#just a rambly self-indulgent mess in an attempt to write out a scene that likes to float around in my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nattikay · 4 years

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@arcadia-trash @keepin-it-crispy @elizabethemerald yeah idk what the point of this fic even is but it’s got some Jlaire in it so ^^;

It was nice to be back in Arcadia, if only temporarily. New Trollmarket, while still much smaller and less intricate that its centuries-old predecessor, was established and thriving around the New Jersey Heartstone, and to celebrate the success of their quest Jim, Claire, and Blinky had gathered together in the newly-running Gyre station to visit the friends and family they’d left behind in California.

The trio were greeted with a plethora of hugs and shouts for joy as they reunited, Toby in particular talking a mile a minute, excitedly raving about everything they’d missed while on their journey and insisting that they had to come along and properly meet Krel tomorrow. Jim, Claire, and Blinky were already more-or-less familiar of the supernatural goings-on of their hometown over the past few months, of course, thanks to the ever-useful invention of cell phones and texting--but it was special to hear about it face-to-face.

These joyful greetings were short-lived, however, as the time was late--they’d decided to travel at night just to make sure Jim and Blinky would be safe from the sun. And so they all soon found themselves saying goodnight and heading their separate ways--Claire with her family, Jim with his mother, and Blinky with Toby, Aarrrgh, and Dictatious--with promises to come together to hang out for real the next morning with a celebratory breakfast.

“We can do it at my house,” Jim offered, tusks protruding from his toothy grin. “Food’s on me.”

“Can’t wait!” called Toby, waving over his shoulder as he and Blinky made their way over towards the Domzalski home.

“See you then,” added Claire, pulling Jim down for a quick kiss on the cheek before heading off to her own street.

Jim smiled and waved back, watching a moment as his girlfriend, best friend, and essentially-adopted-father walked off in different directions before turning back into his own house.

“Mom?” he called, not seeing Barbara in the front room where she’d been just minutes before.

“I’m here,” she responded, walking in with a pile of blankets and a pillow, which she promptly handed to Jim with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’m afraid you’re gonna have to sleep on the couch...see, with Walt and I somehow getting roped into looking after all the changeling familiars, well, we needed space to put them all and well, with you not here--”

“It’s ok, Mom, I understand,” said Jim, mildly disappointed but not surprised. As much as he’d miss his old room, he couldn’t really fault her reasoning given the circumstances. Besides, a couch would still be way more comfortable than the forest floors and hard stone caves he’d slept on during the exodus to New Jersey.

“Thank you,” said Barbara with a hint of relief. “It’s getting pretty late, you go on and get some sleep. I love you,” she added, moving in to hug her son one more time, which he gladly returned.

“Love you too, Mom. Goodnight.”

Barbara grinned appreciatively as she headed back up the stairs, leaving Jim to set up the pillows and blankets as comfortably as he could on the couch. He drew the blinds (didn’t want to wake up to a burned stone shoulder or something if the sun rose before he woke up, after all), placed the pillows and set the blankets. That doesn’t look too bad, he thought as he examined his handiwork. Satisfied, he went to brush his teeth, change his clothes, and turn out the lights before crawling under the blankets and closing his eyes.

It was decidedly more comfortable than a cold stone cave, and yet...yet...

“Uuugggh. Why can’t I fall asleep?!” Jim growled to himself as he adjusted his position for what felt like the fiftieth time.

It’s not that he wasn’t tired...well, it wasn’t like the Gyre journey had been particularly long or exhausting or anything, but he was the...normal amount of tired, he supposed. The same that he was every night.

Was it maybe his horns getting in the way? ...nah, he’d gotten used to sleeping around those months ago, there’s no reason it should suddenly start bothering him now.

Perhaps it was the strangeness of sleeping on the couch in his own home, now that his childhood room had been taken over by a bunch of babies? Maybe...but somehow he didn’t feel like that was quite the full story.

So what was it?

Groaning, Jim turned over once more and tried again to drift off into sleep.

.oOo.

The sun was shining through the blinds (though not directly enough to cause any harm) when Jim was roused the next morning by a cheerful voice wafting over from the door.

“--morning, Dr. L!”

“Hi, Toby! Come on in...you’re a bit early, I don’t think Jim’s even up yet, let alone making breakfast.”

“That’s ok!” said Toby, bounding into the front room as Jim sat up, rubbing his bleary eyes. He’d managed to get a little sleep that night, but none of it had been restful, and he was left feeling even more tired than he’d been before.

“Hey, dude!” Toby greeted his best friend excitedly. “Aarrrgh and Blinky’ll be coming through the sewers; while you were gone Aarrrgh connected that old hole Draal made in your basement to one in our house. But Nana and I are here now, so---oh man,” he broke off, noticing the bags under Jim’s eyes. “You alright dude? You look awful. Did you sleep ok?”

“I mean, not really,” said Jim, stifling a yawn. “But it’s ok. Happens to everyone, yeah? Let’s go get that breakfast party started,” He sat up and stretched before heading towards the kitchen, hair and scruff a mess and still in his pajamas.

“What do you think we should do, pancakes or waffles?” he called back over his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m totally feeling waffles!” said Toby.

“Waffles it is,” said Jim, gathering ingredients for the batter.

About five minutes later Blinky and Aarrrgh emerged from the basement, plopping down in the front room to chat amiably with Toby, Nana, Barbara, and Strickler (who, Jim noticed, was holding a babbling infant that he recognized as the changeling’s own former familiar).

In another ten, the food was ready.

“Alright, we got fresh waffles for whoever wants ‘em,” the half-troll called from the kitchen. “Along with whipped cream, syrup, and fruit, or for anyone who wants some more trollish toppings, some old sock bits and tin foil,”

“Alriiiiight!” exclaimed Toby, leaping up and helping himself as the adults followed closely behind.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve missed the smell of your cooking, kiddo,” said Barbara, to which Jim shrugged, smiling.

Just then another knock sounded at the door. Strickler, being the closest, answered it and let the Nuñezes in.

“Sorry we’re a bit late,” apologized Ophelia, “It was a little hard to drag Claire out of bed this morning...she’s usually so good with mornings, but I guess she’s been busy with that quest...”

“Oh, you’re alright; in fact, you’re right on time,” assured Strickler, ushering them in. “The food has just been put out...”

Upon the invitation, Claire made a beeline for Jim, slipping her arm around her boyfriend in a comfortable side-hug.

“You’re looking professional this morning, Chef Jim,” she teased, eyeing his pajamas and messy mane.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” shrugged Jim. “Honestly, I wasn’t even really up until Toby came over...didn’t sleep all that well last night,”

“You too, huh?” asked Claire, and sure enough when Jim glanced down she also had a bleary look in her eyes and while she had at least put on day clothes her hair, bound by its many clips, was slightly disheveled.

