#one lesson every day more the occasions i feel like it

[freyito]

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language. 

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably. 

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about. 

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time. 

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be. 

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning. 

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze. 

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child. 

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Small but Hungry

Requested By: @ricaaathelittlelamb

Word Count: 1,858

Height can be deceiving. That was a hard lesson the seven demon brothers were learning.

You were a small human and because of that, they believed you didn’t require as much food. They wanted to be sure though, so they turned to Satan who promptly pulled out his book on humans. Their theory was confirmed when the book had a passage stating humans shouldn’t eat as much food as demons. So, they were all in agreement that they shouldn’t overfeed you.

Since you came to the Devildom, they had been feeding you small portions. You never complained about being hungry and you never asked for more food, so they never knew that they were doing something wrong.

Then, you all took a trip to the human world. It was more like a business trip than a vacation, so you were only up there for a day. And, the day was nearly over when Lucifer offered to pay for everyone’s dinner.

The group decided to eat at a steakhouse and your stomach was immediately growling as soon as you began reading the menu. How long had it been since you had human world food? It was a rare occasion in the Devildom.

One by one, the demon brothers ordered the dishes they wanted, starting with Lucifer and ending with Belphie. Finally, it was your turn. You placed the menu down before confidently telling the waiter, “Could I have the full rack of ribs please?” 

There was a moment of silence as you handed the waiter your menu. When you returned your attention back to the others, you were met with all seven staring at you, their eyes slightly wider than normal.

“What?” you asked innocently. They all quickly brushed it off. They didn’t want you to think they were judging you in any way, because they weren’t. They loved you in every way, and they would never think negatively of you. They were just a bit confused by how much food you ordered.

Lucifer couldn’t help but wonder if you were maybe trying to impress them with the amount of food you could eat. That was the only reason he could imagine you would order such a large amount of food.

Mammon was in sheer confusion. A human as small as you couldn’t possibly eat that much food. So, why did you decide to order that of all things? Mammon began to question himself. Clearly, he had to be missing something.

Levi couldn’t help but feel on edge. Were you planning something? Were you stocking up on food in case of an emergency? Levi wouldn’t judge you. He had rations in his room for the same reason. But…ribs? Weren’t there better things to store for later?

Satan’s mind immediately went to his books. He wished they were there with him so he could read about this. Was there something special about ribs that allowed humans to eat more than they normally would?

Asmo was a bit worried about you. Were you stressed or upset? Is that why you wanted to eat such a large portion of food? He didn’t want you to be bloated from overeating. He would watch you carefully while you ate to make sure this wasn’t the case.

Beel knew best what it was like to be hungry. But, even if you were starving, a full rack seemed like a lot of food for such a small human. He wasn’t worried about it though. Whatever you didn’t eat he would finish for you.

Belphie believed you were messing with them. It had to be a joke and any second you were going to change your mind and ask for a smaller plate. If it was a prank, he had to admit that you got them all pretty good.

When the food came, all seven of them were surprised at how big the platter was. Now they doubted your abilities even more.

“That’s a lot of food,” Beel stated, staring at the food. You smiled at him in response and Mammon questioned, “Are ya’ really going to eat all of that?” “Of course,” you replied, completely unaffected by the size of the platter.

The brothers felt like they were transported to another realm. Their minds were racing at a hundred miles per hour. They were too stunned to eat their own food. Instead, they watched you eat yours with curiosity.

You finished the ribs quickly and when you were done you licked the remainder of the sauce off of your fingers. A loud belch escaped from your lips and your hand moved up to cover your mouth.

“Excuse me,” you said gently, noticing the way all of the brothers were staring at you. You didn’t pay any attention to it though as you politely excused yourself from the table to go freshen up in the bathroom.

If you were trying to impress him and his brothers, you succeeded with flying colors. You ate those ribs with such ease, he couldn’t believe it.

Lucifer immediately began questioning his decision to feed you small portions in the Devildom. If he had known you could eat this much, he never would have limited you on the amount of food you could have.

He thinks about punishing Satan for giving him false information about the amount of food humans can eat. But, then he realizes it isn’t Satan’s fault but the author of the book.

He debates going after the author but decides an easier way to mend the situation they were currently in is by making sure you never felt like you couldn’t eat the same amount of food in the Devildom.

From now on, he’ll ensure you get as much food as you want before his brothers get their plates, especially Beel.

Whaaa?

You ate all of those ribs without even trying! You didn’t even break a sweat or look like you were slowing down at any point.

How could such a small creature eat so much food?!

But, wait…did that mean this whole time you weren’t getting enough food? He and his brothers must have looked like such jerks for only feeding you small portions.

Why didn’t you ever ask for more food? Were you just trying to be nice?

Regardless of your reasons, Mammon was your first man and your protector in every sense of the word. Which meant it was up to him to help take care of you.

He promises there will never be another night in the Devildom where you go hungry. He’ll make sure of it. 

It was quite the sight to watch for Levi. He had seen some of his favorite characters in anime eating in the same manner you just displayed. But, he never thought he would 

experience the sight in person.

He thought the anime exaggerated how much one person could eat. He believed they might be trying to represent or make fun of his little brother’s never-ending appetite.

But, now he felt like his whole world had been shaken. This whole time it was real?! Humans could actually eat that much?!

Levi is now curious to find out what else was real in anime. He’ll be attached to you for the next week or so as he watches you closely to see if you mimic any of the other actions he’s seen his beloved characters do.

He’ll also offer you food whenever the two of you are hanging out. He tells you it’s to keep your strength up, but in reality, he feels a bit guilty that they hadn’t been feeding you properly for a while now.

Satan felt the most guilty about the situation. After all, his brothers had turned to him for advice on how to feed you. 

Had he read his book wrong? No, he was positive that’s what the book said. So, then the book was wrong. For the first time in his life, a book had given him false information.

Satan was now questioning the integrity of some of the other books he had read on humans. He decided he would conduct his own experiments to find out the truth about you.

He would never chance your well-being on the words of a book again. Instead, if he’s curious, he’ll approach you directly and ask you whatever question is on his mind.

He’ll also make sure that you always have enough food. He’ll even secretly take note of which foods you prefer over others.

And, when that food is on the menu for dinner, he’ll make sure you get an extra serving or two just to make you happy.

You didn’t look stressed or upset in any way when you were eating the ribs. In fact - you looked completely satisfied.

Asmo was so relieved that you weren’t suffering in any way. But, at the same time, he was also concerned about their past actions.

He looked through his memories of you at the House of Lamentation, specifically at meal times, and he can’t remember you ever looking so satisfied.

He started freaking out at the possibility of you going to bed hungry every night you were in the Devildom and he immediately began planning out a way to make it up to you.

Not eating enough was just as unhealthy as overeating and Asmo wanted you at your very best.

He’ll work with you to make you more comfortable with telling the brothers when you’re still hungry so that this never happens again.

Beel was ecstatic when he saw that you were able to finish the entire rack of ribs. It was just one more thing that made you special to him.

He began to question what else you could eat a lot of. Was it only certain things or was it everything? Did you eat the same amount of food when it came to items from the Devildom?

Wait…

Now that he was thinking about it - had they been starving you?! Hunger is Beel’s ultimate weakness so the idea of you being hungry every day because of them made him a mix of angry and sad.

Beel would make sure to pile your plate with food at meal times and he’ll always offer you snacks during the day.

He would make sure to save enough for himself, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of too.

You did it? You actually finished the entire plate?

Belphie is completely shocked. He didn’t believe for one second that it would be possible.

And what’s more, is that you ate them so quickly as if the amount had no effect on you. 

It was impressive, to say the least, and now he was glaring at all of his older brothers.

They had been feeding you the same amount of food since before he escaped the attic. So when Belphie got out, he thought it was normal.

Did none of them do their research on humans?! It clearly wasn’t enough food for you!

Belphie would no longer trust his brothers to take proper care of you. He would do everything himself from now on.

It was the only way he could guarantee your health.

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (with benefits)

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count : 1,489

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: smut, p0rn with plot, a LOT of plot, angst, name calling (bitch, slut, etc.), p in v, rough x, mentions of safe word (not used), rude/cold!Chris, degration, friend with benefits, awkward, (implied) RichKid!reader, no love (😔), unprotected, creampie, no after care, no use of y/n, no oc

(A/N: this is my first ever fanfic that I’ve posted on tumblr. So ya, I’m shitting bricks. Please give me feat back on my writing, and what I can improve. Also English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes. Hope you like it!! :D)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Ever since I can remember, I’ve known the triplets. The sturniolo’s and my family were always really close. And ever since I can remember, I’ve hated Chris.

Now, enemies was a harsh word. A bit of an exaggeration. It wasn’t like we were at war for opposing countries. We were more like rivals. In every aspect.

Sometimes it felt like the only reason Chris studied for school, was to beat my grade. He wasn’t really stupid, but he was definitely not book smart.

The problem wasn’t that. We’ve always lived normally, simply hating and avoiding each other. After all he was my longtime nemesis.

Until that one fateful night where we’d been at my house. My parents have a big business so they’d frequently be on business trips. And it just so happened that that night my younger siblings were not home, both of them being at their separate sleepovers with friends.

We’d been paired for some project. And naive me thought, that it’d be fine. We could be civil for a few hours. But I thought wrong. The hatred was too strong and the tension was too thick in the air.

Seemingly everything I did made him agitated. And vise versa.

Until he finally snapped and we got into a full fledged argument, wich turned into a yelling match. However it all went quiet when he crashed his lips onto mine.

Breathing heavily I had kissed back, hard. It was easier to battle about with a kiss, rather than screaming. And like hell was I gonna be dominated by Christopher fucking sturniolo.

So the night progressed. He had me, my face buried in the sheets babbling out nonsense and screaming his name. But not in anger like I usually would.

It had been months since that happened, and it still haunted me. The idea that it even happened. That his lips had been on mine, his dick literally inside of me, that I was literally under him, disgusts me to my core. But it didn’t matter. It was one of many times.

Sometimes it was a quickie, sometimes an all nighter. Sometimes Chris was dominant other times he was not. Sometimes it was at my place other times at his.

And it wasn’t like those cliché stories of friends with benefits where one fell in love. This felt more like an urge. Like neither of us wanted to actually hook up but we were irking to. This was better than having a yelling match. And on the rare occasions I was dominant it felt great making him shut up and take it. It felt equivalent to winning an argument. The whole point was to teach a lesson, and express annoyance and anger without directly doing that.

“Chris-“ I let out a sharp cry, even the pillow that my face was buried in didn’t really make the scream sound quieter.

His hips keep drilling into my core hitting all the right spots to make me weak in the knees.

Sex with him, objectively, felt good. In the moment. He knew how to please a woman. But he also knew that he was pushing it right now.

“Don’t fucking tell me to slow down.” He snaps his tone, and words as harsh as his breathing. “You have a safe word. Use it if you need to. And other wise, shut, the fuck, up.”

I only let out a sharp whine when he seems to pick up pace even more. He’s made a mess of me. We’ve been at this for hours. Literally.

I’ve come more times than I can count and Chris wasn’t showing any sign of stoping anytime soon.

My back arches perfectly, but I’ve been in this position for too long for it to be comfortable. Him leaning over my back occasionally leaving harsh slaps on my ass while his other hand stayed firmly im my hair.

His hand being tangled in my hair as he was both pulling it, but also pressing me down into the pillow under me.

I feel the ache in my cunt subside again, as a knot starts to form. I’m close, again, and I don’t know if I can keep going after.

“Chris” I scream his name loudly panting and moaning. “I’m- close” I can barely form a sentence. His thrust are hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs every time.

“Oh ya?” He harshly slaps my ass causing me to moan loudly. “How much more you think this pussy can take?” He huffs his tone ever so cocky.

He always did this. He liked being dominant and absolutely wrecking me as much as he can. And he knows I’m close to breaking, and that’s what makes it worse. I just know he gets a wired satisfaction out of exerting me.. using me, like this.

His hand stays firmly in my hair tugging harder. His other hand trailing from my ass to my clit as he starts to rub on it harshly.

I clench instinctively, my whining and moaning getting even louder. “I’m gonna-“ a harsh slap on my clit catches me off guard.

Chris keeps going. “Fucking slut. You like getting destroyed like this?” he mocks, his tone condescending as his pace doesn’t let up.

“Go on bitch, cum on my cock. Come again.” He urges. And the rubbing of his fingers on my clit and the relentless torture to my cunt is threatening to push me over the edge.

“Can I come in that pussy again?” He asks his voice coming out strained and harsh from the pleasure.

“Yes-“ I’m cut off, again. As i am physically not able to speak with the pace he’s going at.

And the combined pressure of everything pushes me over the edge. Suddenly the knot in my stomach snaps and my body goes limp after loud moans. He goes for a few more thrusts before I feel the familiar hot liquid fill my cunt.

After a minute where we catch our breaths he slowly starts to massage my scalp knowing he’s been pulling on it for at least half an hour straight.

He pulls out not really gently, but not harshly either.

Hook ups with Chris always felt like one night stands, when they were really regular.

I let my body fall limp fully laying on my stomach as I sigh, content in my position, not attempting to move.

I can practically feel Chris watching me.

Normally I wouldn’t be this much of a mess. But than again normally we didn’t go for hours. Normally Chris used a condom. But today was not one of those days.

Sometimes chris had enough common sense to at least pretend to care.

But right now he was just staring.

“You okay?” He asks his tone gentler and more quiet than usual. He knew he was pushing it, but did he really care tho?

I shiver as I feel his hand start to rub over my back. Ever so gently pinching the skin to ease some tension.

“Ya”

My breath is short as I’m still calming down not doing or saying anything else.

After a while I turn around slightly, wincing as I lay on my back. My back hurt from the previous uncomfortable position I was in.

I opened my tired eyes, looking up at him, my eyes meeting his. I knew I probably looked like a wreck right now. My hair a mess because of all the moving and position changes as well as his pulling. My face having dried mascara and tear stains on it from when I’d been crying.

I was too tired to even hide my body. I just turned around not bothering to hide my chest as I did, I was too fucked out to care.

His lips pursed, looking over my face. But he wasn’t concerned. But rather disgusted at the sight. He was glad he made me look like shit, but I could see in his eyes that he would much rather be anywhere else right now.

After sex was the worst for us.

The arguments leading up to it were normal. The sex itself was great. But afterwards…

Usually he’d leave. But today he had gone far. He’s done worse before. But every time he did he felt like he should give me proper after care. But I can see the annoyance radiating off of him, and I just know he does not want to be here.

And as harsh as it sounds, he couldn’t really care less what state he left me in. He’s told me multiple times.

“You can leave.” I mumble sighing. My throat felt horse from all the screaming, crying and moaning, that I’d been doing. I’ll need to get a water soon.

He gives me a simple nod, quickly changing, then going to my bathroom to fix his appearance.

And than he leaves.

The room is quiet. Nothing to be heard, nothing to be said.

Masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it, this was literally my first time writing smut🫣 also I don’t have a taglist yet, so i just added my moots. Tell me if u wanna be added, or removed :D

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist : @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns

[blughxreader]

building off of this platonic yandere batfam headcanon where they're slaves to your moods and whims...

I also kind of enjoy the idea of batfam revering and fearing batsib. Not enough to lesson their control over you (or back off their affection in any way), but they want your love so badly / think you're a jewel among rubble / cling to your every thought... I can see them freezing up when they know they're about to make you mad, or when you give your opinion.

Tim's like, "*shaky sigh* hi... we need to upgrade the tracking chip in your neck :) itwasbruce'sidea." (his idea actually)

or they know your triggers by heart (mentioning your past family, your aspirations of travel, lost career goals, etc) and immediate silence falls over them as they wait for your reaction.

This works especially well for Darlings that withdraw into themselves. It's impossible to NEVER give a single opinion or extra explanation, so on the rare occasion when you divulge something about yourself, they're like oh god its happening JOT THAT DOWN

Dick is good at talking around your pointed silence, even if he gets nervous under your glare. He has stars in his eyes when you finally engage with him, even if it's only a sentence more than your usual "yes/no" responses.

Dick is unpredictable too because you never know where his limit is. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, then he comes back from patrol with broken knuckles and the scariest look on his face because he couldn't take the stress anymore. The only one in the house who will match your anger (rarely happens, though), and he apologizes through actions, not words.

Jason, who always has some shitty remark to make, finds himself at a loss for words when you're not talking. You two sit with your arms crossed in silence and look sour for two hours, then he walks away thinking it was a relatively good visit.

He gets overwhelmed the easiest when you're mad. When you're in a bad mood, very slight disturbance in the house sets him off and he needs the rest of the day to cool off.

Tim has no clue how to handle you. He doesn't fit the reliable older brother role and he can't fool anyone with the doe-eyed baby brother act, so I think he'd take the "best friend sibling" approach.

He's always trying new ways to curry your favor, despite it occasionally pissing you off from how obvious his attempts are. Tim's the least likely to be deterred by your rejection, despite how deeply it hurts. He sulks in the shower for an hour then gets out to cause problems only he can solve.

Kind of like how Damian absorbed Dick and Bruce's moral code because it fit his end goal of being Batman, I feel he would do the same to you but for slightly different reasons.

Damian walks around like your mirror. He unconsciously mimics everything you do, absorbing your behaviors and speech like a sponge. An outsider wouldn't be able to see past his trained neutral expression, but on the inside he thinks you're so cool.

He also copies you as a coping mech in order to limit upsetting you, and gets VERY embarrassed when he says something that contradicts your feelings.

