#interested in her in the way she wants. he insults her for wanting anything more out of a relationship bc hes content without it rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dadsbongos · 1 year

Text

then, and again, and once more

6.9k words

Summary - Yuuji tries to impress you and win your heart, with the help of Sukuna… who seems weirdly knowledgeable about and interested in you.

Warnings - p in v sex, FULL NELSON BABY!!!, yuuji eats pussy :), oh yeah fem reader btw, sukuna is here too (and his cannibalism is mentioned), idiot friends pining for each other, very vague timeline idk but yuuji is aged up

sukuna-centric part 2

There it is again.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

That unbearable thick bass in his chest, banging so tirelessly against his ribs that it threatens to make him nauseous. A quick inhale and yep - scratch that - he’s definitely already nauseous.

Yuuji sinks his sweaty palms deeper into his pants pockets, eyes darting sharply down to his beaten sneakers. The once vibrant ruby shade is now marred by dirt and aging threads - and if he turns his right foot just so, then he can see an old, blackened stain from pizza sauce he spilled while eating out with you. The memory, or more specifically how you’re giggling in his memory, makes him smile.

And in the real world, Megumi is watching his friend grin ear to ear while looking at a black, crusty splotch on the inside curve of his right shoe. After having just wide-eyed stared at you from across the room while you and Nobara heatedly debate where to go for dinner.

He glares at Yuuji, lashes narrowing, “You look insane. Knock it off.”

That snaps the boy from his reminiscing, and it takes him three long seconds before he registers the insult, “I was thinking!”

“Obviously,” Megumi scratches the side of his nose, more to just have something to do with his hands than anything else, “What were you thinking about?”

Humming quietly to himself, Yuuji shrugs, “Oh, the usual.”

“You’re hopeless,” Megumi maintains his efforts to keep his hands busy by scratching the back of his head, “Just tell her already. What’s the worst that happens?”

“She rejects me and avoids me,” Yuuji pouts, “Honestly, ‘gumi, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic - being a standoffish and awkward guy yourself.”

Swatting at his friend’s shoulder, Megumi shakes his head, “The hell is wrong with you? Was that just sitting in your mind?” he shakes his head again, glare growing stronger, “And don’t call me that.”

“I thought you had anxiety or something,” Yuuji shrugs, “Why else would you be so weird in public?”

Any previous concern regarding Yuuji’s well-being immediately flies from Megumi at that. He folds his arms across his chest with murmurs of hatred floating out from his lips. All as he waltzes over to where you and Nobara are seated around your laptop at the chipping hardwood table.

Yuuji has no problem shrugging off Megumi's irritation, but when it comes to the mere idea of your face stretching in disgust at him - God, isn’t that the worst?

“You’re the worst, brat,” comes that rumbling, terrible voice in the back of his head. The nagging used to sound more like him - and when he’s really stressed, it still sometimes does - but now his own voice has faded into the King of Curses’. Now his own voice is sweeter, more prone to praise and positives - in a weird way, Sukuna has made Yuuji better.

But in a lot more ways -

“Oi, don’t ignore me.”

He’s made Yuuji’s life so much worse.

“You like that one, right? I can help.”

You’re sitting back, allowing Megumi to take the reins on shooting down Nobara’s suggestion for sushi. Normally, that demand isn’t a problem, but this would be the fifth night in a row she’s tried roping you all into ordering sushi for her. You lean into Megumi a little, and Yuuji hates the way his chest tightens at the display.

It isn’t even affection. It’s just…

“You want to be the one she’s on, right?”

Yuuji sighs to himself and sneaks out of the kitchen, though it’s hardly a challenge when Nobara raises her voice to defend her long-lasting cravings.

With tense shoulders and a red face, Yuuji glances down each side of the hall to ensure nobody is nearby, “How could you help with this?”

Sukuna’s eye on Yuuji’s cheek has flitted up to stare into Yuuji’s, and that sickly crawl of his skin stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s wide grin makes his stomach turn, “You’re just a child, you don’t know anything about women.”

Yuuji could double over, hands on his knees and breathless in sputters of laughter, but he refrains - unwilling to let anyone hear his schizophrenic ramblings, “And you do?”

Sukuna’s eye rolls and Yuuji hates the way it feels under his cheekbone, nearly retching in response, “Of course.”

And that strings up some different terrible question in Yuuji, “But why would you help me?”

Sukuna has been so unwilling to do anything useful for Yuuji despite the fact he’s allowed to reside in this body - so what could possibly possess him to do this now?

“Do you want my help or not, worm?”

Yuuji sighs through his nose, eyes fluttering shut, thinking hard about the offer. He’d come to the conclusion not too long after swallowing his first finger to simply not question many of Sukuna’s motives, mostly since his goals are: chaos, women, and chaos.

“This better not be some gross pass at my friend,” Yuuji sneers, body electrified on the ready to smack down his own cheek should he hear an answer he doesn’t like.

Sukuna is too quiet for too long, and Yuuji is fully prepared to swipe at the parasite on his face when finally, that deep voice rattles again. It buzzes in his flesh, uncomfortable and itchy and so quiet he barely hears what the curse mumbles into him.

The boy pauses and lets the words melt on his tongue, he turns them between his molars and laves the roof of his mouth with the remaining implications. He wasn’t expecting Sukuna to be honest, not to that degree at least.

And Yuuji smacks Sukuna’s bulbous eye down anyway.

“Fine then,” Yuuji pulls his hand down and curls his fingers into a fist, another great big awful ragged sigh roughing over his tongue like barbed wire, “I’ll listen to you, but if you ruin this for me- “

“Calm down, brat,” the mouth pops back up stubbornly, bitterly spitting out his version of a promise, “I don’t plan on failing.”

Yuuji pushes himself off the wall and spins back into the kitchen unnoticed, hands locking behind his head as he saddles up beside you at the table, “So, what’s for dinner?”

He snorts at how you groan, looking up at him from your seat with tired, low-lidded eyes and gesturing across the table to where Megumi and Nobara are still arguing, “You tell me.”

“Why don’t we just go out?” Yuuji shrugs, grinning broadly despite the way his two friends both twitch their necks over to glare at him, “Come on, it’s not even dark! We can walk around and do a little looking; get some air!”

Nobara’s pitched shoulders drop, pinched expression falling into her usual lax, she looks over at Megumi again with a raised brow. Megumi shrugs, his own eyebrows still scrunched together, “If it’s fine with you two, I don’t care.”

You snicker, standing up against the stiff wood supports of the chair legs, one elbow digging into the table to further help hold you up while your spare fingers dance up to smooth out the crinkled space, “I think it’ll be fun.”

Megumi snatches you by the wrist and tosses your hand to the side while Nobara hops down from her own chair, stretching out her back until it pops obnoxiously. She’s already bouncing out of the kitchen to snag her shoes before shouting back, “Well, come on! We’re on a timer now, people!”

“Jeez,” you slip off the chair pegs, bumping slightly into Yuuji’s side - entirely oblivious to the sparkly fireworks you sweep across your poor friend’s body at the contact, “Should’ve just suggested that from the start, huh?”

Shrugging, Yuuji waits for you to begin walking out of the kitchen before following, “Sometimes you just need fresh eyes on a situation, you know?”

“I guess,” you fold your arms, evidently frustrated, “Just feel like that was something I should’ve seen.”

Yuuji feels that disgusting, familiar thumping in his chest just by looking at you now. Heat radiating from his cheeks to the expanse of his chest, throat swelling with the uncomfortable need to spill his guts - dump every little thought and feeling he’s ever had for you into your ears until you force him to shut up. Like how he can’t even look at Jennifer Lawrence the way he used to simply because she isn’t you.

Maybe then he’d tell you that this hasn’t happened in the six years since he first saw Silver Linings Playbook. Maybe you’d tell him to stop talking, and that you two would never happen.

Maybe then he can move on, when you crush his hope. But he doesn’t really want that.

And he doesn’t really know why he agreed to let Sukuna lend him any advice.

Oh well.

It’s when you’re rushing out the door to keep up with Megumi and Nobara that Sukuna opens his mouth for the first time.

His voice stabs into Yuuji’s ears, but it isn’t exceptionally as cruel as he usually finds it, this, instead, is purely instructional, “When you two are out tonight, tell her about that cat you saw around the garden today.”

Yuuji scratches through his messily filed memories, “I saw a cat?”

“Yes, twit, a black one. Tell her about how its fur changed color in the sun.”

“Okay…?” Yuuji huffs in his daze, finally putting effort into walking alongside you and the others, “Hey! So, I just remembered something.”

“Oh yeah?” you smile at Yuuji, purely encouraging, and he’s disgusted at the way he almost trips over his own feet.

Nobara and Megumi pay the both of you little mind, instead pointing out different potential favorite hotspots they could creep into for the night. Well, Nobara points out, they could even stop at two places if they’re feeling adventurous. And Megumi says they can do whatever the rest of you think is best.

But Yuuji isn’t listening, and you’re hardly lending an ear, he swallows down the rock in his throat and nods, “I saw a cat this morning - a black one! - and it made me think of you,” the gentle warmth spreading through him could either be the way you’re lighting up at him, or Sukuna silently congratulating his good line, “Its fur was all brownish red in the sun, it was…” your eyes are so starry and sweet, solely on him - it makes his tongue tie up in knots, “It was beautiful.”

“Bummer I wasn’t there, then,” you pout a little, “You need to get me for things like that!” he laughs at the way your face has morphed, all stern and strict business, “Seriously!”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, both hands up in playful defense, “I promise to call you if I see another cat.”

“Could’ve at least taken a picture for me,” you histrionically sigh, “And I thought we were friends.”