You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, surprised. “Not even in your own bed?”

“Apparently not. It was weird...it was like something wasn’t quite right, for some reason...but anyways,” Claire continued, shaking off the mystery, “Let’s try some of these waffles, they smell amazing!”

.oOo.

Once everyone had eaten, a few began to disperse. Nana Domzalski retreated to her house to check up on her cats; Ophelia and Javier returned to their daily schedule with little Enrique in tow. Stickler went upstairs to feed the familiars and Barbara insisted on washing the dishes (”You made the food for everyone and you did wonderfully, now you sit back and let me clean it up!” she’d told Jim when he offered to help). That left Jim, Claire, Toby, Blinky, and Aarrrgh in the front room while Toby excitedly showed off some of the new magic tricks he and Aarrrgh had perfected to Blinky.

Jim sat on his little couch-corner, the furnishing still covered in the ruffled blankets he’d slept under (or at least, tried to) last night. Claire was leaned into his side, watching Toby’s magic act as she lazily ran her fingers through Jim’s scruff. Jim wasn’t sure he could remember ever feeling so relaxed before. In fact, he felt like he was just about to drift off to--

“Hey, I think that’s what was missing,” said Claire suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Last night, when I had trouble sleeping. That’s what was missing.”

“...what was it?”

Claire snuggled in closer.

“Your heartbeat,” she said simply. “I guess I’d gotten so used to sleeping to it in New Trollmarket and on the journey that suddenly not having it was just...off,”

Jim took a moment to absorb this statement, eyes slowly widening. Oh. Oh.

“Ooohhhh,” he said out loud. “...man, that makes so much sense now! You were missing my...my heartbeat and I guess I was missing...your scent...oh man,” he shook his head, followed by a yawn. “That explains a lot.”

“I know we have a lot to do today, or a least a lot Toby wants us to do,” droned Claire contentedly, voice growing drowsier by the word, “but now that we have...what was missing...maybe a quick nap first would be best,”

“...yeah,” Jim managed, smiling warmly as his eyes grew heavy. “Yeah, that’s a good idea...”

And the two drifted off into a very contented snooze.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #fanfic #jlaire #(well some at least)#yyyyyeah I don't even know what this fic is really #just a rambly self-indulgent mess in an attempt to write out a scene that likes to float around in my head #not really well-rehearsed or much real plot just rambling ^^;#whoop #well idk maybe *someone* else will enjoy it #meh...#honestly I just kinda like the idea of jim and claire growing to be kinda codependant sleepers #like I get that irl it'd be hecka inconvenient but like....snuggles ^^;#like I said just a self-indulgent mess....#yeah

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igirisuhito · 4 years

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Something Close To Domestic, Maybe - Chapter 18 "Spring Cleaning" | A commentary/analysis/rambling

[Link to fic]

On the permission of @mystxmomo, I thought I may do a brief analysis/commentary on this chapter, as it delves into some issues very near and dear to my heart.

Spoilers below the cut, of course.

A disclaimer: As of late, I do the beta work for SCTDM. My work is simple grammatical and spelling errors, help the story make sense. I do not steer the story. This analysis will be both a mix of thoughts born from reading the fic, and some things I have spoken with Red about. The majority being the former.

This chapter focused on Komaeda engaging in a bit of Spring Cleaning, a desire that tends to come around as the weather gets warmer. The fic switches between Komaeda making his way around the house, and a flashback of his time in despair, mutilating himself to replace his arm with Enoshima's. At first glance it seems like an incredibly stark contrast, something so horrific and gory next to something so domestic. But that is not the case whatsoever.

We first get an insight in the detriment of Komaeda's condition. It has grown to the point that he can no longer leave the laundry room for fear of forgetting the task he had begun. It is an unfortunate reality, something scary. He leaves himself alone with his thoughts, something Komaeda is not known to do. It is mentioned in previous chapters that he prefers to have white noise, old VHS tapes playing on a cruddy little TV. Even if it something Kamukura does not enjoy, it is something he lets Komaeda have.

Komaeda reflects on his love for Kamukura, perhaps what can even be referred to as the "Honeymoon Phase". The times when he served a purpose, and that purpose was to serve. When Kamukura kept him under lock and key, commanding his behaviours.

It is toxic, incredibly so. But for Komaeda, it is easy. Independence renders him useless, left to his own devices he cannot fulfil his purpose and be appreciated for it. He has desires he indulges in, like any other human. Selfish desires he does not believe he deserves.

He has sewn new seeds. Fresh sunflower buds for the spring. He whispers horrid things to them. I am unbearably curious to see how the flowers grow. The garden has always been a metaphor for their relationship, how it has changed throughout the seasons reflects their own relationship. After the harsh cold of winter, new seeds are sewn, they need to start anew. The ground is damp, and Komaeda has fresh eyes on their relationship.

Another parallel I heavily enjoyed with the garden is their participance in tending to it. Komaeda tends year round, he loves the garden. Kamukura assists when he feels like it, typically when he is trying to understand his own feelings. He feels mostly indifferent towards the garden, it is a simple display of the cycle of nature.

Komaeda is mad, at Kamukura. He's overstimulated and easily irritated. The scene in which he cleans around Kamukura is a very important one, it highlights the way their relationship has changed.

A good analogy would perhaps be of a housewife working to make dinner, as her husband sits by idly watching TV. Is Kamukura working? Yes. But it is not something that takes effort, it comes easily to him. He knows exactly what would make Komaeda more comfortable in the moment, and yet he makes no attempt to help him. Thus Komaeda continues his work.

It is not entirely the fault of Kamukura. He values Komaeda's work less as it has always been something that comes naturally to him. Cleaning is not difficult. Working in silence is not difficult. He does not understand Komaeda's struggles, for he cannot relate to them.

The mirror is another important highlight to the relationship of Kamukura and Komaeda. Kamukura does not question when Komaeda covers it up, meaning he understands his reasoning behind it. And yet, despite how easy it would be for him to remove the mirror, to make Komaeda more comfortable in his own skin, he has never made the effort to. Komaeda has never asked him too, and Komaeda would never dare ask something of Kamukura.

In the next scene, I'd like to mention something I adore about Red's writing of Kamukura. The description of how he avoids the eyes of others, is rather "Looking at everything". It's a truly beautiful description, something I can deeply relate to as an autistic individual. Red's interpretation of Kamukura tends to align with many autistic traits, this is intentional on her part. It's just such a big thing for me, as someone who tends to avoid my eyes, and has difficulty staying in the conversation. How the littlest sound can draw my attention away. "Looking at everything", how gorgeous.

The comparison of how Enoshima drew a crowd with love and deceit, and how Kamukura draws a crowd with respect and fear. How they were both incredibly powerful people that Komaeda was drawn to.