Bruce, ever the scapegoat, has resigned himself to the brunt of your anger. He can't weasel his way into your heart like the boys can, so he's the most transparent about his bonding efforts. His gifts and attention are steady and unrelenting, no matter the response.

I think he's the sweetest... He's definitely the best listener in the house, and genuinely wants nothing more than for you to be safe and happy. Yes he wants you to accept the child/sibling role, but he won't manipulate you to get there (unlike some of the boys). Your anger gives him stress, but he takes it in stride.

for more yandere batfam content, visit my masterlist!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can we get the obey me boys(the brothers + dia, barbs, solomon, and simeon) reacting to mc having severe period cramps? Would they get all demon-y at the smell of blood?

Love your stuff btw!

Signed, a yandere junkie~

I'll do two for now 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Period | Yandere Obey Me

For those in the devildom having a draw for chaos and mortal pain it’s quite normal for blood to bring about a different kind of reaction. But to the surprise of no one period blood and the whole menstrual cycle is a complete bafflement to all who catch a whiff. Don’t worry though, you have the brother and your various friends. This surely won’t strike any of them to have an unusual streak in emotion and self-control, right?:

Lucifer

“It’s that time I’m suspecting?”

“Yes.”

“Understood rest easy, take your time to rest my dear.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Do you doubt my promise to keep you?”

One of the most casual about it 

He absolutely has done research for this exact occasion

But nothing is like experience in taking care of you himself

As well as the compulsion that has him being just as reactive as you

“You seem a bit different today Lucifer…”

“Am I? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oooh is that a gift from (Y/n)--”

“dON’t ToUCh tHaT!” 

“...”

“...”

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s with me this week.”

You’re not with him that’s what

For all the necessities he delivers he’s been keeping his distance

Taking the advice of the human care books he gave you your space

After all who better to deal with the human-female innerworkings than a human-female herself

But something feels wrong more than usual 

And it only seems to stop when he returns to your side at the end of the day

“Perhaps the hormones that are at work in you create a…guardian of sorts…out of me.”

He doesn’t really understand, all he knows is that when you were preparing to go to RAD he frantically calmly decided you’d not be attending

His excuse reasoning? That he would hate for any lesser demon to feel what he’s feeling 

That and he’d actually try to kill anyone who shows such similar inclination to protect you

“If anyone should stay to soothe you in this great time of need. I’m not above massacring any threats to you while you’re at your most vulnerable..” 

Generally he’s quite tame

…compared to his brothers

Diavolo

“Hey (Y/n) why’d you run off like that I thought we were having a good time.”

“Diavolo!?”

“Oh…hey (Y/n) if you’re hurt it’s okay to tell us we have tons of things that help heal humans.”

“Ugh! No that’s not what’s happening here!”

“Don’t be embarrassed here i’ll help!”

“Aghghgh!!!! Barbatos! Barb–Ah! Don’t you dare!”

A scolding and prompt lesson from Barbatos is very much in order

For someone so adamant on urging the blending of their worlds he doesn’t really know about this side of humanity

And unfortunately he’s never been one for backseat learning

“(Y/n), we’ve spoken and Diavolo would like to propose a hands-on-lesson with you about your menstrual cycle.”

“Uhm what kind of lesson?”

“One that will require he familiarize himself with all aspects of this process. Something that would preferably stimulate the five senses.”

“....”

“....”

“....Lucifer!!!! Solomon!!!”

Even better it has to do with you

What better way to strengthen your bond by having to monitor you

Not only for your safety but for all of humanity

“Hey later on we should definitely watch that movie together!”

“Oh yeah I thin–”

“I’m sorry but she cannot!”

“What why not?”

“Because she’s coming with me! The best place for a woman on muenster cycle is with me at the royal palace.”

“Uhm that’s not tr-”

“Here I’ll take you now!” 

He’s going to be hard to teach

But once you sit him down or snap at him one too many times

He’ll decide listening to you is the best course of action

In turn it will definitely build a relationship between you two

It may not be as romantic as he planned

But he’ll take it….for now 

After all there’s one every month

“That was fun! I can’t wait until the next time!”

Because he’s actively testing for it he might find some demons and creatures that react to it

But he won’t actively experiment with you in danger

Because it’s just not a good look to brutally murder every other subject of his that has a reaction he doesn’t like

“Next month I’ll have to convince them to let me get a swab or whole container full that’d be really hot.”

[naomikozura]

Love of My Life: Part 1

Heian Era! Sukuna Ryomen x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: Although the first part of this story only mentions the ending of the story, this will be a MULTIPLE part story. The first part does not contain as heavy content but OTHER PARTS WILL. ALL parts are dark themes and have heavy topics. The second part of this story will contain more DARK THEMES and is a work of FICTION. I will post the exact warnings and details when the second part gets published but this is your warning for what to expect. Again it is a DARK THEME story so 18+ ONLY MDNI

Warnings: strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, angst, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, motional turmoil and abuse, manipulation, sadistic tendencies (slight), corruption of power, dark themes (slight)

WC: 8.6K

Summary: The story of the infamous King of Curses has been around for hundreds of years, proving him to be the most feared sorcerer in the entire jujutsu realm. But the truth of what happened that led to the ultimate annihilation of his humanity has been concealed, almost erased. There was a time back in the Heian era when Ryomen Sukuna did have a shred of humanity left… but the loss of it resulted in the creation of the destructive monster he would later become.

Series Masterlist

Prologue || Part 2

Heian Era, 6 Months Before the Burning of Aurora

“Again” 

“Again.”

“Again!”

The deep rumble that came from your father led you to the brink, pushing you further into a pit of exhaustion. You’d already been out here for 8 hours, your father’s relentlessness wearing you down but by bit. 

“Y/n! I need you to focus!”, he yelled. 

You knew your father was level-headed, smart, but since your birth he’d done nothing but train you to be strong and gifted when it came to your ability. Your clan relied on you just like every heir before you, to bring your family honor and grace. You had spent the better years of your adolescence learning about the history of your bloodline, the history of jujutsu, and learning basic technique but now as an adult there was more room for you to be pushed to the brink to train for your special ability. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today.”, your father walked over to you, your arm swiping the sweat off your forehead. “Get home and into a bath, we have dinner with the Zen’in clan tonight.” 

A pang of hurt spread through your chest. Among all the training, all the history lessons, all your talent and power, your life was still forced into the hands of your father. You hadn’t only spent the better years of your adolescence learning about jujutsu and your technique, but also the fundamentals of what it meant to be a bride. You knew it was traditionally passed through generations for two families to join together through marriage but a part of you still felt hurt that your father had lined up 3 suitors for your hand. Never once considering your own feelings on the matter. 

The Zen’in clan was just one of the three families who produced male heirs around the time you were born. Almost like it was predetermined, the arrangement for your betrothal to one of the main family’s sons was set in stone for you the day your mother held you for the first time. You hated the idea that your life wouldn’t be your own if you married into any of the Three Families, but you knew your duty deep down even into the marrow of your bones. 

Once you’d arrived home you soaked in the bath, the maids helped you wash your body of the dirt and grime and helped wash your hair as they massaged a cleansing type of gel into it. You felt the tension in your muscles dissipate with each pass of the sponge and each massage they did in your hair. 

Getting dressed for these types of occasions was tiring, feeling the pull of your hair being done in an elegant manner to showcase the beauty of your natural features, your complexion barely needed any powder to make it more presentable. You were beautiful, every sorcerer within the lands knew you were the most coveted and eligible bride due to your family bloodline, your ability, and your beauty. Unfortunately for many, your life was already selected to be given away within the families, not outside of them. 

You pulled on your traditional gown, wearing your family's seal colors as you put on a red headpiece that brought out your features beautifully. Red adorned your family home, your sigil painting in the bright crimson to signify strength, sacrifice, protection, and hope. You always felt proud to wear the seal colors yet you couldn’t help but feel like there was no hope for you. 

Your family sat in the common area, the Zen’in members sitting properly around the table while the heads talked amongst themselves. You looked over at the eldest son, his dark hair and deep brown eyes striking as he looked at you. He was handsome no doubt, probably a suitable husband but you couldn’t bring yourself to envision a future with him. Despite your wishes, you’d probably marry into the Zen’in family. It was the most logical, beneficial and strategic marriage that your father would have picked for you. 

The dinner was simple, quick, a formality to get you and the Zen’in son, Zetsubou Zen’in, introduced. You knew who he was, but never met him in person until now. He was charming, smart, powerful but there was a darkness to him. Something he hid all too well, you wondered if his family knew about his dark tendencies that he kept hidden from the rest of his clan. You knew a marriage to him would be selling your life away, you’d be a shell of a human being with him. He would only bring you hate and despair. 

Once the night had ended and you started to unwind, you fell onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, taking in the moonlight that bled through the cracks before turning and looking out the window at all the stars that illuminated the village. Where could the endless reach of the sky take you? Would you go far enough away that you disappear and never come back? 

You didn't let your mind wander too much before you fell into a slumber, your mind numbing from the evening's events. 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Another village raid.” you heard your father’s voice ring out of his meeting room. You had a bad habit of eavesdropping on his meetings, but you knew he’d keep you sheltered from the jujutsu world until you mastered your domain. You knew it wasn’t protective but strategic. Keep you out of the way until you are strong enough to master your domain and keep low risk of his heir dying. 

“He killed every single person there, tortured them, stole the energy they possessed. He’s getting stronger with each village he destroys.”, a second voice spoke out, a third muttering in agreement and the fourth person silent as he slammed his drink on the table. 

The Four Families rarely met unless it was important, though with the jujutsu realm slowly establishing itself, every meeting was important. 

“We need to get our men, the strongest to train and immobilize him otherwise he’ll only continue to get stronger and more power hungry.”, you recognized the Zen’in clan’s leader, his voice prominent due to the countless visits him, his wife, and son had made to your home in the past few weeks. You and Zetsubou were both being groomed to be each other's marital partner, regardless of how much you wish you weren’t. 

“I have 20 men who have been training, many of them have sons who are also starting to get their cursed energy under control and starting with the warriors in the coming weeks. We can expedite that training and have them ready in a month's time.”

“The Kamo clan also have a number of men that are willing to fight for the cause. This is the fifth raid in a month, it seems they’re getting more frequent. How much longer until he targets our territories and steals our energies?”, the Kamo clan leader spoke up, his voice much softer than the rest but held his resolve. “We must act as soon as we can” 

“Agreed. Until then, we must keep the heirs focused and trained, we can’t have any loose ends”. 

He meant you. 

You always knew they meant you. From the beginning theyd always second guessed your ability, you were the first woman to inherit your family’s special technique so they had obvious doubts. You’d grown powerful in your ability over the past few years but the one thing you still couldn’t do was create a domain, something the other three heirs had already mastered a year ago. 

You left then, heading to the stables in order to prepare for your training this morning. You slid  the door open, making your way down to the final stall and seeing your white, brown eyed mare. She was beautiful, a gift from the Zen’in clan as an interest for your hand in marriage. 

You tan a hand over her soft coat, the shine illuminated under the morning sun. It wasn’t too late, only an hour or two before midday so you knew she was well fed and hydrated thanks to the stable hands. 

Strapping in the saddle on your mare, you ensured you had everything you needed to go into the open fields. They were several miles away and consisted of open fields perfect for training. You really wanted to indulge in your ability, bring yourself to the fullest potential so you went out to the fields to train often. Your father often hated when you would go alone but you’ve managed to convince him that solo practice was important in order to gain control of your ability. Eventually after much consideration and eagerness, he agreed to let you go on your own. You finished packing your food and water for the day, knowing that most of your sessions often lasted the entire morning and led into the evening, and set out early in order to start your training. 

You rode through the forest in silence, letting the sound of the animals in the birds around you fill in the empty space, giving you a sense of serenity, knowing that everything was at peace. We often wondered how much it would take to be as free as the birds who flew the skies or the deer grazed in the fields. You thought much of what it would be like to leave, but your path would never allow you to get away from what was set in stone. 

Once you arrive at the training grounds, you let your horses graze in the woods, off in the shaded area while tied to a tree with a long rope to ensure it wouldn’t wander off. 

You focused, closing your eyes and feeling the wind around you, your body using every one of its senses to connect to the earth and energy within you. You let yourself feel the wind and taste the freshness of the air, the humidity and feeling of water still present from the storm a few days ago. You listened to every chirping bird and snapping branch from the small creatures in the woods, the smell of fresh dew on the grass bringing you to a calming place and filling you with ease. 

You channeled the energy into your hands, the small iridescent light glowing as it grew bigger and stronger. Your eyes remained closed as you focused on getting the technique just right. You wanted to show you could master your inherited technique, that your potential wasn’t going to be wasted on a stupid marriage. 

You were still the daughter of the L/n Clan and the heir to the familial bloodline. You were more than just someone to be married for political gain. 

You swirled the energy in your hands, growing it with each passing second before it reached its brim yet you forced it to get bigger to expand your capacity. 

The wind moved around you and started to swirl into the ball of cursed energy you manifested, pushing yourself before you released and let the energy target some of the trees, exploding on impact and causing a ripple effect that made the birds fly out of the trees and some of the animals run away. 

You let out a shaky breath before repeating the steps, this time trying to focus on using your technique on the cursed dummy you had in front of you. You’d often get other sorcerers to cast cursed energy into props in order to help practice your Aurora, each time more precise than the last. 

You closed your eyes, blinking them slowly as they glowed in a bright, iridescent green color, focusing all your energy on the prop. You raised a hand to manipulate the individual building blocks, watching as the prop contorted and turning into a deformed figure before a screech released from the inside. It was a cursed spirit  inside the prop screaming for mercy. You narrowed your eyes and continued to rip apart the existence of the cursed spirit, pulling its atoms apart piece by piece as the screams intensified before they stopped completely due to the implosion of its figure. 

You let out a breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead before starting from square one. You continued for hours, using more of the cursed objects and using them to strengthen your ability. 

Once evening arrived, you packed everything, walking to the mare and swinging your leg over her back and shifted to get comfortable. As you were getting ready to leave you heard a crack in the woods, but this time the energy felt different. Your head turned to look at the opposing side of the woods, narrowing your eyes and trying to feel if there were any cursed spirits out. Confused, you turned, nudging your mare towards the direction of L/n House. 

The unknown energy slowly growing after you’d left the field. 

~ 

You had spent the next few days training out in the field, slowly growing in your strength and technique as each session passed. Your father was still weary of your being alone in the fields but with everyday passing and you coming home safely, he began to trust your routine. You still followed a training regiment with him every other day and did your history studies on the weekends. You were all around intelligent, strong, gifted, and resilient. 

You pushed yourself back, dodging the hit from the cursed dummy you had made to pose as a fighter with you. It wasn’t strong but it wasn’t weak. A good mid tier practice dummy to help build your endurance. The dummy charged at you as you jumped over it, spinning your body in a flawless way that made you seem like the village dancers during any major celebration. 

In the final blow, you swung your foot around, kicking it perfectly in the head before pushing your hand forward, knocking it down before using your ability to disfigure the dumb thing and make it implode in itself, the shrill of pain ringing out before it fell silent. It felt no real pain. Your father said listening to their cries often helped take away their effect. it was the way your enemies guilt tripped sorcerers into submitting to empathy. You knew when you needed to be empathetic and needed to be heartless, even if you didn’t like it. 

The sound of snapping made you turn, your hair sticking to your forehead as you met the dark gaze of crimson eyes. You felt your chest jump slightly in surprise but quickly relaxed once you’d let yourself calm with the wind. 

Your hair was tied in a high ponytail, your skin glossy from the evening sun as you trained in the field in the outskirts of your home. You looked him over, taking in his menacing appearance which, for you, had no effect in the way you saw him. His skin was tan with dark marks embedded into his skin, the tattoos moving in a swirl of different directions but added to his edge. He wore a robe that showed his muscular chest, his hair messy and weighed down by his sweat. There was no question that the strongest sorcerer would be huge in comparison to the daughter of one of the Four Clan’s leaders, yet the size difference still gave him a swirl of emotion. 

You looked at him in a way he hadn’t been looked at before. Your eyes staring at him, almost like calculating his every move as he slowly walked towards you. Ryomen hid the shock in his body when he reached you, pushing down his need to physically express his taken aback reaction. Many people in the world would be in shock, fear, buckle under the weight of his possessive hold over any room or space he occupied. Many people bowed at his feet, begged for mercy from his ruthlessness, he was feared. The story people told their children to keep them well mannered. 

And yet, you stood a foot away from him and met his gaze in relaxed confidence. Your eyes held curiosity, not fear. Your body was laid back, not shaking or trembling at his presence. You didn’t buckle at the overwhelming pull of his presence instead you embraced it and met him with your own confidence. You were secure in yourself enough that you held no fear towards him. 

His eyes scanned your features, taking in every inch of you in your mutual silence. Your eyes were bright, with the sun making them dark, he could see how they lit up with curiosity and wonder. Your lips and nose were perfectly fitted to your face, making the balance of your features appear more heavenly than anything. It made you attractive, beautiful to everyone who came in contact with you. Your (h/c) hair complemented the tone of your skin and left him wanting to run his fingers through it. He recoiled internally at the thought. When would he ever think such a way towards someone lesser than him? 

Were you lesser than him? 

He stared at you in observation, an overwhelming sense consuming him. He could kill you easily, snap your neck and make your death seem like one of the families did it and start an all out war. You were so fragile despite your toned body from the obvious years of training. He could just reach over and make you implode from just one touch. 

So why didn’t he?

In this moment, against all his beliefs, he considered you his equal. He never considered anyone even remotely close to his realm of power and yet you existed. You showed no fear, you felt secure in yourself, and even being face to face with a morally flawed man, you looked at him with gentle eyes. 

