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coffee-and-geto · 8 months ago

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“WILL MY EXQUISITE MORTAL LET ME BE HER FIRST BITE?”

“I can’t give you an Edward Cullen but I can be the vampire of your fantasies. So will you accept me, my love?”

pairing: vampire! suguru geto x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: it is at tokyo university, during a foggy month of october, with a soft, chilling rain falling drearily, that autumn gloomily settles over all the students. you are a biology student — a true passion for you. but aside from the precious time you spend with your eye glued to a microscope, observing cells, your nightly dreams of a noble vampire whisking you away from this life to spiral with you in a bewitching dance — much like edward cullen would — seem to be coming true. especially when your new lab partner, suguru geto, appears to be anything but one of the common folk…

warnings: +18 MDNI, smut, nsfw, AU no curses, suguru and reader are students in biology, some scenes are inspired from the volume 1 of the twilight saga, dark academia vibes (kinda), fall mood, slight angst, gojo and choso makes an appearance, gojo is also a vampire, friends to lovers, suguru is a gentleman, human/vampire relationship, nightmare, mention of alcohol (it’s beer), blood sucking, handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cowgirl, overstimulation, sex (p in v), oral (f + m), blood kink (well, i think so...), voice kink.

wc: 10,759 (i’ve missed writing long fics haha)

A mortal life can be so dull, can’t it?

While vampires, they get to live eternally, without worrying about time or dying. Not only are they blessed with breathtaking beauty, but they’re also quick, with vision sharper than an eagle’s, and they remember forever what they read.

That would come in handy for many, wouldn’t it, dear reader?

Or maybe, having a vampire boyfriend, like in books and series? Is it always asking for too much…

“You’re reading Twilight?”

The question, almost whispered near your temple, makes you jump on the bench in the lecture hall where you’re sitting, and you nearly drop Volume 1 of your favorite vampire saga. His breath is icy, enough to send a chill of goosebumps over the entirety of your skin. At least, October’s biting wind has a rival…

You quickly look up at a student around your age, who sits in the seat next to you, a smirk stretching across his perfectly thin lips. The beauty of this stranger becomes blinding.

Is such supernatural beauty even allowed?

With long strands of black hair brushing his shoulders, alabaster skin, deep obsidian eyes, and a physique perfectly balanced between lean and muscular, your mouth falls open in indiscreet amazement. And he has probably noticed, as the corner of his mouth stretches even further.

He knows he’s beautiful. Is he using it to his advantage? You half hope he is.

“Yes,” you answer simply, your eyes still fixed on him as he pulls out his things. “You recognized it?”

He raises an amused eyebrow. “A classic of vampire literature, isn’t it? How could I not?”

His remark warms your heart in a strange way. “Oh, I don’t know. I rarely meet guys who’ve read the same books as me.” Your gaze drifts over the lower rows of the lecture hall. “I expected you to bring up the movies.”

“I did watch the movies, but I read the books first. You know what they say about that.” His velvety tone draws your attention, and surprisingly, his gaze remains fixed on you.

There’s this light that animates his irises — like a smile.

“Is that why you took biology classes?” he continues, breaking your silence. You furrow your brows. “I mean, it’s the place where Bella and Edward first meet, right?” He chuckles at your still-confused expression. “In a biology class,” he clarifies.

And he laughs when the lightbulb in your mind finally goes on.

His laugh is so soft, almost musical and enchanting. A lullaby that pleasantly tickles your ears, drawing you in.

“So, you like vampire stories? Perfect for October,” he adds.

You study the flawless features of his face and almost forget to answer him. “Uh, yes. It’s one of the first romances I read when I was young. I reread it every year, like a tradition.”

“Oh, then I’m dealing with a real fan! Maybe you’re waiting for your vampire?” His teasing tone stings, making your cheeks blush adorably.

“What? No, I never said that!” you protest.

Once again, he bursts out laughing, this time so openly that you can see all his perfectly aligned white teeth — one detail you can’t ignore.

His canines are slightly sharper than average. They have their charm, certainly, but that doesn’t stop the strange feeling that there’s nothing ordinary about him.

No, you’re not delusional enough to think he could actually be a vampire (that only happens in books, come on!), but still, why not imagine it? His beauty, however, remains anything but normal.

In the end, as you join in his contagious laughter, you can’t help but think that maybe this new October will be a little more special than the previous ones and a little less lonely.

~~~~

By the end of the day, you at least managed to get a name — Suguru Geto.

Does a man who monopolizes your attention also have to be blessed with such a lovely name?

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

The familiar tone tickles your ears the next day, but you don’t look up right away, preferring to wait for him to set down his things and prepare himself, just as you are, for the practical biology class (the one that usually takes place in the lab).

You lift your nose from yesterday’s book and glance at the window, where a thin stream of sunlight slips through the glass to warm the surface of the floor. “It’s rare for October,” you comment nonchalantly.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he replies sarcastically, quickly slipping on his white lab coat. His long strands of black hair brush against the pristine white fabric with elegance. “You don’t like the sun?” A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as it twitches slightly.

“And you like it?” you retort, knotting your brows as your eyes rise to meet his.

“I hate it.”

You blink. “Didn’t you say it was a nice day?”

“I asked you if it was.” He chuckles softly. “If you’d breathe in something other than moldy paper…” He gestures at the yellowed pages of your book.

“Show some respect for my book.” You close it sharply and give Suguru’s shoulder a playful shove that barely registers, as if his muscles were made of stone.

“Good morning, class.” The voice of your professor cuts through just as you’re about to make a comment about it, and you quickly store your book in your bag.

For this biology class, a rather simple and classic experiment needs to be carried out in pairs using a microscope — a blood type test (ABO/Rh). Something fairly standard and easy to do. It reminds you of a scene from the first volume of the Twilight saga, and to say that you’re holding back from a mini-celebration would be an understatement, as everything seems perfect.

During the procedural steps of the experiment, you notice Suguru watching you, sitting on his wooden stool as you bring the needle close to the tip of your finger. “Aren’t you going to prick yourself?” you can’t help but ask.

Suguru shakes his head, swallowing. “I have a hard time with… blood.” He inhales and exhales lightly, as though something constricts him in his attempts.

“Oh, really?” You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Are you hemophobic?”

“Let’s… go with that,” he replies, his tone almost so dry and flat that you wonder where his cheerfulness from earlier has gone.

“So, you’re not really phobic?” you press, which elicits a small sigh from him that you notice despite its subtlety.

“It’s complicated to explain,” he says, his gaze lowering to the lab table legs. “I’ll just do the experiment with you.”

“But it’s graded,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t you rather we—”

“I know. The professor is aware, don’t worry,” he assures you through clenched teeth, scooting his chair back slightly from you and clearing his throat to stifle the metallic sound of the chair legs scraping the floor.

Of course, this doesn’t escape your notice. You even have half a mind to ask if he’s okay, but he cuts you off right before you can, making you almost want to shake him. “I’ll help you analyze your blood type; just let me know when to add the anti-A drops and—”

But before he finishes, you’ve already pricked your finger, and a large drop of blood is forming. The reddish liquid rolls down your fingertip like a tear, and you quickly place drops on the microscope slides.

Suguru stands up abruptly, and for a second, you think he’s going to rush over to draw some drops for the test, but he grabs his things instead and bolts out of the lab without a word.

In the room, no one — neither students nor the professor — seems to pay any attention to him.

You’re the only one left frozen, with drops of blood still trickling down your hand.

Wait, what just happened?

~~~~

During the rest of the week that follows, Suguru doesn’t show up to any classes. Not even the biology ones.

Confusion continues to hang around you, almost preventing you from enjoying a good night's sleep. He who seemed so charming and welcoming at first now seems to have pulled away all of a sudden.

Did you upset him by biting him without warning? He probably didn’t like that, but wasn’t it him who was behaving so strangely? It’s almost like he has bipolar behavior.

Sitting at the base of a solitary tree in your university courtyard, you’ve settled in to enjoy the grayish weather and the beauty of the autumn leaves swirling down onto the green grass by the pathways.

What perfect weather to study.

Fine raindrops fall here and there, but nothing to damage your belongings, or perhaps just enough to help you forget your sad heart. Of course, you barely know Suguru. He’s a student as ordinary as a gemstone in a river of pebbles. As normal as the beauty of a model and that of the one who foolishly stole your heart in less than 2000 words (you’re about there, dear reader). You’re just a fool. He doesn’t represent much aside from being beautiful.

And potentially liking what you read.

And maybe you’re also disappointed at the thought of having believed in a friend (a rare one, because yes, you certainly don’t have any).

And the possibility of spending the best season in the company of someone who might appreciate the same autumnal atmosphere as you.

The cold wind blows, sweeping your hair from your face over your shoulder, doing the same with a few pages of the textbook lying on the grass. You hold your copy of the Twilight saga close, the only thing that still connects you to Suguru, who has been missing for almost a week.

Too bad…

~~~~

The following week, to your surprise, as you take your usual seat in the biology lecture hall in the early morning, Suguru Geto quickly descends the steps and sits on the opposite side of the room.

The moment he walked through the doors, your eyes locked onto him and didn’t waver, but of course, he didn’t glance at you even once. So maybe you can give him the benefit of the doubt — maybe he didn’t see you.

But that doesn’t seem to be enough.

Not when, at the end of the lecture, he walks right past you to leave the room, making it all too obvious that he’s purposely ignoring you. He practically escapes from the lecture hall, walking so quickly that he leaves the crowd of students behind him.

He must be mad at you.

Well, so be it.

That’s what you tell yourself.

What you keep telling yourself.

And you keep repeating it, even as he sits with other students, one girl in particular giggling with him during class. A pang tugs at your heart. The same smile, the same eyes, but now directed at another girl. And even other guys. But it’s even more unbearable when it’s another girl.

Too bad...

So you wait through the following days, secretly hoping he’ll come over to you, but nothing. Then one Friday, just as all hope seems to have evaporated, your biology professor makes an announcement that makes you sincerely want to marry her.

“My dear students, it’s finally time for me to evaluate you on what counts most for me before midterms, and that’s your ability to work on a project, which you’ll hand in after some time,” she announces, her tone lightly enthusiastic, as if giving extra work could raise her salary. “I’ve already paired you up, with each group working on a different topic. The pairs and topics are already posted on the list I’ve sent to your emails via the course Canvas page.”

Within seconds, everyone in the lecture hall has their eyes glued to their phones, checking who their partner is. Cheers echo around you, with some students celebrating their familiar partners, while others are less pleased.

In your case, it’s your jaw that does the work, practically hitting the floor.

Your name right there, alongside his — Suguru Geto.

He’s the first person you look for, and you can’t deny a slight thrill of satisfaction.

Lower down in the hall, Suguru sits frozen, holding his phone, his shoulders tensed, likely processing the news about his partner. He shifts slightly after a few moments, and you can predict his movements with surprising clarity. The instant he begins to turn in what seems like your direction, you quickly avert your gaze, avoiding any — direct or indirect — confrontation with him.

The bell finally rings, and the students start packing up, barely listening to your biology professor’s reminders about the project’s due date.

You don’t linger either, hastily grabbing your bag, stuffing in your laptop and other things, eager to escape the room and avoid crossing paths with Suguru.

Just as you reach the middle of the courtyard, where rain pours down in relentless sheets, your name is called out despite the strong wind biting at your cheeks and bending nearby trees. The rain falls harder by the second, driving most students to seek refuge indoors, away from the dark gray sky and the downpour increasing in force and volume.

Despite the fierce wind and unending rain, your name is called out a second time as panic seizes you. A conflict arises within you. It’s Suguru’s voice ringing out miraculously above the “storm,” yet you still need to find shelter.

You keep walking, determined not to turn back. Your clothes are soaked, your skin chilled to the bone, and your hair plastered to your face. But no, you won’t turn back.

This time, your name is called so loudly and from so close that you startle, your previously squinting eyes now wide open. “Are you crazy? It’s pouring like a storm!” Suguru exclaims, wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you toward the empty gazebo to shelter you both. You protest, pulling your wrist back in vain, but you have to admit it: Suguru’s grip is as solid as stone.

Both of you, soaked to the bone, stand under the gazebo as Suguru wrings out his jet-black hair, then immediately turns to face your shivering form. "Are you okay?" he murmurs softly, just as thunder rumbles in the distance. But it’s easy to read his lips.

You nod, averting your gaze. “What do you want?”

Suguru furrows his brows. “Originally, to talk about the project. But at this point, to keep you from throwing yourself at the storm!”

His words are so sarcastic that the two of you end up staring stupidly into each other’s wide, rain-dampened eyes, as droplets patter against the gazebo roof.

Then you both burst out laughing.

It doesn’t take long before you’re doubled over, tears welling up as laughter fills the air. The deep breaths and cold, ragged gasps that freeze your lungs mean nothing compared to this absurdly amusing moment.

When the laughter finally subsides and you’ve caught your breath, Suguru clears his throat. “Anyway, can I ask why you decided to challenge this storm when I was calling out to you?”

“Ask yourself,” you retort, the laughter vanishing from your face. “Weren’t you the one who left me mid-experiment and has been ignoring me ever since?” You pause, trying to keep your growing feelings hidden, as warmth rises to your cheeks. To cover it, you add, “And besides, I don’t owe you anything. You told me you’d arranged things with the professor.”

Suguru blinks twice in quick succession. “Did… that hurt you?”

You frown. “What? No, we barely know each other. That’s not what—”

He murmurs your name as a gentle warning, sending a shiver down your spine, then takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Answer me. Did it hurt you?”

You purse your lips, feeling embarrassed, but remain in stubborn silence.

Suguru sighs, then lowers his head toward you until his forehead rests gently on your shoulder. “Forgive me.”

“...What?”

“Forgive me,” he repeats. “I understand my mistake. I knew that leaving without an explanation would hurt you. But I didn’t think it would be even worse if I didn’t come to talk to you afterward. I thought… maybe you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and you’re left speechless at his words. “You have every right to be upset with me. It’s not fair.”

Suddenly, a clap of thunder booms, and you flinch in fright. Suguru instinctively places his hands around your elbows.

“Are you okay?”

You swallow, heart pounding. “Yes, I’m fine.” Suguru looks puzzled, his brow furrowing in response. “I mean,” you turn your face away, your cheeks aflame, “let’s just forget it happened. I’m not mad at you. Maybe I should have warned you I was about to prick my finger and—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Suguru cuts you off softly, a worried crease forming between his brows. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t in the right mindset, and I panicked when I saw the blood. You have nothing to apologize for, please.” He uses the quiet moment to tuck a stray lock of hair that had fallen near your eyes behind your ear. “So… do you forgive me?”

Your eyes meet his again, and the warmth in them nearly overwhelms you. “...Yes.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” he whispers, grateful. Another silence lingers as he slowly releases his hold on your elbows. “So… are you up for the project?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve any more real blood,” you reply with a shy, half-smile.

“Promise, no more blood,” Suguru assures you, chuckling softly.

~~~~

“It’s actually pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, maybe not for our hands,” Suguru grumbles, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his fingers now stained red from the strawberry juice that’s seeped out.

“I actually like it,” you mumble, chewing on a strawberry used for your DNA extraction analysis — the topic of your shared project.

All of it comes from a strawberry, considering Suguru wasn’t keen on using mouth swabs, which was understandable.

“You’ve got juice all around your mouth,” he chuckles, amused by your bewildered and almost endearing expression. “Need some help?” He reaches out and gently wipes a red stain from the corner of your lips with his thumb.

You murmur a quick thank you, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly as he wipes his thumb with a tissue, then casually tucks it away in his pocket. With a quick glance at the clock on your living room wall, he comments, “You haven’t eaten dinner.”

“You mean we haven’t,” you correct him.

“No, I mean you haven’t,” he insists with that familiar little smirk. “And I’m suggesting we go out to eat.” He gets up from his chair in a fluid motion, heading toward the exit without waiting for a reply.

As he had intended, you soon find yourself seated at a cozy, discreet restaurant with soft, dim lighting. Suguru sits across from you, arms crossed over his chest, his torso leaning forward slightly.

“So? Did you decide?” he murmurs softly, a stray lock of his raven-black hair brushing his cheek, its tip just grazing his lips.

“Yes, I’ll go with this,” you show him, just as the server arrives to take your order with a polite smile. “What about you?”

“You didn’t choose a drink.”

“Oh, um, a Coke,” you reply, a bit caught off guard.

“Make that two Cokes, please,” he tells the server, who nods and leaves quietly. Suguru turns back to you. “I already paid the bill,” he adds as you open your mouth to speak.

“But you didn’t even know the price of what I’d order,” you protest, frowning.

“I left a tip just in case.” He grins.

Moments later, despite your ongoing complaints about his overly chivalrous gesture, the server places a steaming hot dish in front of you.

“Suguru…” you sigh.

“Eat,” he responds with his ever-present smirk, nudging the plate closer.

Seeing no other choice, you stab a piece of vegetable with your fork, chewing it with an exasperated pout.

Suguru’s grin widens until it reveals perfectly straight, white teeth, with canines just a bit sharper than average. If you let your imagination go, who wouldn’t think of a vampire? But you keep that thought to yourself and blink at Suguru, whose grin soon turns to laughter.

“What?” you ask, mouth still full.

“You look like an angry little chipmunk,” he laughs, covering his face with his hands to muffle his uncontrollable laughter as you swallow. His laugh is so warm, harmonious, and comforting that you can’t help but giggle along, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

“Stop,” you try to grumble, but the attempt only sharpens Suguru’s laugh, and soon both of you are swept up in uncontrollable laughter.

An hour later, you’ve finished your meal and your Coke — and even Suguru’s, who insisted he wasn’t hungry. It seemed odd, but his sincere smile reassured you. So you didn’t question it and asked him to wait outside while you made a quick stop in the restroom.

As you step out of the ladies’ room, two unfamiliar men block your way, stopping you from making a quick exit. You sigh discreetly, hesitant to say you’re in a hurry.

“Well, hey there, cutie,” growls one, a short, stocky guy.

“We saw you heading to the restroom all alone, thought you looked pretty cute,” adds his taller, leaner friend. “So if you’re interested, wanna spend the evening with us?”

Is this really Wario and Waluigi standing in front of you?

You swallow nervously. “Oh, sorry, I’m waiting for someone, so that won’t be possible,” you say politely, forcing a smile.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“My…” You search for the right words, even though the answer is obvious. “Friend.”

“Your friend?” the shorter man presses. “Maybe we could help you find him, huh? We’ve even got a nice car to take you in.” His smile reveals teeth stained dark by tobacco, sending a shiver of dread down your spine.

“I can find my own way, but thanks for the offer,” you say, taking a few steps to slip between the two men. “Have a good even—”

“Hold on there, not so fast!” the lean man cuts you off, any hint of friendliness gone in an instant. “Who said you could leave?”

The shorter man clicks his tongue in agreement, narrowing his eyes dangerously as your heartbeat races faster with panic. “Yeah! We need some company tonight, so you’re either coming with us, or else—”

“Or else what?”

Suguru’s hands rest firmly on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Suguru, you—” Just turning halfway and looking up, you recognize his unforgettable form, and your heart nearly stops.

“You okay, princess?” Suguru murmurs, his neck bent so close to your shoulder that he could practically nibble your neck or playfully bite your ear. One small nod from you is all he needs before he carefully releases you and positions his body as a shield between you and the two men.

Even from behind him, you can feel his chilling smile.

“Gentlemen, shall we continue this conversation outside?”

“Phew!” Suguru exhales, brushing off his hands as you both leave the restaurant ten minutes later.

“W-What happened to those two guys?” you can’t help but ask, trying not to shiver in the biting cold that hits you the second you step outside.

“Nothing special,” he answers vaguely, smoothly slipping off his sleek black leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. It’s cold to the touch. “Put it on—I don’t want you catching a chill.” His minty breath brushes against your cheek.

“No need, really. It’s already very kind of you to—”

“Don’t thank me, alright?” Suguru opens the passenger side door of your car, gesturing for you to get in. And before you can protest, he hushes you. “Nope, I’m driving tonight.”

“Aren’t you overdoing the chivalry thing?” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as you settle into the passenger seat while Suguru rests his hands on the wheel.

“Better too much than too little, right? You complaining, or am I imagining things?” he chuckles, and you sigh, rubbing your arms against the cold that his jacket doesn’t quite keep out. “You’re cold?”

You nod slightly, and he reaches for the heat controls at the same time you do, and for an instant, your hands brush against each other.

And a strange, unpleasant feeling washes over you.

Suguru pulls his hand back, looking tense and stiff, his gaze fixed intently on the road. You turn the heat up by yourself and sink into your seat.

“Your… hand’s freezing,” you murmur, daring only to glance at him with your eyes, not turning your head fully. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your jacket back?” He doesn’t answer.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you can’t shake the question of how a simple brush of hands turned the atmosphere so awkward. It feels as if the air has thickened, like molasses, making each breath slightly difficult.