A sudden thought invades the back of Yuuji’s mind. Some hidden, more primal part of his mind that he doesn’t usually listen to flashes back to a time he doesn’t remember.

We used to be more.

You and him are sitting out in the sun with a fluffy little Bombay cat tucked into your lap. It paws at the buttery dandelions that bloom between you both, his own legs are sprawled out impolitely and your own are crossed to wall around the feline in your hold. His knee knocks against yours whenever he shifts his leg. You lean in, shoulder digging into the meat of his muscled arm and temple resting on his shoulder.

Your body is entirely at ease. His is, too.

Yuuji knows exactly where the thought comes from. And if that dark, creepy place weren’t so infested by evil then maybe he’d feel a little pity for it. But you’re in front of him now, and you’re excited to be here, and your pinky keeps knocking into his as you two walk side-by-side - so there’s no room for pity in his heart.

Your quartet winds up squished into a teal leather booth towards a back corner of Nobara’s selected diner. You and Nobara sit on the interior seats, pressed into the windows, with Yuuji and Megumi caging the both of you in. Megumi having shoved Yuuji down next to you before the boy could even see who was where.

“What were you thinking?” Nobara sits up, jabbing your arm with a manicured finger just to annoy you.

Flicking at her hand, you shrug, focusing on the boards plastered behind the front bar counter for any eye-catching special offers.

Yuuji can feel the tightening of his cheek skin as the eyeball threatens to pop out, it stings when his cheek is forced to split for Sukuna’s eye. His cheek below that parts as well for his lips.

And Sukuna is kind enough this once to be quiet, “Tell her to get the wildfowl bowl,” as if sensing his arising questions, Sukuna continues, “And tell the kitchen worms to make sure the vegetables are soft. Not well, not sturdy,” he sounds disgusted as he says it, “Soft.”

“Hey,” and against everything he’s been told by Gojo, Yuuji puts his entire trust into the curse inside him, “that wildfowl bowl looks good, right?”

You lean closer to Yuuji, arm brushing his as you try to see where he spotted that, “What’s in it? Duck?”

He gives a conformational hum even though he has no idea, “Probably good with soft vegetables.”

Megumi shakes his head, “What does that even mean?”

“When they steam the veggies for longer than usual,” you pat Yuuji’s shoulder while defending him, “I get what you mean, Itadori. Sorry Fushiguro is so judgemental.”

“I was just saying…” Megumi’s voice flutters out of Yuuji’s focus.

Instead, another memory he never made begins to flourish from that black, mushy, rotted back of his brain.

You’re sat in his lap, large thighs perfectly bracketing around your own. A neglected bowl of slim slivers of perfectly browned duck meat sits atop cooling rice, carrots, and green beans. No doubt soft and easy to chew. In your hands is a steaming bowl, larger than the one in your lap, weighed down by thick cuts of juicy meat slabs. Almost like steak, but there’s no outer hide tanned by flame. It’s red, almost raw, and even after trimming the fat - it’s still bathed in pink, fleshy trails.

Grinning so lovingly, you pinch the slabs with your bare fingers and merely giggle when Sukuna’s sharp teeth prick at your skin. His long tongue works to clean your fingers of the excess meat juices as he eats. Two of his hands are on your hips, holding you steady, a third is steadied beside him against the cold bone of his throne, and a fourth resides at the back of your head. Almost big enough to palm the whole of your skull like a children’s ball - he pats and pets and smooths his fingers over the slope of the back of your neck.

Preening under gentle attention, you’re sure to empty Sukuna’s bowl before picking your own back up.

People watch with blood at their feet, none dare to move. Fearful to become the next hot meal in your hand should they disobey Sukuna’s silent command.

As your hands wrap around your cold bowl, a deep grunt reverberates behind you in Sukuna’s broad chest. He tugs the dish from your grasp; plucks the duck meat between his forefinger and thumb and holds it above your nose, forcing you to look up.

He waves it in front of your face, “Open,” and you follow his order, lips parting yet still pitched up in the impression of a pleased smile. And when he flattens the meat to your tongue and you begin chewing - you’re still smiling. That earns another fond stroke down the back of your head, pausing at your shoulder and digging his thumb into the muscle just to hear you sigh, “Good girl.”

Yuuji doesn’t see all of that. He can grasp some vague sense that you two have shared meals he’ll never get to taste, but he never sees the gristle left behind on your fingers or the saliva webbed between your fingers after feeding Sukuna.

That - Sukuna ‘hmph's proudly as he watches you beam at Yuuji over your modern interpretation of your favorite meal - the King of Curses keeps to himself. Selfishly, just as he always has.

That next morning, you sheepishly prattle into the dusty, creaky classroom with only four rusty, barely used desks and slip into the one by Yuuji. You’re toying with the tips of your hair, eyes bouncing from where Yuuji sits on the desktop beside you and the classroom door.

Nobara sits backward at the desk directly in front of you, arms coiled around the back support of her chair as she speaks and Megumi sits normally beside her - attention solely on his book. Yuuji watches you fiddle with the ends of your hair while pretending to listen to Nobara.

And then he sees it. The new cherry shade decorating your lips, and before Sukuna can sprout and tell him to - Yuuji’s leaning down with his best smile, “New lipstick?”

Jumping at the sudden voice, your rigid posture melts under the boy’s gaze, “Yes, actually. You like?”

It could be puke green and Yuuji would still want it smeared across his face from your kisses.

But despite housing Sukuna Ryomen and battling dreadful curses, Yuuji fails to muster the courage to say that to your face, “Yeah! It’s really pretty.”

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

There goes your annoying heart, hammering just from the sound of Yuuji’s overtly positive lilt. It makes your cheeks burn and fingers skittishly tip-tap against the pencil-scratched desk, “You think so?”

But he’d never lie, you know that.

So even though it shouldn’t be a surprise when he doubles down, your annoying heart won’t stop dramatically tossing itself around when Yuuji nods with a determined, boyish grin, “Definitely.”

It’s all so saccharine and perfect, it makes Sukuna nauseous. Which, in turn, makes Yuuji nauseous.

Face paling, Yuuji jumps onto his feet and excuses himself, rushing out of the room (with no Gojo even in sight, by the way) towards the bathroom.

“Is he okay?” Nobara murmurs, stretching her neck to see outside the door frame, “What a weirdo.”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily, “He is sometimes, huh?”

Megumi gags at your tone, “Seriously…?”

“What was that?” Yuuji’s question is spikey and venomous while he stares into the cracked, water-spotted mirror - straight at the little eyeball on his cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Sukuna stares back into the glass, low-lidded and unimpressed, “Get this over with and ask her out, brat.”

“But what if she says no?” Yuuji reaches up and toys with the little pink hairs at the back of his head, eyes suddenly unable to meet Sukuna at all, “It’ll totally ruin everything.”

“Enough whining. She won’t say no.”

He doesn’t know how it took so long to recognize, or maybe he just needed an excuse to display his old, unbroken knowledge of you before your fleshly little weakling friends even knew it. But he’s seen the little bursts of color and stars and sparkles and all that cute mess before.

He’s seen it many times. It was the only way you used to look at Sukuna.

That puppyish, lovesick wonder as you fluttered your pretty eyelashes at him.

Even when he would return to you in blood and sweat and muck and smelling of the death and despair he expertly wrought.

You were always at least five paces ahead of Uraume, hands bunching up in the pretty flowing silks that decorated your body. Excitedly, you’d pounce and he would hold you. Sapping up your energy and feeding off the way you’d press cherry-tasting kisses all along his hardened face. You served yourself up to him on a silver platter, all your heart and soul and mind devoted entirely and without ulterior motives. That’s why you were always his favorite.

Nothing before or after you was ever up to par. And he felt disgruntled at every turn into different worshippers and concubines and lovers - somehow wronged simply by the fact they were not as you were. It was all so disappointing.

And every now and again he’d flash back to you while with others. He imagines it’s how children feel when they remember a lost or broken or tossed-out favorite toy. That ache of times lost and never feeling quite fulfilled again.

Which is why when he saw you again through this brat’s eyes, he could instantly remember those nights with you. Full-bellied and raw-lipped and your pulse between his teeth.

But Yuuji knows nothing of that, and so when he returns to the classroom - neither of you says anything.

It’s only the two of you. Everyone else was cast out in the violent, unwilling acceptance that they had done all they could. With no open wound, there was a horrific list rattled off in Sukuna’s ears. Illnesses and infections that attacked the lungs and nervous system and skin and heart - things that would eat you alive from the inside. And when all could be done about that, you remained in bed.

In and out of consciousness and delusional, proclaiming twisted lights and shadowy creatures trying to rip you from yourself.

Perhaps, one of the women called to care for you shyly spoke up, perhaps she’s just too old.

And that was something he avoided admitting to himself.

But it was time now.

With dew still moist on the blades of grass and morning sunlight streaming through the window beside your bed - the bell tolls. Your fingers are stiff in the sheets, limbs cold and stiff when you’re found. Wide, puppylike eyes gaze up at the ceiling and Sukuna has you buried beneath the tallest, most twisted tree he could find in the surrounding forest. And when Sukuna returns from your grave that night - alone - he crosses into a dark tunnel.

It’s cold and solid beneath his feet, paces echoing back for his ears. He keeps his eyes down to avoid maddening himself over the plainness - the displeasure of even glimpsing this tunnel’s repetitive nature.

Until there’s light, golden, with the shrouded, clumsy shape of twisted branches and lanky trunks coming into view at the far open end.

And faintly, like the sweet singing of a beloved music box, he hears the tune of your voice. A high scoop towards the end.

“Itadori, right?”

Sukuna’s feet move faster before he even fully knows he’s moving.