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, the silence falling over the both of you in a comforting blanket. 

In that moment he knew you held power over him, especially when you broke the silence first. 

“Is there something you need?”, your voice was soft, relaxed. Had you been anyone else, someone questioning his being in any location would have annoyed him but you asked in such a way that left him soaking in the echoes of your words.  

“I’m just passing by.”, he replied, wondering when did he ever answer anyone else’s questions when they’d ask? 

“Oh, I hope my training doesn’t stop you from getting where you need to be.”

His curiosity overcame him, making him wonder more about your family. He knew about the L/n clan's heir, young and beautiful, strong and intelligent, soft and gentle. It made her the perfect face for their house and a suitable bride. He’d heard of the Gojo, Zenin, and Kamo clans grooming their first sons to be suitable men to ask for her hand in marriage. 

A piece of him churned with an irritation at the thought of you being primed and groomed into marrying someone in an arranged marriage. 

“Not at all.”, he replied, his deep voice ringing in your ears. You've heard a lot of Ryomen Sukuna. Your clan elders mention his lack of empathy, his overwhelming power and how he easily could reach an unbeatable level of cursed energy that would make anyone think twice about crossing his path. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of him as scary or evil. There was curiosity in the way he held himself and how he had yet to retaliate against your question when everyone knew he hated being questioned. 

“You’re far from your clan lands”, he said flatly, his eyes focused on your form. 

“I can use my full potential here.”, you blinked. “It’s hard to push myself to the brink if I don’t have open space. At least here I can unleash everything and learn from my mistakes”, you clenched your hand, looking at the small burst of energy in your hand. 

The silence filled the air, once again leaving you in a strange tension you couldn’t quite place. His eyes stayed focused on you before he began to walk past you. His silence leaving you confused, unsure of why stop to talk to you then leave without another word. Then again, he wasn’t going to extend himself to something so minuscule, so mundane. 

He was far above that.  

Far above you. 

“Help me.”, you spoke, watching as he stopped in his tracks. 

What were you doing? Requesting someone like him to help someone as insignificant as you. 

You’d heard the stories, been told the horrors of his actions and wrath. Ryomen Sukuna was a selfish, greedy, immoral and sadistic man, he brought any competent sorcerer to their knees by simply occupying the space. He believed himself above absolutely everyone in every way and you knew that undeniable truth. You were risking your life speaking to him like he owed you something, asking for help from the devil was brainless even for you. 

He stared at you in indifference, taken by your confidence yet he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. A part of him was intrigued by you, even though he hated helping others, he wasn’t necessarily a charitable man. No, he was far from it. The complete opposite of it in fact. He should blow your head off, snap your neck, make you kneel and beg for your life. 

Yet, he indulged. 

Just this once. 

You watched as he removed his robe, leaving him in a loose fitting shirt that showed his arms perfectly. They were muscular and defined, wielding such power that could easily kill someone in one touch. You wondered if he’d killed anyone with his bare hands without his abilities or cursed energy before. 

The small flicker of energy that manifested in his hand caught your attention, the manifestation growing in size at an alarming rate but took no toll on his psyche. The years of being gifted with such power and training laid off for him, though you knew he’d always been powerful in his own right. 

You watched intently, observing the cursed energy in his hand as you tried to copy the leisure in which he created his. The creation of energy was easy, it was making it compact with force that was difficult for you. You had great mental resilience and capacity for difficult challenges, yet when it came to finding the switch that could make your power compact you struggled slightly. 

In every other sense of your ability and cursed energy, you were gifted, it was creating a domain where you lacked. The long days and tumultuous nights of training and reading through scribed records only helped you make sense of a partial reason why you couldn’t manifest a domain, you just needed to actually focus on executing it flawlessly. 

“Domain Expansions aren’t easy to manifest.”, you narrowed your eyes slightly at his comment. Why was he trying to dumb it down for you when you knew he was known for manifesting energy at record breaking levels. 

“They’re easy enough for you.”, you muttered as his eyes slowly moved to look at you. 

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Right”, you focused on his words, listening to the instruction he gave, slowly manifesting the energy into your palms. 

He watched as you focused, eyes closed as you concentrated on his voice. It was interesting. Seeing as your energy formed in your hands, wondering how you had inherited such a powerful technique and you still struggled with your domain. He couldn’t help wondering why. It was difficult for most sorcerers to manifest a complete domain, but someone with an inherited ability like Eye of Aurora should have some level of giftedness that would allow you to start creating one. He watched your jaw clench as the energy dispersed in your hand, evaporating into nothing. 

You released a defeated sigh, letting your shoulders droop as you opened your eyes and staring at the ground in a defeated glare. 

“I don’t get it.”, you breathed. “I have this… special ability, a technique that so many sorcerers wish they could use and I can’t even create a damned domain.”

“You’re holding back”, his voice rumbled in his throat, the deep tone sending chills down your spine. Not of fear but of something unknown to you, a sensation that left your heart beating a bit faster than normal. 

“Okay”, you muttered. “So show me how to not hold back”

The temperature around you slowly grew, watching as he released an immense amount of energy, causing the trees in front of him to fall from the attack. Your eyes widened at the gaping emptiness he had just created. 

Woah.

You let out a shaky breath as you stared at him in a way you could only describe as a mix of shock and awe. The adrenaline burst through you as you channeled your energy, creating a mass in your hands before releasing it, causing a number of trees to fall from the impact. It wasn’t near the caliber of his release but it was still a good conjuring of cursed energy. You knew you’d never reach his level of power, but you felt proud that you could release something at that caliber. 

“Let go of that fear of being too unhinged. It’s what holds you back from mastering your domain.”, his voice was deep, your eyes glowing with pride as you felt the after effects of his release. “You can’t master your domain if you care too much about being perfect.”

“I’m not you.”, you answered.

“No one will ever be me.”, you rolled your eyes. You knew that, but you still wanted his help anyway. 

A small part of him grew irritated with your slight attitude at his words, but another part found it humorous. It wasn’t very often that a sorcerer at your level could make him find anything humorous. He cared very little, not at all actually, about something as irrelevant as humor or wittiness but coming from you, it made him think he could possibly entertain you for the time being. 

He wondered where you got such confidence to not only speak to him freely, but to assume he’d be willing to help you despite his power that was worlds above yours. It wasn’t often there were many humans or sorcerers who didn’t bow to his feet immediately after he became present. He was used to seeing people beg for mercy, used to the people who cried hysterically for him to spare them. He enjoyed the mental torture of never giving away if someone would be spared or not. 

So, when you called after him so boldly, against all logic, it intrigued him. He hasn’t been intrigued in a long time, not by a sorcerer in any way especially because he knew he was far above them in every regard. Though he still indulged in your boldness, your lack of fear, by the  motivation in your eyes and the drive in your stance. 

Before he could even stop himself, he made contact to engage and he believed it to be his biggest mistake. He should have never let you reel him in, never should have let you make him give his time when it was valuable, never should have found you worth the effort.

Then when he didn’t think he could find anything more appealing about you, you smiled at him. It was a warm, full smile. How could you give him a warm welcome when he’s done nothing deserving of it?

“Thanks for the help.”, you laughed, almost in disbelief. “I have to go.” 

He watched as you walked over to the mare grazing in the woods, removing the rope from the tree and petting her nose gently. He wondered then how you showed him the same gentleness as the creatures you cared for. His eyes darted away from you, letting himself sit with the realization that you didn’t see him as some godforsaken being.

“Come back tomorrow.”, he called as your head swiveled towards him, your bright eyes meeting his dark ones. “Before the sun reaches its peak.” 

With that he turned, leaving you in shock at his demand. 

The next day, you did as he had asked, you showed back up to the field ready to train with him. You sat in the grass watching your mare eat while you waited for him. It wasn’t too hot yet but again, it was too early for it to even be warm. 

The sound of cracking branches sounded behind you, making you turn slowly as you watched Sukuna’s form emerge from the trees. He stood tall in all his glory, wearing clothes that hung off his body in a way that almost made your face heat up. Even in his dark aura and the intensity of his energy, you couldn’t deny that Ryomen Sukuna was also an attractive man. If your father could hear the thoughts you were having, he’d surely punish you with more physical training. 

“Good morning.”, you said softly, his deep red eyes meeting yours but not saying anything as he walked closer to you. You either were too naive for your own good, or you genuinely didn’t realize just how out of turn you were being. Sukuna was known for not liking when people spoke to him out of turn, he hated small talk. He believed it to be useless, a waste of time, and of no benefit. You didn’t need to start with pleasantries but you did so anyway. 

“Show me your energy.”, he spoke deeply, his eyes boring into yours as you snapped to attention. You needed to focus, needed to take the most of this time while you could. Sukuna never offered any time of his to a regular person, let alone sorcerers beneath him, this was the only chance you had to gain real insight on how to create strong energy and create your domain. 

You manifested a ball of energy into your hands, its vibrant glow pulsing with your heartbeat. The energy crackled and shifted, reflecting your concentration and intent. Sukuna's gaze remained intense, unblinking, as he observed your creation with a mixture of interest and impatience.

"Is this all you can muster?" His voice was a low growl, almost mocking. "You think that will impress me?"

You felt a surge of determination, pushing deeper into your focus. The ball of energy began to expand, growing larger and more intense. You could feel the strain as you struggled to maintain control, your palms growing warm as the energy surged.

"Energy is more than just a display," Sukuna said, his tone suddenly softer, almost contemplative. "It’s about precision, purpose. Show me not just what you can create, but how well you can wield it."

You tightened your grip, trying to focus. The energy swirled and shifted, forming intricate patterns that mirrored your intent. The ball began to take shape, its structure becoming more complex, more refined. You could almost feel the boundaries of your energy beginning to take form, the energy coalescing into a stronger, more cohesive entity.

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something akin to approval, though his expression remained impassive. "Better. But don’t think for a moment that you’ve reached the limit of what you can achieve. This is merely the beginning."

He moved towards you, his energy radiating off of him as you felt him consume yours, his body close as he looked at you. The obvious height difference made it seem like he was pitying you, but he seemed more interested in helping than anything else. His head lowered, meeting your eye line as he looked straight ahead, looking at the trees ahead of you. 

You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of Sukuna’s proximity. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath, mingling with the charged air around you. The energy you had summoned pulsed violently in response to the tension, making you sweat and your heart race.

Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity. “Let the energy reflect your resolve,” he demanded, his voice a commanding rumble. 

You focused on the ball of energy, feeling its weight and power. The intensity of Sukuna’s presence only made it harder to concentrate, as if the very air around you was charged with his overwhelming aura. You grit your teeth as you tried to calm your heart rate down, focusing on keeping the energy stable as you manifested it into something bigger.

“Are you letting your concentration waver?” Sukuna’s voice was almost a whisper now, his breath hot against your cheek. “You think you can achieve mastery with such weakness?”

Your fingers ached as you fought to maintain control. The ball of energy fluctuated, its glow flickering with your wavering focus. Sukuna’s proximity made it even harder to maintain your composure; the heat radiating from his presence was almost unbearable.

“Feel the energy,” he instructed, his tone full of challenge. “Channel your emotions, your fear, your determination. Let it all flow into your control.”

The heat from the energy was now almost unbearable, merging with the heat of Sukuna’s presence. Your hands were on fire, and the energy sphere seemed to pulse with a life of its own. With every breath you took, the tension grew, making your entire body quiver.

“You can do better,” Sukuna said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But you must push through the discomfort. It’s not just about controlling the energy—it’s about mastering your own limits.”

Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, but you forced yourself to focus. The energy within your hands began to stabilize, the chaotic flickers giving way to a steady, powerful glow. The sphere grew larger, its form more defined, as you channeled every ounce of your willpower into it.

Sukuna’s face remained close, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re almost there,” he said deeply. “Show me that you’re more than just a fleeting display of power.”

The strain was immense, but you felt a surge of determination. With one final push, you stabilized the energy, making it surge with newfound strength and clarity. The heat from both the energy and Sukuna’s presence reached a peak before slowly subsiding, leaving you gasping but triumphant.

Sukuna stepped back, his gaze finally breaking from yours. “Not bad,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you with a cool, detached scrutiny. The intensity of his presence remained, but his demeanor was notably indifferent. The air between you was charged, the energy still crackling faintly as it dissipated, but Sukuna’s expression betrayed little of the effort you’d put forth.

“It’s enough for tonight,” Sukuna said flatly, his voice carrying an authoritative finality. He took a step back and broke the close proximity though his presence still loomed large. His tone was almost dismissive, as if your efforts were merely a minor inconvenience to him. “You’ve put in your time. Come back tomorrow if you think you can do better.”

You exhaled slowly, your body trembling slightly from the exertion and the intense atmosphere. The heat that had enveloped you gradually cooled, leaving a satisfying ache in its wake. The weight of his indifference stung more than any overt criticism. You felt a pang of frustration mixed with weariness. Despite the effort you’d expended, Sukuna’s gaze remained aloof, as if your struggle was inconsequential.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. “I’ll be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the exhaustion. 

Sukuna merely inclined his head in acknowledgment, his face expressionless. “Good,” he replied. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing with a finality that left little room for interpretation. As he walked away, his imposing figure gradually disappearing into the shadows, you remained in place for a moment longer, your thoughts racing. 

You stood there for a moment, the weight of his detached dismissal settling over you. The path ahead was clear, but it felt colder and more daunting in the face of Sukuna’s lack of concern. Still, you gathered your resolve and made your way out, determined to return and prove yourself despite his apparent lack of interest.With a final glance at the space where Sukuna had been, you turned and made your way out of the training grounds, the weight of his words and the promise of future trials hanging heavily in the air. 

Tomorrow, you would return, ready to push your limits once again.

Two weeks later 

You went out into the woods, riding your mare as you tried to reach the field for your training with Sukuna. He’d helped you the past few weeks, showing you how to manifest your energy and create your domain. You’d been close to creating a full domain several times, he said you just needed to not hold back. You both figured out the reason you couldn’t create a domain was because a subconscious part of you made you hesitate, you wouldn’t allow yourself to reach your full potential. He’d slowly been showing you to let go and embrace your cursed energy fully. 

You hummed as you made your way down the small hill on the embedded path that led to the other side of the woods. Almost like a shot to the chest, you felt a chill run down your spine, an immense amount of cursed energy being aimed at you. Before you could react, you felt the sheer force collide into you and your mare, the loud groan escaping her as she collided with a tree. You were thrown completely off, your body slamming into the boulders on the ground, the feeling of blood running down the side of your head making you queasy. Your vision blurred slightly, you were disoriented. 

What the hell?

You saw the grueling sight of a disfigured wolf, its body three times the size of a normal one and it had six eyes, its mouth jagged and its teeth rotten as it laughed as it ate your mare. Your eyes widened at the sight, but you couldn’t focus on your now dead companion. You needed to exorcize it and get back home. You were still a mile from the fields, but you couldn’t get there in time, you needed to end this now. 

You forced yourself to your feet, the blood running over your eye as you tried to focus on the cursed spirit. You let yourself manifest your cursed energy quickly, focusing on the cursed wolf before aiming at its head, a loud cry escaping its monstrous mouth. The snarl escaped its throat as it ran at you, your body releasing more cursed energy at it and watching as you blew a hole into its shoulder. 

There needed to be a way to do this quickly, your body faltering at the dizziness in your head. You were losing too much blood but if you passed out you were as good as dead. You tried to focus, you couldn’t die here. You couldn’t die at the jaws of some mid grade curse. You were a L/n. You were above these types of curses. You were the gifted one, the heir of the L/n clan. The disgrace you’d bring onto your family if you were to die at this moment. 

Just then, the cursed wolf ran at you, channeling your energy and sending it full force, watching as it jumped over your attack and lunged at you. Your eyes widened as you jumped off to the side, your body rolling down the hill as it hit the bushes and shrubbery, surely gaining cuts and bruises from the foliage. 

Fuck!

You tried getting to your feet, pushing yourself up only to be tackled by the damned thing, your body collapsing and continuing to roll down the drop of the hill, reaching for some sort of branch to keep you from falling further down. 

The pain in your body overcame you, letting you slip into unconsciousness for a split second as you tried to regain your thoughts. The blurriness wouldn’t allow you to see your surroundings until the jaws of death snapped in your face, the momentum pushing you back. 

“Get off!”, you forced the creature off of you with a surge of energy, struggling to get to your feet as you sucked in a deep breath. You were in fight or flight, and right now flight did not seem like a viable option. 

The wicked snarl rang out again as the cursed wolf seemed to radiate unbelievable negative energy. It lunged at you, its teeth ready to rip you apart but before it could you felt a surge of power overwhelm the space, a loud high pitched cry escaping the throat of the creature. You let out a breath of air, turning to look at the blurry figure next to you, your breath uneven as another light manifested in a white, blinding power before completely evaporating into nothing.