Once you arrive in front of your house, you both step out of the car, and Suguru hands you your keys as you do.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he murmurs, matching his pace to yours.

You don’t respond, pulling your house keys out, but you don’t pay attention to the porch steps and stumble. In the next second, you blink.

You didn’t fall.

Two strong arms, heavy and solid as iron, hold you firmly in place.

“You alright?” Suguru’s eyes are fixed on yours, his face far too close, so close that all it would take is for you to lean forward to kiss him.

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you stammer, taken by surprise.

He steadies you back on your feet, his hand lingering around your waist to make sure you don’t stumble again.

Made of stone.

Suguru steps back, creating a respectable distance, while you fumble with your keys, your hands trembling slightly as you slip one into the lock.

“See you Monday?” you whisper, as though the night amplifies your voice.

“Monday, yes,” Suguru replies with a nod that seems almost… robotic.

~~~~

Two weeks later, neither of you had brought up any details about what happened — whether it was about the two men at the restaurant, Suguru’s icy hands, or his iron-like grip (and at this point, calling it iron was putting it mildly).

Now that you’re friends, it didn’t take long before you both started spending most of your free time together during the week — at the library, in the university courtyard, and sometimes even at cafés.

Your weekends often revolved around working on the DNA extraction project with strawberries, even though using cheek cells seemed more and more tempting. Why? Well, it fit perfectly into the human biology lessons in your course — even if the strawberries did the trick.

Naturally, you started learning more about each other — hobbies, music tastes — and, of course, books.

If there was anything that held you back from finding Suguru’s behavior odd at times, it was that day he sat beside you after a Sunday you’d spent chatting the whole afternoon away about your favorite books without making any progress on your biology project.

From Anne of Green Gables to Twilight, Dracula, Wuthering Heights, or Kafka’s works (Letters to Milena in particular), Suguru had brought every single copy he’d bought that Sunday evening and read them all overnight — something you’d thought impossible to read in such a short time, but Suguru assured you he reads very quickly.

So you believed him.

How could you not, when he found the best way to make your heart race by reading what you loved and showing up ready to discuss it all with you?

If that was his intent, then Suguru was indeed every bit the gentleman he thought himself to be.

“By the way, there’s a frat party happening soon. Are you going to come?” Suguru asks, his head bent over a DNA Ethics Guide textbook.

You’re both in the university library, as silent as a vampire’s heart. Ah, now you’re a poet?

You stop rummaging through your pencil case and glance up at him. “I don’t really know anyone, so—”

“Well, I do, so are you coming?”

You laugh nervously. “No, I don’t want to just crash the party; it’ll be awkward and—”

“I’ll be there, so it won’t be crashing,” Suguru insists, a slight smile playing on his lips as he looks up at you.

The sight takes your breath away.

“Will you let me finish my sentences, for goodness’ sake?” you retort, your cheeks flushing. You lower your eyes to your pencil case to avoid responding.

But his hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours to stop your movements. Your heart, already racing, skips a beat. “Come on, please? It’s not like I’m asking for a lot of favors.”

This time, it’s your whole body temperature that spikes — so much so that your hand, tangled with Suguru’s, becomes a little sweaty, and you gently pull it back toward you.

“I… I’ll think about it, okay?” you mumble, quickly rummaging to find your white-out for no reason and then using it on… absolutely nothing, really.

Because now you’ve forgotten what you were even looking for in your pencil case.

~~~~

“What about seven minutes in heaven?” Satoru Gojo proposes, a student with albino hair and cerulean blue eyes half-hidden behind useless round sunglasses, sporting a mischievous smirk.

“You suggest this every time!” Choso Kamo protests, the emo boy dressed in punk-style clothing, with messy black pigtails. He scrunches his nose in disapproval.

“But it’s the best,” Satoru counters.

The music blasts in every corner of the house where the frat party is taking place. Pink, blue, and fuchsia neon lights color the atmosphere, transforming every hue.

In one corner of the house, a circle has formed with Suguru’s friends. You all sit cross-legged, a few drinks nearby for refreshment, and you can’t help but think it’s one of the best ideas proposed since the beginning.

You’ve stuck close to Suguru since your arrival, which he couldn’t help but tease you about, provoking a blush that no one could see thanks to the neon lights. Plus, he kindly introduced you to his friends, all lovely and inclusive, never leaving you out. But if there was one goat — an animal very representative of him, by the way — among this flock of sheep, it was Satoru.

Outgoing by nature and quick to embrace any event that sparks even the slightest interest, he was the first to take you under his wing — all while Suguru watched cautiously — and show you everything you’d never dared to do at a party.

“What do you think of it, sweetheart?” Satoru whispers as the others debate the topic on their side (some for, others against).

You jump slightly, still not used to him addressing you with such open flirtation. “Um…” You clear your throat, squirming a little in your position. “I’ve heard of it, but what is it exactly?”

“You don’t know? Awww.” He leans in closer so that his lips reach your ear. “The goal of this game is to be locked in a room for seven minutes — a bedroom, a closet, whatever — and you can do whatever you want with the person who’s in there with you.” His breath is as cool as Suguru’s, and when Satoru pulls back, his face remains close to yours. His pale complexion reflects like an entity never seen before. “Clearer now, sweetheart?”

You swallow hard, nodding slowly. “And when you say they can do whatever they want… what does that include? Generally speaking, I mean,” you inquire, sensing a weighty gaze upon you but not knowing where it’s coming from.

Satoru closes the distance between you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Well, let’s just say most people kiss, sometimes make out,” Satoru confesses with a sly smile. His scent is as intoxicating as Suguru’s — just like his stone-like embrace. Satoru’s skin — especially his exposed forearms — feels like it’s at the same temperature as the ocean, yet it’s as if a warmth radiates from him regardless. “But…” he brings his lips close to your temple, making you shiver as your eyes scan around, briefly locking with Suguru’s intense gaze on you, “some people find time to go further, if you catch my drift.”

You choke on your own saliva at that moment, and Satoru bursts out laughing.

A few minutes later, a duo emerges from a broom closet, giggling like tipsy people, returning to the circle amid cheers from the others.

Satoru replaces the empty glass beer bottle to spin it in the center, pointing at his next victim — if you could say it like that, since you don’t seem very excited about the game.

And despite that, the wicked bottle stops, pointing its neck at you.

Goddamn it.

A knowing smile spreads across Satoru’s face — he glances mischievously in your direction before spinning the bottle again and quickly sitting back down.

With every turn, the speed used to spin it feels like this simple bottle holds a sentence. Your fate for the next seven minutes.

When it finally slows down and stops, to your greatest…

Relief?

… it points at Suguru.

Satoru pouts a little in disappointment and stands up along with both of you to escort you to the closet, amid cheers of encouragement from the group.

Suguru catches up with a few quick strides, just to whisper to you, “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable, okay? Just let me know because—”

Satoru cuts him off by shoving you tightly into the narrow broom closet and locking you inside. “And… the countdown begins!” he announces from the other side, his indistinct footsteps fading away.

The air is almost suffocating, the darkness plunging you into an atmosphere anything but reassuring, and especially the impossible closeness between you and Suguru becomes just unbearable.

Your breaths mingle, and when you try to shift positions, your chest brushes against Suguru’s, causing him to clench his jaw. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… Let’s just say I’m not quite sure what to do here,” you admit, lifting your eyes to him, and God, he could devour you at that moment, the faint light at your feet bringing a tiny spark to your lost doe-like eyes.

“The others will get annoying if we don’t do anything,” Suguru huffs, rolling his eyes before shaking his head. “I guess Satoru explained it to you? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, okay?” he insists, his tone soft and patient. He closes his eyes for a moment and inhales slightly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m a little embarrassed,” you murmur. Then, those previous words start to tease you. “Would it bother you to do something?” you ask nonetheless.

“No, not really,” Suguru chuckles, his perfect teeth glimmering slightly in the darkness. “But we can pretend if you prefer.”

“Pretend?”

“Yeah, just…” Suddenly, he gently takes your wrists and presses them against the wooden wall of the closet, leaning toward your neck, “...pretend.”

You bite your lip to suppress any sound, but you desperately want to make one right now.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers just below your ear, near your pulse.

Your breathing has quickened, matching the beats of your heart, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “No.”

His lips descend to your neck, brushing against your skin, his breath caressing you to the point that you’re on the verge of breaking.

“S-Suguru…”

“Hmm?” He hums, slightly opening his mouth to let his teeth graze just above your trapezius. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, unable to speak, as if two hands were preventing you by squeezing you in the sweetest way.

That’s when he starts placing butterfly kisses on your neck and shoulders, as light as they are burning despite the icy temperature of his lips against your volcanic skin. “You have such soft, tender skin, princess,” Suguru murmurs in a breathy whisper, continuing his feather-light kisses that unintentionally make you emit a small hum revealing your inner turmoil. He chuckles softly, the sound so pleasant that it sends a pulse through your core. “If I were a vampire, I would have devoured you by now,” he teases ironically.

You freeze. “Suguru?” you whisper, your brows slightly furrowed.

“Princess?” he replies in the same tone, his lips moving down to your collarbone, dotting it with sweet, intoxicating kisses.

Unable to resist the temptation, Suguru discreetly slips out his tongue and licks a strip of your bare skin, which begins to unravel you — your mouth unable to hold back an adorable moan that drives Suguru wild.

His canines painfully extend from their gums, their tips so close to your soft, warm flesh, filled with blood he has never craved so much, but he knows he cannot. Yet it’s almost impossible for him to resist, not when your little rapid breaths tickle his shoulder, when you seem so small and vulnerable in his arms, and when your pulse races to the point that his ultra-developed hearing cannot ignore it as it usually does. So what is he to do? He inches closer and closer, his canines just millimeters away from sinking into your neck—

“Seven minutes are up!” Satoru announces as he inserts the key into the lock — just enough time for you both to pull away from each other and for Suguru’s painful canines to retreat back into his gums.

Your face has never been so warm in your life.

~~~~

That evening, after returning home without any issues, you collapsed onto your bed, alone, faced with the only thoughts occupying your mind — Suguru Geto.

Oh Lord.

If he hadn’t been real, this man would have been your fantasy day and night.

But after what happened in that infamous broom closet, you can no longer see Suguru the same way.

Not after he somehow showed you how he could desire you.

How he could protect you.

Your thoughts become tangled, and you can no longer distinguish what your brain imagines and what it remembers.

Between the two strange men in the restaurant who suddenly assaulted you and the feeling that everything spins like a black spiral, blinding you, or the man who faces you in the dark corridor of what seems to be a gothic mansion.

He extends his hand, and you step forward to take it. It’s pale, cold, and as hard as stone. It pulls you toward him, drawing you against him, his smooth white mask waiting to be removed.

So that’s what you do, your hands gently pulling at the mask to reveal what lies behind, but the face that emerges makes you want to scream.

Suguru’s head faces you, his canines protruding and stained with blood, along with the contours of his mouth.

You try to scream, to flee, to do anything, but your body seems no longer willing to respond to your brain, as if paralyzed — and Suguru only leans closer to sink his fangs into the soft, warm flesh of your neck before—

You wake up with a start, sitting halfway up in your bed, your body slick with cold sweat and your panicked eyes searching for Suguru as if it were a vital need.

It may sound crazy, but you need him.

You have to check.

~~~~

“Do you prefer scrambled, fried, or omelet eggs?”

In Suguru’s kitchen — decorated in a rather modern style with black and white furniture, but with a touch of vintage or gothic (anyway, you weren’t good at decorating, so whatever) — the smell of heating oil fills the air, eliciting a growl from your stomach.

“Scrambled, but well-cooked,” you reply as he hums and grabs three eggs to crack over the heated pan.

While his back is turned, you rise as casually as possible, trying not to look too suspicious as you pretend to peek at what he’s cooking. Suguru glances sideways at you but smiles slightly, tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

Since then, you haven’t talked about the frat party at all, as if nothing had happened, in fact. At least from Suguru’s side.

From your side, you can’t forget how he planted kisses on your neck, how he licked your collarbone until you moaned, and you realize that if he had continued without interruption, you would have surely agreed to go further, just as Satoru had mentioned.

You stop drifting into your thoughts and wrap your hand around the fridge handle, and Suguru turns his head towards you, knitting his brows.

“I want to drink water,” you say, opening the fridge to take a look, expecting to find jars or bottles of blood but…

…nothing.

Now that’s a bit disappointing.

There’s just nothing in Suguru’s fridge, aside from the door leading into its depths.

You turn to him, confused. “Why is your fridge empty?” you ask.

Suguru pauses for a moment before responding, his hands busy finishing your scrambled eggs. “I prefer to order food when I can.” His tone is neutral, neither cold nor dry, just lacking any openness to guess anything, which begins to irritate you.

“Not even water?”

“You ask so many questions,” Suguru sighs, a slight smile on his lips but with no malice.

“I’m just worried that my friend isn’t eating well or that he has an eating disorder,” you lie, your heart racing even more because how is it possible that, aside from the small box of eggs on the counter, he doesn’t even have water? “Do you drink tap water? It’s not very good for your health, you know—”

Suguru adds a pinch of salt to the well-cooked eggs in the pan using a small salt shaker and throws you another sideways glance, but without a smile this time. “Why are you panicking?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and low.

“What? No, I’m not panicking, I—”

“Then why are your cheeks red? I can even hear your heartbeat racing,” he retorts, and you freeze slightly — because he’s speaking the truth, a truth that only you should be able to utter.

“It’s because of the heat in the kitchen and also because you’re avoiding my questions, Suguru,” you persist. “And what do you mean by ‘hearing’ my heartbeat, huh?”

Now it’s Suguru who looks taken aback. “Stop saying nonsense, you just sound silly. It’s an expression,” he justifies, the expression on his face twisted in a frustration you seem to understand.

He places your eggs on a plate and turns his head away from you. So you muster your courage, and to hell with it if you wet yourself.

“Suguru, I don’t know how to react now,” you admit, your voice low and uncertain. “You act so strangely sometimes that I have questions, but it seems so stupid that I feel like I’m going crazy…” A knot tightens in your throat.

Suguru turns to you, and his slightly harder gaze from a few seconds ago softens. “What are you thinking?” he murmurs, so softly and kindly that you feel he won’t judge you.

“I just… I sometimes feel like…” You look away, stepping back a little. “You don’t act like everyone else and…”

“And…?” Suguru presses, pulling a glass of water from the cupboard.

You feel your face turning as red as it did at the frat party and admit, raising your voice slightly due to uncontrollable embarrassment, “You look like a vampire, seriously!”

A silence follows.

Then Suguru turns to you. “Are you afraid of vampires?” He chuckles, teasing you.

“No, but you’re acting strangely and—”

“And so you think I’m a vampire?” he cuts you off, losing all trace of joy.

And now, he catches you off guard, making you stutter like never before. “No— well, yes, but— not really…”

“Well,” he mumbles, returning to your plate and glass to set them on the kitchen table, “who knows?”

Your complexion turns pale.

“Tell me, princess, if I were really a vampire — not a bad one, but a vampire nonetheless — would you accept me?” Suguru now approaches you quickly, cornering you against the wall behind you as you stupidly step back.

Only your frightened eyes meet his, and his obsidian gaze scrutinizes you. “It all depends on whether you want to kill me or harm me,” you breathe.

“And what if that weren’t my intention as a vampire, that I cherished you like Edward Cullen did with his Bella, hmm?” He takes your wrist to bring it to his lips and smells — but what scent? “That I love you and protect you?”

“You would drink blood… right?”

“Would you let me taste yours?” Suguru’s teeth hold your trembling wrist firmly as they hover just above your tendon, his gaze locked onto yours. “Just a sip, perhaps? It’s harmless.”

“I don’t know, Suguru… Are you a bad vampire?”

“No, darling, I would be the good vampire you would want me to be.” Suguru grins, releasing your wrist to cage you in his arms, his mouth too close to your neck, and his cool breath sending shivers all over your body. “May I?”

Your disoriented arms wrap around him, and you resign yourself to closing your eyes before nodding gently without knowing why.

“Are you sure, princess?” Suguru purrs in your ear. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” you murmur, the blood pounding in your ears and your heart racing.

Suguru deliberately takes his time, planting a multitude of butterfly kisses on your skin, licking the area he undoubtedly wants to bite just to hear you pant softly in his ears.

He finally parts his lips, brushing his painful, protruding canines, ready to drink your blood.

Slowly, gently, and with the utmost delicacy, his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck.

You expected to feel pain, to scream, shout, and even struggle, but the only sensation is pleasure.

With every passing second, you feel a flow of blood circulating where Suguru bites you. It almost tickles, if you weren’t softly gasping and stifling whimpers.

It’s as if with each pull, a pulse of pleasure shoots directly to your core.

Until it becomes unbearable, your body writhing gently in any attempt at friction. Suguru feels it, of course, because after pulling his teeth from your flesh, he slightly straightens to admire you, your lips parted but in a pleading pout.

As for him, his lips hold the gulp of blood he just took from you, but he keeps his mouth tightly closed — because he knows the sight might disgust you. Then, a few long moments later, Suguru smiles at you, his long canines pristine once again.

You glance at your neck reflexively, and it’s as if he bit you without slicing your flesh. Your skin is smooth, with only two purplish holes visible. It looks like the wounds are in the process of healing.

Wonder fills you, and you wrap your arms around Suguru, who quickly does the same before you surprise him by kissing him directly.

His lips — despite their hard coldness — are soft against yours, moving slowly against your eager mouth, as desirous as you are.

Between kisses, you whisper, “How long have you desired my blood?”

“Since the first experience,” Suguru replies softly, his mouth devouring yours as you try to insert your tongue. “Not too far, my love, they’re sharp.” And you guess he’s talking about his teeth.

You pout. “I want you.”

Suguru presses his lips together, breaking the kiss. “Sure? I thought you were scared but I think I can control myself, and… don’t you want to ask me questions? It would be strange if you didn’t have any, after all.”

“We can do that later; I just want you right now,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “I’m I’m not afraid anymore.”

Suguru’s large hands slowly slide down your back and stop at your waist, gently gripping you. “So, you’re accepting me?”

You slightly turn your head toward him, your lips brushing against his jaw. “I’ve always dreamed of vampires — but they were still just dreams.”