When we return to Komaeda, he is scrubbing the bathroom. It is mentioned that when his hands begin to hurt, he only scrubs harder. To some, this appears as a man who is working hard, pushing himself a healthy amount. In reality, Komaeda is self-harming. This part is really the whole reason I wanted to do this analysis, so please excuse me for any analogies towards my own life.

Cleaning is always seen as something incredibly healthy and productive. Humans cannot live in filth, that is a fact. A tidy room, a tidy mind, some may say. But for some, particularly disabled people, cleaning can be used as an act of self harm.

Not only is he hurting his hands by scrubbing too hard, exposing himself to chemicals, but he is doing this in silence. He is working alone, his partner idly standing by, and in complete silence. He is alone with his thoughts, he may think about anything, convince himself of things that are not happening. Komaeda and Kamukura do not have the kind of relationship in which they talk to each other about how they feel.

Another form of self harm in cleaning, the one I relate to the most, is the reflection of possessions. Komaeda sits there and sorts his medications, medications he does not wish to take. He takes them for Kamukura's sake, even if they cause him harm, cause him to feel ways he is not used to.

It's an awkward conversation to have with someone. "I would prefer to be killed by my condition than keep taking these." It is easier to leave it alone, let someone smarter than himself handle it. If there were some painfully adverse side-effects, I doubt Komaeda would say anything.

My room is a trap. It is full of possessions that remind me of the person I used to be. Clothes that have grown too small, schoolbooks that have lost their worth, medications that have caused more harm than good. It is painful, something I cannot sort through alone. And yet, on the days I feel worst, as alone as I could possibly be, I feel the urge to clean my room the strongest. To move and clean until all sorts of muscles are pulled from disuse and my arms ache so badly I could cry. This is where I really relate to Komaeda.

Kamukura brings up the fact that Komaeda has not eaten, another form of self harm. Forcing himself to work hard on little food, little energy. It is unlikely that his stomach does not ache. Komaeda goes to the kitchen to make himself something, as he feels he owes Kamukura an explanation, and yet he does not have one. It is easier to just to submit, and to eat something.

And the final form of self harm, running himself into the ground. The meltdown at the end of the day, when everything is tidy and all the chores are nearly complete, it finally hits. And one can't help but feel failed, because they didn't manage to complete everything before they fell apart.

But of course that were going to happen. Nobody can do that much, hurt themselves that much, and make it through without a hitch. It's an unreasonable expectation. And yet, we do these things to test ourselves, see if we are still worthy of love. Worthy of being taken care of when we do fall apart. When somebody comes to clean up the stupid mess we made or comes to stop us from hurting ourselves any further.

But it is not their job to, and Komaeda knows this. It is not Kamukura's responsibility to take care of him. But he is selfish, and he wants Kamukura to do more for him. To acknowledge him, to call out to him, to give him the emotional support he never gave before.

It's human. He is beginning to notice the cracks in their relationship. The difficulty of dating someone with such low empathy.

These last few despair scenes are incredibly important, in the contrast of things. Komaeda rambles away about his thoughts and feelings to Kamukura, who remains uncaring towards them. Komaeda calls him out on his game, he knows what he is playing at. Despite stating that the matter bores him, Kamukura stays to witness. This kind of challenging is something Komaeda no longer does, challenging Kamukura on his ideas and feelings has grown tiresome when Kamukura never appears to change.

Kamukura does not finish the job for Komaeda, he allows him to fail, and come back to it. It is a risky choice, but he knows Komaeda will make it. I can't help but wonder if Kamukura believes he can act the same way. He sees Komaeda doing something that will hurt him, and allows for it to take its course, for Komaeda to hurt himself.

The problem is, their relationship has changed. Komaeda is becoming less and less capable of picking himself up, of taking care of himself. He has expectations of Izuru, now. They are in a relationship. When Komaeda hurts himself, it has an impact on Kamukura. Perhaps it is his own sense of self-harm, allowing them to continue to be like this. Pretending things are the same as they were before. He is struggling, emotions are returning to him, and he does not know what to do with them.

#Danganronpa #SCTDM #Kamukura Izuru #Komaeda Nagito #Kamukoma #Mystxmomo #One day I will make something to honour this fic i swear #I keep thinking about it #This chapter was so incredibly important to me #ALSO please do not give me pity for being sick I just really like being able to relate #Alister Rambles

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amorecleverdevil · 4 years

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@shiftingsupport: 1 and 13? ↪︎ ask the mun about writing. [ 𝔄𝔠𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ]

𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩. Oh hell yeh! Question time! I threw your answers down below a lil read more because I’m what the kids like to call?? A rambler.

1). What does your writing process look like?

A mess?? Lmao nah;;; So, honestly it depends on what I’m writing, how long I’m going to be continuing the story revolving around it, and what my current mood is. In general, I am a person who has a hard time sticking to one particular style or approach because I just get bored of it a lot. I find it a lot of fun to come at writing in many different ways and I’ve found that it’s helped me really explore what I do and don’t like for each genre or character that I attempt to tackle.

That being said, though, I tend to have at least a couple consistencies. Basically, when I’m writing replies, the most important questions I ask myself tend to be;

What is my character’s reaction to what just happened?

What have I written that actively engages the other writer and/or their character?

Have I actually described the scene or merely provided dialogue?

Will this thread carry for at least two more replies and, if not, should I end it or can I add something to make it keep going?

I’ll go ahead and give you some examples using writing that I’ve previously written to paint what I mean with each of them. For the first point, that’s the one that most people I’ve seen tend to have the best grip on, obviously. People who do roleplay tend to really know their own characters and can write them really compellingly. Most of the time, this part of the writing comes from the other player setting up a question or scenario and my character basically engaging with it. Typically, reactions tend to be the first thing I’ll actually be the first thing I put into a reply and I think that they are really important to keeping a fluid transition from one character to the next.

In the above example, you can kinda see what I’m talking about. Basically, Izzy made Gwen say something and Billy here gave a very basic response to it. Most of the time, I find dialogue or verbal responses are the best because usually the other character should pick up on them, but I like mixing in physical reactions and more internal monologues alongside those verbal responses. Sometimes, if two characters are in tune enough with each other, it actually can be really rad to get away with only physical reactions and internal dialogues, but that often requires a certain connection and history between characters to make accurate conclusions about what might be going through their head. Here is a great example between one of my mains and Nay from my old blog.

Basically, Nay notices that Oswald is probably getting emotional over the fact they’re standing in front of this grave and looks down to get a better idea of who Oswald is getting so upset over. Oswald then follows his line of sight to the headstones, themselves. It’s a more sad scene, so not only is the lack of actual verbal responses very fun to play with, it’s also much more appropriate for the tone of the thread. This is something I love to try and play with a lot, but I avoid doing it as much with people who I have not already threaded with a few times.