Your breath was uneven, trying to calm yourself, but just as the spirit disappeared, your body collapsed to the ground as you slipped into unconsciousness. 

~~~~~~

The warm blankets around your body helped with the soreness that overcame you, your eyes still hazy from the slumber you were in. You moved your head slightly, your hair splayed around you in a halo as you tried to move your arms. You felt a presence next to you, trying to focus your sight as you blinked, taking in the comfort you felt from the figure. 

Sukuna…

“Don’t get up.”, his voice was deep, careful yet with command in its tone. 

“W..what happened?”, you whispered, your head turned in his direction as you met his gaze, the feeling of his fingers brushing your hair back bringing a warmth into your chest. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home.”, he turned, motioning for a white haired woman to bring more water. “You lost some blood trying to fight that cursed spirit. I killed it.”

“Oh..”, the white haired woman came back with a small bowl and towel, bowing before leaving. You relaxed in his touch as he placed the wet towel on your head, helping clean the remains of the blood on your skin. 

“You need to rest.”, he said firmly.

“I need to get back home”, you looked at him with pleading eyes, not wanting your family to have a reason not to trust you being out on your own. You needed to get home soon, and fast. 

“You’ll pass out before you even reach your territory.”, Sukuna’s red eyes had a darkness to them, but you chose to ignore it, your mind everywhere and without a care of the extent of your injuries. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, gentle to not burn your skin with the energy he had conjured up due to his irritation with your injuries. 

“Sukuna, my father will send scouts looking for me.”

“Fuck them.”, his tone was sharp, his energy slowly growing in size. Your pleading e/c eyes looking deep into his, a sharp sting of sympathy flooded his veins before he released the negative cursed energy. The crack in his armor miniscule yet it created waves of confusion in him. How could you make him slip in his position with just one look? 

He ignored the thought, narrowing his eyes before standing and walking to the small wooden dresser, picking up your clothes and placing them on the table next to his bed. You watched as he turned towards the door to give you privacy, his body dressed in his usual robe but you could still see the outline of his muscles and the massive power his body held. You couldn’t help but take a moment and admire his body. Your mind took in every inch of his being, allowing yourself to forget about his crimes and cruelty in order to study him. Were you fucked in the head? 

You snapped out of the hold his presence had on you, reaching for your clothes only to realize he’d had them cleaned. Was it that woman who cleaned them for you?

You changed, carefully and stood out of the bed, touching your head as you felt the fresh bandages wrapped around your forehead and temples. Pushing the sliding door open, you revealed him waiting for you, his tall statue leaning against the wall as his eyes skimmed over your body before pushing the glint in his eyes away. You both didn’t say a word, you just followed him as he walked out of his home.

He led you through the woods, ensuring you’d arrive to L/n House in one piece and conscious. When you were within range you turned to him, looking up to meet his gaze due to the obvious height difference. 

“Thank you.”, was all you said before turning, walking the last half mile home, feeling his eyes on your back as you followed the path. It was only when you reached the entrance of your home did you feel his energy disappear and your shoulders slumped in disappointment. 

You slowly pushed the door open, closing it softly behind you when the echo of your father’s voice rang through the room.

“Y/n, it’s late, where have you been?”, your father called from the other room, your mother rushing towards you before a loud gasp escaped her mouth. 

“Y/n! What happened to your head?”, her question made your father rush into the room, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

“Where have you been? How did this happen?!”, his tone was heavy, it wasn’t worry but anger and you knew he was more annoyed by your injury than worried about it. “You can’t possibly be getting this from your special ability?”

You could read in between the lines of his words. He wasn’t worried you were hurt, he was annoyed by you being injured at the effects of your domain and special technique. He was annoyed that he would have to face scrutiny for not being able to master your ability and domain, thus leaving him with a weaker claim to the family honor than he originally thought. He already hated that you were what the gods had given him to carry the family name, you being weak was just another hit at his pride. Regardless of how the realm saw you, regardless of how you were loved and respected, to him you’d always be the reason he didn’t have a high claim like the other families of the Four did. 

“Do you really believe I’m so weak I can’t control my own technique?”, you stared at him in disbelief, in hurt. “Do you think so little of me?”

“You are the heir to our family name! If you can’t control your technique then what have I spent the past 20 years of my life doing?!”, his voice was filled with conviction, the anger bursting through each word. “We already have a weaker claim to our position in the realm because you were born as a daughter instead of a son and now you show up like this? We need you to be strong, intelligent, and better than those other boys, and you still show me more reasons why you should have never inherited the Eye of Aurora.”

You felt your lips quiver slightly, the lump in your throat growing as you tried to stop yourself from cursing your father. You knew he’d always hated that you weren’t born his son, but you believed if you proved him wrong he’d have no choice but to find pride in you and your power to succeed the L/n name. You couldn’t take his unrealistic standard of you anymore, you just couldn’t. 

“I am not here to fix your broken ego or make your insecurities better.”, you growled at him. “I am your only heir, I am the inheritor of the Eye of Aurora, and I am the reason our family has a place in the Four families! Me! I’m the one who’s loved and adored by the other families and villages. I am the one they seek to protect, the one they seek to continue in this time of peace without war. When I was born, so was our legacy. You have done nothing to solidify our claim to the realm but I have!”

The anger boiling inside your father was overwhelming, your frustration with him was a disgrace but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of being seen as some weak woman by him, as some sort of disappointment when you were the greatest thing that had happened to the realm in decades. The Eye of Aurora was seen as one of the highest of abilities, that of nobility. Your insolent father was too obsessed with power and reputation to care that you were the successor of a noble jujutsu bloodline. 

“You are nothing without our family name. You need to get your technique under control or so help me. I'll have the old sorcerers from the Zen’in clan exorcize it out of you and let your body rot without your ancestors to guide you!!”, his voice echoed through the halls. 

You sensed an overwhelming power, sucking in a breath before releasing your own. A pang of shock at its sudden appearance before relaxing. The energy had disappeared. 

“It wasn’t even my ability that did this! I got attacked by a cursed wolf in the woods!”, you spat back at him. 

“And you didn’t think to send a signal for help or try to use your technique?!”

“I was getting attacked from every blind spot I had! It killed my mare, it jumped me from behind, I didn't even sense the energy before it was too late!”

“Great so now you can’t sense cursed energy. You really are just a sorry excuse of an heir, a defective worthless waste of potential!”

The dagger twisted deeper into your chest at his words. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he so selfish, insolent, and greedy? 

“You’re the heir to our family bloodline and you almost get killed. It would be better off that way.”, he turned to walk out of the room, with your mother closely behind him. You pitied her lack of backbone, lack of support towards you.

“I was fine!”, you snapped. “Sukuna helped me exorcize it, I didn’t need help from anyone else!”

A cold sensation filled the room, realizing your words as you said them. Your eyes meeting your father’s as he turned towards you. His eyes filled with a shock and disgust that left you feeling sick to your stomach. 

“What…. Did you just say?” his voice sent a chill down your spine. “Did you say… Ryomen Sukuna… helped you?”

“I-“, a loud slap echoed through the air, your head snapping to the side from the impact. Your eyes wide in disbelief as the burning in your cheek exploded through your face. It felt like time stopped, the whiplash of the hit burning a hole in your chest. 

“You were with that monster?!”, his booming voice filled the house, his cursed energy radiating off of him in waves. “What do you think you’re doing with that thing? He could have killed you! He’s a sadistic monster!” 

You remained silent as you felt the anger fill the room, hearing your mothers gasp at your father’s words. The trembling of your lip almost broke you, your chest burning in anger, hurt, and sadness. 

“You are not to go out to the fields again. You stay within L/n house and your training will be overseen by the elders.”, your face stayed angled down to the ground, your heart racing in your chest as your father made the final blow. 

“Now you sympathize with a monster. You really are a defective disgrace.” 

[ickadori]

++ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 — 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

↳ Choso is still unfamiliar with the more human way of doing things, but he is trying, so you can’t fault him too much when his actions resemble that of a curse rather than a human. VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

[cws] yandere. stalking. chikan. mild violence. fem reader. i’ve taken creative liberties and made it so that choso can choose when he’s visible to humans thanks to being half-curse, half-human :3 reader is american.

Right and wrong is not something that Choso concerns himself with - he simply does what he pleases.

It’s not in the sense of him thinking that he’s above human laws (he is) and can therefore ignore them, but rather that he’s not familiar with them.

Yuji has told him time and time again about what is and is not acceptable, but it just hasn’t clicked in his head yet. In the rare times that he shows himself to humans, he always finds himself breaking some type of rule, law, or societal norm, as Yuji tells him.

“You can’t walk so close to people, Choso - they’ll think you’re a pervert or something!”

“I don’t care if she smelt good - you can’t sniff her like a dog!”

“Put your dick away! That’s not a bathroom! You can’t piss there!”

“No, Choso! You can’t kill somebody just because the line is too long!”

Humans were bound by so many rules, it was annoying. Choso found himself staying hidden more often than not, choosing to observe the people around him rather than taking more ‘lessons on humanity’ from his younger brother—Yuji was a big help, don’t get him wrong, but Choso didn’t feel right taking lessons from his younger sibling. Choso was the oldest, the one meant to protect and teach his younger brothers (something he had failed to do on two occasions, as he so painfully remembers every day), and if he didn’t know it, then it was his duty to learn it on his own.

The regular people of Japan, the ones who were terribly unfit to defend themselves (it’d be a hassle trying to protect them - he’s glad they’re not his siblings), were incredibly boring. Majority of them only worked and slept, some occasionally getting drunk at some hole-in-the-wall bar before stumbling home and passing out in the living room.

Choso preferred watching the not-so-regular people of Japan, the ones who led a life that Yuji always turned his nose up at, but Choso didn’t think they were so bad. They do what they want, what’s so wrong with that, he always asked. They didn’t let rules shape their actions or let laws turn them into a completely different person - they were simply them, and Choso found it admirable, in a way.

He watched men cloaked in black skulk around alleyways looking for a target to rob, women dressed in skimpy clothing slipping into cars only to slip out a few moments later with blood on their cleavage, teenagers walking into stores with no money yet walking out with pockets stuffed full of snacks and drinks, men in suits exchanging briefcases full of drugs and money, truck drivers transporting living, breathing humans adorned in chains - the dregs of society as so many called them.

He watched them sparingly, only when he grew bored of the mundane lives of everyone else, everyone else except for you, of course.

Choso had been watching you ever since he first began this poor attempt to assimilate into Yuji’s world. You lived a boring, plain, safe life, but he found himself interested nonetheless. You were an office worker, one with a funny accent that he learned was American. You liked to read and occasionally write, and you went on walks in the park on the weekend and took pictures of the scenery. You didn’t drink and you didn’t smoke but all your friends did. You had a library card that you lost on a monthly basis. You had an unhealthy addiction to carbonated drinks. You hated going to the dentist. You avoided stepping on the cracks in sidewalks. You desperately wanted a pet but your lease forbade you from getting one.

These were the boring, mundane details of your life. Nothing exciting, nothing noteworthy, and yet Choso had memorized it all.

You were on your way home from work now, unaware of Choso’s presence behind you. He was close - close enough to breathe in the scent of your signature perfume and take a peek down the top of your button down. Even your bra was boring, a dull gray that covered you fully, and an annoyed pout formed on his face before he turned his attention to the phone in your hand.

You were checking your banking account, likely making sure that you had enough for your daily sweet treat and tea from your favorite shop. It turns out that you don’t have enough, but he already knew that. You didn’t get paid until tomorrow, and you had used the last bit of your money on a recurring subscription that you had forgotten to cancel.

You sigh under your breath before dropping your phone into your purse, and Choso falls into step beside you, the rest of the journey to the train station going by uneventfully, as usual.

~

It’s a new day, and the same routine.

There’s a couple that steps onto the train before the both of you, their hands intertwined and the woman’s head nuzzled against the man's arm. Physical affection was another thing that Choso wasn’t familiar with.

Even if majority of his life hadn’t been spent locked away in a sealed vial, it wasn’t in his nature to be gentle with his hands - they were tools to protect what was dearest to him, and the only way he knew how to do that was to kill whatever threatened what was closest to him.

Although he wasn’t sure if you would appreciate that in this moment - you were squeamish when it came to blood, funnily enough, and he doubted he could kill the man standing behind you without making a mess.

“Tch.” Choso hovers near you, his eyes taking in the scene. You’re on your morning commute to work, dressed in the white button down he watched you press this morning, and a black pencil skirt that stuck to you like glue - it had been amusing watching you shimmy into it, stumbling around your room and cursing as you threw worried glances at the digital clock on your nightstand.

You were dressed identical to every other woman on this train -your hair was even in a similar updo- and yet the man—the pervert as Yuji would have called him—had singled you out in the overcrowded place. He stood behind you, closely, and Choso leaned to peer around your shoulder, lip lifting in annoyance when he sees the man’s crotch pushed against the swell of your ass.

The act itself doesn’t bother him, but rather that you’re the one the man chose to enact it on. He likely wouldn’t have batted an eye had the man chosen one of the other women to feel on, but the sight of someone touching you had never failed to invoke a feeling of intense hatred in Choso.

He didn’t like it, and he made it known when he moved to stand behind the man. He settled a heavy on his shoulder, his energy dark, thick and heavy as it nearly filled all the corners of the train car - an embodiment of the anger swirling in his gut. The man jolts and looks back over his shoulder, seeing nothing but perhaps a murky, dark substance. His hand grips hard, and the crunch that sounds followed by the pained wail doesn’t do much to quell that anger.

He had touched you, someone that Choso was closely coming to regard as important, and there was only one way that could right this wrong, but that would have to wait until the number of people around were low. Too many eyes were never good, and Choso had studied humans enough to know that their first instinct was to run to the police when they saw a body drop before their eyes.

With a shove to the side, the man is thrown halfway across the car, and a cacophony of shouts sound off as he goes tumbling. You spin around, eyebrows pulled together and mouth set in an angry line, and Choso feels that strange human urge to comfort surge forth.

You cast a glare to the man, your hands moving to hitch your bag higher up your shoulder, and you keep your back to the door, likely in an attempt to keep that from happening again…what’s it called again? He’s seen this scenario play out before in one of Yuji’s books that he tries and fails to keep a secret.

Ch…chi…chikan, train molestation.

His brother is a pervert, without a doubt, but he supposes that works in his favor. The magazine had piqued his interest, firstly because Yuji had gone to great lengths to stuff it into the back of his closet underneath a set of his college textbooks, and secondly because it housed a taboo of society, and the taboo is what interested Choso these days.

He had read it in its entirety, and then had tried to witness it himself. He had spent hours hanging around the station, going in and out of cars and maneuvering between bodies to try and catch a glimpse of the depraved act, yet he came up with nothing, until today that is.

And what a letdown that had been.

His mouth pulls down at the sides, and he gives you a slow once over. He starts at neatly done hair, moves down to sculpted brows that frame glossy eyes, then to a nose that he wouldn’t mind feeling against his own, and down to a set of lips that he finds himself thinking about more and more these days.

He goes further down, down to the way your shirt stretches across your breasts, the buttons straining just a bit, and he tilts his head to the side, a new type of feeling now festering in the pit of his stomach.

Your hands clasp together in front of you, the movement forcing your chest to jut out a bit more, and when the train curves around a bend, Choso lets gravity move him closer to you, head angled down. You tense just a bit, and your senses must be a bit better than everyone else’s, or maybe he’s just doing a poor job at concentrating on concealing himself.

You push yourself a bit further into the corner, and he further crowds you into it, a spark of excitement running up his spine — prey. That’s what you remind him of in this moment as you cower in the corner from a threat you can’t see. He wants to sink his teeth into you—no, his hands. He wants to touch you and squeeze you all over, sink his fingers into soft flesh and leave his mark behind.

So he does.

Tentatively, at first.

The tips of his fingers hover near your cheek, casting a shadow that you’re unable to see, and his breathing grows labored when he finally touches you - it’s shocking, literally. You jump as you feel it, and Choso frowns. He hasn’t learned about the grand thing called static, so in his mind, his mind that was locked away and kept rudimentary for so long, this shock upon first contact signified something monumental…something visceral.

You press further against the wall, brows furrowing as your hand moves up to rub at your cheek, and Choso moves down to the slope of your neck, fingers running along the throbbing vein, racing pulse, and then he’s rubbing at your collarbones. You’re warm just like him, but where he’s hard you’re soft - soft, doughy, fragile.

His hands settle on your breasts, one in each palm, and he squeezes. Oh. You frown deeper, your eyes dropping to where his hands are groping, but you don’t see. He’s right up on you now, head angled down and jaw slack as he tests the weight in his hands - they’re a nice size, a good size. Your nipples get hard under his hand, and he rubs against it with his thumb - your bra is so thin.

He thinks back to that book and what he had read in it, images of the debauchery floating to the front of his mind, and his mouth runs dry at the thought of doing those things to you. He had never thought about sexual gratification, much less craved it, but he felt as if he had been subconsciously seeking it out all his life and he had finally found it.

His breath is practically coming out in pants, matching the rapid thumps of his heart. He traps your nipples between his fingers and squeezes. You suck in a sharp breath of air, eyes darting around at the other passengers who don’t pay you much attention - they’re all warily looking at the man still moaning in pain as he sags in a corner and clutches at his shoulder.

Choso squeezes again, and he knows it’ll feel better if he was touching you skin on skin, but he’s certain you wouldn’t take kindly to him scattering your shirt buttons all over the floor of the train and leaving your bra in tatters so he pushes that thought away for later - maybe for when you’re curled under your blankets at night and in a deep, deep sleep.

The maddening ache in his pants would have taken him by surprise a few months ago, but Choso has gotten pretty acquainted with his body with the help of a few snagged medical books and Yuji’s laptop (which was still an enigma to Choso at times).