On the other side is you, a hand jammed out in front of you in a polite wave - as if the both of you are strangers. Then that name creeps back up his spine.

Well, it’s not truly his spine, is it? It’s this new brat’s.

But then there’s your honeyed voice again, “Huh, third eye.”

Right. You wouldn’t remember it, would you?

You wouldn’t remember any of it.

Yuuji shoots up, dark sheets tangled around his ankles and cold sweat beading down his forehead - strings of pink hair matted down to his skin uncomfortably. His wide eyes scramble across the shadows of his room, slowly refamiliarizing himself with the expanse and soothing his pounding heart.

He smoothes back his hair, running through the small kinks and knots, “What the hell was that?”

That slicing pain along his cheek shocks him awake further, but no sore, deep voice follows. The eye sits there, downcast. Sitting inside this body is one of the last things he saw for himself, but to exist beside you again is liquid gold just flowing in a river. A river his new body refuses to swim in.

“She’s still awake.”

Yuuji looks over to the red numbers lighting up from his bedside alarm clock, “It’s midnight.”

Sukuna inhales sharply, irritation scorching a hole in his tongue, but he withholds the many sudden hateful thoughts he has towards Yuuji and simply repeats himself, “She’s still awake.”

“It’s weird how obsessed you are with this,” Yuuji swings his legs over the edge of his bed and slips his feet into the slippers you’d gifted him. They’re cheesy and themed after fire engines and just barely fit, but he wears them at any given opportunity.

The eye sinks back into his skin, lips sealing shut, and a thick sludge boils in Yuuji’s stomach. Quiet King of Curses is an unsettling King of Curses, and Yuuji barely finds himself able to tune out the exhaustive wave of Sukuna’s criticisms. That is much preferred to this buzzing silence.

Creeping down the moaning wooden panels to your room, Yuuji raps his knuckles against your door before immediately shuffling his fists into his gray sweatpants.

Something clatters against hardwood, sheets ruffle, and your footsteps thump, thump, thump up to your bedroom door. Your face peeks out from the sliver of cracked doorway, and there’s no hint of sleep in your gaze. You seem alert, if a little lazily slouched against your doorframe.

“Itadori?”

Oh, right. He was here to say something, wasn’t he?

But he can’t possibly find the strength in his tongue, not when you look at him like that.

With some impossible adoration, like you simply can’t wait to hear whatever stupid bullshit he’s about to spout. He feels so unworthy of it all, and he can’t wait to find out more about you and mold himself to it. To become someone you can’t imagine waking up without. To study and be studied, he’s ready to throw himself into the horrors of being known - if it’s you he’s known by.

The air is punched out of him as he speaks, “Can…” you nod him along, opening your door wider, “Can I kiss you?”

Now that he’s so close to the sugary river, he can’t wait to dive in.

“Seriously?” you laugh in shock at the outburst, but when his face persists, you fling the door open entirely, “Seriously?”

Yuuji winds his hands tighter, to stop himself from desperately clawing his way down your throat, “I like you. I’ve liked you…” he’s unnatural like this, red in the face and dodging your stare, “I don’t even know.”

But you do, you felt it when you first saw him. However, you’re not plagued by the chains of past lives, so the implications are lost. Winding your arms behind your back and grinning at Yuuji with toothy glee, “Me too.”

His eyes nail you with that doughy, desperate plea for attention - the need to be seen as himself. And you’ve always been glad to lend it over in plentiful bounties.

That buzz of silence stabs the both of you.

Until Yuuji can no longer tether himself to his pockets, his big hands gentle as he cups both your cheeks. He molds himself to you, hoping that those troublesome flashes of times he never lived will at least serve his muscle memory now.

Your hands twist into the front of Yuuji’s shirt, nails biting into the black, soft, loose fabric and tugging him closer. Yuuji’s lips are slightly chapped, and you can feel the imprints from where he’s bitten them raw. He hisses when you peek your tongue at the smooth spots.

Wrenching your hands back, you quickly run them under and up his sleep shirt - his skin is warm and he gasps against your lips when your fingertips skim along his sides.

Yuuji pulls back, cheeks flaming, and shoulders his way past your bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him and placing his hands over his shirt - finding yours through the material. He grins, chuckling at how you grope his muscle, squeezing around your hands, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Whatever,” you huff, embarrassed, then ripping your hands out from under his shirt and twisting your fingers between his before - just to prove a point - planting his palms below your own shirt, “You try being normal like this.”

Yuuji’s broad palms are still only burning into the soft flesh of your stomach, but his heart is terribly out of whack.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

“You can go higher,” your voice lilts higher, a mere soft whisper as if anything louder could entirely break the poor boy’s brain, “If you want…”

Of course, he does. He’d trade a thousand years with that Sisyphus guy Megumi mentioned to him just for twelve seconds of his hands sizzling up your body. Maybe even just for the chance.

His hands scope higher, palms glued to the planes of your body like he’s trying to scar himself along your skin. The sudden need to leave some lasting impression that he was there - here with you.

Yuuji does his best not to jump when Sukuna’s voice slithers into his ear, polite enough to whisper so he doesn’t alarm you, “Get her on her back. Tongue her cunt.”

You look at him all sweet and concerned when Yuuji’s nose scrunches, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

But he has no idea how to tell you that Sukuna’s words make his stomach churn, and by the time he even tries to form the words he’s thinking about it. Imagining himself on his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands tangled in his hair, and eagerly trying to annoy your friends as much as possible with how loud he can make you. And he feels so, so lightheaded at that.

Yuuji’s eyes are wide, staring into yours with such fire that it almost makes you shy away, “Can I eat you out?”

But you brave his dissecting gaze, heart pounding in your ears.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

And, oh, Yuuji could just about die happy right now.

On his stomach with his head between your thighs, your hands screwed into the twirls of his tousled hair and (hopefully) annoying at least a nosy Nobara should she be listening to your soft moans next door.

Yuuji wiggles his tongue into your weeping hole, nestling his nose against your clit with a wheezy little whine. His eyes flutter up at you through the gaps between your shaking arms.

“Get your hands in there,” Sukuna’s voice is muffled against the thickness of your thigh, “Thumb her clit, don’t rely on your nose.”

Crinkling his brows, Yuuji has to bite back his remarks about how Sukuna could’ve told him that sooner. Snaking his right hand over your leg, Yuuji flattens his large hand against your lower stomach and pins your bucking hips. His thumb taking residence on your swollen clit, the bridge of his nose still saddled beneath it.

Your back arches, hips grinding down into Yuuji’s thumb and tongue. He’s messy with it - head shaking just to tease and feel the wetness of your pussy slip and slather across his chin. He tongue-fucks you in earnest, practically moaning into you as he grinds against the mattress. Swishing his thumb against your clit faster when he can feel you tighten around him, chasing the feeling of you cumming all over his face.

He can hear it despite his desperation - the way your breath hitches and throat cinches out a squeal. Your thighs squish around his head and Yuuji has to force his hips still lest he be submitted to the horrors of cumming in his pants.

And it isn’t even the fear of your reaction - no, he knows better than to think you’re capable of making him feel shame. It’s just-

“Yes,” Sukuna’s voice is husky, tongue lolling out along Yuuji’s cheek to lather up your juice, “Yes!”

Yuuji knows exactly who will be making fun of him instead. He smacks at the unwanted presence and takes it as pure luck when Sukuna actually stays down.

He works his tongue out of you slowly, letting you whine and huff the way off your high naturally before peeking up at you. He’s grinning, eyes wide and hands retreating to dig hungrily into the meat of your thighs.

“Hey, I wanna try something,” Yuuji’s shamelessness in licking at his soaked lips makes heat flush all the way to your forehead, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

You nod sheepishly, body jittery with the little bugs crawling beneath your sweltering skin. Yuuji bends to the sudden thought he’s sure has something to do with the curse inside him with a mysterious catalog on all things you.

Yuuji slips onto his back beside you, curled against the cold wall corning your bed with his feet flat against the mattress and legs bent. He uses the unnatural well of strength he’s harbored since birth to squeeze at the fat of your sides and lift you atop of him. He can feel the warmth of your cunt on his pelvis and it wracks him with a shiver, you whine helplessly when his right hand immediately welds to your slit. His index and ring fingers part your lips so his middle can swipe coyly over your clit.

“Hah,” you watch his ring finger abandon its post to join the rude teasing, “Yuuji…”

“I know,” Yuuji sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes glued to where your wetness drips onto his skin, his hard cock peeking up between your legs, “I know, I’m sorry,” but he doesn’t sound very sorry. Especially when he’s continuing to tease you while pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Okay, serious now,” but he dips his fingers lower and prods at your hole, “Serious.”

You giggle, hot-faced, at his focused gaze, “Yuuji!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he spreads your lips again just to stare from over your shoulder, voice hoars when he finally speaks up, “Alright. Serious now.”

Reaching between your legs, Yuuji grabs hold of his cock - hissing at the contact - and is internally grateful when you raise your hips to meet his head. He presses his forehead against your shoulder when his tip pushes inside you. You feel the hot puffs of air he sends against your back as you continue lowering yourself. He whimpers, the hand at his base flying across your abdomen and gripping your breast. He squeezes and pinches and tries suffocating the embarrassing little noises escaping his lips when you rock your hips down on his pelvis.

“Okay down there?” you twist your head to look back at Yuuji and you’re so glad you did.

He’s flushed down to his chest and his lashes are kissing his cheeks to keep himself together, when he finally opens his eyes fully and looks up at you. His bottom lip is red and puffy from how hard he’d been biting it, “Now I’m gonna do something new.”

This wasn’t new?

Yuuji’s arms stretch under the backs of your knees and come over your shoulders before winding behind your neck, pressing his palms flat against the back of your head. Your arms dangle uselessly at your sides, hands stretching out to graze his ribs and legs bouncing limply as he manhandles you.

