wouldn’t be smart of you to leave your patient alone away.”

your fingers threaded into his curls, your other one rubbing up and down his spine.

“how’s your back?” you asked softly.

“feels perfect,” he mumbled, voice already dying down. “because you’re here with me.”

within seconds, his breath evened out, warm against your skin. and you were left with a sleeping, heavy luigi tangled into your bare body, like his life depended on it.

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