Suguru exhales. “I can’t give you an Edward Cullen, but I can be the vampire of your fantasies. So will you accept me, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

~~~~

“Ah— you’re teasing, Sugu—”

Muffled words reach your ears, but they are incomprehensible, as the vampire making you wet literally has his head buried between your legs, devouring your pussy like a starved man.

He lifts his head to look at you, and a smile lights up his features, his chin dripping with your wetness. “You can’t handle a little teasing, baby?” he coos, the tip of his tongue circling around your puffy clit in a torturous motion that makes you whine.

You pout, gasping when he pinches the little bud between his lips. “But I want you, now,” you insist.

“But I need to get you ready for me,” he responds, his hands placing themselves on your inner thighs to pin you against the mattress, laying you bare before him. He continues to wickedly tease you with the tip of his tongue against your clit and between your soaked folds.

“S’not fair,” you protest, your legs trembling softly on either side of his head like a little animal.

“Your beauty isn’t fair, that’s the point, yeah.” Suguru climbs over your body, one hand sneaking around your neck and the other sliding between your thighs to tease your dripping intimacy. He presses his mouth against your ear. “Do you know how badly I’ve struggled to not devour you?”

His whisper so close makes you gasp, as the sensation is far too pleasant and uncomfortable in the best way — breath as cold as it is warm, as he inserts a finger inside you.

“Hmm, baby?” You try to respond, but only a pathetic whimper escapes. He pushes his finger gently but surely deeper until he reaches your g-spot, and your back arches.

“Sugu,” you whine.

“You didn’t answer, princess,” he purrs, licking the shell of your ear. And he starts to pump his finger inside you, your walls clenching around his digit, warming his cold finger as he finger-fucks you in earnest. “Haven’t you seen how badly I was burning for you?”

“I— Not at the s-start,” you pant, bucking your hips toward his finger, and the more he whispers his dirty talk in your ear, the closer you feel yourself reaching your climax.

“Not at the start? And when we were in that broom closet? Weren’t you at my mercy like the little mortal that you are, almost whining because you have this dirty voice kink?” He adds another finger into your abused cunt, sinking his thick fingers to the hilt.

You squirm under him and try to respond. “M’sorry, Suguru, I just need you to—”

“To what, darling?” He pumps his fingers as teasingly as his voice, knuckle-deep and fast. “Tell me how badly you want to cum, can you do that for me?” Your sweet pussy squeezes his fingers, almost spasming because you need more, but he doesn’t allow you until you’re stretched enough to take him after that.

“I w-want to cum on— Hngh, please—” You throw your head back on the mattress, mouth agape from the unstoppable moans leaving your sweet lips. “C-Cum on your fingers, please.”

“That’s good, baby, you’re doing good,” he praises, kissing your ear, temple, cheek, and then lips. He drives his fingers deep into your depths and curls them just as you tighten around them, releasing the knot in your belly to let your juices flow.

His cold thumb joins your clit to rub gently until you ride your orgasm.

“Good job, baby, you did perfect.” Suguru straightens up, pulling his fingers from you to taste your fresh juices around his fingers while you watch with drooping eyelids and half-closed eyes. Suguru then leans in to kiss you, gently at first, knowing you’re still a little weak, then he inserts a bit of his tongue without ever crossing your teeth, fearing to hurt you.

You softly break the kiss and kiss his jaw, which makes him sigh softly. “Sugu? I have a question.”

He chuckles softly. “What did I tell you about questions?” He strokes your hair soothingly, laying down beside you. “But ask away.”

“Your entire body is cold, so it means that blood doesn’t flow through your veins, right?” you start.

“Right.”

“So, how can you be hard?” You slip a hand down his pants to palm his erection through the fabric. Your cute face almost makes his dead heart throb. “It’s funny, though,” you giggle.

“It’s hard to explain but, do you know how Edward made love to Bella?” Suguru asks, kissing your cheek as you unzip his pants.

“It wasn’t really described, but,” you pause, “was he hard?”

“Sure he was, like I am right now for you,” he mutters. Your palm wraps around his now free, throbbing erection, and your warmth electrifies a rush of pleasure through his cold flesh. You climb between his legs and lower your head so you can lap at his tip — dripping with his pre.

“Princess, be careful with—” He interrupts himself, letting out a groan to stifle a moan, which makes you laugh softly. “Tease,” he groans.

“Uh-huh.” You envelop his pale tip and suck gently, reducing Suguru to a panting and needy thing. Your fingers play with his balls, and he clenches his hands into fists, hissing between his teeth.

“Baby, be careful, you don’t know how badly I can hurt you if I don’t control at least how my body reacts to your touch, so don’t take me in your— Dear Lord,” he groans again. You see and feel the way he forces his hips to stay still against the matress to not pierce your palate with his length, much harder than usual. So you suck him slowly, carefully, not to surprise his body and give him the head you want him to feel — he even deserves it.

You withdraw his twitching dick from your mouth and grin, warming it up with your hands as he feels free to buck his hips and fuck your fist earnestly this time. “You’re so beautiful like this, aren’t you?” you praise, playing with his balls as he whines.

His long black hair sprawls across the immaculate sheets, his eyelids squinted and pleading, and his perfect lips slightly parted to let out the most divine sounds. Suguru is truly the vampire you’ve always fantasized about since your first reading on vampires.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Suguru tells you, reaching out his arm to cup your chin and make you lift your eyes to his. “I want to cum inside you, if you would let me.” And God, how can you say no to that perfect immortal angel?

And so it is that you end up lying on the mattress, your belly exposed, your naked and heated body pressed against Suguru’s icy one, which you can’t wait to warm up.

He settles between your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before leaning down to pull you into his arms, shielding you with his stone muscles as your breasts gently crush against his cold chest, hardening your nipples, and he feels it — dragging one of his hands to it and pinching softly, just enough to make you whimper his name.

He presses his mouth against your ear again and whispers dirty words, “Ready to take my cock, princess? I won’t break you, promise. At least not yet.” And he brings his tip against your wet slit, pressing flesh against flesh to tease you until the end.

“You bast—” and he cuts you off with a kiss, pushing his tip to the very entrance of your delicious walls, ready to take him with every inch. You kiss him back, licking his lips eagerly.

“You’ll take it inch by inch, okay? It’s cold, so I need you to be comfortable with a suitable temperature,” Suguru warns you between heated kisses. “Ready?” He pulls his lips from yours to place them against your sensitive ear — on the way, he leaves a gentle hickey, enough to leave a reddish mark.

Tenderly, he sinks into you, the first inch greeted by your parted folds, greedy to take more of him.

“One inch,” Suguru says, waiting for you to adjust. “Is it alright down here?”

“Y-Yeah, I just need more, I want you whole.” You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, trying to ignore how you tighten around his dick when he whispers in your ear.

“Two inches,” he exhales then curses under his breath. “Fuck, you’re so wet, and how can you be this tight?” As he gently inserts the third and fourth inches, Suguru feels like he could crack at any moment, overwhelmed by the desire to bury himself deep inside your sweet, gorgeous pussy.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh inches are taken easily by your tightness, filling the room with your two uncontrollable gasps and the heat radiating from your body, which warms so much that when Suguru starts to fuck you gently at first, you think you might melt at any moment and see stars.

He rails into you so deep and fast that he curses under his breath. “Fuck, you’ve taken the eighth inch.” He groans at the same time as you, as you take him so well that he reaches the bottom, his tip kissing your g-spot even better than his fingers did earlier.

“Oh, fuck! S’too much, Sugu, and too deep,” you moan, and it only makes his dick throb harder than it was when you stroked him.

Because with every thrust or stroke, the two of you feel overwhelmed and overstimulated at the same time. He withdraws almost entirely to slam back into you, not too hard but enough for your toes to curl and you to cry out.

“I’m already close, Suguru, please, I wanna cum.” And Suguru chuckles softly, thrusting into you harder and faster than he was already doing. Now, his tip hits your sweet spot with every stroke, coaxing sounds from you that he dreams of hearing.

“Cum on this cock, baby, you can do it,” he coos in your ear, making you clench around him, intertwining your fingers with his. He takes one of your legs to lift it over his shoulder and buries himself deeper inside you, and you press a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.

“I’m close, I’m gonna—” But you cry out again against your palm, cumming hard and loud on his dick, your velvety walls twitching and spasming as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm — your eyes shutting as you see stars.

As you come down from your high, Suguru slows his pace and stays inside you, lying down next to you. “You alright?”

And you nod feebly, throwing a leg over his waist to sit on him and take him deeper. You gently lower your head, admiring your juices flowing from your cunt. “Your turn now.”

And you ride him carefully, taking his hands in yours to place them on your hips, letting him lead the pace with you. “You’re beautiful,” Suguru murmurs, his obsidian eyes shining with devotion. He flutters them closed, humming, groaning, and sometimes whining when you bounce on him too well, and he’s about to cum.

You gently lay down on him as he lifts his hips in sync, gripping your waist to take over and help him cum — which he succeeds in doing, and the sensation is so surprising and pleasant that you moan softly along with him, your adorable faces scrunching up in pleasure.

His load is warm, neither cold nor hot. It’s as if you’ve warmed his dick so that it’s no longer cold.

Your cheek rests against the coolness of his muscular chest, and you sigh in relief. “You’re going to be very useful to me in the summer,” you giggle, placing gentle kisses along his neck.

“Whenever you want, my love.”

~~~~

“I often come here to hunt,” Suguru explains, parting branches in the forest to make it easier for you to pass.

You skillfully slip through and take his hand in yours to warm it up, smiling as you take in the view he’s sharing: a vast plain overlooked by tall, sturdy trees, sinuous riverbanks, and a large waterfall a bit further on, peeking out where your eyes meet the river paths.

“It’s beautiful, Suguru,” you whisper, fluttering your eyes closed as he squeezes your hand.

“Doesn’t it?” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you affectionately against him. “There’s never anyone here, just beasts. That way, I won’t have any humans to kill,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Is it like in Twilight?” you ask, giggling. “But you don’t have brown eyes.”

“No, it’s not the same,” he corrects you. “As long as I have blood, I have no problem. Human or not, it’s really just a matter of taste. It’s sweeter, you know.”

“Do you have a little sweet tooth?” you tease, getting on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek as he steps away from you to bend down so you can climb onto his back.

“Not really, that’s more Satoru,” he laughs, gripping your thighs as you hop onto his back.

“Aha! I knew he was like you; you’re both just as weird as each other,” you snicker, proud to have solved another mystery.

Suguru bursts into laughter, as if your laughter is that of a little child who is also proud of themselves. “Yeah, and he studies physics, you know. He’s not very sharp in school, but physics is really his thing.” He takes a breath — an unnecessary one, since he doesn’t need to breathe; he just does it out of habit to avoid alarming humans — and glances at you discreetly. “Ready?”

You nod, and without further ado, Suguru begins his run.

He runs fast, of course; he’s a vampire.

But so fast, in fact, that you barely feel him taking steps. It’s as if he’s flying across the ground, the wind whipping against your faces. Every now and then, you lower your head, fearing that branches might slice your head off, but Suguru usually warns you when you can admire the scenery whizzing by faster than a car would allow.

When he finally stops, it’s to drop you off on a hill that takes your breath away.

The same one from your favorite book.

The hill is lush with small green grasses, dotted with tiny purple flowers like in a paradisiacal autumn meadow.

“It’s… It’s…” you stammer, amazed by the surprise he just gave you as he carefully sets you down on the ground, making sure you don’t stumble from the peculiar journey.

“For you,” Suguru adds, settling down on the grass as he waits for you to join him.

“Suguru, how did you…?” you trail off, sitting on the grass with an otherworldly appearance.

“I practically live here, to be honest,” he replies, planting little kisses on your neck and collarbone. “I hunt and feed here. And when I’m not feeling well…” He caresses your skin with the tip of his nose, tracing a path to your chest to bury his face there and sigh, his eyelids shut. “...I used to come here. But I don’t need to anymore.”

A smile curls your lips up. Your fingers gently stroke his jet-black hair. “You should turn me one day, you know? That way, I could come hunt with you and—”

“Not a chance,” he mumbles, pressing his ear against your heart. “I don’t want to lose this little heart. It’s mine.”

You huff. “You sound like Edward, seriously…”

“I would never abandon you, that’s for sure, but as for your transformation, it’s far from today.” Suguru places yet another kiss on your chest and then moves down to your belly, trying to find a sensitive spot to tickle you with his perfect touch.

“So I’ll go see Satoru,” you threaten, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Him? He’ll devour you whole without a second thought. I was the one holding him back during the frat party,” Suguru informs you with a little laugh.

“E-Excuse me?”

And it’s under Suguru’s amused laughter that you promise never to approach the albino — as much from afar as up close.

a/n: okay, i literally have missed the kinkoctober because of this fic :/ i hope at least you guys will enjoy it <3 (i’m so tiiiiired, tho). but tbh, it was fun to write since it was really during this month that the fic is so it’s like i’m living it :))

next → curse hunter! toji !!

tags: @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @cybersomn1a @sanemistar

@ssetsuka @monokaix

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therobotsarestuckinmyhead · 2 months ago

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◇|♡ "SWINDLED" — Swindle [TFA]

crack being treated seriously, a bit OOC(?), you can take this to be any version of Swindle if you want to!

setting: Pre-Decepticons Losing, during somewhere at the start of the war, Swindle hasn't become a huge business mech yet

warning: scummy boyfriends, angst (kinda funny though), break ups, an indefinite part three.

prev: part 1 next:----

"Oh, please, sweetspark, try to understand!"

Merely hearing his pleasing tone again made the energon in your lines boil. He's been folowing you to give out a half assed apology when you unfortunately fell in his peripheral vision, you figure. You honestly just wanted to get to your hab and take a nice, long stasis nap. The ignominy your 'lover' has brought upon you in that restaurant was unforgivable; not only did YOU, one of Lord Megatron's personal guards, get abandoned in a high end energon bar by their date but other bots saw that.

And you know damn well they're going to have a field day with this.

You resist the urge to grit your denta at the memory as the shorter mech continues to pursue you while you walk away, not as much as sparing Swindle a glance or a word. The night in the Decepticon capital was buzzing for once, there were a lot of bots enjoying the city life which the war had now turned into a luxury; the effect of a temporary ceasefire so they don't need to worry about bombs falling from the sky, until Megatron feels like breaking the treaty at least.

"Ah, the silent treatment... how typical." The yellow and purple mech sighs out, making you slightly turn your helm to him which was a mistake because he noticed; helm perking up upon the realization that he had your attention. Stroking the flames of your anger to draw out your optics onto him and he can see how absolutely angry you are, it makes him a bit nervous. Taking a moment to phrase his words right.

"Listen, I know you're upset-"

"Upset isn't enough of a word, Swindle." You hiss out, turning around completely to face him. Sneering down at him, hypnotic optics he could stare into forever narrowing at him. Swindle would be lying if he said he didn't think it was kind of hot but he had a sinking relationship to save, how else could he flex to the other Combaticons?

"I know and I'm so, so sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you! I just had an important-"

"Do you think I'm an idiot, Swindle?" You snarl out, more than well aware he was just trying to make you pay off his debts. Swindle tenses a little almost as if he's surprised you saw through his obvious lie.

You don't know if you should laugh or feel insulted at that.

"Oh Primus, you do.." You turn around and walk away, faster. Trying to avoid him in the crowd. Your anger wilting away to pave the way for sadness, you're definitely not used to this sort of spark-break given the war left such little time for such things. Taking a sharp turn, his optics glued to your frame. Swindle snaps out of being startled. Mentally cursing himself.

"N-No! I don't! I just- Wait!" He should've just been honest, Swindle realizes he's making this worse with every word he's saying.Why can't he just smooth talk you like he does with his customers? Only if advertising techniques worked for personal matters too...

To his surprise you do wait. Some cosmic interference he's undeserving of has been graced it's kindness and he's grateful. Purple optics meet into yours with an underlying desperation as he stands before you— an imperceptible softness in your gaze blooming at the sight but you were not going to let him off the hook so easily. Though, the desperation did make him look somewhat pathetic to you.

"I... made a huge mistake and it was no accident." He hesitantly gives out an admission, taking accountability for his actions instead of the usual excuses. It was new. Swindle did have to swallow his pride, he never thought he'd come across the day he had to apologize to someone. Your gaze continues to scrutinize him, he knows he's smaller than you but he has never felt so small in his entire life.

"Go on." You want to see what else he has to say. Servos folded over your chassis.

"...I'm sorry for leaving you with the bill back at that energon bar." He can tell you're not really satisfied; after all, an apology is the bare minimum and you're the last person to applaud the bare minimum.

"I will never do such a thing again. I don't have the sort of shanix on me to pay for such a high-end place so I... selfishly left you there."

"Didn't stop you from having a ridiculous tab there..." You mutter with a small frown and it makes him grimace a bit at the mention. Deserved. You lost at least a month's pay you were saving up.

"Well, yes but I was planning on paying them off.. someday." One of his servos reach for the back of his neck supports, gently holding onto it as nervousness creeps up again.

"Someday in the next five million years..." That hurt more than it was supposed to but Swindle takes the hit. He deserved to take every comment from you, he knew that.

"Forget about the bar!" Swindle exclaims with frustration as you dwell on the topic, optics offlining momentarily. His frame letting out a long ex-vent as his optics online to your faceplates that remain as ambiguous as ever, taking in his words. Swindle can't tell a thing of what you feel and it's unsettling him, frustrating him.

"The point is," He starts off, purple optics scanning you for any sort of emotion he could exploit appeal to. "One day," He is hoping and praying to every diety he could name from the top of his helm that you were listening to what he had to say. "I'm going to hit big. Real big. And when I do, I could buy you that bar if you asked." There's a determination in his tone, as if he really does mean it.

And how could he not? You've done a lot for him. Sure he first wanted you because you had a nice frame and solid shanix but it's been cycles since then! He's grown as a bot, its not just about flexing off to the other Combaticons now. Swindle isn't that shallow anymore. From helping him fund his arms business to being a supporting pillar, Swindle isn't sure if he can do it without you. The desperation he would never admit is making his tanks churn and he knows damn well he could never buy you.

The blank look and your lack of a response is breaking his confidence slowly, every passing second you remain silent feels like a minute.

"You expect me to hold on to a promise?" You scoff, rolling your optics. He winces, that was actually the most honest he's been in a long time. Swindle tries his level best to not get frustrated as you downplay his grand fantasies.

"No.. I want you to understand what I'm willing to do for you, the effort I'm willing to put-"

"Believe me, Swindle. You won't have to put any effort here on forth because you and me are done."

Swindle always thought the whole idea of 'your spark falling into your tanks' was just an exaggeration until this moment; it was, infact, a very real feeling. Purple optics looking up at you, wide with flickers of vulnerability.

You on the other hand feel no sympathy or regret, only a bitterness at the fact that it had to end this way out of all the outcomes. He was pathetic and while you initially found it charming, it's gotten old. A bunch of bots warned you about him but unfortunately, you really didn't think too much about it. Truthfully, you never meant to fall for him as hard as you did, aware he was most likely only using you.

"Goodbye." You turn around to take your leave from where a spark-broken Swindle stands. A painful farewell.

But that wouldn't be the last you'll see of him because the very next solarcycle, there were numerous gifts on your doorstep. Of course you took them in knowing it was from your now ex, why should you decline when you could take them just to throw them away? Or even better, take them and not bother to think of him. It's very easy to avoid him, the notifications set on mute on your communicator. Loads of unread messages piled up on the channel with Swindle.

You can feel a strong gaze on you when Lord Megatron goes to speak with the Combaticons, as his guard, it was merely custom for you to be there while Lord Megatron had a discussion with Onslaught. You can feel the longing in Swindle's optics as he stands behind his leader, peering over Lord Megatron's shoulder plating to catch a glimpse of you. How flattering. But you pay no mind to it.

And soon enough, his desperation slips through as days go by. Eventually coming to this, you just got back from another one of Megatron's diplomatic meetings, managing the security and such. You were tired so the knock on the metal door of your happy little private space frustrated you.

"What." You're caught off-guard to meet Onslaught's visor, his demeanor is as if he's here for business. Your voice is flat, aggressive and clearly not in the mood for any casual talk. The Combaticons, unbeknownst to you, were having their own troubles with their sparkbroken con-mech.

"We need to talk." Onslaught's gruff voice betrays a hint of.. worry? You're not sure. The tactician and his team were odd even by Decepticon intelligence standards.

"...did Swindle send you here?" You sigh, he was really desperate if he sent his team to help him out. You almost feel bad. Almost. Onslaught seems a bit frustrated by the mention of his designation, a sentiment you relate to.

"Uh, no, actually we're here for..." Vortex tries to lie and fails miserably.

"We are here for the whole thing between you and Swindle but that cheat did not send us. Don't get the wrong idea!" Brawl fills in aggresively where Vortex struggles to explain, the helicopter mech's helm looking at his companion almost annoyed, as if Brawl stole his spotlight.

"This is something we need to discuss privately, can we come in?"

Well, they were being.. nice and polite-ish for once. But you're surprised it's Blast-Off who asked.

Might as well.

"Fine." You make way for the four to enter, signaling them to take a seat on the couch and the four of them do so. Vortex squirming a bit as he's jammed between Brawl and Onslaught, ceasing as Onslaught shoots him a glare. Vortex mutters. Meanwhile, Blast-Off sits comfortably. Taking a lot of space.

You take a chair and sit across them.

"What did you want to discuss?" You ask, curious almost. All of them tense for a moment, as if they're trying to find the words. But Brawl is quick to let his woes be known.

"Do you have any fraggin' idea how hard it is to combine with a sparkbroken, brooding, lovesick mech!?" Brawl yells out. The other three look at him. The way he said it doesn't really catch you off-guard but it's what he saying that does.

"Yes.. It's beyond unpleasant to feel all of that." Blast-Off grimaces as he agrees. You look absolutely confused but Onslaught saves you from the embarrassment of asking.

"When we combine, it's not just our frames that merge. Our minds do as well, to an extent. So we get to feel what Swindle feels." Onslaught explains, exasperated. Exhausted, almost.

You can't help but feel like you want to laugh, swallowing it.

"You're really sadistic.." Vortex mumbles out, hearing the soft laugh you failed to hold back entirely. The four of them looking very frustrated.

"Sorry... Sorry.." Your controlled laughs die out.

"Do you have any idea how tiring it is to constantly hear and feel his self loathing and moping and..." Blast-Off shudders between his rant. "...longing." The others seem to have a similar reaction. Now you really want to laugh out loud.

"No. But I can tell you're enjoying it." You can't help but crack a smile, this is hilarious. None of them has probably never really had a serious, committed relationship— you assume. They seem very uncomfortable when it comes to talking about feelings.

"You're evil." Vortex states bluntly. But there's a hidden admiration for your unwavering demeanor.

"Yeah! Why punish us when he's the one that was scummy? Why do we have to feel his suffering? Do you know how embarrassing it is when Bruticus starts calling out the name of a bot that idiot hasn't even met midway through a fight?" Brawl huffs out, a little more calm. Grimacing and cringing at the memory.

So that's why they're so frustrated.

But you honestly don't give a damn.

"If you think I'm going to let him back with me just because the four of you aren't comfortable with intense emotions, you're insane." You scoff, it's getting on their circuits and you can see that but in all honesty, they can understand the sentiment. Swindle told them what happened and Onslaught has not seen a fumble so terribly gutwrenching since the Decepticons lost Polyhex to the Autobots.