His cock bullies itself in your cunt, hips jerking up into the fat of your ass.

Yuuji tries to suffocate down his groans in favor of your sweet moans being punched up from your gut every time he sweeps deep inside you. His lips press tightly just as your own pop open for adorable “ah, ah ah!”s - fighting to maintain his pace despite how badly he wants to pin you to his body and wallow through the wetness sucking him back in for every thrust. Feel your sweaty skin slide and stick against his and whine at the pulling sensation when you peel apart.

Another sudden idea pops into his brain and it’s almost instinctual how he follows it. Besides, it isn’t like he’s going to complain about being brain-blasted with memories that aren’t his if it means not having to hear Sukuna’s voice while fucking you.

Hips never falter in their snaps up into you, Yuuji cranes his neck to teeth at the meat of your nape. He bites possessively and grunts in response to your immediate pitchy moan. Then licking over the marks apologetically.

You try to smother down your breathless moans as Yuuji bullies his cock repeatedly into that spongy spot shooting stars behind your eyes. With an angle and drive and care you’re sure would be lost on any man other than Yuuji - and you’re dumbly struck by the hope that maybe this hard work is only because he’s here with you. And that coherent thought is fucked out of you with Yuuji’s next whimpered request.

“Don’t do that,” he gasps when you tighten around him after a particularly rough thrust, “Please don’t keep it down- wanna…” he moans and the sound flutters straight to your tightening gut, “Wanna hear you so bad, pretty girl.”

Unlatching your teeth from the plush of your bottom lip, flames lap through the wiry twists of your veins - burning through the stretch of your skin and scarring Yuuji. And he eats it up and greedily begs at your feet for more. It shames Sukuna just as much as it excites him to taste the salt on your skin through his vessel’s tongue and watch the way your legs shake and bounce under his vessel’s iron hold. His favorite way to have you and your favorite way to take him.

Yuuji unwinds one of his arms from behind your neck, lowering half your body slightly to swipe his fingers between the junction of your thighs. Right over the slippery spot where you’re creaming on his cock and taking the soaked fingers to your clit. His canines and soft lips battle for a monopoly of your neck and shoulder, swiftly circling your clit with his middle and ring fingers as his hips continue fucking you stubbornly.

“Hng, Yuu…!” you gasp, head throwing back and narrowly missing his - the coil winding tighter and tighter and your walls milking Yuuji tighter and tighter, “Yuuji!”

“I know, baby,” he kisses up your bent neck and presses his flaming cheek against yours, “God, please, cum for me. Cum for me,” his hips stutter, and his breath hitches and oh, he’s so close, “I wanna feel you cum on me, baby- I need it. Need it so bad.”

“Oh, Yuuji,” you dig your face closer to his as if trying to meld yourselves into one body, “‘m cumming,” you clench and he’s damn near wheezing, the knot in his lower belly popping as he feels you cum and drips down his balls, “‘m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming…!”

And just to avoid embarrassing himself from admitting he’s in love with you while spitting his own cum in your warm, wet walls, Yuuji strangles down his own final cries with a coppery, abusive bite to his bottom lip.

It starts to hurt, how he overstimulates himself through his slowing thrusts - letting you slip down onto his thrumming, sticky chest. Your legs sprawled across his sides, Yuuji slipping his softening cock from your hole.

You lazily roll off of Yuuji, landing face-first into your sheets at his side.

Yuuji can hear it again, that terrible, grating voice telling him, “Clean her, brat.”

And what’s the most terrible is he knows Sukuna’s command is entirely warranted. Flopping a hand onto your back, Yuuji traces heart shapes into the skin as he talks, “I’ll be right back.”

And when Yuuji’s wetting a soft, clean cloth he braved the hallway (nude) to retrieve from his room, he hears that voice again. It echoes in your bathroom.

“I want a turn when she’s awake,” a pause, “Fully awake.”

“Aren’t you charitable?” Yuuji rolls his eyes.

And that same utterance from hours before rings through Yuuji’s ears once again. Why Sukuna cared so much about petty crushes. Why Sukuna bothered himself by actually giving genuine, helpful points. Why Sukuna was fascinated by you.

“She was my most devoted and favorite lover in her past life.”

The way he says it inspires no respect for Yuuji - underlined in his thriving desire to be worshiped, as he imagines he deserves. Yuuji wouldn’t dare uphold you to that.

When he tenderly presses his thumbs into stiff muscles with a red flush and warm smile, Yuuji knows that for sure.

“Can I stay the night?” he whispers, folding his discarded towels and lazily tucking them by your bedpost on the floor. He feels that same hurried ache in his chest, awaiting for your impatience.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

You hum, lifting your head off the pillow and snickering, your drowsy face pinched to look at him like he’s stupid, “Duh.”

Giddy, Yuuji slips under the blankets he’d slid over you after cleaning the mess from between your thighs, and slots himself right next to you.

Rolling again, you twist into an open space against Yuuji’s chest and under his thick arm. Warmth drapes across your shoulders when he rests that arm over you. He circles his other arm around you and squeezes, grinning so hard he can feel it burning in the balls of his cheeks. Your ear rests against Yuuji’s chest, and you soothe yourself to slumber on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Blissfully unaware of the fact that when your bones are rotten and six feet deep, two more people will be curled into each other’s arms. With your same starry eyes that some pink-haired kid falls in love with every time they’re on him.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji smut #yuuji fluff #yuji x reader #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori fluff #and sukuna too i guess

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 2 months

Text

48 / 1.1k / shark mermen Ghost and Soap + lionfish mermaid reader, courtesy of @porcelainpot :)

...

The moment you and Soap lock eyes, you push yourself up off the soft sea floor. Tendrils of sand, gold in the sun, trail after your tailfin all the way back into the tangle of reef coral you’ve claimed as your home.

Soap laughs behind you.

Why is he so obsessed with this? This stupid game he plays. Ghost—who rolls over near the sunny patch where you were just lazing together—doesn’t care when you’re around. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. But Soap won’t leave you alone. He all but ignores the clear warning signs all over your body—the auburn striping your tail; your bright, fanlike fins; the enormous fuckoff venom-coated spines running the length of your dorsal line, arms, and ear fins.

You scowl. Every time you think he won’t find you when you venture out into the reef, every time you let yourself relax after the day’s hunting is done, he turns up. Watching you the same way he’s looking at you right now: too fucking closely. His eyes flash with mischief and lock onto your fins through the sparse gaps in your coral cave.

“Think she bites?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost grunts. “Most things do.”

“Saw her lookin’ at you like she might want to take a piece home.”

“Doubt it.”

“Doubt you’d feel it if she did. Could hardly kill a minnow with those wee teeth. Don’t know how she hunts with ‘em.”

You duck down back into the entrance of your cave with a flick of your lacy tail. He’s talking loudly enough for you to hear on purpose. “You’re never getting close enough to find out,” you snap.

Soap’s smirk stretches into a grin. You took the bait. “Can’t hide in your cage forever, can ya?”

Ghost rolls back over. “She’s got more sense than the ones who swim toward you.”

“Oh, piss off. Fleein’ from a predator is what prey fish do. It’s a natural response.”

You lurk a little further outside your cave. “I’m not prey. I’m just as much a predator as you sharks.”

This time, Ghost is the one who scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Soap swims up closer to your hiding spot, eyes roaming over your form. You bristle instinctively and raise your spines in warning as he drifts closer. But it doesn’t drive him away. If anything, it seems to draw his interest even more.

“Ya’ve got an impressive display, I’ll give it that,” he says. “But you’re a scrap compared to us.”

“So? I don’t need size to defend myself.” You fan your fins up higher, emboldened as you rise with the current.

Soap grins even wider at the threat display. You’re all barbed fins, colorful scales, and angry pout. His gaze reflects the challenge you’re issuing him. “Careful sayin’ that. I’ll chase you if you tease me.”

Ghost lets out an irritated growl at Soap’s flirtation, knowing very well Soap only says these things to get a rise out of you. “Those spines aren’t just for show, Soap. You know what lionfish venom feels like. Bet hers is worse. Might kill you. You think it's worth dying just to prove a point?"

“I think spines break as easy as they sting.”

Anger surges through your chest. “Brute,” you snap.

Soap laughs. You don’t seem to notice you’ve drifted some distance away from your hiding spot, but he has. Ghost shifts, side-eying both of you more closely.

“I’m just curious, gorgeous.” His senses sharpen with the thrill of your threat display and your anger. Of course he thinks it’s sexy. The more you insult him, the more he wants to see what it takes to earn more than just that sharp tongue of yours. “Think touchin’ you might be worth the sting.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“You’re cute when you’ve got a problem with me. Gnashin’ like a miniature barracuda.”

You puff up a little more, daring to swim closer. You’re smugly satisfied when he backs away a little in response.

“Try it,” you bluff.

Soap’s eyes drop down, tracing the length of your fins, and he grins. He’s just as aware of the lethality of any lionfish's wicked barbs as he is of their beauty, but he doesn’t seem particularly deterred by the threats of this particular mer wielding them. “Bet you wouldn’t bite me too hard.”

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice is calm, but a warning lurks in his tone. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap replies without looking away from you. “Bet those spines are brittle.” He reaches forward to touch one.

You hiss and whip your tail away on instinct, darting back. Your spines are still raised in defense. But your rational mind doesn’t want to risk him getting any closer. You don’t want him to know what happens if he's stung--that your venom is a faulty mimic of a true lionfish. He needs to think you're dangerous and keep his distance. And you need to keep your pride intact.