After that, I then have to try to actively engage the other writer or create an opportunity for them to add to the thread as well. Especially when writing with someone new or for whom you may not have an immediate chemistry with, it becomes very important to throw them a bone, so I usually will do this as a follow up. I personally don’t love using questions to carry a thread, but it can be a good way to give an explicit indication of how the other person can contribute to it and it can be a lot more comfortable for people who are new to interacting with me and may be hesitant to just throw new ideas at me without having an extensive conversation about it. Here is an example where Naomasa responded to a question that Oboro poses and interacts with a nonverbal.

These first two bullets are what I usually consider the meat of the reply, so the most work is put into them. Everything else is filler and tends to be what actually makes the replies prettier and more interesting. In many cases, adding the last two can even happen naturally when you are trying to come up with ways to do the former, but it’s still something I keep in mind to look out for when I’m writing. Of the four points, I think that the one I probably struggle with the most is the one that revolves around describing the scene and I think that has been what’s kept me from reaching that multi-para/novella goal that I really wanna be able to do when writing threads, but I’ve been putting in more work to try and get on top of that one.

The final point is basically just thinking about what I can add to try and keep a thread engaging. This is when I really tend to bring in that plot and start advancing it. Introducing a conflict or a new activity in the scene that might not have otherwise been relevant before now can really revive a thread and I tend to do that a lot if I feel like a thread is dying out too quickly. Sometimes it takes, sometimes it doesn’t but it’s basically just my way of jumpstarting an interaction I feel like didn’t have enough substance to get off the ground in the first place. The example for this one is between Naomasa and Jasper - Yes, I know it’s the same person, again, but it’s because Fabgen is ridiculously good at doing the whole “yes and” thing and really we should all just take some time to appreciate them - in which the two of them are both responding to a crisis of some kind. I had felt the nature of the thread hadn’t given them a concrete way to continue to interact with each other, so I made up a random conflict that they both could work! In this case, it was some random kid running into danger.

After ALL of that, basically the last thing I tend to do for a thread is proofread and format. In a perfect world, I’d actually do the whole proofreading thing more often, but lmao nah. Basically, tldr, my writing process when doing threads is:

1). Respond to what the other person says. 2). Give them something to respond to. 3). Introduce a new plot point as necessary. 4). Fill in scene details and revise as necessary.

If you read back on my old threads, you’ll probably notice most of them follow this linear outline. Sometimes I’ll switch a couple things around, but 95% of the time you can literally cut my replies pretty into these parts without too much trouble. Also yall should go check out the people in these example threads because they’re all very talented and worth interacting with!!

13). What do you look for in an RP partner?

Hmm.... An excellent question let’s see...

Typically, these are things that make or break rp relationships:

Have concise rules/ooc pages that includes information such as their name, their pronouns, their age and their triggers. For certain fandoms, I also tend to look for stances on certain major discourse points.

Have the ability to para or multi-para threads and 3rd person POV. We don’t have to always do this, but I do really prefer this kind of RP.

Have the ability to participate in joke/crack posting

Read my character info or at least my rules before interacting with me. I know they are long and tedious and that I tend to ramble, but there are some important things in there that may vastly differ from many other people in the RPC and it’s important to me that everyone takes those things into account when engaging with me.

Have discord for OOC conversations and extended plotting or, at the very least, be comfortable chatting regularly via IM.

Follow me. It’s not necessary to interact with me and I 100% will interact with people who are not mutuals, but I typically tend to assume others around me are mutuals only regardless of whether or not they actually are and it’ll often put most of the responsibility on the other person to come interact with me if they want to thread.

I tend to main with people who will have OOC conversations with me about our characters and who are willing to adapt to fit into the settings / verses which I have already created for my characters. I am always seeking out familial relationships of ANY kind and will usually be quick to main people who do these kinds of threads with me. I do have ships for many of my characters that I tend to indulge in, but my mains tend to be people who actually get me to start shipping something because the characters just ended up vibing so well. I actually really love shipping my bi male characters with women, but there just really aren’t enough ladies in any of the RPCs to have lasting ships ;;y;;, so if we are able to get one going, I’d probably consider maining with ya’ll

I tend to like people who like continuous threads and verse building. I tend to like people who don’t mind having a million unfinished threads. I tend to gravitate to people who do formatting and icons, but I do not require it. I tend to shy away from people who are too self-concious about doubles or who tend to prefer being exclusive.

Overall, I’m open to at least trying to rp with everyone! And I’ve definitely formed lasting friendships with people who did not meet many of this criteria, but in terms of what I look for this is probably a pretty good list.

#ask ;; ooc #all ;; ooc #prompts ;; about writing #shiftingsupport #// thank u for the questions !!#srry that i talk so much lmaoooo n.n''''

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achiouma · 5 years

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Title: Revealing Truths in the Early Mourning

Prompt: "Ouma trying to overcome his trust issues and Saihara reaching for him, trying to understand him. (They both succeed.) Kind of angst with happy end inside the killing game.”

For: Participant #47

Hello! This is my gift for participant #47 in the @oumasaiexchange, so sorry this took so long to post! I’ll be honest, I’ve never written anything OumaSai related that takes place in the Killing Game setting, so this was kinda hard for me to write (I’m not very confident in it ;-;) Nonetheless, it was a very interesting prompt to write about, and I hope you enjoy the story! :)

To Saihara Shuuichi, Ouma Kokichi was nothing more but an enigma to him.

In the time that the two have been trapped in this ‘Killing Game’ together with fourteen others ultimates, Shuuichi has gained little to no knowledge of the self-proclaimed Supreme Leader. To him, while Kokichi’s actions thus far all seem to have been made out of pure spite, at the same time he couldn’t shake away the sense that they were also extremely well-planned and coordinated accordingly.

As if he was intentionally trying to make everyone despise him. As if he wanted everyone to distrust every single bit of his being.

Shuuichi wasn’t biting into it though. Maybe it was the detective within him, but a part of him told him that there was something more to Ouma Kokichi than he led on, more than what he let everyone in this hell site of an academy know about him.

These thoughts often plagued the detective’s mind whether he was or wasn’t with the smaller boy; however, now in the early hours of the morning after the third class trial, Shuuichi found himself thinking about anything but Kokichi.

It was no surprise that Shuuichi didn’t sleep at all after the class trial; the scene of Angie and Tenko’s lifeless bodies on the ground and Korekiyo being boiled alive during his execution still fresh in his mind. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Shuuichi finally gave up on attempting to get some rest, and instead opted to get out of the stuffy room to receive some fresh air.

He welcomed to cool night air as he strolled about the academy campus, mind attempting to focus on anything other than the events he had witness earlier that night. Shuuichi had never bothered going out after the Nighttime Announcement would go off, and now he somewhat questioned himself as to why. The silence of the night, the cool breeze, the night sky that sparkled with millions upon millions of stars. It was almost relaxing, maybe even peaceful….