"Listen, we're not asking you to coddle him or anything but for the sake of the Decepticons, I'm begging you. At least stop avoiding him." Onslaught has never been so polite and humble his whole functioning and it makes you feel sort of smug in all honesty. But you're not going to show that off yet.

"Yeah. Just... talk to him. Even a 'Hi' might make him feel better." Blast-Off adds on.

"Just please don't break his spark anymore." Vortex pleads, he does not want to continue feeling... this. He doesn't even have a word to explain it. It's the feeling he's certain Lord Megatron would feel if his favourite fusion cannon blew up in flames.

"...or else, I swear I'll punch you cause I've had enough of this lovey-dovey nonsense.." Brawl mumbles out, servos crossed on his chassis.

You sigh as you look at the four mechs on your couch. This was sort of cute, how they came here because of their teammate.

"Fine. I'll consider."

He really was desperate. Swindle was delighted when you just waved at him across the hall the next solarcycle after that discussion with the other Combaticons and you thought it was cute. Though, now the two of you are just friends.

But that doesn't stop Swindle from trying an advance every now and then. He really does want to be more than friends. Badly. But you brush him off as politely as a Decepticon can be.

After all, the Combaticons are way happier.

Primus, the things you do for the Decepticons.

#cybertronian reader #transformers #transformers x reader #transformers animated #swindle x reader #tf swindle

114 notes · View notes

nomi-c · 6 months ago

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Pottery ventures

Professions (1/8) {San}

{San x Reader}

Wordcount: 7K

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Pet names (sweetheart), cursing (fuck), Dominant San , Oral Female receiving, Protected intercourse, Fingering

A/n: as always with my ff's, this ff isn't meant to represent the artist in any way or form!

-Minors don't read-

With a last glance on your Phone, you cursed your best friend for cancelling on your monthly planned meet up in the very last second.

Are you sure you can't make it? You texted her, even though you already knew the answer. She spontaneously needs to stay longer at work because of some emergency at the ER.

If you would have known sooner you would've called the workshop owner and cancelled the appointment, but you were already in front of the little studio and the appointment would start in around 10 minutes.

The day was really calm and no one expected a emergency this size.... I'm sure you'll have fun at the workshop, we can still book another appointment at that shop for maybe next week?

You sighed and watched your breath form into tiny clouds as you took a sip of your coffee and pulled the scarf tighter around your neck and partly covered your nose and mouth from the biting snowy wind that caused you to shiver heavily.

I will ask him for another appointment after today, no worries. Stay strong! Love you xxx

Without waiting for another reply since you knew she was busy treating emergency patients, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and gripped the door handle.

Staying a second longer outside wasn't ideal, seeing as in this part of the town not many people stayed outside after it got dark. It didn't matter that it was only 7pm on a Thursday, once it was dark people stayed at home. It wasn't like the area was criminally populated, it was more that the way the block was built gave off strange vibes and an eerie feeling once the sun set. Maybe it also had to do with the past of this exact block that gave you shivers whenever you thought about the mall tragedy years back.

They were in the middle of renovating the block and erasing the ugly past with new parks and buildings and incredible cafés but nonetheless people didn't forget things that easily and you were sure it would take a long while till people would be walking here carefree again.

The little Pottery studio you would visit today however had a owner who only moved here 6 months ago and probably didn’t know the history of this area before he opened the newly build studio here. When you and your best friend searched for a cool new hobby, you found his website and his rating was 5 stars through the bench.

You decided to give him a shot since the comments were good and some of the pieces you saw on his website were drop dead gorgeous. It wasnt the first workshop you both visited, seeing as you made it your adventure to try new workshops and courses every few meet ups. From photography to drawing, and from parkour lasertag. Every thing so far was awesome and a few things got stuck with you. Two of those things being Taekwondo and Art.

You smiled at the many memories that rotated in your inner eye. With a last look around you, you cautiously pushed the door open and a little bell above you ringed quietly. You instantly reveled in the warmth of the studio as you stepped in fully, you never were the biggest fan of winter and today was a particularly cold day.

Your eyes roamed over the beautifully black and white designed lobby with incredibly expensive looking modern art pieces and others that seemed like landscapes and some others like momentous of people you didn't recognize.

Walking a bit closer to it, you noted that every Individual piece was lit on by a over head lamp that gave each one its own stage and moment to shine and next to each painting you saw a little silver plate that described the painting and mentioned it's artist.

All of them were drawn by the same person, Park Seonghwa. The name didn't sound familiar to you, but whoever he is, he is a incredible painter.

You moved a bit more into the lobby and your gaze fell behind the counter, where you spotted a big lit up showcase with some of the crafted pieces you saw on the website, and with it you again saw little metal signs with the names of the people who crafted them.

You had to give it to the owner, he had a love for crediting every person he had pieces of and everyone who created art in his studio. You decided then and there that you already liked the guy.

To your left, you saw a small sitting corner which consisted of two white couches on opposite sites of one another, a black fluffy carpet and a rectangular glass table with art and crafting magazines stacked on one side of it.

On the wall next to the sitting area, you saw a makeshift bistro station with a fancy looking Barista coffee machine.

Without doubt the owner didn't only have taste in aesthetic but also in what he consumes, and what he offers his guests you thought to yourself as you saw the variety of pastries next to the coffee machine.

With a last longing look towards the sweet and probably incredibly delicious pastries, you turn back towards the front of the store.

Your eyes travel back towards the counter ahead of you, it is all black and neatly organised from what you could see behind the counter, once you reached the front of it.

Your eyes focused on the jumping screensaver on the computer on the right, that was partly turned into your direction.

You started hearing louder growing steps and focused your attention on the stack of business cards that laid out next to the blooming Poinsettia.

Only when he made his stance behind the counter, you looked up from the business card and your eyes locked with his.

Your breath however got lost along the way, he was around one head taller than you, had dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes and a set of adorable dimples that demanded your full attention right instantly.

He seemed to work out a lot, seeing as his frame was huge compared to you, and by huge you were talking about the fact that you could disappear behind his back fully. Looking a bit further down, the black tight shirt he wore revealed to you that his waist seemed pretty petit for his body.

You caught yourself staring at the man before you, so you quickly cleared your throat. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and you averted your eyes on your gloved hands.

You set the cup of coffee on the counter quickly and started removing your scarf and glove, feeling unbearably warm all of a sudden. "Hello, I am the 7pm appointment. My best friend couldn't make it due to a emergency at work, so it will be just me today. I hope that's still okay with you?" You asked with a slightly shaky voice.

The guy who until now watched you with a slight smile on his lips, leaned down to his computer and typed something on his keyboard. His eyes roamed over the screen and a few seconds later he gave you a quick glance. "It's alright, I hope the emergency isn't too bad. Do you want to schedule a new appointment on top? I won't charge it extra, seeing as you still came here today instead of cancelling last minute."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "I would love that, that is really kind of you Mr. Choi. Would next week at the same time work for you?" You asked with a smile on your lips as you removed your beanie and put it into your bag with the scarf and gloves.

He clicked on his computer a few times, his eyes glued to the screen. "It works perfectly for me, I'll set the appointment. And please call me San, we seem to be around the same age."

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, San. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." You said as your cautiously extended your hand towards him with a unsure smile on your lips.

Handshakes were mostly out of fashion, especially in winter and even more after the pandemic but you would feel rude to not greet another person that way. Especially someone as kind as him.

San eyed your hand for a second before his dimples reappeared and he laid his hand on yours for a firm handshake. You couldn't help but notice the two rings that adorned his fingers, one golden on his index finger, and a silver infinity looped ring on his middle finger. Odd combination you thought to yourself but didn't dare ask about it.

With anyone else you would say it's a fashion crime to mix gold and silver, but you felt like they had a special meaning and in all honesty you thought that little inconsistency fit with him.

If San noticed he didn't mention it, when he waved his hand towards the pasties to your left. "Can I offer you anything before we get started? A New coffee or maybe some Pastries?" He asked you with a kind smile and warm gaze.

You quickly shook your head. "No, thank you. I still have my coffee. But Thank you very much for the offer."

He nodded and gestured to the right where a big set of double milk glass doors was located. "Shall we?" He asked you with a smirk.

You once again felt your cheeks heat up, something about him made you jumpy but not in the creeped out way. No, he made you jumpy in a manner of your crush replied to your Text message where you ask him to date you kind of way.

You tried to calm your racing heart with a deep breath and focused on the flowers in the corner next to the double door, right beside these broad shoulders attractive shoulders of-

No. Don't go there- you curse yourself out as you follow San through the Glass doors avoiding his body with your hungry eyes as if your life depends on it.

You practically drool over your teacher for your pottery workshop right now, but could anyone actually blame you? San's proportions and looks should've been captured on old paintings cause he had the perfect proportions in any kind of way and form. You were sure artists would fight over him to be their muse, look wise as much as body wise.

You could blame your reaction on the fact that you didn't have a boyfriend or a date in years and your... well, last time feeling like this over a guy was even longer ago.

Feeling San's eyes on you, you slowly lifted your gaze from his shoulders to his eyes and felt exposed by the raw intensity of his stare.

With a smirk on his lips, he shook his head and turned left towards a little table that had a clay sack on top. He grabbed two blocks and placed them one after another on two of the workstations. "You can pick any seat you want."

You woke up from your trance and unholy thoughts about broad backs and muscular arms and set your bag next to the door on the black armchair before you picked the right seat and sat down eying the clay block with interest.

San grabbed two bowls from the side of the sink on the wall to your right and filled them both with water, before he set them next to your clay blocks on the work stations next to the rotation disk.

"Do you have knowledge in pottery?" He asked with his back on you, as he went towards his desk where a bunch of pottery goods sat which he carefully grabbed to place them in yet another showcase to fully dry unharmed.

You shook your head, even though you knew he couldn't see it right now. "I don't know anything about it, me and my best friend wanted to try it and make cute mugs for our reading weekends together."

He nodded, processing your words for a second or two before he turned to his left where a couple of aprons hung on the wall next to the burning oven.

You followed his movements as he picked 2 aprons one smaller and one bigger black one which you assumed was his personal one.

When he turned back around to make his way back to you he had a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Pottery isn't as difficult as most think it is, you might take a few tries but you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Once he was seated next to you, he handed you the smaller apron slowly. "Did you already think about what you want to create today?" He asked you with a curious expression on his features. His prominent cheekbones slightly rosy from the warmth of the studio.

You quickly searched your mind for possible things you could create and that were easy enough for a absolute beginner as you laid on your apron, but you only came up with a total basic idea. "How about a vase?" You asked as you remembered the beautiful vase you knocked off the dinner table the other day. It was the only vase you had since the many years you lived all alone.

San tilted his head to the side, his indexfinger with the golden ring tapping on his lip absentmindedly. "It's a good choice, easy but with a good purpose."

You nodded in agreement. San's eyes focused on the clay block in front of him before he shot you a quick glance. "I'm sure you already noticed the clay block in front of you, so what we want to do with it to begin, is to loosen it up. We archive that by kneading the clay like a you would with a fresh dough."

He took the clay in his hands and started kneading it and made sure you copy his moves before he spoke again. "We knead or wedge the clay to remove any possible bubbles inside, to make sure our work will be stable and won't break as easily after or during it's getting burned."

You nodded and quickly made a messy bun, already annoyed by the hairs that kept on blocking your view as you kept on kneading the small clay bock thoroughly.

Minutes ticked by with neither of you saying anything, the only sounds in the atelier were your breathings and the faint melody that flowed out of the ceiling speakers quietly.

Your arms were already getting sore and you felt a small droplet of sweat making it's way down your forehead. "How long are we supposed to knead it exactly?" You asked a little out of breath.

San's quiet laugh made you stop your work and look at him instead. He was still kneading the clay, your eyes focused on the strong muscles on his arms and how they moved under every movement he made.

He formed a small clump with it and set it on the middle of the rotating disk. "The longer, the better. It's tiring at the beginning but try to see it as a workout instead with a nice new pottery good as reward." He told you with a smile on his lips.

You shook out your arms, trying to ease some of the burning tension in your muscles and shaped your clay block almost the same. "Can I ask you something?" You asked San as your eyes darted through the artillier and you saw more framed photographies and art pieces on the walls, you even spotted a fallen angel stone figure in the far corner by the window which you didn't notice while entering the space earlier.

San turned in his twisting chair towards you and leaned his elbow on the workstation as he eyed you curiously. "Sure, ask all you want."

You turned towards him as well, glad to rest your arms a bit more as well as stilling your curiosity at the same time. You gestured towards the walls and the stone figure. "Are you interested in photography and art and stone sculpturing? I couldn't help but notice them right away." You said as you once again eyed everything in the room with adoration.

Seeing as you love art yourself you couldn't help yourself but standing up and inspecting it closer. It was like a invisible line pulled you towards the art he displayed and created. The color combinations and techniques the artist used drew you in, and the different vibes and auras each painting gave off seemed to tell a story you yet had to discover fully.

San who slowly walked up behind you, looked at the painting as well. You didn't see his face but could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

"The paintings and sculptures and even the pictures are all from my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and looked up at San's face with a dropped jaw. "These belong in big galleries and museums. They are masterpieces."

You saw a dimple form on his left cheek as he paced the room. You followed him, checking the art pieces with him with full attention. "Seonghwa is an artist, he draws everything that captures his interest, from people to objects, to abstract art. He wants to open a gallery in the future, but until then he asked if he could spotlight some paintings here. I loved the idea, it gives the studio flair and showcases his work at the same time."

When you guys reached another photography of what seemed to be a woman's back hugged by shadows and a industrial styled window front with San Francisco in the back, he stopped again as you took in the big framed photograph. "Wooyooung is a photographer, he always had a incredible eye for aesthetic and when he grabs his camera, you can be sure to see a masterpiece as result. He actually has his own gallery, but he gifted me some pieces as welcome present to my first own studio. He helped me a lot building this place."

Your eyes went even bigger as you continued listening to every word San said. He gestured to the angel stature and his smile got soft. "Yeosang is a Stone sculpturor, but if you ask me he should sculpture himself as well cause with his looks he doesn't stand the figures he creates behind in anything at all. I'm sure Michael Angelo would have taken him as student and muse if he would be alive still. His skills are impeccable, even if what he creates sometimes tends to be melancholic." He said as he grazed his hand softly over the broken wings of the crying angel.

You didn't take your eyes away from the stature, too much in awe about its raw beauty to look back at San. "Everything here is incredibly beautiful and has so much meaning behind it, this is breathtaking." You almost whispered as your finger softly touched the forever rolling tear of the angel.

You walked a bit further and carefully grazed your hand over one perfectly tailored mug, it resembled london as you quickly realized with the big ben in the background and a person that seemed to wait for something.

"What's your favorite style?" You asked him as you wondered if he drew the places on pottery that he visited or knew.

A soft smile appeared on your lips at a old memory of your trip there years back for your year abroad.

San sighed as he eyed the mug you softly cradled in your hand. "I don't think I have found my personal style yet, I'm relatively new with painting detailed pieces. I used to just glaze the pieces over in white. It's timeless and classic."

You nodded in agreement. "Does this one has a story? Looking at your work I would say you're a really talented painter as wellby the way."

San leaned against his desk in thought, thinking your words over in his mind as he looked around the office. "Isn't that what art of any kind is about? A purpose or a story that needs or should to be told? Like for example you chose a vase, is there a story behind it? Cause I could think there is one." He asked as he turned his attention on you with a raised brow and a twitch of his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, in my defense I really need a vase. Mine broke months back and since then I haven't been able to buy flowers anymore." You quickly blurted out.

San laughed quietly and opened his mouth to say something but you were faster. "Anyways, you don't need to talk about it when it's too personal. What I was trying to say was that your art is incredible. I'm glad I chose your studio to learn pottery." You followed up saying, trying to erase your embarrassment.

San's cheeks got a slight bit colored and you saw a hint of a dimple as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thank you, shall we continue?"

You nodded and strolled back towards your work station, happy that he didn’t further commented on your choice of work for today.

Once you were seated again, he wet his hands and got the round plate of the workstation spinning. You watched him closely and imitated his movements, your eyes glued to his strong hands as he softly worked on the clay and managed to get the clay to part to a hole on the middle.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to do the same on the first try. A happy laugh bubbled up inside you, as you eyed his next movements like a hawke.

"For the next step, you have press from both the inside and the outside against the clay to thin it out while you also pull it slightly upwards to shape it to your liking." He explained as he wet his hands in the bowl a bit more and slowly did what he explained.

He made sure to place his hands and arms in a way that you would be able to see it perfectly from your seat.

When he was done with that part, he turned off the workstation and turned towards you.

You could easily make out the bigger body and slimmer neck of the vase, when the spinning lessened you had to say it already looked damn near perfect.

Your eyes connected with his for a second, and you saw nothing but kindness and patience in his eyes as he waited for you to start.

With a deep breath, you turned on the workstation with the button on the side, and wet your hands in the bowl with warm water.

You felt San move a bit closer, but paid no attention to him as you set your hands both on the inside and outside of the cool clay.

You recalled his instructions from ealier and started carefully molding the clay. At first it was a bit difficult because even after all the kneading, the clay felt a bit dense.

But easily enough you saw it get thinner and wobblier. It started to seem to spin out of control, and San quickly rolled his chair behind you.

His hands smoothed over yours as he pushed away your foot from the pedal to take control over the spinning speed of the table.

His warm hands engulfed yours easily, as he lessened the pressure you put on the vase. You watched it regain its composure almost immediately.

You felt his warm breath tickle the side of your neck as he leaned his head forward, at your back you softly felt his chest against you.

Your heart started racing as you watched him guide your hands over the body of the vase in an attempt to save it and to even out the thickness of it, seeing as it was pretty uneven. "The first attempts are always a bit out of control, that's totally fine and normal. When you feel it getting out of hand, you have to lessen the speed of the rotation disk. Otherwise you risk the clay to smack into your face."

He explained as you felt his thigh muscles contort and bump against your leg when he showed you how the speed would affect the rotation disk.

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you got unbearably warm. Your mind only seemed to care about his close proximity and his incredibly good smelling perfume. Of how his hands felt around yours and the breath of him that tickled your neck with each breath he took.

You watched as the clay induced liquid rushed over and between your hands as he started forming the neckline of the vase together with you. You caught yourself slightly glancing over towards his face that almost rested on your shoulder and noticed a few lose strands hanging close to his eyes, it was a effort to not automatically reach out and swipe them away.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts, and averted your eyes back towards your forming Vase. He adjusted your fingers on the vase slightly and applied a bit of pressure to your grip before he spoke next. "When you use just about the right amount of pressure, it will turn out just how you want it. This is about the thickness it needs to ensure it's stable and won't break while burning." His voice was raspy and close to your which didn't help your current situation at all. You took a small breath as your legs pressed together Involuntarily.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to not betray you more than your body already did. He angled his arms a bit more to be able to guide you better and in the process his back was now flushed against your back and his arms were pressed against yours further which caused tiny goosebumps and a shiver through out your arms and the back of your neck.

You could swear you heard his breath hitch for a second but you wouldn't allow to let your mind travel to the possibility that he was reacting to you the same way as you reacted to him.

You watched as he guided your hands further up the neck to work on the top rim of the vase. He let go of your hands and dipped them into the bowl quickly and set his hands back on yours.

His head turned towards you slightly. "Do you like it like this? Or should we try out another Design?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as he accidentally grazed your ear while speaking, your back pressed against his chest slightly in response.

You quickly opened your eyes in mortification and quickly shot up from your seat, hitting yourself on the workstation hard enough to probably leave a bruise behind as you fumbled your way out from being wedged between San and the workstation.

You dipped your hands in the now tainted water and wiped your hands on the apron, before you removed your the cardigan and walked the few steps towards your bag to place it on top carefully.

You felt San's presence somewhere behind you vividly, which only worsened the throbbing inside of you. "I gotta use the restroom real quick." You all but blurted out as you quickly exited the room.

You had no clue where said toilet was but you needed distance before you would jump him.

"Second door on the right!" He called after you from where he stood as you barged through the door and almost ran into the restroom.

Once the door was locked, you rested your back against the cool wood and slid down to a crouch.

Deep breaths. In and out. Calm down. You can do this.

After collecting your thoughts for a second, you went up to the sink and splashed your face with ice cold water to get a grip.

Your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink tightly as you eyed yourself in the mirror. "Calm down and focus!" You told yourself with strict face before you patted your face dry and unlocked the door.

The temperature in the lobby felt significantly colder which you gladly welcomed as you walked up to the little table in the sitting area and poured yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

You took a deep gulp to get rid of your dry mouth as you peaked inside the studio again. You didn’t see him immediately, but you spotted his work station empty.

You stepped inside quietly, scanning the room quickly and spotted leaning against his desk in thoughts.

He wasn't turned towards you, instead he seemed to watch the vase, his vase, do it's thing in the fire oven.

You creeped a bit closer towards him, gripping your water in a death grip as your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. Once you caught up to him and only a few steps separated you, you cleared your throat to announce your presence without startling him.