Soap hardly notices how upset you are. He’s thrilled to provoke an interesting new reaction out of you. Before he can reach out again, though, Ghost grabs his wrist and jerks him back, forcing him out of your personal space.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not fast enough to avoid a sting.”

“You’re no fun, Ghost.”

“Fuck off,” you snap. Your heart is pounding. He got too close, way too close.

You retreat while Ghost has ahold of him, slipping down into your small den and out of sight. Soap calls after you, but he’s not surprised when you don’t come back out.

Soap rips his wrist out of Ghost’s claws with a muttered curse. At Ghost’s hard look, he snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do it too.”

“That’s not the problem. She’s a pincushion. You go pissing her off too much, you’re going to wind up full of poison.

“Aye.”

“And it'll probably kill you. Hurt the whole time doing it. It’s all fun and games until you’re dying because you just couldn’t help but poke a pretty fish.”

Soap scoffs. “You’re exaggerating. No sting can kill me. It'll hurt a little an’ I’ll be fine.”

Ghost gives Soap an unimpressed glance. “And if you're wrong? You think you’re strong enough to fight off a neurotoxin.” He snorts. “You want to test that hypothesis?”

Soap glances back at your den with a frown.

“Keep your bloody distance,” Ghost mutters, giving Soap a shove back toward the center of the reef. “She’s no prize.”

Soap gives in and turns back toward the reef, turning a restless corkscrew in the water. Still, the smirk reappears on his face. “Aye. Little nightmare, isn’t she?” He sighs. “All bite and no kiss.”

...

[part 1 ] / part 2 by porcelainpot here!! <3

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist

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leaderwonim · 6 months

Text

MR. FUCKING BRIGHTSIDE

pairing. slytherin!jake x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary. although sim jaeyun constantly surrounds himself with douchebags and looks like he could stomp all over a girl’s heart; you knew the real him that was deep inside. but did you really?

genre. hogwarts!au, ANGST, bits of fluff, right person wrong circumstances, forbidden/secret love

warnings. jake can be a bit of an asshole, the insult “mudblood” is used, slytherin gets shitted on as a house (dw, i’m a slytherin 😭)

Sim Jaeyun, or everybody knew him as Jake, the sixth year Slytherin, seeker of his house’s Quidditch team, and nevertheless, charming to every girl that has stepped foot in his proximity.

Half of your friends would disagree—that he was not charming but rather just another slithering snake in the worst possible house at Hogwarts.

Jake’s friend group consisted of three people: Draco Malfoy, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson. They just so happen to be an insufferable lot, maybe except Blaise who minded his own business half of the time.

“Today you will be working in pairs.” Professor McGonagall states, fixing her glasses as she holds a stroll of paper. “I’ve already decided them, absolutely no changes.”

There’s groans that fill the room, one of whom you recognize as no other than Jake.

“Seriously? I wanted to pair up with Blaise!” He whines, earning a glare from Draco. “What? C’mon Dray, we both know you and I don’t get anything done.”

“Alright,” Professor McGonagall clears her throat. “Blaise Zabini with Nancy Drumswell, Aidan Callaghan with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter with Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy with Pansy Parkinson, and finally, Jaeyun Sim with Y/N L/N.”

You don’t blink when you realize who your partner is. Rather, you just sigh a bit in defeat, coming to the conclusion that you cannot do anything to convince McGonagall to change partners.

“Hey.” Jake plops himself down on the seat next to you, laughing as Draco gives him a shove on the way to his own table.

“Hi.” You murmur, suddenly finding your yellow robe more interesting than him.

“I’ve never been paired with a Hufflepuff before.” He grins, the shit eating grin that weirdly captives your senses. “Are you guys as nice as you claim to be?”

“I don’t know Jaeyun, you tell me.”

Jake’s eyes widen before he lets out a giggle. “Jaeyun? No one ever calls me that anymore.”

You shrug, sliding him the piece of paper with the instructions to your project. “You can stop by the Hufflepuff dormitories at 8, I’ll be done with dinner by then and I’ll open it for you.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart.”

You cringe at his words, the obvious disdain on your face makes him laugh even harder.

“I’ll see you then.” He whispers, and just like a movie, stands up as soon as McGonagall dismisses the class, merging into one with his friends.

♡;

Just as the clock struck eight, you heard a knock. Your books, pens, and parchment were spread out in front of you, eagerly waiting to be used.

As you slowly get up to open the door, you’re met face to face with Jake, who entered the room with a confident stride

"Hey there, Y/N," Jake greeted, flashing you a charming smile as he took a seat across from your side of the table.

"Hey," you politely turn his smile. "Ready to tackle this project?"

"Absolutely," he affirmed, pulling out his own notes and spreading them out on the table. "I've got some ideas already. How about you?"

You nodded, slightly impressed by Jake's readiness to dive into the work. "I've been brainstorming as well. Maybe we can combine our ideas and come up with something great."

As the two of you began discussing your approaches to the project, youcouldn't help but notice how articulate and intelligent Jake was when he wasn't surrounded by his usual group of friends. His confidence shone through, but it was paired with a genuine interest in the subject matter that caught you off guard.

"You sure sound different when you’re not around Draco," You remarked.

Jake only chuckled, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "Yeah, well, I guess I don't always show this side of me around my friends. They have a different idea of what's cool."

You can only nod in understanding, realizing that Jake was more complex than you had initially assumed.

As you continued working, you couldn’t help but find yourself paying closer attention to the small details about him—the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the soft lilt in his voice when he explained a concept, the way his eyes sparkled with passion for the project.

"Thanks for coming, Jake," you say, offering him a genuine smile. "I really enjoyed working with you."

Jake returned your smile, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a sudden flutter through your heart. "Anytime, Y/N. I had a great time too."

As you bid each other goodnight, you couldn’t help but suddenly miss his presence, something you didn’t expect to happen with just one session with him.

♡;

In your second studying session, you and Jake found yourselves engrossed in their project once again. This time, you two decided to move to a quiet corner of the library, away from prying eyes and distractions. The Hufflepuff dorms were too crowded, and you knew you’d rather die than step into the Slytherin dormitory as a Hufflepuff.

As you discussed your research findings, you couldn't help but notice how Jake's demeanor had softened since your last meeting. He seemed more relaxed, more open, as if he felt comfortable letting his guard down around you.

Jake suddenly reached across the table to grab a book, his hand brushing against yours in the process. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you quite literally breathless for a moment. “Here Y/N, I heard this book was good for this particular topic.”

Your eyes met briefly, and you felt your cheeks flush with warmth.

“Thanks,” you murmur, looking down slightly.

Jake smiled back at you, seemingly oblivious to the effect his touch had on you. For a person who charms so much girls, you’d think he know how much his advances affected others.

“No problem, seems like we got a lot done within these 2 days huh?”

"Yeah, it seems so," you reply softly.

Even though it had only been 2 nights, in those quiet moments, away from the prying eyes of their classmates, you had realized just how much you actually enjoyed Jake's company. He wasn't just the annoying Slytherin she had initially pegged him to be—he was kind, intelligent, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

"I guess that's it for tonight," Jake said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “Can’t believe they only allow Prefects in the library past ten.”

"Yeah," you groan, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye. "But we'll see each other again soon, right?"

Jake nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Definitely. Let’s just hope Malfoy doesn’t ruin it.”

♡;

As you made your way through the corridors of Hogwarts with Hermione, you spotted Jake surrounded by his Slytherin friends, including Draco and Pansy. Suddenly feeling the wave of confidence at the sight of him, you decided to muster up the courage to approach him.

But as you drew nearer, you noticed a subtle shift in Jake's demeanor. His usual friendly expression hardened, and a smirk spread across his lips as he turned to face you and Hermione.

"Look who it is, boys," Draco says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Little Miss Hufflepuff herself."

Jake and Pansy chuckled, exchanging knowing glances with Draco as if they were in on some inside joke. Your smile faltered, confusion and hurt swirling in your chest as you struggled to make sense of Jake's sudden change in attitude.

"Um, hi, Jaeyun," you replied, voice barely above a whisper as you fought to keep her composure.

"Seriously? Jaeyun? That’s hysterical.” Pansy laughs, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

“What's the matter, Y/N? Can't find anyone from your own house so you bother our Jake here?” Draco continues to taunt you, his words like daggers aimed straight at your heart. “Or should I say Jaeyun?”

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the laughter of Jake's friends echoed in your ears. You had never felt so small, so insignificant to the group in front of you.

“I was hoping to discuss our project.” You say quietly, looking at anyone but Jake.

Hermione could sense your hostility, pulling you close to her side as she gave Draco a snarl.

“Listen Y/N,” Jake says, “all that crap you Hufflepuffs preach about loving each other and expressing feelings is a lie. No one really cares about what you have to say.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hermione says, shielding you by putting herself in front of your frame. “What has gotten into you?”

But Jake just shrugged her off, his smirk widening into a sneer. "Mind your own business, mudblood. This doesn't concern you."

Feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you quickly turn on your heel and fled down the corridor, desperate to escape the humiliation of Jake's cruel words.

Had you really been so stupid to place your trust in Sim Jaeyun knowing full well his reputation? By the looks of it, all answers pointed to yes.

♡;

By 7pm, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the surface of the Black Lake just in front of the Slytherin Common Rooms.

“Y/N?” Almost as if he knew exactly where you were, Jake shows up in front of you, making you give him a glare.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse as he avoided your gaze. He takes a seat next to you on the grass, his fingers tracing patterns across them in nervousness. "I messed up back there. I let my pride get the best of me, and I hurt you in the process. I should have stood up for you."

You sighed, your heart heavy with disappointment but softened by Jake's sincerity.