That is until he spotted the silhouette of a figure walking ahead of him in the distance.

Shuuichi froze in place, heart suddenly thumping harder in his chest. Why was he suddenly so afraid? It was probably the fact that just hours ago he had found his friends dead and having been killed by a serial killer, and the fact that he knew that he could be next person dead on the floor at any given moment. But the figure simply kept walking ahead of him, meaning that they had no idea of Shuuichi’s presence as well.

The logical side of the boy’s head told him to simply walk in the other direction and let the figure be; surely there would be other students walking around wanting to indulge in the fresh air of the night, especially after the recent events. But the other side of Shuuichi’s head told him to follow the figure and see what they are doing out so late into the night, even if it wasn’t none of his business.

After a bit of mental arguing, Shuuichi finalized his decision and decided to follow the mysterious figure, at least until he could figure out who the person was exactly.

He jogged a bit in order to catch up to the walking figure, then slowed down into silent footsteps once he was close, but not too close to the person in question. While the figure was still ways away for Shuuichi to instantly identify them from where he stood, from what he could see was that the figure was rather petite looking, definitely not one of his taller classmates.

Instantly, one person came to mind at that description, however Shuuichi quickly pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the time for speculating, he needed more evidence before he could determine anything. He continued to follow the figure, making sure the keep his distance and occasionally hide behind objects along the way for extra measures.

Finally, the figure seemed to come to a stop upon reaching the courtyard, and Shuuichi watched as the figure removed an object from their pants pocket before bending down over something. The detective snuck over to a nearby tree, and from there he could finally see who he had been following around all this time.

Turns out, his first suspicions had been correct as purple dip-dyed hair and a white uniform came into view.

“Ouma-kun?” Shuuichi thought, now even more intrigued about his little investigation. “What is he doing out here at-“

It was at that moment that Shuuichi realized what exactly the smaller boy was doing, as he watched Kokichi begin to carve out letters into the rock that his fellow classmate had discovered just after the first class trial, with the mysterious message on it.

“O-Ouma-kun! What are you doing?!” Shuuichi practically screeched upon realizing what he was just witnessing. The sudden scream seemed to also startle the other boy, as he dropped the razor blade he was holding and stood up to face Shuuichi faster than he could react. For a split second his eyes go wide with shock and what Shuuichi identified as actual confusion before it just as quickly disappeared and was replaced with his signature smile, his hands instantly going behind his head.

“My my! If it isn’t my beloved Saihara-chan! What are you doing up so late into the night, hm?” The supreme leader tried to play off. Shuuichi didn’t know what to say at first, still trying to comprehend what he saw before settling with a “I-I could ask you the same thing…”

“I asked you first though! Such a hard working detective like yourself should be fast asleep in his room by now.” Hands still behind his back, Kokichi waltzed around Shuuichi, eyeing him with wide eyes that seemed almost innocent if it weren’t for the fact that he was just adding onto the message that no one in the academy knew anything about.

“I-I’m not here to play games Ouma-kun.” The taller one said, causing Kokichi to holt his movement. He looked up at Shuuichi, arms slacking off of his head and onto his side, grin on his face gone before he looked back down at the rock. Shuuichi followed his gaze as he looked as well, seeing that there were a few new added letters to the message. To him though, it still looked like a jumble of random letters put together, and it seemed as if Kokichi was in the middle of adding a ‘W’ when he had been interrupted.

Slowly, he was starting to piece together a theory that he extremely disliked.

“Ouma-kun,” Shuuichi started, staring down at the boy in front of him. The boy didn’t even move, poker face still firmly in place. “I-I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to do, b-but I know for a fact that you wouldn’t be adding on letters to the message for no reason.”

When he stopped, Kokichi looked up at him, almost as if he was expecting something from him. “Go on.” Was what he said.

Shuuichi looked at him, even more confused than before, but decided to continue on. “Were.… were you perhaps the one who wrote this message in the first place?”

“Hmmm, you don’t sound too confident with what you’re saying Mr. Detective, you gotta say it with more gusto than that!” He suddenly shouted, startling the poor detective. “T-there’s literally no other reason for you to mess with it anyway!” Shuuichi suddenly shouted, catching the other boy’s attention. “U-unless you…”

Suddenly, Kokichi was all too close to him, his body pressed up again his own as Shuuichi struggled to maintain his balance and not fall backward. The other looked up at him with a sinister look in his eyes, a dangerous smirk going across his face. “Unless I, what, my beloved Shumai?” he practically whispered, staring intently at the taller boy.

At this point, there were two ideas in Shuuichi’s mind, one idea that he definitely favored more than the other. He gulped as he made the choice to go with the safest idea, trying to maintain eye contact with the boy pressing against him.

“U-unless you…. d-did all of this t-to…. mess with us?” Shuuichi finally let out, stuttering more than he could control.

For a moment, things were silent between the two of them as they stared into each other intently.

And then Kokichi sprang away, toothy smile back on his face as if it never left. “Correct! It may have taken Shumai soooo long to figure out, but at least you did!” The boy shouted out with glee, almost as if he was glad that Shuuichi had found him out.

“H-huh…?” Was all the detective could say out of pure confusion. Something didn’t seem… right about any of this.

“I said you were right.” Kokichi stated, this time significantly less joyful and noticeably more bored. “I did all of this for shits and giggles. ‘Horse A’ or whatever the hell I put on it at first never had any sort of meaning to it, it was all just to make this game even more fun.” The smaller one looked down at his nails, boredom present in his face as if he didn’t want to be here anymore.

“It’s such a shame really, I was hoping to continue on this joke and mess with the others for much longer!” He let out an over dramatic sigh. “But now, Saihara-chan has gone and ruined the-“

“I don’t believe you.”

At that Kokichi’s rambling stopped, and the poker look on his face instantly returned. “What?” He said, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion that it almost made Shuuichi’s hairs stand.

“I-I said,” Shuuichi stated, trying to will in what little confidence he had, “I don’t believe you, Ouma-kun.”

Kokichi stayed silent as Shuuichi continued. “It’s true that I don’t know what your true intentions are with these letter or why you even started them to begin with. But I do know that you wouldn’t just mess with us to ‘make this game more fun’.”

The detective inhaled a shaky breath, before staring confidently into Kokichi’s face. “So, please, tell me what’s really going on. You can trust me Ouma-kun. We’ve already been through hell and back in his killing game, the only way we can get out is if we can trust each other. Please….”

Shuuichi finished, inhaling deeply as Kokichi continued to stare at him, a puzzled look on his face. Finally, he let out a tired sigh, biting at his thumb nail as he looked down in thought. “You really are stubborn, Saihara-chan….” he mumbled to himself, even though Shuuichi could still clearly hear him.