His head snapped in your direction and he straightened, before you saw him made a step towards you. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes seemed to hold that same barely contained restraining that you were sure would be mirrored on your own eyes as well. "I'm sorry if I acted unprofessionally towards you, I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned away from you and your had to strain your ears to hear his next words. "That's what I should say, right? Even if I don't mean it." He raked his hands through his hair frustratedly.

Your stomach tightened as you registered his words and saw his exquisite back muscles flex with his movement.

You made a step towards him, as you felt your need coursing through your body violently. That much for calming down.

You set the glass of water down on his desk, as he turned back towards you quickly. His gaze was wild and pure of need as he fixated your full lips and then your eyes. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry. Since you walked in, I can't think fucking straight. I should be professional, I know that, but all I can think about since you stepped into my studio are all the different ways I could fuck you senseless inside of this god damn place. I just want to-"

You didn't let him finish as you closed the distance between you in light speed and crashed your lips against his.

He caught you around your waist reflexively as he tensed up for a second, but then his restrain snapped as grabbed you by your neck and janked you flush against his chest.

A small moan left your lips when your hips connected with his and you felt him hard against your stomach.

You felt his tongue graze over your teeth, asking you for entrance and without thinking twice you let him in. Your tongues started a instant battle for dominance, as you moved your hands through his silken hair and tugged slightly.

You could feel him smirk against your lips as he pushed you back until your ass connected with the desk.

His hands wandered down your sides, setting every inch of clothed skin on fire until he reached your thighs, he gave you a little nudge and you jumped enough to up wrap your legs around his waist thightly.

His hips pushed you onto the table hard and another moan left you at the sensation. His mouth started traveling from your lips onto your neck where his tongue drew lazy circles over your sensitive spot. You felt the fabric of his shirt wrinkle under your tightly fisted hands on his chest as you moaned his name.

One of his hands rested flatly on the desk while his other sneaked over your shoulder in a feather light touch and pulled your straps down, fully in contrast to his wicked tongue. "Please." You bagged as you tugging on his shirt.

He sucked sharply on your neck in response, as your head fell back from the sensation. "Please, what sweetheart? Use your words."

Your back arched as he kissed his way further down your neck. He softly pushed down your tanktop until it pooled at your hips as he clasped open your Bra with his other hand. Out of the corner from your eye you saw your Bra flying to a random corner. "P-please touch me." You begged again as your hand went back to his hair and fisted it?

His indexfinger travelled from your bare right shoulder down onto your hard nipple, where he gave you a slight pinch. "That's what I'm doing right now, no?"

Before you could respond his mouth cupped your other boob and his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

You pulled on his shirt frantically, desperate to feel his skin under your finger tips. As a whine left your lips, the feeling already overwhelming but at the same time not enough. He released your boob with a pop. "So responsive." He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head to give you a perfect view of his incredible physic.

You let your hand wander over his soft and muscular skin. A growl left his lips as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his lips crashing on yours in a devouring kiss again.

He unbuttoned your jeans in a swift move and linked his thumbs in the fabric of your jeans as he janked town both your pants and underwear down in one move.

His indexfinger with the golden ring travelled up your bare tigh before it disappeared between your legs where he raked a finger through your soaking folds. Your head fell back in bliss. "Gods"

San eyed your expressions like a hawk, as he cupped you and dipped a two fingers inside of you. Your walls tightened against him as he started pumping inside of you. Your hand gripped his biceps forcefully as your hips rocked against his fingers, taking everything you would get.

Endless moans echoed through the studio as he crashed his lips back on yours. He slightly bit your bottom lip as he curled his fingers inside of you which made you scream out his name.

You could feel your release rapidly build inside of you. "Please.... I'm..." You managed to say, but it was all to overwhelming.

San shook his head with a smirk as he removed his fingers from inside of you. "You're finished when I let you. And I'm dying for a taste." He all but purred before he settled between your legs and looked up at you directly.

It took all your left restrained to not come at that sight directly, and he seemed to notice it, because he grabbed your knees and spread you apart further before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

His smile was deadly as he eyed your bareness before him and dived in light speed.

His tongue laid flat against you as he swiped up your center, your head rolled back as a loud moan left your lips.

San's hands flexed around your thighs as he pulled you closer to wards him. He backed up enough to look back at you. "I want you to look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes found him reflexively as he dived back in and dipped his tongue inside of you. A rumbling moan left his lips as he started devouring you like a starved man.

While your hips ground against his face shamelessly and greedily. You felt your climax build up in light speed as your legs started trembling. He sucked in your bundle of nerves once twice and your hands gripped his fair painfully. "Come." He ordered and thats all it took as you screamed his name and started seeing stars.

Your release washed over you in intense waves as he picked up every drop of you greedily. You were still shaking uncontrollably as he got up and pulled you flush against his bare chest. His lips found yours and you could taste yourself on him as he spinned you around and bend you down on the desk.

You heard him shuffle and open a condom behind you as your head laid on the side, eying the crying angel stature.

His hand trailed up your spine sensually as he wedged his bare leg between yours and spread your legs apart. You felt his chest against your back, and your ass instinctively pushed back against him.

You felt him twitch against your entrance, as his mouth nipped on your ear before he gave you another soft kiss on your neck.

Without another warning he gripped your hair in his hand and janked your head back as he slammed into you fully. A scream left your lips at the feel of him inside you.

San's voice sounded taut as he pounded into you with enough force to make the whole table move. "Fuck, you're tight."

You slammed your ass back against his hips in desperation as he pulled out of you almost fully and slammed back into you. "You're perfect." He groud out betwen his teeth before his lips found your shouder where he gave you a small kiss.

The glass you set on the table ealier, spilled more and more water on the table but you couldn't give less of a fuck as it just like you for the second time in a row edged closer to destruction.

His lips slammed back on yours as he picked up speed, a trail of moans left both your lips as he pounded in you mercilessly. The scandalous sound of smaking skin, moaning and harsh breathing almost overshadowed the scraping of the table as it moved further and further towards the wall opposite of you.

His movements grew slowly erratic, indicating you that he too was close. As his other hand wandered between your legs where his index finger drew lazy circles around your bud.

You screamed his name as you started shaking and saw blinding white light and stars. His other hand drew soothing circles against your back, much in contrast to his harsh thrusts that had his balls slamming against you with force repeatedly and said. "Let go."

Your back arched and your ass slammed back against him with force as your hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard it was starting to hurt as another scream raked through your body and shattered you into sweet oblivion.

San cursed under his breath as you felt him twitch hard inside your spasming walls. He thrust in you a few more more times, before he too came apart inside of you with a curse of your name on his lips as he rode out both your highs.

Once your both caught your breath a bit he pulled out of you slowly but continued drawing soothing circles on your back. "You know, I've been dreaming of seeing you again from the moment I saw you that day by the namsan tower years back."

Your eyes snapped open in shock, that day you saw him, you realized now. Across the crowd you noticed him and his friends and already back then your breath caught in your lungs.

You've been staring at one another for few seconds when he made a step towards you, waving some of of the peddles from his view.

You were just about to make a step towards them too before your best friend pulled you with her towards the boarding bus.

It followed you for a while on vacation, but you eventually forgot about him. Hell, you didn't even trust yourself that you didn't make the whole thing up back then seeing as your best friend didn't see them at all and said you're crazy.

His Hand massaged the back of your neck under your hair softly. "You asked about the mug earlier, I made it as first art piece once I arrived back home. I was searching for you everywhere that day after you left with your friend, but I couldn't find you."

You set back up on the table as he went up to the sink to wet up a clean cloth, you didn't notice it before but you saw now that he was wearing his underwear again and a loose white shirt.

You pulled up your tanktop again but were still in shock about his recent words. "It's been you? I wasn't sure if I didn't make you up in my mind. My best friend didn't see you guys and said I'm delusional." You laughed to yourself as you already looked forward to clowning her about the whole thing.

After he carefully cleaned you up, he sat you back down on your feet and you quickly pulled up your pants as he did the same.

"Wooyoung never really stopped looking for your friend either by the way. He said she would be his perfect muse." He said with a smirk that highted his dimples even more.

A soft laugh escaped you as a thought formed in your mind. "You just gave me an idea for her next single workshop." San mirrored your knowing smirk as he laced your hand with his and led you towards the work station and your almost finished vase.

He turned towards you with a shy smile. "It might be a bit out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me? I would love to see where our story goes."

You gave him a big smile in return and nodded your head. "I would actually love that."

He took a seat on his spinning chair and pulled you onto his lap before he gave you a kiss on your temple and turned he workstation back on before wet his hands. "Let's start with finishing up your work first."

A/n: I tried to proofread this FF as best as I could, but English isn't my first language, and I'm dyslexic so I apologize for the eventual mistakes. I hope you liked this ff.

Little Bonus: I found this while looking for inspos for the thumbnail pic. ♡

#kpop #atinyateez #ateez #ateez atiny #atiny forever #choi san #ateez ff #jung wooyoung #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #choi jongho #song mingi #kang yeosang #jeong yunho #kpop ff #san x reader #ateez smut #smut #kpop smut

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jonathansthickthighs · 1 year ago

Text

My Sweetest Heart 4: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 5 here

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, threats, jealousy, possessive behavior, desperate toji, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), daddy kink, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s), soft toji, toji has feelings, slight sub toji?

A/N: part five will the last one of this mini series. enjoy! :)

Not edited!

You sat by the window, as a deluge of thoughts flooded your mind. Absently, your fingers traced the delicate contours of the pearl necklace gifted to you by your boyfriend the evening before.

You had been dating for two months now and you couldn’t deny this was the pinnacle of emotional fulfillment you had ever experienced with a man. He treated you like no other, he was so soft and gentle with you, you never imagined a man being this good to you. His gestures of affection unfailingly making you swoon, gifting you flowers weekly, getting you whichever snacks you were craving, taking you new places, even buying expensive gifts like the one you had around your neck. You weren’t aware he could even afford such artifacts, ignorant to the fact that bounty hunters were so well off.

It had been a great couple of months, but you had to admit to yourself that you were terrified. You were scared of how things might turn out in the future. The subject of marriage and children has arisen in discussion with Toji several times, leaving you unsure of where you stood on your own desires. You hadn’t known each other long enough and up until now, your relationship may be all flowers and rainbows, but that didn’t guarantee your expectations would still be met in the future. After all, only two months have passed since you met Toji.

You weren’t against marriage at your age, but children, on the other hand, were a touchy subject to you. You wanted to enjoy your 20s to their fullest and you were aware that a child, while being a blessing, would also intake an enormous sense of responsibility that you weren’t ready for at this age. Toji had quite a few years on you and his desire for a family was evident. He had expressed his desire to having children before turning forty, leaving you around four more years to enjoy your stress free, youthful life.

You were broken out of your mental battle when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“You’ve been lost in thought an awful lot today, sweetheart. You’re not thinking about leaving me are you?” Toji joked as he nuzzled his face into your sensitive neck, eliciting a cascade of giggles from your lips.

“Of course not, Toji. I’d be a fool to throw away a cock like yours.” You quipped back, pivoting to encircle your arm around his shoulders in a tender embrace.

“Oh, so you’re just using me for my body? I’m hurt, baby.” Toji chuckled, closing the space between you as he pressed his lips to yours. He moved his lips against yours vigorously, squeezing your waist against his, rutting his hardening, clothed cock against your stomach. You immediately responded, kissing him with the same enthusiasm. You ran your hands through his narrow waist down to his bottom, giving him a playful squeeze, forcing a giggle out of him.

You cracked your eyes open, peaking at the clock on the wall behind Toji. As realization dawned, your eyes widened as you noticed the time, prompting you to swiftly detangle yourself from Toji’s embrace. “Shit, babe. I promised the girls I would meet them half an hour ago. I gotta go!” You exclaimed, making Toji tense up. As you began to depart, you were stopped by his firm grip on your arm, drawing you back against his chest.

“Come on, doll. Just a quicky, you’re already late anyways.” He insisted, trying to seem nonchalant about the situation. In reality, Toji fucking detested when you went out with your friends. The thought of men approaching you, trying to flirt with you, offering to pay for your drinks made him lose his mind. Hell, the mere thought of other men looking at you was enough to drive him over the edge. His darkest thoughts were screaming to lock you up in a place were he could be the only one to look at you; the only way those thoughts dissipated was with the image of you recoiling in horror at him. The thought made his chest tighten, your hatred was something he would never be able to live with.

Despite the infrequency of your meetups with your friends, his desire to wanting you all to himself was insatiable. Never had he imagined himself yearning so fervently for a woman’s attention; it had always been the other way around, but for you, he was willing to beg on his knees for an ounce of your attention.

“As much as I want to, I’ve already ditched my friends too many times to be with you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You answered apologetically pressing a kiss on his cheek. Toji tried to mask his disappointment, but this time he wasn’t as good at hiding his expression.

“Please, sweetheart. I want you so bad, can’t you feel it?” Toji begged with frustration evident in his voice, grabbing your hand to place it on top of his raging bulge. He began using your hand to rub himself, grunting at the pleasurable sensations you were bringing him with just your hand. “Please…” He pleaded weakly, desperation lacing his voice.

You groaned, feeling defeated as your panties started to dampened at the sight. You were quick to attach your lips into his parted ones, tongues fighting each other as you continued teasing his cock over his sweatpants. You separated your lips from his causing him to whine at the loss of your soft lips.

Once you decided you had teased his cock enough, you tugged his waistband down, freeing his aching cock. You bit your lip as you tentatively stroked his cock in slow motions, gaining a hiss from him. Running you thumb over the reddened tip, you gathered the oozing precum, spreading it over the rest of his shaft. You wanted him, badly.

“Tell me what you want, Toji.” You whispered, peppering open mouthed kissed all over his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to respond as he started thrusting his hips into your hand. Having you jerk him off with your hands was something else, he couldn’t have done it better himself. Your hands were so much softer than his, the velvety skin of your hand wrapping around him could almost make him finish then and there. “Answer me, Toji.” You demanded, squeezing his cock enough to catch his attention.

“I n-need to f-fuck you, sweetheart.” Toji managed to utter out.

Smirking, you responded. “Then beg for it.”

Toji groaned, throwing his head back as your painfully slow stroking continued. He would never admit it, but having you be this demanding was a huge turn on to him. Believing submission was characteristic of women only, he never let himself experience anything remotely close. All his life he had been the one in control, never letting his guard down for any woman. You unveiled facets of him he never imagined existed.

“Please. I n-need to feel your pussy!” Toji beseeched impatiently and you rewarded him with a radiant smile. You released his cock from your grip, guiding him towards the bed. Pushing him on the bed, you began to undress slowly, pulling the straps from you dress down to reveal your tits to him.

You grabbed your breasts, massaging them and playing with your nipples, putting on a show for Toji. He gawked at you lustfully as he reached for his cock to stroke himself as he watched you. Playfully, you slapped his hand away. “I didn’t give you permission to do that, you pervert.” You retorted, giving him a sly smile.

Toji’s mouth was agape in disbelief, bewildered at this side of you. “I am not a pervert, sweetheart!” He exclaimed, failing to suppress his laugh.

You giggled before responding. “Oh yeah? You’re stroking your cock to this defenseless girl standing in front of you. Does that not make you a pervert?”

“Well that defenseless girl is touching herself like a slut in front of me. I’m pretty sure she wants me to jerk off to her.” He replied, starting to tug on his cock once again.

You bit your lip, enjoying the way his gaze felt on you. “I think you might be right this time.” You admitted as you decided to finish undressing for him. It was impossible for Toji to get tired of looking at your delectable body. He could easily make himself come by merely admiring your nudity.

Once all your clothes were discarded, you climbed on top of him. Settling yourself on top of his shaft, you moaned at the contact your sensitive clit made with his cock. You began grinding your heat on his cock, making him groan. You were so wet for him, you couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside you.

“You want me to ride your cock, daddy?” You suggested seductively as you continued teasing the both of you.

“Fuck. Yes, baby, please.” He nodded, eager to feel your tight, warm snatch engulf him in its delightful glory.

You wasted no time grabbing his cock, pressing him against your wet entrance before lowering yourself carefully onto him, making the two of you moan. You still weren’t accustomed to his size, so you needed some time before you could move comfortably. Continuing to lower yourself until he was fully sheathed inside your heat, you placed your hands on his chest for support. Toji grabbed the fat your ass as he threw his head back onto the bed. He was certain he would never tire of this feeling, your pussy was simply made for him.

“Pussy’s s’good, baby.” Toji slurred, relishing how tightly your cunt wrapped around him. The sight of you riding his hard cock was breathtaking. He noticed you it had gotten comfortable once you started slowly moving. You rose your hips until only his tip was remaining before lowering yourself onto him to a halt, making him grunt at the sudden piquancy he felt. After that you proceeded to ride his cock in swift, steady motions, stroking his cock with your dripping pussy. He couldn’t help himself from feeling hypnotized by your stunning form as you rode him. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape as your tits bounced with each stroke. The sight was was orgasmic.

“Your cock is so deep inside me, Toji!” The sweet moans and screams leaving your lips were like music to his ears. The way you said his name turned him on to the extent he would do absolutely anything to hear it come out of your mouth.

He groaned as you worked his cock, sliding his hands up from your bum, making his way through your waist until he finally reached your breasts. He kneaded them thoroughly, making you let out a moan. You sped up your pace, the squelching noise of your thrusts meeting, filling the room. Toji leaned forward taking one of your perky nipple into his warm mouth, suckling like he was starved.

You whimpered at the stimulation you were feeling, as Toji gave your other nipple the same treatment. Continuing to jump on his cock like a madwoman, you could feel your orgasm approaching. When Toji felt your walls starting to tighten around him he grabbed a hold of your waist, holding you still before he started thrusting his generous cock into your sopping heat.

“Oh my— fuck! I’m gonna come all over your cock, Toji!” You cried out, feeling your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

“T-that’s it, sweetheart. Use me. M-make yourself come with my cock. Let me hear you.” Toji uttered out shakily as he continued to stimulate your sensitive nipples, grunting into them. The prominent noise in the room being the sound of the slapping of your skins and your moans and pants of satisfaction.

You moaned loudly when you felt your orgasm arrive. “Yes. Yes. Yes! Toji!” With that, you let it all out, throwing your head back, your dripping pussy clenching deliciously around his cock. His thrusts didn’t seize, continuing to drill your pussy with the need to reach his own release.

He called out your name as he felt his orgasm approaching. “I’m gonna fuckin’ come, sweetheart. Are you gonna take it, baby?” Toji announced as he watched your beautiful face, you were in a daze, your eyes half lidded looking at the man that was causing you such pleasure.

“I want all of it, gimme your cum, T-Toji.” You managed to slur out, using the last of your strength to hold yourself up on his chest. That was all it took for Toji to start thrusting up into your pussy erratically, your clenching pussy making him quiver out his orgasm.

“You’re fucking mine!” Toji growled, throwing his head back as your wet cunt milked his semen out of him, sending it deep into your womb. Get fucking pregnant! His intrusive thoughts made themselves present as his thrust began getting sloppy, his legs trembling in ecstasy.

“A-ah, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Toji stuttered out as he finished releasing inside of you.

Shocked, you looked at a drowsy looking Toji. “Did you just—?”

Toji parted his lips to speak, only to close them once more. Those words escaped him unwittingly, unleashing them from the depths of his pent up emotions, before he could muster the restraint to withhold them. Internally, he was having a battle with himself, trying to make it seem like an accident. He harbored uncertainty about how you would feel about him after only knowing him for two months. He had loved you since before you even knew of his existence and these feelings kept accumulating over time inside him; he couldn’t stand it any longer, so his body reacted for him.

“I love you.” He repeated without breaking eye contact with you. The shock on your face was evident, sending a tremor of apprehension through him. He was terrified of you never loving him back, he dreaded the prospect of your affection remaining beyond his grasp forever.

“I-I love you too, Toji.” Toji’s gaze widened in surprise, his eyes dilated at the unexpected revelation from you. His heart felt like it was going to burst and his cheeks were tinted pink. The happiness he felt surpassed anything he had ever deemed attainable. His mind was on a frenzy, he finally achieved what he wanted most in life. Incredulity washed over him, this must surely be a dream. She loves me back. She loves me back. She loves me back. She loves me.

Toji couldn’t suppress the smile creeping to his face. He didn’t thinking his heart could beat any faster until he watched you smile right back at him before breaking eye contact with him. You could even look at him straight in the eye and your face had gotten an angry shade of red from the mixture of the sex and the confession. Such a shy little thing. Even after two months of knowing each other you were still shy around him. He thought it was lovely.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, sweetheart. I was scared you wouldn’t love me back.” Toji admitted, reaching out to caress your soft cheek. His cock had been inside you through all of this, so he decided to slowly pull it out, making the two of you hiss from the overstimulation.