Both of his hands leave your breasts to instead push at his pants, the baggy material easily slipping down toned, lean thighs until they pool around his booted ankles.

His cock is pale but noticeably darker at the tip, and there’s a long, prominent vein that starts at the center of his shaft and disappears into black, coily pubes. His cock has never been able to stand up properly, weighted down by the sheer size, so it hangs between his thighs, thick and heavy, identical to his desire for you.

He wraps a hand around his turgid length, hissing through his teeth as he does, and pushes closer. You don’t move a muscle, standing stock-still as you try and fail to make sense of all these ‘phantom’ sensations.

If they were able, he’s sure your knuckles would have long since turned white with how hard you’re clutching onto the purse that’s now cradled against your chest. Your thighs shift together, inadvertently making your skirt rise a bit, heels noisily clinking against the platform of the car as you shuffle, and Choso spreads his legs and bends at the knees, a heaving breath leaving him as he slots his cock right through the opening between your thighs that you so graciously left.

The tights clinging to your thighs are smooth and silky, and coupled with the heat of your skin that perforates through, Choso feels himself jerk and twitch at the feeling. It’s leagues better than his hand, and his mind is already spinning at the thought of how you’ll feel on the inside.

His hand comes down heavy against the door beside your head, and you flinch as your head whips to the side to look, eyebrows furrowing when you notice the large handprint on the glass. His other hand curls around the pole to the left of you, hand gripping it so tight that he can feel the steel denting underneath his grip, and he rocks his hips, slowly.

Warm, soft, squishy, the adjectives flit through his mind one after the other, a new one coming with each push of his cock between your thighs. He’s hot all over, skin burning and strands of black plastering themselves to his damp face. His balls are tight, and his left eye twitches when a soft sound escapes your mouth, a look of bewilderment on your face.

He comes, hard. His orgasm locks all his muscles up and makes his teeth snap together so hard they nearly shatter. His eyes roll back, the pole caves in under the pressure of his grip, the window beside your head shatters as his hand goes through it, and he makes a split second decision to show himself in an effort to shield you from the hail of glass.

Choso can nearly see the scream of fright that gets caught in your throat at his sudden appearance, and a grin that lacks remorse twists onto his lips. Your bugged eyes slowly trail down, and the scream finally un-lodges itself when you catch sight of his softening length and the mess it’s left on your clothing.

Choso hides himself once again and steps off at the next station as he fixes his clothing. You stumble off as well, frantically heading towards the security booth as your eyes dart around to catch sight of him.

Soon, he thinks.

He’d let you see him again soon enough.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The scent of memory

Pairing : (implied) Caesar x human reader

Warning: FLUFF

Summarize (you'll never see me write a good one 😭): You started to cook a meal dear to your heart when a certain ape decided to pay you a visit.

Words: 2K

A/N: I tried a little something, I hope you'll like it! Enjoy your reading 😊 I lowkey feel a bit insecure about this one but shhh I just wanted to get this out of my mind

Masterlist.

There were surprises every day. Ever since you joined Caesar's clan, you'd spent your time learning what your human life had never taught you: to use what nature offered and adapt it to the needs of the community.

And there was a lot to learn. So Caesar asked Maurice to teach you, to teach you the way of the apes. You were a quick learner, but you never gave yourself too much credit: Maurice was a good teacher, patient and clear in what he showed you. Regardless of the activity, he always found the best way to help you master the techniques for weaving ropes or fine plant stems and knotting them, for whittling wood to create stakes or notches, for carving stone to make weapons… Maurice taught you to identify plants and mushrooms, the edible ones, the healing ones, the poisonous ones. One day, he even took you with him into the forest to learn how to track small game. Not that hunting was one of your favorite activities, and even if you still needed a bit of work in that area, being able to find and track game added a usefulness to your presence within the clan.

Being useful. That was all that mattered to you, and often, when night fell and Maurice left you to your own activities, you continued the work. You'd weave again and again until you obtained the exact density and solidity you were looking for. You could spend several hours whittling a piece of wood to the right angle or thickness. Carving stone required more strength and dexterity. You often ended up with scratches on your hands, but if that meant being useful, then you'd take all the cuts and scratches necessary to master these techniques.

With Maurice, you learned the manual stuff. But there was one last thing you needed to learn. Something that took time to communicate: sign language.

Caesar always found a moment in his day to teach you. You weren't sure why he'd appointed himself as your teacher for this language, but it gave you the opportunity to spend some time with him. And over time, you learned to savor those brief moments when he showed you a new word.

Moments of peace.

It was a strange thing to feel serenity in the face of this force of nature that was Caesar. Strong, powerful but also fair and caring. All he had to do was stand there, and all eyes were on him. He attracted loyalty and respect like a magnet, and everyone was bound to succumb to his power. And yet, in contradiction to the unsettled beating of your heart, you felt a deep sense of calm as you spent these moments beside him.

You looked forward to his daily interventions, brief and occasionally strict if you didn't place your hands correctly to form a word, as if they were a reward.

Yes, you spent most of your time learning.

However, on rare occasions, you did have time for yourself, or rather, you allowed yourself to take this time after lessons, without practicing. You mostly used it to wash your clothes or cook. On the days when a touch of nostalgia crept into you, you cooked meals from your old life. Back when you still lived in the city.

You couldn't always find all the ingredients you needed for the recipes you now know almost by heart, but you always managed to replace what was missing. Thanks in no small part to Maurice's teaching. And when you cooked, a sweet aroma would delightfully fill the space of your hut.

Tonight was one of those days when nostalgia rang at your door. You had decided to cook a ratatouille. A simple, unadorned meal, but one in which most of the ingredients were available to you in the village: cultivating the land was also one of the things you had to learn.

You carefully chopped your vegetables, some of them already immersed in an old iron pan you'd picked up on one of Maurice's supervised outings. The aroma of the tomato melted deliciously with that of the onion, and each portion of vegetable you added to your preparation pleasantly tingled your nostrils. You remembered how, as a little girl, you used to complain that you still had to eat vegetables while your mother sliced them with a smirk on her face: “You can decide on your meal when you grow up, and to grow up, you need to eat vegetables”. At the time, you thought this was the smartest thing a person could say, and it couldn't be further from the truth. Vegetables made you grow and when you grew up, you could choose not to eat them.

You inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance's journey through your body until it reached your lungs. You almost wanted to hold your breath, letting the aromas mingle and swirl, but perhaps too soon, you exhaled, opening your eyes. How long had it been since you closed them? You weren't sure, but your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on the one of an unexpected ape.

“C… Caesar?”

His name falling on your lips was the signal that you had just become aware of his presence. He had watched you lose yourself in your thoughts and chosen to remain on the threshold of your hut, not wishing to disturb your deep reflections, whatever they might be. So he waited for a gesture, a mimic, a simple sign that you had become aware of his presence, before stepping forward.

As he drew closer, a tantalizing scent came wafting up his muzzle, and you couldn't help noticing his nostrils taking in a few breaths of the aroma. In fact, he glanced at your pan placed directly on the small fire, showing you that he had just identified where the smell was coming from.

Caesar plopped down beside you, always sitting so that he could read what was going on in your eyes. He often made the excuse that this way, you could more easily see and learn the words he was signing to you, which was true, but secretly, he enjoyed being able to study the slightest expression that ventured across your face.

And you were obviously entitled to a surprise quiz on your knowledge of sign language.

Caesar took care to sign slowly, stopping when he saw a doubt creeping into your eyes, sometimes repeating the sign that was obviously causing you difficulty in understanding, until you were able to correctly state the question he had just asked you, not without a touch of pride at your success.

“ You're not eating with the colony?”

You think for a moment, looking at your hands to try to find the right gestures.

“ Want to spend some time… ”

And when you couldn't find the right word, you said it out loud again.

“Alone.” You finished, silently asking him about the right sign for this word.

He looked at you for a moment, taking in your answer, before giving you the sign for the word “ alone ”. You repeated it to memorize it, and Caesar simply nodded when you signed it correctly. A comfortable silence settled between you and he glanced once more at the vegetables simmering quietly. The delicate sound of crackling food blended perfectly with the crackling of wood being devoured by flames.

You weren't done adding the last ingredients, and you took Caesar's silence as a signal that he wouldn't be asking anything more from you right now, so you set about crumbling the fresh thyme stalks on top of your preparation.

Caesar stared at the vegetables, their sweet aromas tingling his nostrils in waves, and when your hands appeared in his field of vision, he couldn't help but watch your fingers meticulously work around the thyme stems, creating a shower of tiny leaves over your meal. And as the food bubbled, the scent of thyme mingling with the other vegetables wafted up from the pan. For a brief moment, he felt as if a magic trick had been played on him, and his green eyes found their way to yours.

He knew about cooking. He knew that humans cooked every meal they ate, with the exception of a few that could be eaten raw, such as fruit and certain vegetables. He'd seen, and sometimes even tasted, when his humans' backs were turned, some of the meals and cakes they'd left on the table in the living room of his former home. But if he'd seen the finished products, how they were made remained a mystery. Will had never taken the time to show him how he cooked his meals. So there was something… wonderfully intriguing about seeing you at work.

Your gaze was still on the pot, and as you stirred the ingredients with a piece of stick from which you'd peeled the bark, you took a deep breath. Caesar watched your eyelids flutter and close as a smile crept over your face, as if a distant memory had just gently brushed over your mind.

You felt at home, and Caesar could have fallen even deeper in adoration at the serene, contented face you offered him, if he hadn't forced himself to avert his gaze, which he knew was sometimes too intense for you to bear. It was something he took note of mentally when he looked at you intently with the simple aim of learning the core of your entire soul. When his eyes settled on you for a little too long, you had this habit of rolling your shoulders, as if to rid yourself of some invisible tension, a self-conscious smile tacked to your lips, while your arms wrapped tightly around your chest to protect yourself from his inspection.

Caesar decided to keep his gaze on the contents of your pan, figuring it would be easier to suppress the gentle tingling sensation that was creeping traitorously into the pit of his stomach.

“It's… a meal that… my mother used to cook for me.” You spoke fondly, but with a hint of incertitude in your voice.

You didn't talk much about your past, just as Caesar didn't talk much about it either. Hearing you mention a memory that seemed to be cherished in your heart, though not sure it was the right thing to do, had softened the usually serious expression on Caesar's face.

Caesar nodded quietly, accepting your recollection as a gift, a token of trust. Even if these memories were attached to humans and to life before the release of the apes, they were memories that made you who you were today. Not allowing or accepting them would be like not accepting… you. And Caesar was already far beyond that.

You smiled again, your gaze lost in your memories. It was hard for him to understand how a simple scent could take you so far in thought, but after all, it wasn't for him to judge the complex emotions that must have been running through you at that moment.

“The same food?”

Caesar's gruff voice caught your attention, and a hint of joy lit up your face at his sudden interest in your past.

“Not quite.” You replied, still smiling. “I take the peppers off, I don't like them,” you giggled.

He huffed, slightly entertained by what seemed to be hiding a more detailed story you'd shared with your mother and didn't yet want to tell.

The smell was so tempting, it was hard to deny it. He watched you pick up the pot using a thick piece of cloth, so as not to burn yourself, and serve you a portion of food in a bowl. It was then that he caught himself thinking that maybe, some day, you'd agree to share with him this meal that seemed so dear to you.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (3/?)

Part Summary: But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing. Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you. 

Or the one where Wanda accidentally pulls you into a very vivid dream

Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Tags: Slight Somno, Explicit Dream Sharing, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Maybe Resolved Sexual Tension | Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Author's notes: I have no explanation for this, Your Honor.

Series Masterlist

-

The sleeping arrangement becomes less complicated following your return to Wanda’s room, days after you splurged on a hotel suite.

It’s less complicated in a sense that Wanda did away with the pillow barrier and began sleeping on the bed with an ease, almost as if you weren't there. While you found her newfound nonchalance puzzling, you've learned your lesson about making assumptions. After the recent embarrassment, you've become more careful about reading too much into things.

But with the pillow gone, so too was Wanda's warmth that you'd grown accustomed to when you first started sharing her space. 

The soft "good morning" greetings, ones that used to set a gentle tone for the day, disappeared. Most mornings, she's up before you, the other side of the bed cool to the touch. On the rare occasion you do wake up before her, you hustle through your morning routine, eager to vacate the space. You hope this gives her the peace of a bathroom unoccupied and the luxury of starting her day in solitude, without the need to navigate around someone else in her sanctuary.

However, as days meld into one another, you notice that Wanda's behavior has reverted to how it was in the beginning–not cold, but seemingly indifferent. The occasional smile she throws your way feels more like a courtesy, perhaps an acknowledgment for saving her life, rather than a desire to be your friend. When you talk, the conversations remain on the surface, never diving deep. Gone are the days of sharing little secrets, dreams, or thoughts; now, the chats are cordial, almost scripted.

She said everything was okay, but it sure doesn't feel like it. That awkward moment with her pillow keeps replaying in your mind. Every silence between you two makes you wonder if you really did make her uncomfortable.

As the day wraps up, you get into bed and notice Wanda's already asleep, facing away. You let out a deep sigh. You can't keep avoiding the topic. Listening to her steady breathing, you decide: tomorrow, you'll talk to her and try to fix things between you two.

-

Except, something unexpected happens in the middle of the night.

Still deep in slumber, Wanda drifts over to your side, her leg carelessly resting on yours as she nestles closer, with your arm inadvertently near her chest.

From your time sharing the bed, you've come to understand that Wanda can sleep soundly through almost anything.

Yet, as you carefully attempt to wriggle out from beneath her embrace, wanting to give her more space, it has the opposite effect. Wanda's grasp tightens, pulling you closer. Before you can fully comprehend the shift, she's straddling your thigh. A sudden heat radiates from her core, making contact with your leg, and an involuntary gasp escapes your lips.

In her deep slumber, Wanda starts to murmur softly, words flowing in Sokovian. Her voice, hushed and sultry even in sleep, becomes the most tantalizing sound you've ever heard.

You can feel the faint brush of her lips against your neck, sending ripples of anticipation down your spine. Her fingers begin to dance lightly across your exposed abdomen, each touch igniting a spark that makes you swallow hard. This is uncharted territory, teetering on a delicate edge. 

Overwhelmed, you can only manage a soft, “Wanda?” hoping it might wake her up.

But she just keeps on murmuring, lost in her dream. You try to make sense of her muffled words, but it's hard. And then, out of nowhere, she sighs your name. It's not loud, but it's filled with a kind of longing.

Your heart skips a beat. She's dreaming about you. 

But before you can articulate what this means, an arresting image takes shape in your mind: the bed beneath you creaking softly as Wanda, devoid of any garments, moves atop you. Her head is thrown back, a cascade of her hair tumbling down her back, her face etched with raw emotion. The soft, dim light of the room captures the gentle curve of her breasts, her erect nipples, rising and falling in time with her rhythmic movements. Each bounce, each motion pulls you deeper into the vision.

It must be Wanda's powers. Steve once tried to explain the intricacies of her abilities, but all you gathered was that she could craft intense illusions in one's mind.

You never imagined you'd experience it firsthand. Especially not in such a... provocative manner.

As quickly as that consuming image formed in your mind, it's torn away, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You feel a rhythmic motion against your leg. It's Wanda. The dampness of her panties seeps onto your skin, unmistakably warm and wet. Each subtle movement of her hips sends a tangible pulse through the both of you. 

In your desperation, you whisper, “Wanda?” trying to pull both of you from the heated dream world. But as you reach out to her, another overwhelming image infiltrates your thoughts.

This vision is even more raunchy. Wanda's thighs frame your view, her glistening core just inches from your face. You can see every detail: the way her soft folds part for you, inviting, enticing. Hesitantly, your tongue reaches out, sinking into her.  The scent of Wanda, both heady and sweet, envelops you. A moan escapes your lips, relishing that first taste—you from the dream and quite possibly, the real you. You delve deeper, your tongue exploring, stretching her, teasing every sensitive spot. With each push of your tongue, Wanda gasps, her moans getting louder. She rides your face with abandon, grinding down against you, chasing her pleasure. 

The vision recedes, much like the previous one, leaving behind an unsuspecting Wanda nestled against you.

The line between what's real and what's in your mind becomes dangerously thin. Wanda's fingers clutch at your waist with a desperate strength as she grinds fervently against your leg.  

You can't help but let out a moan, “God, Wanda…” The pleasure is as much yours as it is hers.

Any caution, any reservations you held onto, start to slip away.

Your thigh instinctively rises, pressing tighter to Wanda, matching the urgency of her grind. Her breathy moans become more desperate, and you can feel the tension in her body as she gets closer.

“Ah, Y/N…” Wanda hisses, and for a moment, you think she has finally woken up. But when you risk a glance down, her eyes are still firmly shut, the rocking motion of her hips becoming more frantic.

The tension builds, and soon Wanda's entire frame stiffens. As she crests the wave of her climax, you can feel her wetness, warm and abundant, seeping through onto your leg. The sharp bite on your shoulder punctuates the moment, her moan echoing softly in your ear.

As her tremors subside, Wanda's weight presses into you more heavily, her chest heaving against your side. You can't help but glance at the evidence of her release smeared on your leg. On an impulse, you gather the moisture with your fingers, hesitating just for a brief second before tasting her. The slightly sweet, unmistakably intimate taste causes a shudder to travel through your body. The throbbing heat between your own legs becomes nearly unbearable, making you shift restlessly beneath her.

Wanda rolls away, and suddenly, it's like a splash of cold water hits you. You just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thinking, what the hell just happened. The warm fuzziness from earlier turns to guilt. You can't help but wonder if you crossed a line, even if it was all so unintentional. 