Before he could respond, Kokichi looked back up, a serious and doubtful look on his face, but yet at the same time with the tiniest hint of hopeful in it as well. “Listen up Saihara-chan, I’m not into this whole ‘trust’ shit, but maybe for you this one time I’ll let you in on what I know about this ‘killing game’.”

“O-oh.” Was all Shuuichi said, causing for an annoyed groaned to come out of Kokichi. “That’s all you have to say to that?! Ugh, just come with me.” At that, the smaller boy grabbed onto Shuuichi’s sleeve and began pulling him towards what he assumed was the direction of the dorm rooms.

The taller boy stumbled after him, still rather dazed at what just happened. He didn’t know what exactly he was getting himself into, but as he watched the smaller boy drag him along to explain more about their mysterious imprisonment, deep down Shuuichi couldn’t help but be certain that this is the answer to their escape.

With Kokichi, Shuuichi was certain that they can put an end to this game once and for all.

#SaiOuma #OumaSai #OumaSai Winter Exchange 2018 #fanfic #Ouma Kokichi #Saihara Shuuichi

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equalstrashflavoredtrash · 6 years

Text

To Make a Mess

a/n: This fic has been a long time coming. I started it last spring and promptly forgot abt it, then, this fall, I had an idea and so i went back to it. Then when i was three quarters of the way done, my dog died and i had to attend my grandmother’s funeral... That put me through a loop and i couldnt write. BUT i’ve working on getting back into it and like, yeah, making my self sit down and edit has been like pulling teeth, BUT ITS DONE! Please enjoy this very self indulgent story. Also i og meant for this to be maybe 800 words but by the time i finished it was over 3k... (sorry, i just get carried away with details)

warnings: Sexy times! this is indulgent smut

FF.net // Ao3 // Masterlist

modern!Ubbe X Reader // Vikings

word count: 3,826

(shout out to @laketaj24 for making this gif for me!)

“Do you mind if Hvitserk comes over to pregame, too?” your roommate asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter as you checked the boiling kettle on the stove.

“Hvitserk?” you replied, clicking the knob to lower the heat. “Yeah that’s fine, I like him. As long as he doesn’t eat all our food again.”

“Don’t worry. He says he’s bringing pizzas,” she paused, looking back to her phone after the message chime went off. “And his brother.”

“The moody one with long hair?” you questioned, trying a little too hard to sound aloof and uninterested in the subject.

“No, Ubbe, the older one with the beard who you couldn’t keep your eyes off of last time,” she teased with a wink while standing up and heading down the hall.

“What—No! It wasn’t like that— I didn't!” you sputtered as she called over her shoulder about taking a quick shower before everyone arrived, leaving you to finish making tea.

Unbeknownst to you, the subject of your crush on Hvitserk’s brother had been a topic of discussion between him and your roommate long before they arrived. Your roommate had a knack for playing matchmaker and had conferred with Hvitserk on how best to set up the pair of you. She was well aware of your inclination to be a recluse and he agreed the best plan of action was a small get-together at your apartment.

A few hours later the couches were populated with a random assortment of acquaintances, each holding their own drink as everyone chatted and a blunt made the rounds. You were in the recliner next to the love seat with your feet tucked underneath you, listening to some girl you didn't know ramble on about her shitty psychology teacher. Though you were vaguely familiar with the majority of the guests, they were all more your roommate's friends than yours.

Hvitserk was across the room waxing on about some adventure he’d had last Wednesday, holding the attention of those around him, as his brother sat quietly beside him picking at the label on his bottle. You spied out of corner of your eye as Ubbe occasionally added his two cents, giving validity to the more grandiose parts of Hvitserk’s story, but ultimately looking just as bored as you felt.

Eventually you excused yourself to get a fresh beer when your roommate gently nudged Ubbe’s foot underneath the coffee table. He gave her a confused look before his eyes followed the quick jerk of her head as you walked past and into the empty kitchen. All evening, she had been studying the way you and Ubbe shared surreptitious glances whenever the other wasn’t looking. She tried to hide her smile, excited that her plan seemed to be working as he rose from his seat to follow.

You gathered a cold drink from fridge, twisting off the cap as you took in the scene of counters before you. The pizzas Hvitserk brought were inhaled by the guests, leaving in their wake a mess of paper plates and napkins. Collecting a few bits of discarded trash, you began to tidy up when someone cleared their throat behind you.

“Hey,” Ubbe said as you turned around. You could feel the heat creeping into your cheeks as you took in his slightly lopsided smirk. His blue eyes seemed to glow as he watched you awkwardly shuffle to the trashcan in the corner.

“Hi,” you mumbled in response, your fingers nervously playing with the loose hairs at the back of your neck.

“I was just gunna get a new beer,” he explained, shaking the bottle he held to prove it was in fact empty.

The moment your eyes connected with the green glass you remembered that technically you were a host, and you jumped to act as such. “Here let me—,” you said, hurrying to reach for the fridge just as he did. Ubbe made it to the handle first, wrapping his fingers around it as your palm butted into his knuckles. Instantly you drew your hand away like his touch had burned and stuttered out an apology.

Ubbe chuckled, watching you fidget as he took a swig from the new bottle. “You need one?” he asked, catching your eyes for a second before you looked away again.

“I already have one, it’s—,” you paused scanning the counter for the beverage when you spotted it next to the sink, just behind his hip. Trying to be a bit more bold, you reached forward past his side, grabbing the beer. “It’s just behind you.” His eyes gleamed again as he watched your shy smile, enjoying you so close in his personal space.

“You seem to be having fun tonight,” he offered with a sarcastic scoff, trying to make conversation. You rolled your eyes in response, choosing instead to take a drink. Ubbe laughed at your reaction while carefully bringing his free hand to rest on your hip. You tried to keep your expression even as the tiniest bit of physical contact made your stomach flip.

“No, not really.” While the admission was embarrassing, he merely gave a nonchalant shrug and took a sip. “I usually sit these things out, chilling in my room instead, but I just had to make an appearance tonight,” you joked, imitating your roommate’s voice as you did air quotes with your fingers.

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Ubbe’s words made you flush, flustered by his attention. Your hand flew to the nape of your neck in search of hairs to play with as he tensed his grip and drew you closer to him.

He leaned forward, tipping his head in a way you knew meant he was going in for the kill. Closing your eyes, you prepared yourself for first contact when your roommate’s voice rang out.

Instantly you hopped out of Ubbe’s grasp—trying to look as casual as possible, but you could tell by her smirk it made no difference.

“We’re all gunna head out to a club or bar. Ubbe, you down to join?” She asked, grinning like she already knew the answer.

Ubbe instead turned to look where you now stood, over an arm’s length away. “You’re not going out?”

“Oh, no—,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze when your roommate interjected.