“I do, Toji. I’m deeply in love with you.” You revealed, leaving Toji astonished and with his heart dancing chaotically in his chest. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment. You never anticipated falling in love agains so soon, yet it unfolded before you as if ordained by faith. You thought meeting Toji was destiny. Climbing off of him, you snuggled to his side.

“Alright, alright, Toji. You’ve once again, managed convinced me to stay home with you.” Home. Toji loved the sound of that. He couldn’t wait to have his own little house with you, he had been taking up extra bounties to be able to afford one. As soon as you accepted his marriage proposal, he would buy a home for just the two of you. Although he was ready to have children with you right now, he knew you weren’t keen on the idea having children at your age. Toji’s not sure if he can honor your wishes, but he would try. Unless the situation called for other means.

Toji looked smug at your comment, fully aware that if you had decided to still go out, he would try to convince you to stay any other way. “You know you love staying in with me.” Toji replied, pulling you tighter into his chest causing you to let out a giggle.

You tried to detangle yourself from him, but his grip on you impeded it.

“I need to use the restroom, stop being clingy.” You quipped with a laugh, making him loosen his grip on you. Toji felt a little hurt. Were you really joking or did you truly think he was clingy? Insecurity flooded his mind as he watched you head to the restroom.

His thoughts were interrupted by some distant vibrations. Toji sat up from the bed to see your phone vibrating in the nightstand. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the caller ID. It was one of your friends, these were the people trying to steal you from him.

“Hey.” He answered coldly, the other line was silent for a second.

“Um, Toji?” The girl asked confused at not being greeted by her best friend as per usual.

“What do you want?” Toji questioned discourteously, not caring about feigning kindness with her this time. He was going to take any means necessary to drive you away from your friends. Your friends were but vermin, unworthy of the mere touch if your presence. Not an ounce of trust did he have for them. The thought of them trying to cloud your mind with doubts about your relationship ignited an indescribable fury within him. These women were going to taint your perception of him and he would not stand for that. Not to mention, most of them were single and he hated the image of them manipulating you into acting like you are as well.

He could tell your friend was taken a back by his bluntness, bewildered by his change in charisma. Every time they had met he always appeared so courteous and seemingly genuine, she did not expect this attitude from your boyfriend. “I-It’s just— we’ve been waiting for over an hour and a half and we got worried. Is she going to make it?”

Toji chuckled darkly before lowering his voice, assuring you didn’t hear him. “Listen here, you stupid bitch. Haven’t you gotten the clue she doesn’t want to see you anymore? She’s always cancelling your little outings and making up excuses to not see you. It’s been two months since you last saw her, get a fucking grip and accept it. She’s not your friend anymore.” He spat out harshly, earning a audible gasp from your friend.

“D-did she really tell you that?” Your friend stuttered in disbelief. It was unbeknownst to her you felt this way. Were you really truly willing to cast aside all these years of friendship? She had known you for so many years, it was hard to believe you felt this way.

Toji hummed in response. “Are you fucking dumb? I’m her boyfriend, she’s obviously going to confide everything in me. I’m just doing her a favor by letting you know, so stop waisting our time and stay out of our lives.” Toji replied, a threatening tone in his voice. Should this endeavor fail, he would be forced to resort to drastic measures, but hopefully the message was unequivocally conveyed. He could hear your friend sniffle on the other line, making him smirk maliciously.

“You asshole! Tell that bitch to never talk to me again!” Your friend sobbed hysterically before hanging up, making Toji chuckle in amusement. He didn’t appreciate the name-calling, but he opted to overlook it, comforted by the knowledge that he would never have to endure her presence ever again.

Toji returned your phone to its originally resting place before reclining back into the bed, allowing the comfort of the mattress to envelop him. He pondered to himself as he heard you starting to run a shower. He bore the weight of knowing that this would impact you deeply and he despised himself for causing you pain in this manner. Yet, he remained resolute, convincing himself it was necessary for the wellbeing of your relationship. How else were you supposed to tend for him and your children if your friends were always stealing your attention?

He observed you emerge from the bathroom, reaching to grab your phone. “I should call them to tell them I’m not going to make it again.” You spoke as you started to unlock you phone. Toji placed his hand on top of your screen and you stood there taken aback.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your friend called while you were in the bathroom and I let them know.” Toji responded with a smile, his gaze tender and affectionate as you reciprocated his smile.

“Thanks, Toji. You’re the sweetest.” You showed your gratitude by pressing a kiss to his cheek. He couldn’t help the guilt that took over him, he knew how much your friends meant to you.

“Shall we shower together?” Toji suggested playfully —attempting to keep his mind off what he had just done— grabbing your phone from your hand and placing it back on the nightstand. His eyes ranked through your still nude form, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, his cock rising back to life. Yeah, your pretty little body would make him forget in no time. You bit your lip, agreeing as he closed the gap between you, bestowing upon you a fervent kiss filled with longing.

Now that you had Toji you wouldn’t need anybody else.

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mariaxxxxx · 1 year ago

Text

Gods fall sometimes (+18)

Summary: Summary: K'uk'ulkan for You to give him a baby (+18)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, slight degradation, pregnancy, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words

A/N: A sequel, or not, to Dragon Fruit. I feel like the reader and K'uk'ulkan have a lot to tell about the baby.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

PART 1

You woke up at your usual time in the morning. A young maid came to the hammock and gently woke him up. Rested, you sat in the hammock, watching the cabin. It was already daytime, you assumed the sun wasn't present in that cave meters below the sea. So, the room was cold, indicating the presence of salt water around the stones. You stretched, passing your hand over the hammock, something you had become accustomed to doing.

He wasn't there, in fact, he never was. Her husband always slept next to her, but they never woke up together. K'uk'ulkan always woke up early and left the room, leaving her alone to rest. A habitation that You were already accustomed to. Even though, after years of marriage, he was still in the hammock while You woke up, it didn't take long, and he soon returned to Talokan.

You understood. I couldn't stay mad at him. Her husband had ruled for centuries alone, and taciturn habits were hard to shake. Although her days were lonely, her husband made the nights warm. Attempts to make a baby were fun, but fruitless so far. You thought you conceived a baby the day your husband made you pray for him, but the Gods gave you no such gift. The red spot between his legs the following month was enough to make him give up trying.

The Gods, not even K'uk'ulkan, were willing to make you a mother. If not even the divine was able to make you conceive, you thought that an infusion with dragon seeds wouldn't do it either, so you chose to leave it aside. You hadn't talked to your husband about giving up on him, you just continued to let him devour you during the night and cum while he whispered in your ear how beautiful you would look pregnant.

You shook your head to get the bad thoughts out of your mind. He got up from the hammock, noticing for the first time, a box on a small table. A box wrapped in jade green paper. Feeling attracted to that object, and as she approached, she captured a small paper containing the drawing of a celestial goddess generating life in her womb. A faint smile formed on her lips as she noticed her husband's enthusiasm in conceiving a child.

You ripped open the wrapping and opened the wooden box, taking out what appeared to be hair ornaments shaped like your crossed serpents encrusted in gold and jade stone. You smiled a sincere and charming smile. You loved getting jewelry and your husband knew it

“Beautiful, my queen.” Exclaimed the young maid. You hadn't noticed that she was still in the room. “Like the serpents in the hair that adorn the goddess Ixchel.”

“Oh.” You exclaimed in surprise. Only then did he realize that they really resembled the snakes in the hair of the statue of the Goddess Ixchel.

You underestimated your husband, as you always had, he knew you like the back of his hand. It was a not-so-subtle warning that he would continue to try to get her pregnant. He saw her as the goddess of love and the moon herself, this only revealed her adoration before You. Her hands felt for her hair ornament while her mind thought about how You could put an end to her anguish. Then an idea popped into his mind; an idea that could please or upset the gods. It will be her last attempt at conception, if it doesn't work, you will accept that the Gods were not willing to give you the gift of pregnancy. Determined, you turned to the young handmaid and said:

“Cancel all my commitments as queen. Then help me with something

(….)

You were on your knees in the soft reeds waiting for him. As K'uk'ulkan slipped through the curtain, wet from head to toe and richly adorned in gold, he froze at the sight of her figure sitting on her knees in the reeds. With the outfit, or almost none of it, more erotic than he had ever seen. He left him speechless and his cock hardened just by the sight. You looked like the Goddess of the moon herself. With her breasts uncovered, a huge black pearl necklace around her neck, a thin transparent petticoat that covered her intimacy, her perfectly styled hair held back by the hair ornament received in the morning.

K'uk'ulkan didn't say a word or make a sound, like he could have. He just allowed himself to enjoy the most beautiful sight. It was You who dared to break the silence.

“My devotee.” You exclaimed in a low voice. “Tell me what You want.”

K'uk'ulkan laughs, realizing his joke and approving the idea. Would it be a challenge? Yes. He would do everything to please the young God who lived in his bed. For You, K'uk'ulkan would bend the knee.

“Ah, my beautiful goddess.” He murmurs, approaching the reed. He placed his knees on the soft padding, getting close to You. “Can I eat You, my Goddess? Put my seed in your blessed body?”

You lick your lips, push your knees up until your lips are close to his.

"Perhaps." You whisper. “Show me how much you want this. Show me how much you want me.”

Before you can react, he reaches out to tilt his cheek and presses his mouth against yours to begin a familiar dance between tongues. You kissed those lips several times, infinite times and it would never be enough. No amount of touching would be enough to satiate her love for this man.

You move away a little to breathe, resting your forehead against his and stroking his nose affectionately.

“Last time, my love.” You say. “If tonight we don’t conceive, know that it will be the last time we try.”

“Don’t say that” he says with a slight tone of sadness in his voice. “We will try as many times as necessary until my seed takes root in your womb.”

You wanted to argue and say how much the failed attempts destroyed you inside. She wanted to tell of the times she cried in secret during each new cycle of the new moon without a child in her arms to thank the goddess. But you didn't say it, you just withdrew that feeling to the bottom of your heart and kissed him again.

This time the kiss became more urgent as a silent promise of comfort and burning desire. He wraps his arms around your waist, until you're sitting on his lap. You snuggle onto his hardened cock, moving your hips just the way he liked it. K'uk'ulkan's desire rose like the rising tide before the full moon.

"Part." You murmur into his kiss. “Ask me. Offer me everything.”

"Yes." He says over moans. “My beautiful goddess. I guarantee that my offering will be satisfactory.”

"Hmm." You lick his lips.

Your husband takes a deep breath as his fingers curl around your hips propelling your movements, his lips pursed awaiting more of your kisses. You put your hands on his chest and push him so he lays down on the soft pillows. It was his turn to be in charge. He tries to get up to pull you to yes, but you push him away again, remaining firmly seated on his covered cock.

You lean in and start placing small kisses on his lips, which go down to his chin and neck. Before you know it, he distributes kisses and nibbles over his toned chest. With an expert touch, you pull the fabric of the shorts down. Her mouth salivates and her pussy tightens at the sight of his hardened cock.

“Oh, is this my offering?” You question, your voice full of desire. “I’m not sure it will be enough to satisfy me.”

You notice your husband's fingers gripping the sheets tightly as you wrap your hand around his cock and massage the damp head with your thumb.

“I guarantee that will be more than enough, my goddess.” He grits his teeth as he groans when You squeeze his dick tightly, just the way he liked it.

“I will taste my offering then.”

Sue husband sighs loudly as her fingers curl around him and her lips close over the weeping purple head. Even with little provocation, her pussy fills with excitement at having the salty taste of his seed on her tongue again. You start by kissing the tip, brushing your lips, then continue to tease him with brief sucks and nibbles, listening to your husband's cry for more contact.

"Do not tease me." He orders through his teeth.

"Silence." You exclaim. “I need to check if this offering is up to me.”

K'uk'ulkan rolls his eyes and moans loudly when You take him almost entirely down his throat. His mouth works well, extracting every drop of your salty essence. Her husband Sue pushes her hips up trying to make her swallow more, alternating between provocative sucks and playful licks on the sensitive skin. You keep him in a state of pure pleasure and he growls loudly at the audacity provoked. You were the only mortal who could have a god like him, so weak in the knees, panting like a whore. Her mouth opens wider, pushing herself beyond the limits of paradise, as if she wants to ascend to the divine status her husband has placed her in. You completely swallow it deeper into your throat. Even as his eyes water from the task, you lower yourself onto his cock until your own nose brushes the black hairs of his crotch and his purple head reaches the back of your throat. Your husband gasps as he feels the outline of his cock in his throat, a sight that makes him almost tear the sheets.

"My Goddess." He murmurs between moans and sighs. “Let me spill my seed inside You.”

You take it out of your mouth but wrap your hand around it to continue massaging. Making the provocation even more torturous.

“My worshiper” You tease with a quick movement of your hands, “What do you offer before me?”

"All. I offer everything. My body, my spirit, my nation. Just let me spill my seed into your pussy so that life will be nourished.”

You line yourself up, with your knees around him, to straddle him. Your hand guides the stiff, weeping cock into your wet pussy. You moan loudly as you feel him enter all the way in, your walls welcoming him with sacred heat and divine adoration. Now, no teasing or games. It was time to conceive the much-desired baby.

His cock sinks deep inside her pussy caressing every sensitive spot on her walls. Your hips gain momentum to ride him; rolling and jumping to extract all the lust.

"How many?" You question breathlessly without missing a beat. “How many babies do you want, devotee? Tell me and I will give them.”

“One, two, three...all of them, my goddess. Give me them all”

Your belly contracted with an indication of the approaching orgasm, but You refused to finish before it, as tonight would squeeze out every drop of your seed. K'uk'ulkan lifted his hips to meet his thrust, making it even harder to keep the ecstasy away. Her husband seemed not too far away from his own orgasm, to bring him even further to the brink of pleasure. You made circular movements with your hips as you bounced on his dick.

“Spill your seed!” You demand with the tides of your own release rising within your body, “I'm close, so close…”

Your pussy clenches around him, sobbing his name as you reach your orgasm. The rhythmic spasms of your walls dragging you to the edge along with it. K'uk'ulkan moans with his head against the pillow, his hips stutter briefly, but he continues to pump his seed deep inside her pussy. He holds her hips to keep her trapped and only lets go when all his cum has been emptied. You held in place feeling his penis soften inside You. His breathing was still labored, his head was spinning and his ears were ringing with the powerful orgasm given to You by the divine.

You got off of him, leaving his softened penis lying on his left side. She lay down next to him enjoying the little world of pleasure that surrounded them.

“Tonight, my love.” Her husband said, breaking the silence. “Tonight we will conceive a child.”

And he was right. It was that night that the first baby was conceived. Two months after that night the symptoms started; the swollen breasts, the nausea, the sleep. An old woman confirmed her pregnancy when You came to her to report about the illnesses. When You told him K'uk'ulkan spun her in his arms as she rejoiced promises of love and joy at having a fruit growing in her womb.

For a long nine months you were pampered and fawned over by your husband. No request, no matter how ridiculous, was too small or difficult for her devoted husband. When her belly and breasts became swollen, K'uk'ulkan massaged her body with scented oils for hours, tending to each aching muscle. And when the baby was finally born with its big cheeks and webbed ankles, such devotion also extended to the conceived child. It was no secret how deep K'uk'ulkan's love was for his wife and child.

#namor x reader #black panther #namor of talokan #namor x you #talokan #wakanda forever #namor the sub mariner #namor x y/n #namor smut #namor

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strawberrymochin · 1 year ago

Text

Weakling ♪

╰┈➤ ❝ use your pretty mouth ❞

Genre- smut

Synopsis- sukuna fucks you among the dead corpses of your crew members.

Word count- 2.4k

Blood splattered on your face as a strike of cursed energy made the head of your last crew member to fall off his body. It rolled over, leaking blood, halting up to you till its infront of your legs, as you stare in horror.

The still headless body of your friend collapsed onto the vast floor, joining the other corpses of innocent humans. And now it's your turn.

You look up to sukuna, to see him grinning at you, wickedly. In one blink, he sprang upto your position, making the same gesture he did to kill the others. You back off dodging his attack. You're the last one alive, and maybe not for much long, your last hope is the help coming for you from the jujutsu high, till then you need to keep him engaged, letting him toy with your life.

"Aww, the mortal got swift moves huh! I'm impressed. Honestly I never thought you weakling would survive this long." He mocks attacking you once again.

"I still impressed you though." You reply, dodging off his punch, which was deprived of any cursed energy. Sukuna threw one, two and three attacks consequently till one of his kicks strike you hard on your stomach, causing you to lapse till your back hit the cold wall of the tunnel.

You cough out blood as sukuna laughs. "So tell me, pretty weakling, how shall I kill you?" He raises your chin up, using his index finger, to make you look into his eyes. "Shall I slash your body parts?" He says, "or shall I take your heart out?"

"Don't you have any better option?" You spit out, not taking your eyes off him. You really shouldn't provoke him, now that he regained most of his power. Time doesn't seem to slip away, and you have no clue how long it will take for the rescue team to show up.

At this point you're not even sure if any help from even any special grade sorcerer would stop him, and you're just a semi grade 1 sorcerer. Practically nothing infront of him. Still your pride forces you to forget your position, deciding to rile him up. If you have to die in sukuna's hands anyway, you would rather die pissing him off.

"You sure have a big mouth.....why not put it to good use?" His index trailed down from your chin to your throat, adding other fingers to grip your throat, strangling you.

"Good u-se...l-ike what? Suck your dick?" You manage to voice out, as your hands try to loosen his grip.

Sukuna stilled for a while, his grip on your throat loosened a bit, for you to fill enough oxygen in your lungs which he drew out.

The thick metallic smell of blood lingered in the air. Even in the dim lighting of the tunnel, sukuna's shadow engulfed your entire body. The king of curses is only a step away killing you, then why isn't he acting upon it? Why is he staring at you like that?

His eyes fixated at you, narrowing a bit as a devious smile crawls his lips. "You impressed me once again," he said, "now get down on your knees and suck it." His hands travelled to your nape, thumb drawing circles behind your ear.

For moments you do nothing but stare at him. Then your knees sinked down, obeying him, without breaking the eye contact. You wanted to keep him engaged, and there seemed to be no other option than this.

Your hands brushed on his clothed groin, almost gaping at the bulge you feel in there. Sukuna grinned wider, at your response, his hands are now gripping your messy braid. You unzip his pants, pulling it down slowly as his huge hard length pops out. As huge as his dick is, it is adorned with two stripes of tattoos just like his entire body.

He's already leaking precum, for a moment you are unsure how to fit such a huge thing in your mouth. Sukuna parted his lips to say something, but stopped midway, sucking in a breath, when you put your fingers around it, and start stroking and massaging his shaft.

You could practically feel his dick grow even more, as his tip swells red with more precum. Your feel his veins throbbing at your touch. A ghost smile spreads through your lips, it would be a total lie to say you weren't aroused at the sight of his huge cock calling for you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as blood buzzed in your ears.

"Use your pretty mouth, weakling," he grunts, "fast." You nodded obediently, kissing the tip lightly, then using your tongue to give it a few licks, tasting his precum. A few moments ago, you were there fighting for your life against him, now you are gladly licking his cock, about to give him a blowjob.

"Mhmmh....." He groaned, shoving his cock, into your mouth lacking patience. "Suck it," he rasped, "put your mouth to good use"

You found yourself in daze, your mind couldn't focus on anything, suddenly you don't remember why you even agreed to do this. But it felt good. Heat coiled up in the lower pit of your stomach as your tongue swirled around his cock, tracing the veins that throbbed in pleasure, as you bob your head up and down trying to take in as much length as you could, finding a rhythm. How would it feel to have this cock filling you up?

One hand of yours played with his balls, while the other holds his thighs for support. You look up, sucking in and out, rolling your tongue over his shaft, not forgetting the tip. Sukuna is looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust, lips parted, breathing heavily, tilting his head back at the sudden sensation of you sucking on the tip, bucking up his hips, causing you to gag. You were about to pull away, but he shoved your head deeper till you reach his full length.

Sukuna, never in his mortal or immortal life experienced this desire, desire to destroy you, corrupt you, fuck your pretty mouth till you beg him for mercy. Your warm mouth wrapped around his cock, made him go nuts. When you kissed his tip, licking it like a popsicle, swirling your tongue around his shaft, he felt like you're sucking his soul.

"Hahh....Aaah....uugh" he grunted, fucking your mouth, as you tear up, drooling, choking on his huge cock. Sukuna increases his pace, drawing out oxygen from you. "Mngh-ph....nmh.." you cried out, sensing his cock twitching in your mouth. His ragged breath and rough thrusts told you he's on the verge of reaching his orgasm.

"Aaghh....hahh...mnph....such a good girl....mhmm, want me to cum in your mouth? Hahh?" He pulled on your braid making you look up into his eyes. You nodded.

You looked so pretty with those messy hairs coming off your braid, tears staining your face dampening the dried blood flakes, lipstick smugged off whose stains linger around his cock. Sukuna's breath hitched at this sight, edging him hard. His cock twitched, as he jolted in pleasure, eyes rolling as he cums in your mouth.