“I don’t get it,” you say. “One moment you’re all kind and sincere around me, and the next, you say all these things like I’m worth nothing.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the air filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. Then, Jake spoke again, his voice hesitant but earnest. "I guess my friends just have an influence on me that I can’t control. I’m sorry for what I said earlier, you’re one of the kindest people I've ever met, Y/N. I admire that about you."

You slightly smiled, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. "Thank you, Jake. That means a lot to me."

As the sky darkened and stars began to twinkle overhead, the two of you continued to talk, laughter mingling with the night air.

♡;

The next night was one of the more important nights at Hogwarts. Everybody had finished their exams—and the Ravenclaws decided to throw a party at their Commons.

The music throbbed as you entered with Ron Weasley, who, at the sight of his twin brothers, ran towards them. You roll your eyes at his behavior, and start pulsing through the crowded room, a plastic smile plastered on your face.

You notice Jake in the corner, sipping on what looked like a bottle of beer. He exchanged nods and greetings with those around him, his eyes scanning the room for something—someone.

But before you could gawk at him any longer, Draco cut in smoothly, his tone laced with mockery. "Oh, look who decided to show up. Did you bring your Hufflepuff friend to the party, Jake? How charming."

Pansy giggled, her eyes glittering with malice as she looked at you up and down. "I didn't know us Slytherins were into charity work."

“Guys, seriously? Cut it out,” Jake gulps, eyes directly meeting yours.

“He’s right,” Blaise says, and you swear it’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him. “Don’t ruin the party.”

“Whatever.” Pansy throws her hand in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t want to make the Hufflepuff cry.”

Hermione comes to your rescue right after Pansy throws you a glare.

“Piss off.” She says, interlocking her arms with yours.

“Thanks ‘Mione.” You thank her softly as you’re lead away from the lot. “For saving me back there.”

“Always,” she smiles. “Now cmon, I heard Ron’s already drunk!”

You two giggle at that, you letting Hermione lead the way into the crowd of people.

♡;

It’s about 2 hours later and the Ravenclaw party is still loud as ever, filled with with laughter and music.

Despite the Weasley twins making a full ruckus of themselves, your eyes were drawn to a figure slumped in a corner. It was Jake, only this time, he looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, his face pale and contorted with some type of emotion you hadn’t seen before.

Concern etched onto your features, and your body felt itself navigating through the crowd of people until you’re knelt beside him. "Jake? Are you alright? Where’s Draco?”

He lifted his head, and you swore you felt your heart clenched at the sight of his glassy eyes and trembling lips. "I'm fine," he mumbled, but his voice betrayed the lie.

"No, you're not," you reply softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Jake swallowed hard, his gaze flickering with a mix of emotions. "It's... it's nothing," he slurred, but his words lacked conviction.

You stayed silent, sensing he needed to unburden himself. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice raw with emotion. "Do you think I’m good for nothing?”

"What?" You asked gently, your heart sinking as you watched him struggle to form his thoughts.

"I mean look at this, look at me," Jake gestured vaguely, gesturing to the party around the two of you. "This charade I constantly put on. Pretending to be someone I'm not."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Jake trailed off, his breath hitching. "Was it all worth the six years of be pretending to be who I wasn’t? Pretending to be the egoistic charming Slytherin everyone claims to know so well?”

Jake pauses before looking up at you, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. "You know I care about you a lot, right? I like you, a lot.”

“You do?” You say quietly, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes.

“But we just can’t.”

“What?”

“Why not?”

"Because,” Jake's voice cracked, and he looked away. "Because I wish you were in Slytherin."

You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces at his words. You almost knew it then, with a painful realization that you could never compete with the loyalty he felt towards his house and the expectations placed upon him by his housemates.

Tears stung your eyes as you realized there was nothing she could do to change his mind. With a heavy heart, you rose to your feet.

“Well I’m sorry then, Jake.” You say, turning around so he wouldn’t see your tears.

And as you walked away, the echoes of his confession lingered in your mind, haunting your thoughts with the bitter realization that sometimes, love simply wasn't enough.

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nebulaafterdark · 3 months

Text

At The Pleasure Of The Crown (Part 2)

Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Part 1

Aegon and Aemond have been at war from the time they were boys. Over what exactly, neither can say. For Aegon’s part, he’s never truly known the love of his mother, not the way Aemond did. Mayhaps that is where it started.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Despite the teasing his elder brother inflicted upon him, Aemond wanted only to win his approval; and that of his father. Marrying Y/N boosted Aegon’s worth in Viserys’ eyes, while Aemond remained the boy irreparably damaged, over an insult.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Then of course there is Y/N, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen; used as a means to broker peace between warring houses since she was no more than a child. Made to ease the suffering of those around her, at great personal expense.

The tree remembers, the axe forgets.

Each of them shaped by unsteady hands, hoping only for the best.

The tree remembers, the axe regrets.

Over the moon turn since Aemond hath inserted himself upon their union, not one of them has known peace. All angry or pining for another, because of a misunderstanding. Because of a book, because of a sword fight, because of a single glance.

Even seated round the council table, Aemond stares at their entwined hands. Love is a curious thing, in all its different forms. Y/N is never going to love him the way she does Aegon.

“What will my children call you?”

“Aemond, or uncle. Same as they always have.”

“What will your children call me?” The wound is still fresh, raw and aching as Aegon presses against it.

“It will be nearly impossible to tell…whether they are yours or mine, until they are grown.” Aemond admits, “I suppose they might call us both father.”

Y/N buries her head in her hands, sick with the guilt of what she’s done.

Dying in the name of love is noble sacrifice, killing one’s self to love another is a senseless endeavor.

“Sometimes these things happen.”

————————————————————————

“Are you not speaking to me?” Aemond asks, when he manages to get Y/N alone.

“What difference does it make? My words mean little to you.”

Aemond sighs, “I apologize for my lapse in judgment. I should not have said those things to Aegon.”

“Knowing what he means to me, how could you be so cruel?” The princess snaps.

Aemond purses his lips, “my brother made fun of me for the whole of my life. I saw an opportunity to return the favor. I am sorry for it.”

“Is that what this is to you?” Y/N whispers, “is that what I am to you? Revenge against your brother, at long last?”

“No,” Aemond growls, “you are…you know what you are to me.”

“Speak it.” Y/N insists, “tell me what I am to you.”

Aemond closes the space between them, taking her face between his hands. “You are my friend.”

“And that is enough for you?”

“If that is all I’m allowed.” Those who are starved will eat anything.

“Even if we were to marry, it would not be fair to you. I love Aegon, I will always love him. We grew up together, he and I. Day and night for ten years, we have been together. I enjoy your company and I should like to keep it, but I am in want of a friend. I have a husband.”

To be so tragically entangled.

“It matters not if he is studied in the histories, or if he holds interest in matters of the court. So long as I am studied, so long as I hold interest in the court. The duties are mine, the burdens are mine.”

“I only wish to help you,” Aemond breathes.

“You can’t,” Y/N shakes her head. “You cannot help me. You cannot come into my life and uproot it. I’ve children, Aemond. Aegon’s children, who need my love and affection more than anyone.

Children who grow up in the absence of love spend the rest of their lives wanting for it; no matter how much they are given. Like pouring into a bottomless cup, endless and painful because it never fills. It is cracked from the time they are small and can never be fixed. I’ve seen the difference between children born of love and those born of duty. My children will know which they are.”

“Who fills your cup once he’s drained it?”

“The gods provide.” Y/N swipes at traitorous tears, threatening to fall. “They always do.”

“Whores then,” Aemond understands. Why the pleasure house, why the wine, why the constant thirst for knowledge. “I could fuck you as well as any.”

Y/N turns away from him. “It would mean something more to you and…”

“It would not mean a thing to me.”

————————————————————————

Aemond makes his way to the silk streets, tearing back curtains, until he spots the silver sheen of his brother’s hair. Pressed back into a pillow as one of the brunettes works herself over his cock. It is not lost on him, how much the pretty little thing resembles Aegon’s wife. “I need a word with you.”

Aegon huffs a laugh, feeling the woman above him begin to pull away. “Ah, ah,” he chides, “you stay right there. Doing the gods’ work, you are.”

The woman sighs, happily, “thank you, your grace.”

He gives her hips an affection squeeze, before turning his attention back to Aemond. “What is it you need?”

“I was hoping to apologize, for the way I have conducted myself.”

“All is forgiven, brother.” Aegon waves a dismissive hand. “My wife is an endearing mystery, it is not your fault for taking interest.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side, “to what do I owe your sudden change of heart?”

“Y/N and I talked,” Aegon grins. “Whichever parts of her you are stimulating, do it well for me. Tell her I love her, while you’re at it.”

Part 3

Series Taglist : @oh-you-mean-me @callsignwidow @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @cluz1babe @visenyareads @kiwibaekie

#house of the dragon #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen fanfic #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen smut

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pearlzier · 2 months

Text

────⠀ ⠀nerd!matt x meangirl!reader hcs 'n' stuff

☆ currently obsessed with meangirl!reader i love her. this is very inspired by @tiny_tobasco on tiktok's 'mean' girls girl series shes so meangirl!reader and i got inspired so hard. sfw n nsfw under the cut

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ you two only met properly, before all of the tutoring sessions, when at some party. matt didn't actually know how he got there, well, he did, chris had dragged him there. however, he didn't know why he'd decided to stay. he regrets it especially when some frat guys start making fun of him. he's not completely helpless, he stands his ground, but there's a lot of them and chris is nowhere in sight

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ he's absolutely shitting himself when he sees you come over—assuming you're going to laugh at him with the frat guys. doesn't stop the huge crush he has on you however. the look of your glossy, plump lips tugged into a frown as you walk over, your heels clicking against the floor and the way your little dress clings to the swell of your tits. honestly, he kinda forgets about the insults 'till he snaps back into things.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "can you guys shut the fuck up, jesus christ," he's surprised at the fact you're not talking to him, but at them. his eyes drop to your arms folded under your chest before your face. "like, get over yourselves. your little boner party is like, not it. leave him alone, god,"

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ your habit of saying 'like' in every sentence never really went away, but he liked it. it was so you. you talked, a lot, hence the amount of filler words you needed. he's surprised you haven't even started debate club because you'd absolutely win every debate.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's surprised by how flustered the guys get, at how much power you have over them. but honestly, if you spoke to him like that, he'd get completely flustered too. he already is, the stern tone in your voice making his dick stir in his pants. he's mid adjust when you turn to him, and he blinks, getting flustered himself. damn it. "thanks—"

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "i didn't know you," you're chewing bubble gum, head cocking to the side a little as your eyes rake over him. "but i do now," you pop, obnoxiously to anyone else but endearing to him, "so hi." he's smitten. "you're staring."