“She hates crowds, I know not to bother asking,” she explained with a flippant wave her hand as you shot her a grateful smile, glad she’d filled in the awkward silence.

“Well, I’m not in much of a club mood.” Ubbe shrugged as he looked to your roommate who was giving him a knowing grin. “I’ll hang back here, help clean up,” he offered easily enough. You flashed a panicked expression to your roommate but she only winked in response before turning to leave the kitchen.

For a minute you stood awkwardly near Ubbe, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you tried to think of something to say. Just as you opened your mouth to speak the rest of the party filed through the kitchen and out the front door, bidding the pair of you farewell. Hvitserk brought up the rear of the group, pausing to clap hands with his brother. You watched as he whispered something in Ubbe’s ear that made him both smirk and roll his eyes as he shoved Hvitserk’s shoulder, forcefully ushering him out the door.

Clearing his throat, Ubbe turned around, returning to the counter to gather his drink. You stood there, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watched the way his adam's apple bobbed as he took a gulp of beer.

“So,” Ubbe finally said, his voice a lower grumble than before as he looked down at you, smiling inwardly at your nervous expression. “You know,” he began, side stepping a little bit nearer, grabbing your attention so your eyes lifted to connect with his. “I’ve been thinking all night about what I’d do if I got you alone.”

His brazen comment caught you off guard and in attempt to hide your flustered reaction, you spun on your heel away from him. Hoping the mask the shake of your hands, you picked up an empty pizza box and mumbled something about cleaning the mess

Ubbe’s brows furrowed as he studied your awkward response and body language. Cautiously he caught you elbow as you moved past him towards the garbage. “Hey,” he started, speaking in a softer voice, “I don’t want to do anything you don’t, OK? I’ll leave if you’re not comfortable.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth again, unaware of the way the small action made his gut flip. Shaking off his grip, you quickly broke down the pizza box so it’d fit in the trash can before facing him again. “I don’t want you to go.” You tugged at the baby hairs behind your head again as you spoke. “I—uh, I’ve been thinking about being alone with you, too.” You gave a shy peek through your eyelashes up at him. Your face burned as you saw his eager expression.

Suddenly you found your mind flooded with images of him and his lips in a wide variety of situations—most of which involved a bed and a lack of clothing.

“Yeah?” he questioned, quirking an eyebrow as he stepped closer while you continued to fidget with your curls more frantically. “Like what?”

“Like, uhm, kissing you?” Any attempt to sound confident was struck once the words left your mouth. You cursed yourself and the waver in your voice, but Ubbe merely chuckled, enamored with your nervous disposition.

“Just kissing?” Slowly he lifted his arm, twirling a loose strand of your hair between his fingers.

“Other things, too.” You added, leaning into his touch as he tucked the stray hair behind your ear.

“Want me to tell you what I've been thinking?” Ubbe offered, letting his hand linger beside your head—his thumb running gently down your cheekbone with his palm cupping your jaw.

You gave a slight shake of your head, watching a confused expression flit across his features as you took a deep breath and confessed, “No, I want you to show me.”

It was your turn to feel an excited flutter in your stomach as his tongue darted out, wetting his lip before he bit down. “How about first, you show me where your bed is?”

Reaching both hands, you wrapped your fingers around his palm at your cheek, backing up as you began to tug him towards your room. You walked backwards, giggling with him at the situation until you reached the short hall off of the living room.

Your room was at the end, awkwardly placed on an angled wall. The landlord mentioned once that this was due to how the house was broken up into apartments, but you never paid much attention to her explanation.

“Welcome,” you mumbled, pulling him across the threshold. Letting go of his hand, you shut the door behind you. Keeping a hold of the knob, you leaned against the paneling and watched him take in the space. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice,” Ubbe replied, bending slightly to duck under the vaulted ceiling. He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket—setting it on your side table—and took a seat at the edge of the mattress. “It’d be better if you were over here,” he added with a wink as he kicked off his sneakers.

Shuffling your feet across the carpet, you approached his outstretched arm. Once you were near enough, he latched his elbow around your waist, jerking you forwards into his lap. You stumbled a bit, landing awkwardly at first—just barely avoiding having your knee crash into his nuts—but then settling with your thighs resting on either side of his. Lifting your hand, you tried to hide your laughter at the nearly Three Stooges-esqe level of slapstick, as he brought his hands to your ribs.

The more you tried to stop laughing the harder it became to stop. You weren't sure if you were laughing more at the situation or at the fact of how much you were laughing. Ubbe chuckled as he watched your face turn red. Stroking his hands along your sides, he helped to stifle your fit, all while admiring the look of unadulterated joy on your face.

After a few deep breaths you were able to speak again. “I’m so sorry,” you began lifting your hands to his shoulders, “I’m just nervous and I almost landed on your balls and I—,”

Ubbe interrupted your rambling apology by crashing his lips against yours. He drew his hand to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he savored the feeling of you against him. Petting at your side, he urged you to melt against him, sinking further into his lap. Swiping his tongue against your lips, he let his hand slide down and cover your ass.

With a sigh you unconsciously rolled your hips against his, searching for friction. His kisses and touch were far better than you imagined. Ubbe groaned with each pass, his hand on your neck dropping to clasp around your hip, drawing you harder against the crotch of his jeans—underneath which you could feel something stiff. Giving a slight whine at the contact with his hard member, you linked your arms around his neck and swirled over him, savoring the way he pressed against your vulva. “Uh-please,” you moaned, desperate for more and only encouraging him to dig his fingers into the soft parts of your flesh.

Letting out a deep rumble from somewhere inside his chest, Ubbe clawed at your t-shirt, anxiously tearing it over your head before sinking forward to latch his mouth over your nipple, ignoring your bra. Once your top was discarded and his hands were free, he scrambled to pull at the lace that covered your breast as you hurried to undo the clasp from behind, hoping he wouldn’t rip your favorite bra. Before you even had the undergarment all the way off, he had both palms on your breast, kneading them together as he took time sucking at both nipples.

Grasping at his wrists, you forced his hands away, pushing him down against your bed. The victory was short lived as he easily countered, rolling over to pin you instead. You gave a symbolic struggle before submitting as his lips once again found yours.

Ubbe paused for a second, pulling his shirt off and beginning to undo his fly until he got distracted by the view of you laying on the bed, topless and waiting for him. Dropping down he met your lips again, rocking against you so your nipples dragged across his chest. He was working himself up, too excited for what was to come, that he was unable to enjoy what was happening now.

Pushing at his shoulders, you backed away trying to bide time. “Condom?” you asked simply, searching his eyes. You could see the answer as he racked his brain before shaking his head.

“I don’t have one either,” you stated, mind already racing for solutions. “Maybe—what if—,” you began thinking aloud. “Go check my roommate's night stand.” Ubbe gave a curt nod, shimmying out of his trousers before heading across the hall. Once he was gone you stood up, quickly shuffling your skirt off before climbing under the bed sheets.