You can't take the weight of it any longer. Every second on that bed, every rustle of the sheets is a cruel reminder. Quietly, you slip out of the bed, taking one last glance at Wanda, her form peaceful, oblivious to the storm inside your head.

The cold floor greets your feet as you head towards the door. Your steps echo, each one sounding heavier than the last. The corridor outside seems darker than you remember, but maybe it's just your mood. You keep your head down, not wanting anyone to see the guilt written all over your face.

The door to your cell looms ahead, and entering feels like you're punishing yourself, willingly locking yourself away. But in some twisted way, it feels like what you deserve right now. The cold walls seem like old friends, and the thin mattress beckons you to lie down. The bite on your shoulder pulses with every heartbeat, and you hug your knees close, trying to find solace in the dark. 

The hope now is that sleep, if it eventually comes, will help you find clarity or at least forget, if only for a few hours.

-

The next morning, Wanda stirs, her hand lazily reaching out to the space next to her, expecting to meet warmth. Instead, the sheets are cold, the bed emptier than she remembered.

Yawning, she stretches her limbs, and that's when she feels it – the discomfort between her legs. The sticky reminder of her dream. Her face turns crimson, and she's momentarily taken aback, but soon gratitude takes over as she realizes you're not there to witness her state.

Shuffling out of bed to freshen up, the water from the showerhead splashing on her helps clear her head. Yet, as much as she tries to banish the thoughts, the memories remain persistent. Since the day she walked in on you with her pillow, an image has planted itself firmly in her mind. The visual of your naked form, vulnerable, lost in pleasure—it was an image she couldn’t shake off. 

Wanda has been skillfully evading you for days. While shared spaces in the facility meant you were bound to cross paths, Wanda became remarkably adept at staying out of sight. You'd walk into the dining area, she'd just be leaving. You'd be heading to the training room, and she'd abruptly turn, murmuring about forgetting something.

It's not that she's afraid of confrontation. It's the exact opposite. She fears the pull she feels toward you, the visceral need to close the distance. And with the memory of that day—of catching you so intimately involved with her pillow—she fears she might not be able to control herself. The trajectory your relationship has taken prior, the slow-build of a bond, was at a dangerous tipping point. All it might take is one lingering gaze, one innocent touch, and she worries that restraint would crumble.

(She believes she's keeping her feelings hidden, contained within her, but the truth is, they already surfaced in the most unexpected way. If only she knew.)

-

Throughout the day, you remain conspicuously absent from the usual spots in the compound, making Wanda's self-imposed avoidance unexpectedly effortless.

Wanda tries not to think about it too much, assuming you were called away on a mission.

-

As the night deepens, Wanda finds herself glancing repeatedly at the door, anticipating your return. She adjusts the sheets, fluffs the pillows, and even listens for any signs of movement outside her room.

But the hours tick by, and you never show.

-

As another day passes and another night comes, Wanda's worry deepens. Every night, she finds herself waiting, hoping you'd walk in. But you never do. Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she finally turns to Vision, the only person in the compound who always seems to know where everyone is.

“Vision?” she begins hesitantly, catching him in one of the quiet hallways. 

Vision blinks at her, his eyes briefly flickering in that peculiar way of his, as though processing data. “Wanda,” he begins, his tone always measured, “What do you need?”

"It's about Y/N. Have you seen them? They haven't been back to my room in days," she blurts out, a little more desperately than she intended.

Vision pauses, analyzing for a moment. “I have noticed that they've been spending a significant amount of time in their old cell. They've mostly remained isolated.”

Wanda's heart sinks. The thought of you confining yourself to that cold, lonely cell pricks at her heart. “Did something happen? Did they get a mission or…”

Vision interrupts gently, “No mission, Wanda. As far as I'm aware, they've chosen to stay there.”

Wanda's throat tightens, the realization that her behavior might have indirectly pushed you away, making her nauseous.

“Thank you, Vision,” she says softly, her voice wavering slightly. 

She needs to find you, to talk things through, to clear the air.

Whatever it takes to pull you once again out of that goddamn cell.

-

You're there, curled into a tight ball, deep in slumber when Wanda finds you just moments later. The soft rise and fall of your chest is the only indication of life in the otherwise still cell.

Wanda pauses at the doorway, taking in the sight of you. Her eyes slide over your arms, noticing the muscle lines even in sleep. She looks up to your face, which seems so calm and quiet. Your lips are just slightly open, and she wonders what you might be dreaming about.

But then the reality of the scene hits her. 

The cold, unyielding floor you're sleeping on, the way you've curled up, trying to find some comfort where there's none. It’s a far cry from the soft bed upstairs, and a pang of guilt hits her hard. She’s been so focused on avoiding you, she didn’t think about where you'd end up. 

This isn’t right, and deep down, she knew it. 

With cautious steps, Wanda approaches you, her fingers itching to reach out and pull you into her arms. But she resists, instead crouching beside you. 

“Y/N,” she whispers gently, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder, giving it a light shake.

You stir, eyelids fluttering open to meet her concerned gaze. For a brief second, confusion paints your features, but as recognition dawns, you sit up abruptly, creating distance.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?”

She takes a deep breath, looking a bit anxious. “We need to talk.”

You shuffle backwards as Wanda catches the slight distance in your eyes, realizing that her recent coldness has probably hurt you more than she thought.

You say nothing and hug your knees to your chest, half of your face hidden from Wanda.

She hesitates, and then slowly says, “I know why you've been hiding in here.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Images flash before your eyes, moments from that night replaying, guilt flooding you once again. “Look, Wanda, I know what I did, and... and that's why I'm here,” you stutter out, pointing to the bleak surroundings of the cell. “It's where I deserve to be.”

Wanda, however, looks perplexed. “Wait, what are you talking about? I'm here because I've been... avoiding you. And you've been avoiding me… hence, you coming back to this cell, right?” She genuinely seems unaware of what you're alluding to, which only confuses and surprises you more.

Shit.

Now it's you who have to explain.

But you remain mute, eyes darting everywhere but at the wary girl in front of you.

“Y/N,” Wanda prods. 

You're convinced that this is it. Surely, with the power she possesses, she'd obliterate you right here and now for crossing such a line. Because you have no choice now but to tell her the truth.

“I…” You hesitate, taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to confess your sin. “That night you came close to me in your sleep... I woke up to it, to you... acting out your dream on me.” Your face flushes as you meet her gaze, expecting disgust or anger. “I didn't stop it, Wanda. I should have woken you up, pulled away, but I didn’t. I... I let it happen. I’m so sorry.”

Wanda's eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush a bright red. “You... you did what?” 

You'd think her tomato-red cheeks were cute if the situation wasn't so mortifying. But right now, it's clear she's grappling with what you just said. She stammers, trying to find her words. “I... I had no idea.”

For a brief moment, memories of waking up with a sticky sensation between her legs and remnants of a vivid dream about you come flooding back. Wanda never thought she'd acted on it, not in reality. The realization is mortifying, but also, she can't help the faint flutter of excitement that twists in her stomach, thinking about how you let it happen. 

“I... I can't believe it,” she whispers, torn between embarrassment and something… forbidden.

For a drawn-out minute, neither of you shifts. It's as if you're both frozen, trapped in the aftershocks of your confession and Wanda's conflicting reactions to it. But before either of you gets the courage to make the first move, the cell door clangs open loudly. 

Both of you jump, startled by the sudden intrusion.

Steve Rogers strides in, looking relieved. “There you are, Y/N. And Wanda?” His brows raise in surprise, likely not expecting to find the two of you in your old cell.

“I have some good news. Wanda, you can have your room to yourself from now on.”

Wanda blinks, looking both relieved and disappointed. But before she can voice any of it, Steve turns to you with a small smile. 

“Because Tony has now assigned yours.”

[absurd-ash]

hii, até your requests still open? if yes, can i ask for some fluff hcs of macaque and wukong (sep pls) with a reader who is tired because of college? like they don’t even have time for themselves or even for the monkeys since they study EVERY DAY.

i just need to sleep please 💀

☀️Wukong & Macaque x OverworkedReader🌙

TW: Swearing

A.N: Coming right up! Sorry both of these are so short, I’ve been trying super hard to finish’s the next chapters of my Jax x reader book as well as A Silent Truce

___________________________________________

>☀️I’m going to be completely honest with you, this man is dense as fuck. So he’s not going to tell that your tired because of college, he just gonna think your exhausted and burnt out for no reason.

>Your going to have to tell him explicitly that college is what’s tiring you out so much

>But if you don’t tell him, he’ll still try his best to make you relax, anything, you name it.

>Massaging, Hair grooming, cuddling, hell, he’ll even cook for you, just wanting to see you take a break and get some rest

>☀️The studying part is where it gets more complicated and what he does to help you fully depends on what your studying

>if it’s something like history, Wukong will be more than happy to tell you about almost everything he remembers about his past, although he might over exaggerate some bits

>But if your studying something that he’s bad with, for example, English, he’ll struggle with you and it’ll end in you giving him a lesson on the subject (much to his displeasure)

>🌙Unlike Wukong, Macaque will sense that your overworking yourself because of college immediately

>Hope you didn’t have any assignments due soon since this man is not letting your anywhere near your desk until you get some rest

>He doesn’t say it explicitly, but he worries about you a lot and on some occasions even watch your through the shadows to make sure you eat and sleep enough

>🌙Macaque also always picks up some food for you while he’s out since he knows that the chances of you ordering from some trashy fast food place are high

>Let’s just say Pigsy’s Noodles suddenly got a lot more orders ever since Macaque found out you’ve been overworking yourself

>🌙Whenever Macaques busy, be it training or doing a shadow play, he always had one of his shadow clones caring for you

>Unknown to him that his shadow clones had grown a bit clingy to you, not letting you get any work done and just pulling you in for a extremely long cuddle sesh

___________________________________________

Heya! Sorry again that this is so short, like I said I’ve been a bit busy. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! :D

Also, I kinda want to get to know you guys a bit better and vice versa, so please feel free to ask some questions and I’ll answer them!

[himegureisu]

Hiii! Just got home from a horrifying midterm exam. It went horrible, none of the questions were even in the lesson plan. Although it did give me an idea for this request :')

It's practically universal knowledge that Snape is a 'terror prof' (iykyk) at Hogwarts — his standards are high, he's very particular with essays and it's practically expected that every major exam, tears will be shed in and out the classroom with the amount of curveballs he throws at you.

(I'd feel like he'd be the type to have a True or False exam with choices like: True, Partially True, Partially False, False, and if none is applicable write the correct answer and all of it is situational)

He's married to the reader and they're both teachers, so they help each other on their loads. Much more efficient that way. One night after a particularly hard-hitting major exam in the semester, reader encounters tear stains and snot and a few drops of blood from a nosebleed on one of the exams (witnesses this once lol) and decided to confront him husband about it. Thank you! I hope this isn't too specific ;w;

Questions and Answers

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

A/N: I'm sorry you had a horrible exam day and thank you for preventing me from pulling my hair out of frustration because my Notion page was not cooperating when this request came through. I hope you enjoy this! 💖

——————————— 🪄———————————

“Severus, darling, why do your exam papers have at least two different types of fluids on them?” your fingers flip through the unfinished stack, your eyes scanning them.

This was the thirty-fifth test paper from his pile that you graded. His second-year tests were stained by a range of substances you curiously identified through a spell.

Did he truly not notice them?

“There’s a combination of either snot, sweat, tears, or,” you paused, taking one of the papers you already graded, to present to him. His dark eyes highlighted by the round reading glasses made for a rather attractive sight but focus, “On the rare occasion, blood,”

“Oh,” he simply said, looking up at you, “And?”

“Is that all you can say?” you frustratedly run a hand through your forehead as you sit on the edge of his desk causing him to stop, “What are these questions even? It’s a major exam for second years, not OWLs or NEWTs, Severus. My head hurts not only from the answers but also the questions,”

“If they can’t answer then they’re not competent enough to proceed to the…” his sentence undone by the beginning of your ramble, an attempt to explain why his methods were not feasible.

“Can you imagine the physical, mental, and emotional drain that major exams cause to students? You can reminisce on your time as one if it helps but it’s not good and then to be brought to this level of inquiry as if they were taking a mastery,” you explained, “There isn’t even a 50-50 chance to get the answer right only 25 because you decided that it would be better if there would be four very similar but distinct answers to the multiple choice questions and not a chance of redemption for those who don’t know the question if the said answer is one they needed to correct. I can better understand your students’ frustrations from this version of your exams,”

“To adjust the exam would mean that there would be a lower level of understanding…”

“That’s the point though since they’re just building the foundation of what they know for potions!” you exclaimed, “If it were a muggle game, Severus, it should be easy, medium, and then hard but your exams are hard, hard, and then hard on every level. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but…”

“Sev, imagine this,” you sit on his lap, cupping his cheeks for him to focus on you as you say, “Imagine a child, our child, a little boy or girl coming home to us in tears because of a similar test that they’d taken on that day,”

“It would be different. They would be ours,” he grumbled, pulling you in closer to bask in your warmth, “We wouldn’t teach them to be like that,”

“Sev, just imagine!” you sighed exasperatedly, his face buried beneath your chin, “Your little girl coming home in tears crying for us wanting a hug because of an awful exam day,”

His breathing was in sync with yours, trying to understand your reasoning. His imagination slowly conjures a little girl in your image. Her face was stained with big fat crocodile tears, a snot-filled nose, and books slung defeatedly on her arm. His heart tightened at the image of it, protectiveness surging from within.

No one was allowed to make either of you cry.

“Can you imagine?” you softly asked, running a hand through his hair, as he mumbled, “Yes,”

“Can you change the way your tests are written?” you silently prayed that he would, he breathed in and faced you to answer, “Fine, and you’ll help me,”

“I expect as much,” you smiled.

As you were about to get off his lap, his arms quickly pulled you back and in doing so, caused the chair to stumble a bit from the force. His nose on your hair, breaths warm, and hug unwilling to let go.

“Sev?” you glance back to see his darkened gaze, “What is it?

“Do you want children?” he asked, it wasn’t something both of you discussed in depth before, “I realized that after four years of marriage, we didn’t elaborate on our expectations on that particular topic,”

“If we’re blessed with children, then I’m happy,” you informed, tracing the contours of his face. No matter how many times you’ve seen him it’s like there’s another new thing to catalog in your mind, “If not, then I’ll be happy having you all to myself,”

“I don’t know if I want children,” he admitted, and you kissed his cheek, “We’ll get there when we get there, Sev, for now, don’t think about it,”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Body Electric

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader x Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD and familial death, (consensual) infidelity, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Tom's been sullen since returning from the Navy, and when his sister, Lois, moves from Longsight to London it heralds the end of the honeymoon period of his and his wife's marriage. Deciding a trip to the capital is just what they need to reignite the flame, Tom's wife gets much more than she bargains for when they check into The Halcyon, and she flirts with the handsome young bell boy to make her husband jealous.

Author's note: For @adragonprinceswhore and @mefools. This is not a crack fic. I have warped canon (I mean, I had to get these two to exist in the same AU anyway), so Billy didn't die when he was drafted, and has gone back to his old job at The Halcyon. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Dappled sunlight plays upon Tom’s sharp features, the occasional shadow of a tree or building passing across his face as the train speeds through the British countryside. He’d look beautiful, bathed in golden hues, were it not for the pensive expression he wears, and the faintest of dark circles that linger beneath his eyes.

She can’t remember the last time he looked genuinely happy - perhaps it was their wedding day?

Her and Tom had met in secondary school, and she’d thought he was an idiot to begin with; handsome, but always mucking around in lessons, never able to take anything seriously. It wasn’t until they’d both left that they’d become an item. She’d go to the weekly dances at the Pavillion, and every week he would ask her out. The first three times she had said no, not wanting to get mixed up with a known troublemaker. On the fourth occasion she’d relented, simply in the hopes that if she said yes he’d leave her alone. But she’d found she enjoyed his company, he made her laugh effortlessly, and when his blue eyes gazed into hers it made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. When he had kissed her it had stolen all the air from her lungs, and from that point on she was smitten with Tom Bennett.

The night before he shipped out for the first time, she had thought he meant to slam the bed’s headboard through the brickwork of the wall with the force with which he took her. However, she had smiled to herself when she’d felt the pleasant ache between her thighs the next day.

“Something to remember me by,” he’d told her with a wink and that trademark smirk of his.

Something to remember indeed.

She’d barely recognised him when he’d returned. He was thin, tired, didn’t laugh as freely, and learning that his father had passed when the Bennett family home was shelled had darkened his mood further. He hadn’t stayed long, enough to argue with his sister, Lois, and enough to find his way between her thighs once more and make her swear to him that she’d marry him when he came back.

Of course she had said yes, there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting to marry more than Tom. But with how things are between them these days she is left wondering if he’d married her because he loved her, or because she was the one thing left in Longsight that he could anchor himself to.

They’d married quickly when Tom was discharged for the final time, the war at its end. It had been an intimate affair, and despite the toll his service to his country had taken on him, Tom still gazed into her eyes on their wedding night and made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered.

But then Lois had announced she was taking Vera and moving to London - her and Connie had found a place they could share. A fresh start. She had hinted at wanting to move away from Longsight before, and Tom had dismissed it, insisting that the family must stay together. 

He was furious when she’d chosen to go anyway, refusing to be part of the send off party for her at the train station.

“This is where mum and dad are buried, how can she do this?!” He’d raged.

“They’re just headstones, Tommy,” she had tried to reassure him, “memories go everywhere with you.”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” he’d seethed back at her, “you’ve still got both your parents, what have I got?!”

“You’ve got me, you’ll always have me,” she’d said quietly.

He’d fallen silent at that, bowing his head and averting his gaze. It made her chest ache to see him that way.

It’s been close to a month since they were last intimate, and she has done her best to be patient and understanding. His time in the Navy has put him through a horrendous ordeal, coupled with losing Douglas, and his sister moving away, so she doesn’t pressure him.