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "sorry," he apologises immediately, not wanting you to think he's a creep or anything. you blink, not saying much, before you laugh, "it's okay. people do it a lot." yeah, he's sure they do. "like, yeah. um. you want a drink?" you, you, offering him a drink. holy shit, he needs to take a lap.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ he didn't think you guys would talk after that. but, somehow, you did. it was a little indirect at first since it came through chris, but he basically talked to you, right? he was in his dorm room, when chris bursts in, stood at the door. "dude, knocking? it's a thing? read about it?" chris doesn't pay much attention to his brother's words, not really. "don't wanna hear about your hypotheses, but okay." matt rolls his eyes. but when chris mentions your name, his interest is piqued almost immediately.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "me? she was talking about me?" he's shitting himself. chris doesn't seem all that fussed, as he continues, "uh, yeah, she wanted you to tutor her or something," matt deflates a tiny bit, since maybe that meant you just wanted to get your grades up and didn't really wanna be his friend, or something more. but he thinks back to the night you two met and how much fun you two had, so he's down to see what happens.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ little did he know he literally would never get rid of you after that. he's literally stuck with you forever now

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ everyone thinks you're a total bitch (you lowkey are, but only when it calls for it) but matt sees you for more. honestly he feels the only reason people think you're mean at first glance is your resting bitch face, bluntness and inability to hold conversation. like—you're an absolute sweetheart sometimes and no one but matt, and by proxy his friends, know that.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ he's just. used to you by now. if he wakes up in the middle of the night and feels you beside him he's gonna assume you're back from a night out and just forgot where your dorm is. matt just draws you in and rests his head against your chest, not thinking twice about it. similarly, if he wakes up and you're in the kitchen for god knows what reason, he just wanders out and stands there for a minute. "girl dinner," you tell him, and he just nods, padding back to the bed.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's also used to being dragged to your little brunches with your girls. he's just there because you asked him to be, he hasn't really got any business being there.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "baby! her bestfriend got with her ex," you tell him, as he's scrolling through his phone sat beside you at the table.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "cut her off, bad friend," he says, without looking up from his phone. you nod in agreement with him, a soft, "mhm," coming from your lips before you and your friend continue with the conversation.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ you're a really attentive listener, contrary to what many may think. you stare blankly at matt the entire time he's rambling about a new game that came out, and he thinks you're not interested, so he stops. the moment he does, you speak up, "no, continue," he hesitates before he does, and when he sees the faint shift in your expression, a softening, he gets back into it

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's always proud of you like after he started tutoring you your grades went up by a lot and he eventually realised he didn't need to tutor you anymore. and then he realised you didn't need tutoring a while back and just acted like you didn't know some things on purpose so he'd hang out with you. he really needed to give you more credit for that one.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ GOSSIPING. matt loves to chat shit with you !!!! he's had all these opinions and thoughts he's kept to himself this entire time about the meathead frat boys you hung out with sometimes and the vapid sorority girls you were friends with and he finally gets to share them with someone. he knows you'll never tell anyone, plus, you agree with everything he says anyway. "yeah, she actually hates him. she's with him for a bet."

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "a bet???" he's stunned, mouth agape. "yup," you nod, continuing with doing your makeup as you shrug, "and he's with her on a bet too, so like," he's learnt SO much shit about what goes on because of you <3

NSᅟᅟ꒰͡ ‎ ‎⭒۫ ‎ ‎ִ ‎ ‎͡꒱ᅟᅟFW

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ you were definitely his first for everything—which he's glad for. he knew things, of course, he's not helpless, he had just never done it before. you taught him things, helped explain that porn isn't even that accurate, and made sure he was confident in everything. he felt this bitter pang in his chest when hearing about the fact you'd kissed people before, he hates the idea of with anyone else however you quickly make him feel better

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt LOVES your titties like a lot. he's always been looking at them before, he knows, watching how your pretty clothes cling to your chest. or even your push up bras making it more obvious. but the moment he got to actually see them properly and even touch them, he melted almost immediately. you're so pretty, fuck, they're so soft and he could melt everytime he gets his hands on you

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "what if you suffocate?" you ask, as he's mid boob smothering, resting his head against your chest. "fine with me," he mumbles, breath hot against your soft skin as he sighs into you. you shrug, running your fingers through his dark hair

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ started out as nervous and anxious but slowly grew into the whole sex thing. he's more confident in himself now, taking the lead a little bit more.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ loves watching his dick slide in and out of your wet hole, the pretty sounds that escape you and the pretty sounds of your pussy with each thrust of his hips. you look so good like this, on the bed beneath him. the way your tits bounce with each cant of his hips. "you look so pretty, oh my god, so, so pretty, fuck, shit, oh,"

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ matt's a rambler when he fucks you, unable to stay quiet. he makes the sweetest sounds, whimpering, whining and moaning at the feel of your tight heat around his cock and he sure as hell praises you like crazy. you're so, so damn gorgeous and he's so amazed that he even gets to have you like this

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ despite how confident he's grown, you can always get him to melt into a mess by just a little bit of teasing. "please, plea—please, oh my god, wanna.. i've been good, promise.." he hiccups his words out softly, eyes falling down to your hand pumping his cock rapidly. "i know, baby, i know. doing so good for me, wanna come? you're gonna come for me?" he doesn't even care how condescending you're being, he just wants to be good for you, and to feel good himself.

🌸 ⤸﹒✧﹒ "gonna come for you," he pants shakily, feeling that familar heat coil in his lower tummy as he grasps tightly at the bed beneath him. he feels his thighs trembling and shaky till he finally comes, white ropes of cum spurting from his tip and coating his stomach. he whines shakily, grasping at your thighs almost immediately to draw you in closer and press his lips to yours, whimpering shakily against your mouth.

────⠀ ⠀ @stevelacylovebot, @gloomy-ghoulz, @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @pkfferoo, @arixsturns, @blue-d, @cxokanna444, @deanscrush, @rvdhoods-wp

#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nerd!matt #nerd!matt sturniolo #meangirl!reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 3 months

Text

PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader ) [ Pt. 2 - FINAL ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Prince Aegon Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon attempts to get you to ride a dragon once again, this time more gentle and whiny than before. word count: 1, 000+ words

After his failed attempt to get you on dragonback, earning him a bruised ego and a hard kick to the groin. Aegon knew that he needed to try a more softer way. If not for your sake, then for the sake of his groin avoiding your heel meeting it once again. He couldn’t handle the pain or the judgmental look from the Maester as he was given milk of the poppy. So, he was left thinking one thing.

How would Helaena sway you into going on dragonback?

It was hard. Helaena was different and her way of coaxing you was foreign to Aegon. She would just leave you be. But, he attempted to do it more gently. He would fly overhead the Red Keep on Sunfyre, the golden dragon twinkling in the sunlight. He would speak of his dragon and the wonders of flying on dragonback. He would offer then leave you be when you said ‘no, you fucking idiot’.

Surprisingly, it worked well. Your eyes would twinkle with wonder. Your face, full of curiosity when you listen to him speak. It was subtle little things. He had caught your interest in flying on dragonback. He loved it, like a cat who had caught his prey. Then, you had caught him off guard one day.

Watching you chew on your bottom lip, you stand far away from Sunfyre, arms crossed over your chest. He could practically smell the nerves wafting off you. The battle of whether or not to go through with the action of getting on the saddle is clear on your face. Biting back the cruel comment on the tip of his tongue, he stands by your side, patiently waiting and waiting. He wanted you to fly with him. He wanted it more than anything. So, he was determined to not ruin this.

“We can turn back.” He whispers, leaning in closer to you.

“No. I came all this way, I will continue.” You shake your head, “I just..I just a moment.”

Nodding his head softly at your words, he fights back the giddy smile that threatened to spread on his lips, not wanting you to use that against him. Watching as you take a step forward, he perks up, only for you to take that step back. A scowl slowly spreading on his lips. He did not get dragged at the ass crack of dawn just for you to back out now.

Tucking his hands behind his back, he rocks on the heels of his shoes, boredly chewing on his bottom lip to hold back his comments. He wanted you to hurry up, but he was going to wait. Hopefully, not any longer. He couldn’t handle the tension anymore of ‘Will she? Won’t she?’ bullshit.

“I hate you.” You state out of nowhere.

“Wonderful.” He sighs, “Does this mean you are going to get on?”

“I really hate you.” You mumble, hands shaking at your side.

Nodding his head in agreement at your insults, he lets out a soft irritated breath, resisting the urge to just throw you on the saddle. He would wait, for once in his life. Watching you tightly close your eyes, you press your hand against the wall, slowly inching toward Sunfyre. Snorting loudly at your behavior, he trails after you in amusement, no longer irritated and fully amused. You looked like a child about to go to the Maester’s for an illness.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” You mumble, words falling out like a mantra.