“There’s no condoms here, just a bunch of vibrators,” Ubbe called from the other room. Panicking you reached for your phone to quickly texted your roommate:

where are condoms??

She responded instantly with a series of exclamation points to denote her excitement before stating:

medicine cabinet!! have fuunn!!!!

“Check the bathroom, behind the mirror,” you shouted to Ubbe as you made sure to set your phone on silent.

“Success!” he celebrated as he entered the room. Watching him stand in the doorway you couldn't take your eyes off the solid shape of his erection held to the side by his tight gray boxers. Your throat felt dry as he approached, tossing the connected series of foil packages onto the duvet.

“Sure you need all these?” you teased, picking up the condoms to count just how many he grabbed.

“Oh yeah, I have big plans for tonight,” he replied while climbing back on top of you. He edged in for a kiss when his phone vibrated, rattling on the wooden tabletop. Out of habit Ubbe reached for the phone, tilting it slightly to check the screen. He seemed momentarily taken aback as he read the message before turning to you. “Hvitserk just sent me a series of thumbs up emojis.”

Giving a groan in shame you once again drew your hands to hide your face and rolled over onto your stomach away from him. You should’ve realized that your roommate would tell Hvitserk about the text. Ubbe smirked as his palms snaked up the back of your thighs until they came to cup your ass. Giving a brief squeeze, he admired the jiggle before leaning forward to nip at your bottom. He teasingly sank his teeth into your flesh, instantly drawing your thoughts away from embarrassment.

Pushing your shoulders up, you twisted half way around to spot him leaving a trail of kisses and bites over the curve of your ass. “What are you doing?” you asked, giving a nervous laugh that died in your throat when you caught the heat in his expression as he raised his eyes to meet yours.

“I’m giving this booty the attention it deserves,” he explained in a serious tone while holding your gaze. His fingers slid between your thighs, rubbing against your lips through the cotton of your underwear. “Mmm, you’re so wet, you’ve already soaked through your panties,” he hummed pressing harder as your legs opened to aid his reach.

Slowly, he sank his fingers into you, sliding them back and forth to help spread your juices between your lips as he let out a low, primal growl in your ear. “You feel so good, so ready,” he mumbled, shifting against you so his erection prodded at the back of your thigh. Pulling his elbow back, Ubbe raised his hand so that his middle and ring fingers withdrew from inside you. He brought his fingers to your mouth, resting them against your bottom lip as your tongue danced, testing the taste of yourself on his skin. Pushing forward, his touch went deeper into your mouth as you pursed your lips around his knuckles and sucked.

“You want this, don’t you?” Ubbe mumbled in your ear as you released his fingers with a pop.

“Yes, please,” you reply with a giggle, enjoying the husky timber of his voice.

“Then be a good girl and take your panties off. I want you on your knees,” he ordered while moving to stand up. Keeping his eyes on you, he shed his boxers and gathered a condom. You pivoted slightly, drawing your knees up while reaching to pull off your underwear. You had the pair down to your thighs when the weight on the bed shifted from Ubbe climbing behind you. He grabbed one of your ass cheeks, urging you to let go of the elastic waistband and brace yourself with your arms instead. “That’s it, shake that ass for me, make it wiggle.” Ubbe enjoyed the view, watching the way you moved to fill his request as he pumped at his length. Gripping at the base he lined himself up—teasing your hole with the head—before sinking between your lips.

He inched himself slowly into you until his hips met yours. Ubbe paused for a moment, allowing you to savor the filling sensation of him inside you. With a groan you started to move your hips, feeling the head scrape along your inner walls. Ubbe seemed to get the hint, digging his fingers into your soft waist as he began to thrust.

The sound of his grunts mixed with the wet squelch of your juices. He continued to mumble incoherent but dirty praise as he sped up, slamming harder and harder into you. As he gave a quick swat to your left cheek, you lost your balance, dropping your shoulders to the bed so that your ass was stuck up in the air for him. Ubbe followed the change of position easily, lifting one leg to better brace himself as he continued to fuck you. Lost in the stimuli of the act, you moaned openly, unable to control the noises that left your mouth.

Leaning forward, Ubbe splayed his hand across your shoulder blades, holding you down as he huffed in your ear. “Your pussy feels fucking fantastic. So tight and wet—” he cut himself off with a grunt as he shifted his pacing, changing to long hard thrusts that shoved you further into the duvet. You could feel as his movements stuttered and then suddenly he pulled away.

The cool air was quick to fill the space he vacated as you twisted your head to look back at him. Continuing to kneel behind you, Ubbe discard the condom and stroked himself to completion. He roared as he climaxed, the white ribbons of cum landing on your upturned ass. You shook your hips for him again as he sighed, admiring the view before dropping to lay beside you as you straightened your legs and settled on your stomach.

The pair of you stayed like that for some time until Ubbe raised his arm to weave his fingers into your hair, drawing you in closer. His kisses were more relaxed this time, the impatient hunger from before drained out of him—for now.

“We never cleaned up the mess in the kitchen,” you hummed, your lips so close, they brushed against his as you spoke.

Ubbe gave a harsh growl, nipping at your mouth, “I’d rather make a mess of you in here, than worry about some pizza boxes out there.” His tongue darted out to wet his lip while his hand danced down your curves, smoothing across your hips. You could feel as his touch swiped at your ass cheek, collecting some of his expended cum onto his finger. His hand returned to your field of vision, drifting towards your mouth. Opening your lips, you presented your tongue for him to deposit the cum. He rolled the milky liquid off his finger when you surprised him by sucking the digit into your mouth, ensuring that you had gotten every last drop.

Letting out a groan of approval, Ubbe leaned forward, rolling you over as he dove for the crook of your neck.

“Wait, wait, stop!” you giggled, trying to fight his attempts to pin you on your back. “I haven’t washed up!”

“You know what my uncle used to say?” He murmured, the rumble of his voice tickling at your skin. “Rollo always told me,” Ubbe began, rearing back just enough to catch your eye, “The job ain't done till you’ve ruined the sheets.”

Hope you enjoyed! please tell me what you thought!

@beautifulramblingbrains @ariwolf14 @titty-teetee @whenimaunicorn@sweetvengeancee @ivarinleatherpants @tiyetiye @romanchronicles @oddsnendsfanfic @murmelinchen @buckybarnesisalittleshit@laketaj24 @ivarslittlebadgirl @readsalot73 @imgoldielikehawn@ivarsshieldmadien @ceridwenofwales @grungyblonde @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @tephi101 [[if you want to be tagged for vikings stuff in the future, leave a reply]]

#ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe imainge #ubbe x reader #ubbe smut #my writing #to make a mess

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