However, she misses her husband. She feels that he is abandoning her each time he retreats into himself, going somewhere she can’t follow. Like two ships in the night, they pass each other by, laying in the same bed physically but emotionally never further apart.

When a letter arrives from Lois, letting them know she’s settled and would love for them to visit, she jumps at the opportunity. She has some money put aside from her job at the factory, and her and Tom never got to have a honeymoon, this would be the perfect way for them to rekindle the romance in their marriage.

She is shocked, yet thrilled, when Tom actually agrees to it, and the pair of them arrange a week’s worth of leave from their respective jobs, arranging to stay in a hotel rather than impose themselves upon Lois’ hospitality. There’d be plenty for them to do while they’re there, and she can’t wait to see the sights of Piccadilly Circus and Carnaby Street, she’s never been to London before.

Tom has stared silently out of the window the entire train ride from Manchester, though she knows better than to believe he’s taking in the scenery. It’s merely so he doesn’t have to make conversation. She can live with that, she is certain that once they’ve had their romantic week away that he’ll be much more talkative on the journey back.

Everything will be fine once we’re checked into The Halcyon.

It is early evening by the time they arrive, and Euston station is a crowded rush of people when they step onto the platform. She is fearful of it for a moment, never having seen so many people all in one place at once, until Tom takes her by the hand, guiding her through the crowds towards the taxi rank. Her heart soars at the gesture, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips over his protectiveness. Perhaps he is not lost to her after all.

She stares in wide eyed wonder out of the window of the black cab as it drives through the streets of London. It is similar to Manchester in its greyness and vastness, they both have all the trappings of big city living, however, the heart of London beats to an entirely different rhythm than that of Manchester’s. The capital seems harsher, more relentless than the northern locale that she calls home. She wonders if perhaps this is the right place to try to rekindle the spark in hers and Tom’s marriage after all.

That is until they step into the foyer of The Halcyon. Her heels click against the black and white tiles of the foyer, her mouth agape as she takes in the opulence of the huge pillars, the palm trees that flank either side of the entrance, and the yellow and orange hues of the stained glass panel in the ceiling. How could they not reignite their passion when they were going to live like royalty for a week?

“Billy!” The dark haired woman manning reception calls around the corner, once they’ve checked in. “Come and help Mr and Mrs. Bennett with their bags.”

A tall, lean young man, who can’t be any older than twenty, rounds the corner. He’s handsome, with bright blue eyes, and mousy hair that’s slicked back beneath the cap of his black and grey bellboy uniform.

He gives her a tight lipped smile, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looks at her and she can’t help the way she preens at his flustered state.

Still got it.

“Second floor, Billy,” the receptionist tells him as he leans down to grab their suitcases, “room twenty six.”

Billy nods. “Right this way, please, Mr and Mrs. Bennett,” he says, directing them towards the lifts.

She can feel the bellboy’s gaze upon her in the tight confines of the elevator and smiles to herself. At least someone was appreciative of her.

He takes his leave, bidding them both a good evening once their luggage is deposited outside of their room door, and her and Tom are left alone once more.

Tom whistles low as they enter, flicking on the lights, and she feels pride swell in her chest that he’s impressed by the lavish surroundings. A shiver of excitement runs through her as her eyes move over the crisp white pillows and crimson duvet that adorn the bed, thinking that this might be where they’ll finally make love for the first time in a month.

It’s a beautiful room; lace curtains hang in the windows, ornate floral wallpaper decorates the walls, there’s a writing desk by the window, and a yellow velvet armchair is placed off to one side by the bed.

Turning back towards Tom, she steps towards him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his jacket. She smiles demurely up at him, her voice a soft purr. “So, Mr. Bennett, what shall we do now?”

“It’s been a long journey, love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Let’s just get some rest, yeah?”

“Oh…okay,” she nods, stepping back and looking away. She feels like she might cry, as disappointment weighs heavily upon her chest. This is not how she imagined their first night here would go at all.

As she lays in the darkness, listening to the strange sounds of the city, motor cars and loud voices, all seeping in through the closed window, she can’t seem to fall asleep. She turns her face towards Tom, who lays facing away from her, wondering if he’s awake too.

“Tommy?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

She pauses a moment, and when she speaks again she’s unable to disguise the tremble of emotion in her voice. “Do…do you still love me?”

He rolls to face her then, and the devastation of what she’s implying is evident in the arch of his eyebrows and parting of his lips, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp that pours in through the lace curtains. She feels a lump in her throat, regretting having asked.

“Course I do,” he says earnestly, tugging her towards him, and she buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been letting you down.”

They stay like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning they sit in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Tom idly smokes a cigarette, a full English in front of him, while she butters her toast.

“Gonna go and see Lois today,” he tells her, taking a swig from his tea cup.

“I thought we’d arranged to visit her on Sunday?” She asks, frowning in confusion as she sets her knife down on her plate.

“We are,” Tom says, blowing smoke out through his nostrils - a gesture she has long since learned is a sign of irritation on his part. “But I’m gonna go see her today - alone.”

You’re going to start an argument, and then come back in a bad mood.

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tom shrugs. “Go to Carnaby Street, or whatever it was you were saying you wanted to do while we’re here.”

“Tommy, we’re supposed to do those things together, and I don’t wanna walk around London on my own!”

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the yolk of his fried egg, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He had barely touched his food, he never does anymore.

“Alright, look, I’m only gonna be gone a couple of hours, then we can do whatever you want. Why don’t you order some drinks for when I get back, and we can start our holiday properly?”

“You promise?” She asks with a small smile.

“Cross my heart,” he says, taking a final swig of his tea. He stands from the table and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And promise you won’t be horrible to Lois?”

“I’m not promising anything for that mardy cow,” he says, giving her a wink, before walking off.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Fuck’s sake, Tommy.

She goes back up to the room once she’s finished her breakfast, and takes a long, hot soak in the bath. Almost two hours have passed by the time she has her make-up finished and her hair curled. Dressed in lingerie and a satin robe, she is still deciding on an outfit when she realises Tom will be back soon and she hasn’t ordered their drinks.

Calling down to the hotel’s switchboard from the phone on the desk, she asks for a glass of white wine and a whisky to be sent up to the room. Ordinarily, Tom is a lager drinker, but she decides he deserves a treat as they’re on holiday.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and the bellboy from yesterday stands on the other side, holding a tray with the drinks they’d ordered.

She smiles warmly, watching him blush as he bows his head and enters the room, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you…Billy, wasn’t it?” She asks, cocking her head.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile, glancing at her before looking shyly away again. It’s clear her state of undress is having an effect on him. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, clearing his throat and straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will that be all?”

Excitement flutters in her lower belly. It’s been a long time since a man has reacted to her so bashfully, and she’s enjoying it. She isn’t ready to let Billy slip away just yet.

“No need to be so formal, sweetheart,” she coos, “you can call me by my first name.”

He shuffles from foot to foot, huffing a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mrs…sorry…”

“How old are you, Billy?” She asks, stepping towards him.

“I’m twenty-one.”

Seven years my junior. Not as bad as I’d thought.

“Did you serve, Billy?”

“Yes,” he says with a proud smile. “I manned the anti aircraft guns at the barracks for three years.”

The sound of a key in the lock draws both their attention towards the door, as Tom walks through it. Just as she’d anticipated, his expression is sour. He’s argued with Lois. 

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Billy says, with a polite nod of his head.

She knows how this will play out. Billy will leave, and Tom will allow his bad mood to ruin their day, either by refusing to leave their hotel room, or simply sulking his way around London when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Opting to use the current situation to her advantage, she decides to be tactical, and give her husband a reminder of what he’s missing out on. If he sees another man flirting with his wife, perhaps it will snap him out of this.

“No need to be in such a hurry, Billy, we were just getting to know each other. Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

Billy eyes Tom carefully as he walks past the both of them, taking the whisky from the tray on the desk and sipping from it.

“Well, my shift finishes in ten minutes,” he says distractedly, “so I s’pose I could–”

“Perfect,” she cuts him off, taking his arm and guiding him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

Tom remains silent, taking a seat in the armchair and placing his glass on the table next to it. His jaw is set, gaze dark. He only ever looks like this when he’s sparring for a fight, but if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Billy?” She asks softly, fingernails grazing his thigh, causing him to flush bright red.

“Er…well…” he removes his cap, keeping his gaze fixed on it as he turns it round in his hands. “There was a maid that worked here…Kate, her name was. I fancied her…really fancied her, but she moved back to Ireland to be with her family when the worst of the bombing hit.”

“Oh, you poor love,” she soothes, giving his hand a squeeze. “I expect a handsome lad like you has girls queuing up.”

The click of Tom’s lighter pulls their focus back to him, and he exhales a plume of smoke, staring intently at them both. “Do you fancy my wife?” He asks Billy, with a steely gaze.

Billy swallows thickly, eyes widening in panic as he opens and closes his mouth.

“It’s okay, Billy,” she says gently, “you don’t need to be shy.”

“Well…I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mrs…sorry…but I think you’re beautiful.”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed, and she averts her gaze as she feels her skin grow warm.

“Yeah, she is beautiful isn’t she? Would you like to kiss her?” Tom asks, lifting his glass and taking a deep drink from it, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Her head snaps up, looking at her husband with wide eyed shock.

Why is he asking that?!

“Tommy…” she says hesitantly, an edge of warning in her tone.

“It’s fine, love,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, settling further into the armchair, observing the both of them. “Go on, kiss her.”

Returning her attention to Billy, he’s shuffled closer, looking at her questioningly.

“Is…is this okay?” He whispers, leaning in.

She nods, closing the gap and her lips meet his. He is hesitant at first. His kisses are not as forceful as Tom’s, his lips are softer. As she reaches up to cup his cheek, he seems to grow more confident, applying more pressure, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his throat. It makes her core throb to be desired like this.

When they finally part for air, she is breathless and flustered. She looks straight to Tom. He sits, watching them casually, fingers wrapped around his glass in one hand, propped on the arm of the chair, his cigarette burning low between his forefingers in the other.

“Do you wanna touch her?” He asks Billy, a low, darkened edge to his voice.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” Billy answers, sounding more poised than he had just moments before.

“Go on then,” Tom instructs, “brush your thumb over her nipple, she likes that.”

She gasps softly as Billy leans in again, capturing her lips with his own once more. A quiet moan escapes her as she feels his hand tentatively slip into the opening of her robe, his thumb swiping gently over the lace of her brassiere.

He is not as self assured as Tom, Billy’s touch is featherlight by comparison, but it’s been so long since someone has paid this kind of attention to her that she responds to it just the same. She arches against Billy, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she hears his cap drop to the carpet with a soft thud.

“You can fuck her, if you want to,” Tom rasps, and she glances over at him, as Billy’s desperate kisses move down her neck. His blue eyes are still dark, she’s no longer able to tell if it’s from anger or arousal, the two states look much the same when he wears them.

There’s a part of her mind that’s screaming at her that this is wrong, that they should stop. However, if this is what it takes to get Tom to notice her again, then she’ll do it, and selfishly she’s enjoying how it feels.

Billy pushes her back, and she goes willingly. “Are you sure this is okay?” He whispers, his voice betraying his nerves.

She nods, untying and opening her robe, to reveal the lacy lingerie set she wears beneath.

Billy draws in a sharp inhale, before hurriedly unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers with shaky hands.

He freezes, looking at Tom. “I…I don’t have a sheath.”

“Don’t need one,” Tom replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “Best not keep her waiting.”

She pulls the gusset of her knickers to one side as Billy hovers over her. She can feel she’s soaked already. Billy is not quite as girthy as Tom, but still an impressive size that causes her breath to catch in her throat as he starts to press inside.

Tom chuckles quietly from where he sits. “She’s tight, isn’t she? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. Go careful.”

His words cause her to ache with want, and she moans wantonly as Billy bottoms out with a grunt. He’s gentle, much more so than Tom would be, slowly withdrawing before pushing back in, a dusting of pink prominent across his cheekbones.

“You won’t break her,” Tom tells him, “can just imagine how wet and warm she feels. Fuck her harder, and wrap one of her legs around you. She goes mad for that.”

She cries out, white hot sparks of pleasure swirling in her gut as Billy does as he’s told, the shallow pants of his breath puffing hotly against the side of her face.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and he smirks, eyes raking over the scene before him as Billy continues to rut into her.

“T–Tommy…” she moans.

With each push of Billy’s hips into hers, she can feel her climax building, she’s right on the precipice, but it seems Billy is too. He tenses, a groan escaping him.

“Don’t you dare come inside her,” snaps Tom.

As if on cue, Billy pulls out, making her whine at the loss, coating her thighs in his hot spend as his jaw slackens and his brow furrows.

Before she’s had a chance to recover, Tom is rising from his seat towards the bed. “You can go now,” he tells Billy.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Billy nods, clambering off of her and fastening his trousers and belt back up. He stoops to pick up his cap, before hurrying towards the door, followed by Tom.

She lays there, dumbfounded and breathless, through glassy eyes she watches Tom hand Billy a bank note. “You’ll not tell anyone about this, d’you understand?”

“Y–yes, sir.”

She hears the door click closed, and Tom walks back over to the bed. His pupils are blown wide with lust and it sends a shiver through her.

“Enjoy yourself, love?” He asks, grabbing her thighs and tugging her towards the edge of the mattress, making her squeal.

“Are you angry with me?” She asks quietly, feeling shame bloom heavily within her chest.

“No,” he says distractedly, attention focused on her core. His thumb swipes through the stickiness that’s been left on her thigh, spreading it slowly over her skin. “No, I’m not angry.”

“You’ve been so absent lately,” she says sadly, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just wanted your attention.”

He straightens, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s my fault. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore. Now–”

She clenches around nothing as his hands move to his belt, and she hears the metallic clink of it opening. “Now you have my full attention, and I’m gonna make sure you get all of it.”

[teatreeoilll]

|| Temptation (Satoru Gojo X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

While hoping to be reinstated in the Jujutsu world, you meet with the teacher you had a crush on in your school days.

I wrote this while drunk, I think that says it all.

Image credits to user blueparadis.

"Why'd you call me Sensei?" Gojo chuckled, his long fingers reaching his blindfold, holding it up to let one eye peek from under it. You take a seat across from him. "I was only your teacher for a year, and that was ages ago."

He was right, of course, but the air of his office and the familiar smell of the chrysanthemum bushes outside the window had brought back too many memories of your last year at Jujutsu High; your mind had no trouble flashing the images of late nights and talks with your then best friends.

2009

"I think I might fail this year," you'd laugh, covering your mouth with your hand, thinking it would hush your uncalled-for remarks you'd whisper in the middle of training sessions, "I mean what is he, a few years older than us?"

On weekend nights, the few students in your grade would gather in one of the rooms, trying to muffle the 'tsssk' sound the opening of the drinks they managed to smuggle for these occasions would produce. At most of these gatherings, the tougher subjects would be tactfully avoided, no talk about missions and curses, or mentions of horrible past incidents were allowed.

There wasn't much left to chat about after the rules were unanimously established, and so most nights your classmates would group together laughing at the feelings you've managed to develop for your new teacher. The running joke had always made your cheeks flush red. "Oh, Gojo-Sensei, your eyes are so blue!" A boy from your class would make a lousy impression of your voice that would always elicit laughter from the group, "Oh, Gojo-Sensei, could you tutor me?"

Even at that age, you liked to think that no one apart from your friends could observe the crush you've steadily developed. However, especially when hearing your whispers, your teacher had always felt that was an insult to his self-proclaimed skills of deduction. Gojo would make sure to pause his enthusiastic explanations to put a large hand on your shoulder just to watch you blush, and your classmates giggle. He was far too determined to take advantage of each lesson to bask in the feeling of your attentive gaze.

present day

"I'm sorry," you mutter, "Old habits." His limbs are sprawled on the shiny leather of the chair as he talks ; "Are you thinking of returning to the Jujutsu world? If so, I think there are more suitable people to talk to." He noticed your gaze shifting downwards, he didn't mean any harm with his words, but you couldn't help but feel unwanted in the room.

"I'm sorry to be a bother, I just thought that -" "Ah, I'm sorry. You probably just came to visit your old Sensei you used to crush on." He snickers. Getting up from his seat, he walks around the large desk, just to put a hand on your shoulder the way he remembered would make you blush. "What? I -," You struggle to find the words, your gaze still fixed on your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I - I never had a crush on you."

Your words seemed to him as a personal challenge. The determination to make you admit it excited every cell in his body as he kneeled before you, the grin widening on his face when he grabbed your fidgeting hand to hold gently, the sudden touch making you raise your eyes to glance at him.

He hardly changed, you thought, his mannerisms still as shameless as they were back then, his touch still making your stomach flutter. "Nothing to be ashamed about," He declares, "It was your last year, and this young, attractive man comes in -" "Gojo Se-" you stop yourself from saying the word that so easily excited him to go down this path, "Gojo, I'm really only here to talk my reinstatement."

His thumb moves slightly over the back of your hand, the walls of the room closed in on you when the heat from his hand runs straight to your head. "Sure," He lets out another small chuckle before putting on a serious expression, "Just as soon as you'll admit it."

He watches your brows furrow. "I see you've learned nothing. The first rule of Jujutsu is that honesty makes you more powerful," The snarky comment makes you cross your arms. You yank your hand back, and the chair scratches the floor under you when you get up.

"That's childish," You inhale a sharp breath, but his immaturity, as most spiteful characteristics, rubs off on you. "Might you be so stubborn because you're the one who had a crush on me?" You spew, stunned at your own unsophisticated comment.