You pull away, swallowing his load as much as you could.

Sukuna bends to your level, face flushed, hint of satisfaction on his it. "So tell me, shall I kill you now?"

You take in a ragged breath before answering him, "do what you please, but fuck me before that." You say, coughing a bit, wiping the mixture of his cum and your drool from dripping down your chin. Even if you're dying today there's ain't no way you're dying horny like that.

One second.

It takes one second for sukuna to grab your wrists and pin them over your head, holding them down with only one of his hand. He looked very much of a predator hunting for his prey, totally hovering over you.

His dark eyes scanned your face and then slowly it travelled down to your neck, then to your collarbone, and then to your chest.

"As you wish" sukuna's velvet voice, rang around your ears, getting you even more drenched as his other hand comes up in the air, pointing at you, making a gesture with his finger.

The cold sensation of cursed energy quivered through your body. For a moment you couldn't understand what happened right now. He used his cursed energy on you but somehow you were still alive.

He draws you out of your thoughts, nibbling on your skin, almost drawing out blood. You wince, as his teeth sink deeper, the taste of your blood drived him crazy,as his hand grope your breasts, kneading them. "Mhmn....sukuna" you mewled, he draws his nails over your hardened nipples, playing with them, sending jolts of sensitivity.

Your eyes widened as it striked you. He used cleave to rip off your clothes, which now pooled beside you in pieces. The only piece of fabric still left on your body was your panties.

You arch your back in pleasure, a needy moan escaping your lips, as sukuna takes one of your nipple in his mouth, licking it and then sucking in roughly. He repeats the same actions for the other nipple, freeing your hands as he kicks off his pants which were pooling around his legs, grinding his cock on your lower abdomen regaining it's hardness.

Sukuna trails rough kisses, as your hands wrap around his built body. It's happening. It's finally happening.

You could not decide whether to feel proud or sad. Being fucked by the king of curses, sukuna himself can be considered sort of an achievement right?

"So wet for me huh, you horny weakling" you don't even know when his hand travelled down to your pussy, rubbing your clothed clit, drenching into your juices.

"Nngh...sukuna please! I need it." You beg, looking into his crimson red eyes, squirming with need. "Need what baby? Use your words..."

Sukuna grinds his cock over your clothed pussy. "I need you." You whimper, wanting to feel him inside you. Your nails sink in his arms marking bruises as he brushes his finger over you sensitive nipple again. "Beg in detail baby....wanna know what exactly my mortal slut wants..."

"I want you to fill me up. Fuck me. Destroy my cun—AHHH" before you could finish your sentence, sukuna rips the last piece of fabric from your body, slamming it in without any notice.

"Aaah, f-fuck it baby- ah....so tight...mmnh"

Sukuna lowly grunts in pleasure, as he's sinking himself inside of your gummy walls. Your cunt looked so pretty, streching for his cock, wrapping it around so well. He fitted in you like a puzzle piece made for each other. He felt so warm with you wrapped around him.

It felt heavenly, as his mind fogs into the frantic daze you're luring him in. Unable to resist yourself, you started bucking your hips upwards wanting to feel him. You wanted him close. Even more close.

He started thrusting into you, picking up his pace, steady and rough at the same time. you wrap your legs around his abdomen, allowing him to pound deeper, making your eyes roll in pleasure.

He filled you up so well, even better than you thought. The way he slammed it in, streching you up, sent delicious shivers down your spine. Your mind felt fuzzy and ecstatic as he thrusts hungrily, causing you dripping your sloppy mess on his dick. His cock dived deep in you, hitting spots even you weren't aware of. You could feel his blood rushing through his veins, rubbing inside of your cunt. Pushing in and out.

He fucks you like he's fighting with you. Just like before. Except what you're fighting for is to crawl into eachother's skin. He wanted to kill you before. The taste of your blood on his tongue was intoxicating. It intrigued him even more.

A part of him still wants to kill you, but—

"Mmmnh...ahh...sukuna..."

One of his arms slides down to your waist, while the other rests beside you to support his weight. Sukuna hisses as you clench your gummy walls around him.

"Hmnh...yeah..." His voice came out husky and if you weren't hearing wrong, being all brainfucked at the intensity he pounded you, his voice was half an octave lower than before. He could tell your close by how tightly you clenched around him. Your sweet whimpers sounded euphoric to his ears. The most melodious thing he ever heard.

Desperate, filthy noises echoed through the entire tunnel, as he fucked you mercilessly. You cried out his name as his slides his cock in and out almost too fast with the help of your slick juices mixed along with his precum.

You both were sweating and panting. Fucking eachother like there's no tomorrow. Among the dead bodies of your crew members. However you didn't care. Atleast not now that he's banging you.

"Ahh...hahh...I'm-m close...ahh...cumming" you cry out in pleasure, nails marking his back, tearing up for the second time in a row. "Yeah..hmnh...cum for me. Cum on my cock, baby."

Your body surrendered to fervent bliss, as you feel the build up tension finally releasing, arching your back, curling up your toes. The electric waves of your high jolts through your body like a rollar coaster as you cum on his cock.

You looked at sukuna with your half lidded eyes, as he chased his own climax. And the look on his face was hauntingly beautiful, the one you would never forget. His red eyes never leaving your face as he fucked you, similar red tainting his cheeks, lips parted taking ragged breaths. He bit his lower lip, ramming into you.

You could feel his cock, twitching and throbbing inside you. A muscle on his jaw ticked as he emptied himself into you, with a final rough thrust.

For moments, none of you move, or say anything. Your chests still heaving trying to catch a proper breath. Sukuna was about to pull out, when you raised your hand cupping his face.

His heart skipped a bit as you slowly pull him, arching your neck, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, then, on his lips.

The kiss was soft, feathery and delicate. Something sukuna never felt before. The way you looked at him, through your half lidded tired eyes; the way his love bites were painted your on body like an art piece on an empty canvas; the way you made him lose his control was something he never experienced.

He eyed you for a brief moment, before pulling his length out, as you wince at the emptiness. However you are too spent to react. His hot liquid leaked out from your pussy, dripping on the floor.

~♡~

The sound of cars arriving, from a bit far turned both of your attention. The help which you called from jujutsu high is here. You turn your head back to look at him when he pressed two fingers on your forehead.

Your mind went blank, as if falling into a deep trance, passing out. Sukuna gets up, scooping up your naked body, as he looks at your face.

A part of him still wants to kill you, but make no mistake. He's certain, he could kill for you.

a/n- this is my first time attempting to write smut. Ignore if there are any mistakes. I'm hella nervous 'bout it. The header is made by me (sukuna one in the last) do not use it without my permission.

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montybooks · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii

first of all I wanted to thank you for your AMAZING Light headcanons! I really like how you characterised reader :).

I've recently got into death note and I wanted to ask if you could do similar headcanons with L ? (Im not rlly far into the story so pls no major spoilers)

Some headcanons! Eat my child eat it up!!!

⸻

🍰 L Lawliet x Shy, Quiet, Weird/Freaky!Reader Headcanons

(I kept it similar to the light headcanons in a way! Especially how reader is characterised!)

⸻

1. First Impressions:

• L is instantly drawn to you because you’re one of the few people in the room who isn’t trying to hide how strange you are. You just… exist in your own weird little bubble, and that makes you fascinating.

• You say something odd during a group conversation—like comparing people to moths or muttering about how blood looks under a microscope—and he zeroes in on you.

• You don’t try to impress him, and that alone makes him want to know more.

⸻

2. A Connection Beyond Words:

• Your quietness doesn’t put him off. L finds comfort in silence. In fact, some of your best “conversations” are just long periods of shared space—him working, you doing your thing beside him.

• When you do speak, it’s either unsettlingly insightful or deeply strange. He loves the unpredictability of it.

• “Do you think ghosts ever get tired of haunting the same place?” you ask once, eyes on the ceiling. L doesn’t even blink—he gives you a ten-minute theory on ghost fatigue.

⸻

3. Your Weirdness Matches His:

• You once gave him a gift that made most people uncomfortable: a perfectly preserved animal bone or a poem that read more like a curse. L thought it was “wonderfully unique.”

• You’re both emotionally strange. You’re not outwardly affectionate, and neither is he, but you understand each other—a glance, a shift in posture, a shared look is enough.

• He watches you when you’re doing something odd, like talking to a plant or sketching morbid doodles, and you catch him smiling with his eyes.

⸻

4. Daily Life Together:

• You get him weird snacks he didn’t know he needed. “Try this; it tastes like depression and sugar.” He’s obsessed.

• He lets you sit on the floor with him, knees tucked up, eating sweets and talking about existential fears like they’re casual weather updates.

• When you’re anxious or overstimulated, he doesn’t press you. He offers you quiet, a hoodie, and a gentle pat on the head with a “There, there,” like a cat.

⸻

5. His Possessive Side:

• L doesn’t do jealousy in a traditional sense. He just watches very closely when someone else talks to you—analyzing everything about their intentions, behavior, and risk level.

• If someone flirts with you, L doesn’t confront them. They just find their secrets mysteriously exposed on a public database days later.

• He never outright says “you’re mine,” but he’ll drop a spoonful of cake into your mouth while staring someone else in the eye.

⸻

6. Emotional Vulnerability:

• You’re one of the few people who can get L to sleep—because he only sleeps when you’re nearby. It’s a trust thing.

• You once found him awake at 4 a.m., sitting in the dark, overthinking a case. You simply sat beside him and said, “It’s okay to be a person sometimes.”

• That moment? Core memory. He talks about it once in a rare emotional slip: “You said something once. I think it saved me.”

⸻

7. You Notice Things Others Don’t:

• You’re observant in a weird way. You once asked, “Why do you look sad even when you smile with your eyes?” and he stopped typing.

• You pick up on his burnout, his loneliness, the way he avoids touch like it might hurt. You don’t try to fix it—you just exist beside it, and that’s more healing than he expects.

⸻

8. Freaky-Soulmate Vibes:

• You both say things at the same time sometimes, usually something grim or bizarre, and just accept it without comment.

• Your love language is weird comfort: bringing him something unsettling that made you think of him, or drawing creepy doodles on his notebooks.

• You once asked, “If you had a Death Note, would you tell me?” He replied, “Only if I was sure you wouldn’t turn me in… or take it for yourself.” Neither of you broke eye contact for five seconds straight.

⸻

9. Physical Affection (When It Happens):

• L isn’t great at physical affection, but he allows you to lean on him, braid his hair absentmindedly, or rest your head on his shoulder while he types.

• You touch him like he’s fragile porcelain, which unnerves him at first… until he realizes how safe it feels.

• Sometimes you fall asleep with your arms around his waist while he’s still crouched at the computer. He doesn’t move for hours.

⸻

10. If You Ever Left Him:

• He wouldn’t beg. He’d just… watch you go. And then lose interest in everything else for days. Weeks, maybe.

• You’d get strange messages in your inbox—photos of cats, an old inside joke, maybe a cryptic puzzle only you could solve.

• He wouldn’t let go emotionally. He’d carry the idea of you like a ghost—his favorite haunting.

⸻

I made sure no spoilers were in here!!! Hope you looooove this one!

#x reader #monty rambles #death note #death note x reader #l lawliet #l x reader

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anim-ttrpgs · 8 months ago

Text

Fairytale Witch Player Character Rules in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

Eureka has six playable "monster" types, and about ten total supernatural character options all together. Each supernatural trait is taken basically as if it is a normal trait like the ones you have been seeing us post. You cannot give a character more than one supernatural trait--and from what you are about to read, you probably wouldn't want to. Playing monsters is recommended for "advanced" players only, people who like a lot of "crunch" in their games, as require you to keep track of a lot more mechanics than playing a normal human.

Here is the Fairytale Witch Trait. This is going under a Read More because it's long as hell but we really hope that you will check it out and comment. This is, like, the whole entire ruleset for playing a witch in Eureka.

Fairytale Witch (Monster Trait)

A “witch” has been many things throughout history, so many things in fact that it is quite difficult to form a cohesive thesis statement about them, and, like vampires, and the Hollywood werewolf, are something whose origins are obscured and severely misunderstood by more recent pop culture and pop history.[1][2][3] The “fairytale witch” in Eureka draws inspiration from a vast range of folkloric sources, ancient, medieval, and early-modern. Literary and folkloric figures, typically women, who wield the power to heal and to harm, and whose aid or ire are nearly always earned.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] And like those things, many things which were said to be witches were not and are not.

[2. Off to the side in the final formatting] Certain more recent folkloric elements of the idea of “witchcraft,” including sacrifice and drinking of specifically children’s blood, have been deliberately omitted from mechanization, as these elements stand as direct and recent foundations of present-day antisemitic conspiracy theories. Both in real life and in Eureka, grand conspiracy theories are a comforting fantasy for those who turn a blind eye to actual problems which stand right in front of their face.

[3. Off to the side in the final formatting] Most witch trials happened in America during the Enlightenment.

Fairytale witches in Eureka may draw on ancient knowledge of these arts passed down generationally, may have learned these abilities from their peers, or may have simply stumbled upon this knowledge some other way and discovered that, while it is simply a silly fantasy to most others, they have an exceptional talent for it.[1] Now what will they do with this power?[2][3] This particular Trait tackles some different themes compared to the other monsters.

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] Regardless, this is not something which can be taught to others over the course of an investigation. Plus, it’s said most people simply lack the talent for it in the first place.

[2 off to the side in the final formatting] Witches are not satanic, at least not literally. The idea that “the Devil” can grant anyone any arcane power is found nowhere in the Bible.

[3 off to the side in the final formatting] You couldn't imagine the hazing.

A lot of a witch’s powers hinge on them knowing someone’s “full true name.” What exactly is meant by a person’s “full true name” is a matter of discussion between player and Narrator, but as a general guideline, if a person is named Jeremy Matthew Jones IV, then “Jeremy Matthew Jones IV” is needed, and just “Jeremy Jones” or “Jeremy M. Jones” won’t be enough. Nicknames also do not generally count.

A fairy cannot make their magic work by just guessing a person’s true name, but a witch can.

Curses

Assuming they have the right materials, a witch can place a terrible curse on an unsuspecting victim from anywhere in the world. More powerful curses have two stages, while simpler curses peter out or fall off after about a week.[1]

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] For all the many terrible things that the medieval Church was, stagnifying and technologically regressive do not make the list. The institution of the medieval Church was one of philosophy, education, and what we would now call “science,” and medieval clergymen were by and large literate, and relatively well-educated men for the time. The medieval Church’s suppression of “witchcraft” had less in common with the “satanic panic” of the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, and more to do with the idea that even believing that “the devil” or pagan gods could grant anyone wicked powers was a dangerous superstition, enabling of swindlers and charlatans, and this was likely to result in the wrongful persecution of people who behave oddly, as well as, and especially, Jews. This was true of the “satanic panic” and is still true today.

[1.1. Off to the side in the final formatting] This is not to posit that the medieval Church was a champion of religious freedom and equality. One might say they wanted uncontested control of who got to persecute Jews and exactly to what degree.

Casting a Curse Directly

In order to place a curse directly on a target, the witch must be in possession of the target’s full true name[1] clearly written on some material, or a large sample of their DNA (such as a large lock of their hair), or both. These items are destroyed as a part of the casting process.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] What exactly is meant by a person’s “full true name” is a matter of discussion between player and Narrator.

Casting a curse requires a supernatural ability Composure roll.

Casting a curse takes 1 Tick or 5 Actions, during which all components are destroyed.[1] The curse will last for 7 days by default before either wearing off completely, or advancing to the next stage. As the curse is cast, roll 1D6+1+[Relevant Skill]. Which Skill is used will vary depending on the curse. The result is the number of days by which the witch may extend or reduce the curse's duration. If the curse is an advanced two-stage curse, the result is the number of days by which the witch may extend or reduce the first stage’s duration. If the result is a negative number, reduce the witch’s Composure by the same amount. A witch may use the Focus Eureka! Point ability to add an additional 1D6 to this roll (and this also adds 1D6 to the advanced curse roll, below).[2]

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] What the act of placing a curse actually looks like varies from witch to witch.

[2 off to the side in the final formatting] This works exactly like using the Focus ability when Incapacitated - add 1D6 per Eureka! Point spent to the roll, and then drop all but the highest two.

If a simple curse is reduced to a duration of “0 days,” it will only take effect for the duration of a single Scene. If the first stage of an advanced curse is set to “0 days,” the curse will advance to the second stage immediately.

When an advanced curse is cast, after the witch decides the effect of the second stage (see below), roll an additional separate 1D6+1+[Relevant Skill]. The result is the number of days by which the witch may extend or reduce the second stage’s duration. Like with a simple curse, the default duration is 7 days, after which the effects will wear off completely.

If the witch only has one of these components, then only a simple curse can be cast. If the witch has both the full true name and the DNA sample, an advanced curse can be cast. If the witch mistakenly has the true name and the DNA of two separate people, then, unbeknownst to the witch, both of those people will be struck with a simple curse.

Witches may place curses upon themselves if they so desire, without needing to use their own full true name or DNA.[1]

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] They’ve already got it.

A second curse placed upon the same target will extend its duration, but only the effect of one type of curse can apply at once. If a simple curse is placed on a target already suffering the effects of an advanced curse, the simple curse will fail to take effect. If a different kind of advanced curse is placed on a target already suffering the effects of an advanced curse, the new curse will replace the previous curse if the caster can make a Full Success on a skill check with the new curse’s relevant Skill.

Effects of Simple Curses

A simple curse makes the target suddenly feel extremely feeble and ill.[1] The target will have a -2 modifier applied to all Skill rolls for the duration of the curse’s effect. Simple curses that have no advanced stage always use the Medicine Skill.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] Symptoms include shortness of breath, nausea, fatigue, muscle weakness, loss of appetite, excessive sweating, dizziness, and a sense of impending doom. However, no medical doctor will be able to diagnose exactly what is causing the problem.

Effects of Advanced Curses

Advanced curses typically have two stages, with the first stage appearing nearly identical to a simple curse, with all the same effects. When the second stage takes effect, the effects of the first stage cease. The effect of the second stage is decided as the curse is being cast, before the 1D6 is rolled.

Each advanced curse has a different Skill associated with it. This Skill is used for both the first and second stage of the curse.

Curse of Transformation

This curse uses the Nature Skill. The target will be spontaneously transformed into an animal of the witch’s preference.[1]

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] Their clothes don’t transform with them.

The witch must make a Full Success on a Nature roll to choose an animal that is not on the following list.

Cat

Frog

Mouse

Newt

Pig

Rat

Toad

Wolf[1]

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] For the stats of a wolf, see p.xx “Werewolf”. The rest of these do not have official stats, but we expect you to be able to figure out what they would be good and bad at.

The target will maintain a functional degree of human intelligence while in this form, at least for some time. Once their human mind is lost, the curse cannot be removed, and will never revert after any amount of time. The curse will also never revert if the target dies while transformed.

For an NPC, the Narrator rolls a hidden 1D6+3. This is how many days the target will retain their humanity.

For an investigator, the Narrator rolls a hidden 1D6. After this number of days, if the transformed investigator ever reaches 0 Composure, their humanity will be lost.

Curse of Reduction

This curse uses the Visual Calculus Skill. The target will be spontaneously reduced to between 5% and 10% of their original size.[1][2][3][4]

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] Their clothes and items may or may not shrink with them, at the caster’s preference.

[2. Off to the side in the final formatting] For a 72” person, that would be between 3.6” and 7.2”.

[3. Off to the side in the final formatting.] In most cases, a person reduced in size like this will be at the mercy of the witch, and can be captured without any rolls needed. However, they still have opposable thumbs, and the means to explain the circumstances to others. Witches may wish to weigh the pros and cons of this compared to transformation into a rat, which can make victims quite hard to catch if they start running right away.

[4 off to the side in the final formatting] A person reduced in size counts as one meal.

If the target dies while shrunken, the curse will never revert.

Curse of Petrification

This curse uses the Chemistry Skill. The target, including their clothes, will be spontaneously turned to stone. At the preference of the caster, they may or may not retain awareness of their surroundings. If kept aware, they will lose 2 Composure per day, and if unaware, 1 Composure per day, until they are effectively dead, at which point the curse cannot be reverted.[1] If the curse is reverted, either by it wearing off before the point of no return, or being broken, any damage the target sustained as a statue will immediately take effect. For example, chips in their stone body become lacerations in their living body. If an arm was broken off of the statue, their arm is now severed. If the statue suffers fatal damage, the curse will not be able to be reverted. If unaware, then reverting the curse will feel like waking up from a long and restless sleep. The target does not need to eat or sleep so long as they are petrified.

[1 off to the ads in the final formatting] For NPCs, consider them to have 1D6+1 Composure to lose before it starts to eat into their Superficial HP.