“Many do. But, this is really entertaining.”

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.” You mumble, slowly inching closer to Sunfyre’s nest.

“Just a little more, Y/n. Tis’ not so bad once you get on the saddle.” He encourages gently, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“I hate you. I detest you. I hope you choke on your wine tonight. Why did I let you talk me into this?” You whimper out, eyes tightly shut.

Hearing him laugh and snort loudly, you didn’t have it in you to open your eyes and scold him, too fearful of opening your eyes and seeing Sunfyre looming above. Dragon’s were not supposed to be ridden. It went against nature. Yet, here you were, letting Aegon Targaryen, the drunken fool⎯who more than once pissed his pants, talk you into going on a flight with him. Letting out a loud groan, you attempt to hype yourself up, earning a loud laugh from Aegon.

“Tis’ not so bad, Sunfyre is a good boy.” He laughs, “Come on, now.”

“Tis’ not the dragon that I fear, tis’ the foolish rider that I am about to share a saddle with.” You scoff, opening your eyes slowly.

“I am not a fool when it comes to riding on dragonback.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“You carried me to the dragonpits against my will.” You glare at him, “Are you truly asking me to trust you now?”

“Fair enough, fair enough.” He nods, accepting defeat.

Fighting back the urge to throw up and pass out, you slowly turn your head away from him to look at Sunfyre, the dragon bolting up from his rocky nest in a flash. A blur of gold flashing by before a loud territorial screech filling the air. Scrambling backwards out of fear, your back bumps into Aegon’s chest, his arms securely wrapping around your waist.

Letting out a loud gasp of fear as the dragon looms over intimidatingly, you try to get out of Aegon’s arms, but are unable to. His grip was firm, keeping you locked in place, forced to face Sunfyre. Two big green reptilian eyes staring you down like you were prey. All and any confidence dying in a blink of an eye.

“Easy, easy. He’s just curious and tends to get excited.” He dismisses, his hot breath fanning your ear.

“No, no, no! Let me go! Let me go!” You screech, “I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Easy, Y/n. Just let him sniff you, you’ll spook him if you just leave.” He whispers, “Just breathe and stay still.”

“Aegon!” You screech, voice dripping with anger.

Refusing to let you go, you cower in his arms as Sunfyre lets out a huff, the stench of dragon and ash filling your nose. Feeling your heart stop as Sunfyre screeches territorially, the dragon takes a step forward, the ground vibrating with each step. Slowly tilting your head up as he stands at his full height, the dragon takes a big whiff of the two of you, nearly making you pee in your pants. He was pretty, a glittering gold. But, seven hells and heavens, was he the utmost and utterly scariest thing you had ever laid your eyes upon.

“He likes you.” Aegon chuckles, “He’s already gotten territorial over you.”

“I hate you.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve well established that you hate me.” Aegon nods boredly, “Can we now pet him?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Come on now, just a small pat. So he knows you better.” He pesters, “You’ve already faced him, you can just give him a small pat.”

Shaking your head in protest at the suggestion, Sunfyre bends down in front of the both of you, also as if he knew what Aegon was attempting to do. Cringing as Sunfyre snuggles his snout towards you to touch, you cower in Aegon’s arms, not wanting to touch the dragon. This was already enough for your liking.

Going to the Dragonpits willingly? Good enough. Actually coming face to face with Sunfyre? More than good enough. But, petting Sunfyre? Actually getting on the saddle? Aegon would owe you everything for this. If you could actually find it within yourself to do it.

"Come on. Don't be a coward."

"I won't hesitate kicking you, again." You threaten, digging your nails into his forearm.

"No, no, no need. I take it back, forget what I've just said." Aegon quickly rambles out, "Actually, just pretend that I never spoke in the first place."

Letting out a nervous grumble, you shakily reach out, your hand extended out in front of Sunfyre’s snout. The golden dragon staring you down. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly press your hand against his snout, feeling the rough scales against the palm of your hand.

Feeling a cold shiver run down your spine, Sunfyre purrs loudly at the touch, like a little kitten. Going to pull your hand away, Sunfyre lets out a high pitched whine, chasing after your hand. For a split second, it reminded you too much of Aegon. But then again, like rider, like dragon.

“Don’t get too comfortable with her, she’s my friend, not yours.” Aegon scolds, glaring at Sunfyre.

The dragon huffs loudly.

“Do not huff at me.”

The dragon flicks his tail, some dust flicking at Aegon.

“Oi, I’m the one who brought her here. She was mine first.” Aegon scowls, “And she’s going to be mine when we go back to the Red Keep.”

Rolling your eyes as Aegon bickers with his dragon, you hesitantly brush your fingers against the leather dragon saddle, the leather worn and rough. Looking back at Sunfyre, the dragon lowers himself onto the ground, almost as if he was telling you it was okay to climb on. No, no, no. This was mad. Completely and utterly mad of you. But, the curiosity for the unknown wonders of flying gnawing at your self resolve. Pulling back your hand, you turn to Aegon, muster up the little courage you could find.

“If..If I do this, actually do this. Promise not to drop me?”

“Only a fool would drop you.” He whispers reassuringly, nodding his head.

And you truly believe him.

---

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #aegon ii targaryen #hotd x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii #aegon x reader #aegon the elder #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon the second #hotd aegon #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd fanfic

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berryz-writes · 3 months

Text

Perfectly serious

Summary: Matheo's jealousy and want for you increases after seeing you with Theo to the point where he finally/kind of confesses

Matheo Riddle x reader

His arm wrapped around my waist, bringing me even closer to him. "Come on, let's get you to bed" Theo murmured. I looked up at him confused "I'm not drunk". My head might feel light and I might feel extremely happy and sad at the same time but I was most definitely not drunk.

"Yes you are" He took my hand and led me away from the groups of people dancing together, taking his time to weave us in and around the drinks being passed around. Everyone gave me a smile as I left, Pansy giving me a wink as we passed "I bet he fucks good. Have fun babe!" She said, her words slurring slightly, her voice loud enough for Theo to hear. Maybe if he heard it he would act on it. I wouldn't mind getting in bed with him.

We soon reached my room, the music faded to a low sound coming from below us and the lights softer than the harsh party lights of before.

"Well...night y/n" Theo said.

"You know" I started, my voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't mind if you joined me, made things more interesting. Hm?" I tilted my head waiting for his answer, his eyes searching my face. For what I didn't know.

He gave me a soft smile "Your drunk. And when drunk, your ideas aren't really your own. So as much as I'd like to follow through with your idea, it's best you get some sleep"

I rolled my eyes at him being who he always was. I wished for once he would push the boundaries. "Fine. Night Theo"

"Sweet dreams" He dropped my hand and waited for me to close the door. I could hear his receding footsteps, probably to go up to his own dorm. I was relieved in a way. Maybe I wasn't actually ready to fuck him and it was just the alcohol making me want something more. We were good friends. I didn't want to ruin that for something that I didn't really want. Chocolate brown eyes crossed my mind. Curly hair that would feel so nice running my hands through-. Something that would never happen.

*Potions the next day*

"I didn't see you yesterday" I said to Matheo referring to the party yesterday. Stirring in the crushed up leaves into the steaming potion, I turned to look at him, his eyes were icy and cold as if I had done some personal wrong against him.

"Of course you didn't. You were too busy trying to estimate your chances with Theo. Heads up, princess. He has higher standards"

I ignored the nickname that would usually make me swoon and instead my mouth opened in shock. How fucking rude of him. Was he ok?

"Are you being serious right now?" I stopped stirring the potion and crossed my arms. I could take a joke but come on. He had taken it too far.

"Perfectly serious. Why? Did you think I was nice?" He stood up to tower over me, his minty scent washing over me. His chocolate brown eyes were like daggers into my soul. It hurt knowing someone I was good friends with could switch up so fast.

"No actually, I didn't. Your just like everyone says you are. You get with a girl for your own pleasure, lead her on and then leave her with a broken heart. Your a rude fucking asshole and nothing more"

His jaw clenched at what I said, waiting for me to say anything else. I didn't actually mean it but I would never let anyone disrespect me and not expect anything back.

I realised soon how close we were. If only he were to move slightly closer, I could have tipped my head upwards and kissed him. The fact that I was thinking about that even though he had insulted me was annoying for me. I shouldn't still like him. Not anymore.

"You really mean that?" His voice came out soft, his jaw no longer clenched. As if he understood what I had said. I hesitated. Of course I didn't. How could I? I liked him for fucks sake.

I sighed "I don't know"

He sat back down as if he were tired of our argument. As if he didn't want to argue with me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said-"

"Let's just forget about it. Ok?" I didn't want to argue either. Maybe he was angry and took it out on me. Fine. I would give him a pass just this once seen as though we were such good friends. (If only we were more than that)

He nodded his head and we worked in silence for the next few minutes. Until he cleared his throat and looked toward me again "Listen y/n. I don't want us to ruin our...friendship for something I've said so let me treat you. Will you be free to come to the diner at eight?"

I paused and raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly "Are you asking me on a date or just as friends?" Confident of me to ask but I wanted to know where we stood.

After a pause he replied with "I'd be happy with either, as long as it's with you"

I thought about my next question "And if I want it to be a date?" I asked quietly.

He smiled "I was hoping you'd say that, princess"

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #slytherin

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sunshinescribes · 1 year

Text

The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

(edit: realized the original artwork was fanart and I couldn't find the artist's @ to credit them, so I changed it)

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable.

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

“S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #crocodile x reader #crocodile x you #sir crocodile smut #x reader

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mediumgayitalian · 6 months

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Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

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