"Who says I didn't?" He gets up from his knee to face you once again, his unwavering enthusiasm makes it hard to control your pent-up urge to both pull him to you, and shove him away. Huh?

"Never mind that," He suddenly says.

"What do you mean, never mind that?" You cock your head to the side, confused at the sudden change of heart he displayed. "I don't need you to admit it anymore," You watch the corners of his mouth twitch lightly before widening back to a broad grin, "You already did, little tomato."

Your hands shot up to feel your own cheeks, the heat radiating to the palms of your hands. You were sure you looked like you'd just run a marathon. "Alright, little tomato, you can ask about the other things now," He smiles, leaning back on his desk. A thought crosses your head that even Alexander the Great didn't beam like that when bringing the Persian Empire to its knees.

"Don't call me that," you protest. With each response he'd evoke from you, he'd find himself more captivated, seizing the moment to push himself off of the desk only to stand closer to you. "Why not, little tomato?" He'd found himself too fond of the new nickname, his face so close to yours you couldn't ignore it if you tried. His blindfold sat peacefully at the crook of his neck, his hair splayed on his forehead, eyes agonizing to look at; looking half at you and half through you.

The childish-like oblivious manner of your feelings had disappeared as soon as his lips brushed on yours, the pit of your stomach spinning and swirling at the fantasies you thought you'd left behind years ago. He snorted a little when you pressed your lips against his, his hands impulsively gripping your thighs.

He groans between the kisses; "I really see I've taught you nothing, little tomato," He murmured, "The second rule is never letting your opponent know he's got the upper hand."

[eluxcastar]

The One and Only

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a collection of moments from Arlecchino's recollections of the former Harbinger

୨୧﹑genre :: Idk actually

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader is a harbinger, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 2.8k

threw this together on a whim because I missed these two I realised it's been like nine months since I wrote one of repetition I was like I wanna play around with these people in their dynamic. you don't have to necessarily have read one of repetition for it to make sense I don't think but I have a bad habit of assuming people know things they don't so take that with a grain of salt

one of repetition

Snezhnaya has never been immune to the curse of rumours that run rampant among its people. Some spread like wildfire and others die out before they gain enough traction to matter. When they somehow manage to make their way to the House of the Hearth, it matters—Mother is liable to find out, and that's when it's revealed whether or not she spread them herself.

There have never been more rumours about anyone but the first Harbinger. Arlecchino realised that when she was young.

They tell the daring tales of a tyrant decorated in well-worn armour able to bring the nation to its knees at their feet with nothing more than a pyro vision and a claymore.

Many of the kids at the House share the same sentiment. Brighella is terrifying, and though they'd like their approval, they never want to meet them. The few who have met them say they're weird.

Supposedly the child of the Tsaritsa, you have been tainted by the ever-waining loveless God of Snezhnaya and become little more than a heartless warmonger seeking absolution. You have not even removed your helmet in three centuries nor shown your face. You are fussy, childish, impulsive and arrogant like your whole reign of tyranny is a giant temper tantrum, and you'll only stop once you've realised the nation that has been dwindling ever so gradually will one day be reduced to a wasteland.

Maybe then, the ashes left behind by the fire you let tear apart this icy world will be your single lesson.

Arlecchino meets you for the first time at the celebrations for her ascendance to her Mother's position. Every Harbinger gathers at the behest of the Tsaritsa, an important event demanding their presence. All nine others and the Director are called to return, and along with them, you appear clad in armour, even on a formal occasion. You are feared, yes, but undoubtedly lavished in praise and feigned respect meant only to appease you. People seek to impress you because you are the first, an immortal Harbinger with the nation under their thumb.

Though foolish, she finds she cannot help but be swept up in the glory of it all, the appeal of having a warmonger's approval if only because it feels like the only good sign she'd ever get. Her ascendence is not born of admiration, merely convenience, a way to escape her Father and gain power. She is young and inexperienced and fills the shoes of her Mother with the grace of a newborn fawn. For just a moment, she could revel in receiving your praise, then go right back to indulging the bitterness she associates so heavily with your name. Whatever you have that sends shivers to the very core of grown men, she wants it, and having you pay some attention to her feels right. It cannot keep her from detesting you for possessing it.

You touched her shoulder once with an unnaturally warm gloved hand—a silent congratulations, she tells herself—it is the only way to justify her racing heart as you lean down and speak barely above a whisper. "Do no disappoint me, Arlecchino."

Everything takes a backseat as a fire is lit in the pit of her stomach, the drive to wipe that infuriating smirk she knows is hidden beneath your mask off your face. If she didn't know better, she could almost convince herself you thought you owned her.

For all her staring, however, she can't recall another moment of that night you spared her more than a single glance in her direction before turning away. It was Pierro who pinned Arlecchino's delusion to her chest and welcomed her, the Director, not the Tsaritsa's child. You merely took it upon yourself to congratulate her— professionally— as any colleague would.

The first time Arlecchino saw your face, she could not believe her eyes. You lack the odd companion she has long grown used to seeing by your side. She does not even recognise you at first, sitting in a chair in Pierro's quarters in plain clothes, your helmet discarded at your feet. In your hand is a glass, the liquid inside sloshing as you motion with your hand in some general direction amid your conversation.

It almost makes her uncomfortable to see, like staring down at your severed head pathetically rolling back and forth under the sole of your boot as you entertain yourself with it. It does not roll far before the adornments resist, and you don't fight them, instead rolling it back. Your only response to her gawking is to quirk your eyebrow at her.

You regard her with curiosity, though she would be remiss not to notice the glint in your eyes. "Arlecchino," you say, perhaps some mockery of greeting her.

Since she met you, her poker face has only gotten better, though her short pause is a dead giveaway that she has to think to recall your title. She still does not quite believe the woman she sees is you. "Brighella."

A smile tugs at your lips, and another sip of the drink in your glass marks your second pause. "Are you lost, or did I interrupt something?" you ask, though you turn to Pierro for the answer to the question.

Arlecchino takes a breath, determined not to let you get away with speaking to her that way without seeing any bite— "I called her," Pierro interrupts her before she can even say a word, and your eyes flicker back to her.

"I'll take my leave then," you say, gathering your things. You hook your fingers under your helmet and pick it up like nothing is wrong, as if you don't notice how Arlecchino stares and tries to remind herself that it should be obvious someone was under there. 

The only thing that helps her remind herself nobody else could sport that cocky smirk in Pierro's office without receiving a cold glare. He merely watches as you down the rest of your drink in one mouthful and leave the glass for him on his desk before stalking off. You stop only to put your helmet back on.

There's a sigh once you leave the room, and Pierro silently collects the glass.

The second time Arlecchino meets you, it is more arranged: a trip down the halls leads her to a stray fatuu bearing a message for her. You want to see Arlecchino in your chambers. There's no indication of why, and the man delivering the message had no inclination to ask before scurrying off. She cannot even say she blames him. She's seen the way you speak to the lesser fatuus before.

Arlecchino arrives in the corridor to hear the unusual noises in your room. It is like someone is rummaging through your belongings with reckless abandon and tossing whatever is in their way aside. 

She eyes the door with particularly harsh scrutiny. If there is an intruder, rifling through your room is the most effective way to get things they might want, and she can't allow them an opportunity to escape.

That is until Arlecchino hears your voice from inside, and you exaggerate a frustrated groan. You sound on the verge of tearing your hair out.

Then she braces herself to knock, and the room falls starkly silent as you register someone is standing outside.

"Who's there?" You pose the question like an accusation despite having to know you would have guests. You invited her, after all— demanded her, really.

Through gritting teeth, she finds the will to bite her tongue and say nothing about your attitude rearing its ugly head again. You find a way to always be like this. The moment she gains some semblance of understanding of your motives, you screw it up by acting superior again, like you genuinely believe the world should fall helplessly at the mercy of your whims and run as you will it to. 

"It's Arlecchino," she responds, the animosity she wishes to show neatly tucked away beneath a layer of barely cordial stoicism.

"Oh," is the only sound from inside, followed by footsteps and a light thud as if you place something down, perhaps one of the things it sounded like you were moving. "Are you alone?" 

For a moment, she almost began to wonder if you had forgotten her.

The question confuses her. "Yes."

"You may enter. The door is unlocked."

Arlecchino does not waste another moment before she opens the door to greet your unmasked face. This time, she recognises you from the pattern of your scars to the odd look on your face, though the off feeling staring into your eyes gives her strikes immediately with the same confusing force. 

It should be less jarring the second time, and yet, as she slowly closes the door behind her, she cannot help but scan the room in search of your helmet.

Your room is a damn mess, probably because you just tore it apart for reasons beyond her. She spies your helmet discarded by the bed on its side, hollow and lifeless and so unlike she usually sees it perched atop a suit of armour brimming with self-assured grandiose.

"I was worried he'd followed you all the way here."

She grasps at who you're implying almost immediately, yet can't say she understands why. It can't be anyone but the man in armour you brought back from the abyss who follows you around like a stray puppy. 

"Are you referring to the—" she also realises she has no idea what it is that follows you around— "man you took in...?"

"Yes." You answer without notice for her apprehension, or perhaps so used to it that it no longer seems worth commenting on. "He has a habit of stealing faces, and though I already told him he can't have mine, he's determined to get it."

Stealing...faces...?

"You're probably wondering why I wanted to speak with you." All too quickly, you change the subject, jumping from whatever you just said to a completely different train of thought as you turn away from her to find something amidst the clutter on your dresser. Your body obscures her view, unable to see what you're doing.

She saves you the discomfort of having a hole burned into your back from her gaze, instead taking the opportunity to look around. Do you always live in this dump? In a way, it's not hard to believe; your behaviour is reminiscent of a spoiled child who never learned to clean up their messes, yet she expected you would treat your living space with the same methodical attention as your subordinates.

"It wasn't included alongside your message," she responds absently, merely engaging because she must. Her mind is occupied, overlooking the pile of armour dumped on the floor like junk metal.

You place a glass down behind her as you speak, the sound unmistakable to her ears, compounded by the sound of something pouring. "Intentionally. You would never have come if you knew why I wanted to see you."

She cannot help but glare at the back of your head. "Is that so?"

"Indeed."

When you turn to her, she cannot help the way her attention draws to the two glasses in your hands—glasses you have no doubt filled with alcohol. Pantalone taught her such a trick not long after he became a Harbinger, and she has not a single doubt that you learned it from him as well.

While your company isn't paying attention, fill a glass and offer it to them. It's rude to refuse once it's been poured. It'll keep them put.

It didn't occur to her until after you extended the glass in your left hand to her that she realised you had trapped her in the conversation should she strive to maintain her pleasant façade. Her fist clenches tightly at her side, nails digging into her palm with a sharp pain.

Arlecchino takes the glass with a tight smile, a wordless exchange. The look in your eyes tells her you know it, too.

"I hope you didn't bring me here for a frivolous venture." Her own warning, one she feels she has earned over the past few minutes.

"No," you say, swirling the liquid in your glass as a means of entertaining yourself. "I simply wanted to observe you."

"How forward." She cannot help it by the time she realises she's said it. There is obviously disapproval in her voice.

Despite her venom, you only smile at her dumbly as if you don't notice the tone of her voice or the furrow of her brows. "Isn't it?" a rhetorical question. You let out a light chuckle at yourself. "It's strange, I thought the one to overtake the Knave would be a little more like that old hag, but it turns out you couldn't be more different if you tried."

This is what you wanted to say?

Arlecchino's eyes narrow. "What do you mean by that?" 

"Oh, come on, are you blind?" Your penchant for mockery shines through your words whether you meant it to or not. "Surely you've noticed by now."

"I don't aspire to become my mother," she retorts just a touch more harshly than she meant to.

"I meant it as a compliment, don't you realise?" you question, "The House has run this way for years because she made it that way. I'm sure many of the children she bought are itching to go home." Your musings lead somewhere—they must—and yet you insist on meandering your way there at a leisurely pace to draw it out. It's as if you wait and watch with eyes filled with curiosity for her to guess, but she makes no attempt to. "Will you return them to their families?"

Arlecchino considered it many times. The thought is appealing. It would be like setting her siblings—now her children—free. She grew up alongside them, played with them as a child and now presides over them.

Wanting to stall, Arlecchino takes a sip from the glass before speaking.

"No," she answers. 

It's not possible. 

If not a monetary figure or tangible reason, it quickly became a stark impossibility when she considered that someone would have to explain why the orphans the Knave had acquired carefully raised were being returned. 

Many would live in harsh conditions, some would die or merely be sold again, and some were too broken down by motherly love to find their peace in the common world again. 

It's not worth the pain of trying.

Something in her answer piques your interest, and she notices your hardly disguised intrigue almost immediately. Years of wearing a helmet to hide your emotions have certainly done a number on how much you are able to hide them naturally. 

"I thought for certain you would say yes."

"You were incorrect."

You quirk an eyebrow at her as if to challenge that idea. "Was I?" you question.

Were you?

"Yes," she says before she can think of anything to disprove that. Time made her aware of the many impossibilities she had spent years fantasising about, but she would not share that with you.

"You're certainly gentler than her," you remark, almost a passing comment as it's quickly overshadowed, "Less of a pain in the ass to talk to as well. I'd have to chase her for days to get her to come talk to me."

Arlecchino suddenly understands why the room is in such a state of disarray—you hadn't expected her. Instead, you were tearing your room apart under the impression you would have days to clean it up before she found her way to you. It seems that punctuality is a burden to you. If nothing else, it's motivation to never be late.

She finds herself aimlessly staring into the glass in her hand, a lesser part of her mind trying to determine what's in it, though too clouded by conflict to place an answer anytime soon. Instead, she stands and listens to whatever you insist on saying, lost in your words and the musings of the past, your unique knowledge of what came before her.

The observations of now the piercing gaze that threatens to spill her soul out before the two of you and dissect it as you please while she watches at the mercy of your rank, the lingering respect that refuses to leave her from years of seeing you as an ideal.

Talking to you is something quite bizarre; knowing you is something even stranger. 

She may never forget the time you spent intrigued by the young orphan who overthrew her mother to take her place at your side as your colleague.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[sehodreams]

character riize reaction to seeing reader be slapped by her ex/currentBF -🌒

To be honest I have more thoughts about this, but if we're talking about character riize I think the most reactive (and interesting) would be Mafia!Riize 🥴

Pd: I hope you didn't expect them to get turn on or anything sexual because I can't think of any of them enjoying others hurting reader.

Pd2: if it's not what you expected please let me know and I'll try to think more about it, because I do have more thoughts about it but not with mafia!riize and it may be a bit boring 😅

TW and Tags: mafia!riize, mentions of violent acts, mentions of torture, nothing sexual but please be careful in case you can't deal with such topics.

Seunghan would instantly leave his cheeky smile aside, there are not many things he doesn't enjoy, and seeing someone being violent with a woman is one of them (he slaps his girl in bed? Hell yeah, in an argument? He'd rather cut his own hand), so his whole aura and demeanor change would make everyone be alert, including the man that slapped you, and if he tried to make it seem it was your fault he punched you, Seunghan would eat him alive with his words, and then with a warning he'll make him leave, but if you were his girl, he'd give him a slap at the end of every sentence that came out of his mouth, until he realizes his mistake and apologizes to you.

Eunseok would get so angry you'd have to stop him from beating your boyfriend up, doesn't matter if he likes you or not, he believes no one should touch a woman like that, so he'd immediately jump into action, showing that piece of shit some manners, and if he had feelings for you, god, that man better run.

Sungchan would be the same case, even if you were a random girl, if he sees a man touching even a string of your hair, he would break his hand, to teach him that, if he wants to play with his hands, he should find someone his size, and if he liked you/you were his girlfriend, he'd slowly torture him until he broke him, finger by finger he'd make him scream how sorry he was for touching your precious face.

Wonbin instead of angry would be disgusted, if you were a woman he didn't know he'd show how uncomfortable he feels having witnessed such disgraceful act, so one of his subordinates would take the hint and make the man leave, maybe not even touching him, but if he liked you, he would make his men give him a good beating, and then, when the man was on the floor almost unconscious, he would calmly walk to him, and with his fingers full of rings, he'd give the final blow, to then spit over his face "so disgusting, get him out of my sight".

Shotaro, as the leader he is, has always taught his men how to properly act in front of women, so if he ever saw a man slapping a girl, doesn't matter how weak the slap was, he'd take the occasion to teach a lesson "this is how you treat a man that doesn't respect women", and he'd also show some of the abilities that gave him his leader position, leaving the man unconscious with just a couple hits, not even making his hands dirty. However, if he liked you, he wouldn't use his hands, he'd first capture the man and then, in a place where he could do everything he wanted in peace, he'd torture him for days until he begged for him to just finish his pain.

Mafia!Sohee seems like someone with less empathy, so he wouldn't do nothing if you were just any woman, he'd continue with his life, but if you were his girl, that's another story, he wouldn't just react in that exact moment, adrenaline making him find a strength enough for him to bring down any man, he'd ruin his whole life, he doesn't know how in that moment, but he'll find a way, so that man better forget about having a life ever again, because Sohee will make sure he can't show his face into society anymore, maybe just publicly shaming him, or ending his life, depends on how mad he is.

Anton won't plan that much, if he doesn't know you he'll just tell the man to leave, but if you were special for him, he'll see the act and react, first getting you out of the room or somewhere you can't see what he's about to do, in the worst case he'll just leave with you to make sure you're safe, and then, days later you'll hear what happened to that man, it would depend on the magnitude of the treatment you received of course, if it was just a slap and it was the first time, he'd beat him, but if it was usual for him to be violent with you, Anton won't doubt to end his life in a second.