Curse of Slumber

This curse uses the Medicine Skill. The next time they fall asleep, the victim will fall into a coma-like state for the duration of the curse. The target will lose 1 Composure per day until the curse either reverts or they die.[1] Unlike with petrification, the body must breathe and be fed during this time.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] For NPCs, consider them to have 1D6+1 Composure to lose before it starts to eat into their Superficial HP.

Curse of Death

This curse uses the Blacked Out Skill. The target begins to take 2 Superficial Damage each day for the duration of the curse or until they die, and will be unable to regain HP or Composure through sleep. In addition, apply a -3 modifier to all their rolls.

Defense Against Curses

Upon being struck with a curse, a witch can recognize the intended effect, and may immediately make a Skill check of the curse’s relevant Skill in order to cast it off. This will take one Movement if time is measured in Turns.

Full Success: The curse is fully cast off.

Partial Success: The curse is partially cast off. The witch will suffer only the simple effects, at half the intended duration, and no advanced effects.

Failure: The witch will suffer the full effects of the curse as usual.

Placing a Curse on an Object

Cursing an object works similarly to placing a curse on a person, except no names or DNA are needed, the witch need only be holding the object with bare hands. The default duration of the first stage is 7 days and so is the second stage. Roll 1D6+1+[Relevant Skill] for each to determine by how much the witch can adjust them. After the witch has removed their hands from the object, it will be actively cursed, and anyone who touches it with bare skin, including the witch themselves, will be cursed. The Narrator rolls a hidden 1D12. The result is how many times the curse will transfer to people who touch the object.

Breaking a Curse

There are a number of ways a witch may know to break a curse. If the ailment is not immediately identifiable as a curse, a Full Success on a Blacked Out check by a witch will positively identify whether it is or not.

The death of the curse’s caster will not remove the curse.

Manual Removal of the Curse

A curse can be removed in the same way it was cast. If the curse was cast using a true name, the witch can remove the curse using the victim’s true name. If the curse was cast using DNA, the witch can remove the curse using the victim’s DNA.[1] If both, it requires both. Regardless, this takes 1 Tick or 5 Actions. If neither, the curse cannot be broken in this way.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] This has to be the victim’s human DNA. If they have been transformed into an animal, their new form’s DNA will not suffice, it will have to be something removed from their body before the transformation.

True Love’s Kiss

A kiss can sometimes be all it takes to lift a curse. The Narrator rolls a hidden D6 once the victim has been kissed. On a 7+, the curse will be broken by the kiss. If it fails, another kiss from the same person will not work either.[1] If time is measured in Turns, this will take an Action from the kisser.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting.] Morgie’s kisses always lift curses.

Add +1 to the roll if the kisser truly loves the victim.

Add +1 to the roll if the kisser is female.

Add +1 to the roll if the kisser is of noble or royal lineage, or is a fairy.

Curse Removal and Cure by Potion

If all else fails, a potion can be brewed to lift the curse. A potion to lift a specific type of curse will require the same recipe as a potion that would have caused that type of curse, plus one additional Table 3 ingredient. However, the victim must be able to drink the potion for it to take effect, meaning a curse of petrification cannot be lifted in this way. See p.xx “Brewing Potions”. Using the same method, a Non-Lethal or Lethal Poison Potion can have an extra Table 3 ingredient added to make them antidotes for their respective poisons, and a Love Potion can have an extra Table 3 ingredient added to make it a cure for Love Potions, etc.

Brewing Potions

If there’s one thing witches are known for, it’s potions.[1] Potions represent the most reliable and effective vehicle of a witch’s magic, and are often something of a magic spell in and of themselves.[2][3]

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] A large metal cauldron is classic, but takes up a lot of space in an apartment, so a stovetop is usually fine.

[2. Off to the side in the final formatting] The “magic words” may or may not have any true power in and of themselves. Sometimes, the time it takes to recite the entire “spell” three times is just about how long the potion needs to be left on the heat.

[3. Off to the side in the final formatting] In the Middle Ages, until about the mid-1400s, the conception of a “witch” was often cautiously positive, and may conjure up the image of an unmarried woman living outside of town who has vast generational knowledge to draw upon in the way of midwifery techniques, herbalism, medicine, and poison.

When a witch brews a potion, it is often going to be something of an ordeal to gather all the right ingredients, but the payoff will be an effect that the witch can set the exact delay and duration of, and which can be applied to anyone who consumes it, bypassing both the element of uncertainty, and the prickly details, of casting a curse by hand. A successfully brewed potion can be made to have any length of delay between consumption and effect, and the effect can be made to last for any length of time, including permanency.

Potion brewing is as much an art as a science, and no two brews will be the same, even if they aim to achieve the same effect across the same duration. The process of brewing a magic potion is influenced by factors barely understood by the witch and certainly not under their control, it won’t be until the the process is underway that it becomes clear exactly what is needed to finish the concoction.[1][2] Not counting the time required to gather the ingredients, a witch must spend at least 1 Tick a day attending to the potion in between the time the base is added and the final two ingredients are added, as well as 1D6 Ticks finishing the potion once all of the ingredients have been added.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] When it became clear that prayer alone would not suffice, ordained priests may be the village’s most avid practitioner of “folk magic.” Folk “magic” of course just being another word for an observable effect to which the cause is not fully scientifically understood.

[2. Off to the side in the final formatting] Sometimes, the ingredients required for a potion will be realistically impossible to obtain in certain scenarios.

Every potion has three ingredients: A base, which is always going to be the same for the kind of effect the witch is trying to achieve, and two additional main ingredients which will become clear only after the brewing process has begun.[1] See below for the list of possible potion effects, the required bases, and the two other ingredients, which will be rolled on the relevant ingredient tables.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] This is not literally all the ingredients, just the ones that matter most mechanically and which will not be understood until the process has begun. The witch will be throwing all sorts of things in there in the meantime.

The base for a potion must be acquired and added, and after the other two required ingredients become known, those too must be acquired and added. For ingredients that would be reasonable to have on-hand, a Wealth roll using the witch’s home (or whatever home they’re doing this in) may suffice, but many ingredients will require the witch and any other investigators willing to help them to divert their plans to seek them out. If the investigators decide that a particular potion is necessary for their progress towards solving the mystery, then consider rolls that seek to gather information on where to find the necessary ingredients to count as Investigative Rolls.

Potions do not work on any subject unable to ingest or digest them.

Any potion which applies an advanced curse’s effect does so without applying the effect of the first stage.

If a potion is intended to be mixed with food, a witch may take steps to make the potion more difficult to detect by taste or smell with a Blacked Out or Chemistry roll, hidden by the Narrator.

Full Success: The potion is impossible to detect once it has been applied to or mixed with food.

Partial Success: The potion may be detected by a Full or Partial Success on a Senses roll.

Failure: The taste or smell of the potion is immediately obvious to just about anyone.

To make a potion undetectable in an autopsy or other examination of the victim, a witch can make a Chemistry or Blacked Out roll.

Full Success: The remnants and evidence of the potion in the victim’s system will dissipate completely before any examination can be conducted.

Partial Success: Evidence of the potion within the victim’s system will be undetectable by normal means, but a witch may still be able to identify it.

Failure: Any medical examiner will be able to detect the traces of the potion, but only someone versed in witchcraft will be able to properly identify it.

Potions which apply the same effects as curses count as those curses for all intents and purposes, including their removal. Thus a curse caused by a potion could be removed by use of the victim’s hair and true name, by use of a curse-removing potion, or by a kiss.

Starting the Adventure with Potions

A witch can start the adventure with potions already in their inventory in exchange for WP, either because they recently brewed them, or bought or traded from another witch (who is unavailable for a refund of takeback during the adventure). The witch will not be able to buy potions during the adventure. Any potion bought by WP in character creation can be made curative by spending 1 extra WP. (See p.xx “Curse Removal and Cure by Potion”.)

2WP: Random potion.[1] Roll 1D6+1D12 on the list of potions.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] It’s only random to the player, not the witch. They know what they got it for.

4WP: Specific potion. Choose any one potion from the list.

List of Potions

2. Potion of Invisibility

Cat (boiled live), Table 3, Table 3. Renders one invisible to the naked eye for a single Scene, including clothing and small held items.

3. Potion of Transformation

Blood of the animal that this potion is intended to turn someone into, Table 3, Table 3. Applies the second stage of a transformation curse. See p.xx “Curse of Transformation”.

4. Potion of Petrification

Powdered marble, Table 2, Table 3. Applies the second stage of a petrification curse. See p.xx “Curse of Petrification”.

5. Potion of Waking Sleep

Apple, Table 2, Table 3. Allows one to remain awake for one full night without suffering any Composure loss.

6. Love Potion

hair of the subject of affection, Table 2, Table 3. All rolls made by the subject of affection towards the drinker of the potion have a +2 Contextual modifier.[1][2][3]

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] This works like any other curse - though it can only be applied by a potion, the love potion’s effect may be undone by other means (e.g. with a sample of DNA and the person’s full true name).

[2. Off to the side in the final formatting] The world is a little fuzzier when the subject of the affection is in view, but their voice is always loud and clear.

[3. Off to the side in the final formatting] Easily slipped into a drink - one more reason to be vigilant at bars.

7. Potion of Slumber

Sand, Table 1, Table 3. Applies the second stage of a slumber curse. See p.xx “Curse of Slumber”.

8. Potion of Nourishment

Bread crumbs, Table 1, Table 3. Consuming this counts as 3 daily meals at once.

9. Potion of Death

Rat (boiled live), Table 1, Table 2. Applies the second stage of a death curse. See p.xx “Curse of Death”.

10. Sleep Aid

Wolfsbane, Table 1, Table 1. Grants one 1 additional point of Composure restored after a single full night’s rest.

11. Pain Relief

oak bark, Table 1, Table 2. Grants one 1 additional point of Superficial HP restored after a single full night’s rest.

12. Potion of Glamour

Lavender, Table 1, Table 3. Apply a +2 Base bonus to this character’s Charm and Seduce Skills for a single Scene.

13. Non-lethal Poison

Thorns of a thorny plant, Table 1, Table 3. Applies Poison (Non-lethal, OT: Witch’s choice, DF: Witch’s choice). See p.xx “Non-lethal Poison”.

14. Potion of Healing

Copper shavings, Table 1, Table 3. When applied with a Medicine roll, add +2 to the amount of HP restored, even with a Failure. This can also rid the body of non-chronic diseases, such as a short-term virus or bacterial infection.

15. Juice that Makes You Explode

Gunpowder, Table 2, Table 3. When the potion takes effect, the Narrator rolls a hidden D6. On a 6, This causes the consumer to violently explode as a Shrapnel Explosion. On a 1-5, the option has no effect. See p.xx “Shrapnel Explosion”.

16. Lethal Poison

Hemlock, Table 2, Table 3. Applies Poison (Lethal, OT: Witch’s choice, DF: Witch’s choice). See p.xx “Lethal Poison”.

17. Potion of Soothing

Simmered liquor, Table 2, Table 3. Restores 3 points of Composure.

18. Potion of Reduction

Salt, Table 3, Table 3. Applies the second stage of a reduction curse. See p.xx “Curse of Reduction”.

Potion Ingredients Table 1

A witch with a +2 or higher in Nature can roll a second time on this table and use either result in the potion.

1,1. Beetroot

1,2. Beetroot

1,3. Adder’s fork (trout lily)

1,4. Beetroot

1,5. Wolfsbane

1,6. Yew leaves

2,1. Tiger’s blood

2,2. Oak leaves

2,3. Blind-worm’s sting (wormwood)

2,4. Eye of Newt (mustard seed)[1]

2,5. Eye of newt (actual)

2,6. Gecko’s blood

3,1. Tongue of dog (houndstongue, the plant)

3,2. Tongue of dog (actual)

3,3. Lizard leg (ivy)

3,4. Lizard leg (actual)

3,5. Owlet’s wing (garlic)

3,6. Owlet’s wing (actual)

4,1. Scale of dragon (the plant)

4,2. Tooth of wolf (club moss)

4,3. Tooth of wolf (actual)

4,4. Gall of goat (st. John’s wart)

4,5. Bloody fingers (foxgloves)

4,6. Bloody fingers (actual)

5,1. Tiger’s chaudron (lady’s mantle)

5,2. Baboon’s blood

5,3. Toe of frog (buttercup)

5,4. Toe of frog (actual)

5,5. Fillet of fenny snake (arums)

5,6. Wool of bat (holly leaves)

6,1. Wool of bat (actual)

6,2. Snakes

6,3. Snails

6,4. Puppy dog tails

6,5. Rose petals

6,6. Snips (eels)

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] There is little evidence that “eye of newt” and “lizard’s leg” and stuff like that was actually code for regular household ingredients, but there’s also little evidence that every witch would know that.

Potion Ingredients Table 2

A witch with a +2 or higher in Chemistry can roll a second time on this table and use either result in the potion.

1,1. Human hair

1,2. Cobwebs

1,3. Sugar

1,4. Human urine

1,5. Human bone

1,6. Human wart

2,1. Cat’s whiskers

2,2. Dog hair

2,3. Snake egg

2,4. Feather of crow

2,5. Chicken egg

2,6. Shark’s tooth

3,1. Booger

3,2. Salt

3,3. Silver shavings

3,4. Copper shavings

3,5. Tobacco

3,6. Gold shavings

4,1. Iron shavings

4,2. Magnet

4,3. Human liver

4,4. Human nose

4,5. Human lips

4,6. Sand from an hourglass

5,1. Bronze shavings

5,2. Aluminium shavings

5,3. Honey

5,4. Gunpowder

5,5. Rabbit’s foot

5,6. Eye of spider

6,1. Ocean water

6,2. Expired milk

6,3. A piece of burned meat

6,4. Tail of rat

6,5. Nightshade

6,6. Neon

Potion Ingredients Table 3

A witch with a +2 or higher in [Blacked Out] can roll a second time on this table and use either result in the potion.

1,1. Cat (boiled live)

1,2. Human hair (red)

1,3. Something sold based on a lie

1,4. Candy stolen from a baby

1,5. Witch’s blood

1,6. Washwater from the sheets of a deathbed

2,1. A picture taken moments before disaster

2,2. Something thrown away in anger

2,3. Blood drawn from a toe

2,4. A murder weapon

2,5. A family photo.

2,6. A divorcee’s wedding ring

3,1. Powdered skull from two-headed cow.

3,2. Cremated human remains

3,3. Picture of a sniper rifle from a video game released in 2009.

3,4. Ash obtained by burning wood from a shipwreck

3,5. a silk mourning veil (used)

3,6. Something stolen from a neighbor

4,1. Coffin nails

4,2. grave dirt

4,3. Blood of a virgin

4,4. Pants of Matt

4,5. A pet’s favorite toy

4,6. wine which has not seen the sun for at least ten years

5,1. Hair of a murderer

5,2. Orphan’s tears

5,3. Sock of Matt (oven baked)

5,4. Engagement ring (used)

5,5. A flower picked as it blooms under a full moon.

5,6. An adorable sneeze

6,1. Love

6,2. Water from the lungs of a drowned man

6,3. Menstrual blood

6,4. Gamer girl bath water

6,5. Something stolen from a friend

6,6. Human semen

Casting Spells

Without taking up a Trait slot, a witch can be considered to have any Power from the Mage Power List, but only one at a time. Swapping between these Powers requires a non-skill supernatural ability Composure roll, as well as taking an Action if done in combat.

Enchanted Vehicle and Flying

As a non-skill supernatural ability, the witch may enchant a vehicle, broom, or other object of similar category (or theming), allowing it to fly under their control so long as they are piloting it.[1] The enchanted object will not fly for anyone but the witch, and will become inert soon after the witch stops piloting it. If done in combat, this takes 1 Action.[2][3]

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] Old-fashioned brooms are traditional, but there are a number of other objects, modern or otherwise, that would logically be suitable as a substitute. Figure it out.

[2 off to the side in the final formatting] As a warning, virtually any flying vehicle will be extremely obvious and visible during the daytime.

[3 off to the side in the final formatting] Watch out for birds.

Witches have a “Flying” Write-in Skill, used in place of the Athletics skill when piloting either a flying Manually Powered Vehicle, or a flying household object. It does not allow the witch to fly without an enchanted object. Unlike other Write-in Skills, the Flying Skill starts at 0 and can be set to any value between -3 and +3, so long as all of the witch’s Skill modifiers still add up to 0.[should this be able to go below 0?]

A roll is not required to control this device under normal circumstances, but intense maneuvers will require a Flying or Driving roll.

Flying objects have an Acceleration of +12, unless the object already has a higher Acceleration.

If I Can’t Have You, No One Can (Fairytale Witch True Nature)

Flat Composure Damage from Skipping Meals = Yes

Composure restoration from Three Meals a Day = Yes

Flat Composure Damage from Skipping Sleep = Yes

Composure restoration from Full Night’s Sleep = Yes

Eating people, or using one’s powers against others for petty and/or entirely selfish reasons will restore a witch’s Composure, though the witch has no connatural need to do these things.[1]

[1 off to the side in the final formatting] A witch can’t stop being a witch any more than a soldier can stop being a soldier.

For use of powers, an act that temporarily affects the victim will restore 1 point of Composure, and an act that permanently affects the victim will restore 2 points of Composure. These acts do not necessarily have to involve the use of magic. If the witch has a non-magical opportunity to exert power over another individual for petty and/or entirely selfish reasons, this could work as well.

For eating people, making a meal of a person will restore 2 points of Composure. Making a meal of a person who was alive until moments before preparation and consumption, or is still alive when consumed, will restore 3 points of Composure. If the victim happens to be a former friend or lover of the witch, restore 1 additional point of Composure.[1][2][3][4]

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] This only restores Composure one time per victim. Eating multiple meals made from the same person will not restore Composure for each meal.

[2. Off to the side in the final formatting] Clever witches are said to make use of magic to consume their enemies more efficiently.

[3 off to the side in the final formatting] Eating the flesh of a human that has been transformed into an animal by a curse does count, at least for Composure restoration. This is also, probably, a lot healthier.

[4 off to the side in the final formatting] If the witch makes multiple meals of a single person, only the first meal will restore the extra Composure. Any leftovers will count as “normal” food.

Dangerous Games (Fairytale Witch Weakness)

As relatively normal people (at least by monster standards), fairytale witches don’t have much in the way of supernatural weaknesses, except for the fact that their bodies simply can not handle excessive prolonged use of so many arcane powers.

Whenever a fairytale witch uses a non-Skill supernatural ability, the Composure roll is made at -3 instead of +3. There are, however, ways to reduce the strain these acts of sorcery put on the body.

Casting Implements

There are certain tools of the trade which can relieve some of the strain by drawing the energy out of the witch’s body before manifesting it in reality or facilitating it by other means. [this sentence kinda sucks but I’m on 5 hours of sleep. Fix it in copy-editing]

Each casting implement in use provides a bonus to the non-skill supernatural ability Composure roll a witch makes to use her powers. A casting implement must be being touched (or held telekinetically) by the witch in order to provide this bonus.[1] The cumulative bonus given by all of a witch’s casting implements cannot bring the Composure roll higher than a cumulative +3. The process by which an object is prepared to be used as such a device is arcane and cannot be accomplished mid-adventure, nor can one of these be bought with a Wealth roll mid-adventure. They can only be acquired through Wealth Points.

[1. Off to the side in the final formatting] The implement does not *necessarily* have to be pointed in the direction of the target of the power, but many witches find that this helps them focus.

Jewelry

+1 [2WP] A piece of jewelry. Multiple can be worn to further defer strain and increase the Composure roll bonus.

Wand

+1. [1WP] Could be a gnarled old stick or a black rod with a white tip, or anything in between, as long as it is elongated and about 10 to 24 inches. Only one wand or staff may be in use by the witch at a time.

Staff

+2 [1WP] Like a larger, more heavy-duty wand. Must be at least as tall as the witch themselves. Only one wand or staff may be in use by the witch at a time.

Spell Book

+1 [1WP] Could be an old leather-bound tome, or a spiral notebook containing the witch’s scribbled research notes. Must be opened and read from to confer a bonus, but does not necessarily need to be touched. Only one spell book can confer a bonus at a time.

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contract-crawdad · 1 month ago

Text

Look outside OC concepts!!

I definitely plan to draw them at some point, but wanted to get their concepts written down first.

Lecter

Dan’s #1 biggest fan! A Dan stan, if you will. He never misses a stream!… Even if he can only work up the nerve to actually type something in chat when Dan directly asks for information or guidance on a game.

Lecter spent the 15 days of the disaster stuck on the second floor of a university library, alongside a half dozen other college students who showed up bright and early to get some cramming in.

He didn’t mean to look outside, but hey, accidents happen! In this case, accidents happen in the form of some titanic unidentified thing shaking the whole building and knocking some of the window blockades loose.

Now he’s cursed, and his legs have withered and atrophied while his arms have grown much longer. He’s pretty much useless in combat, but at least it allows him to climbs things pretty quickly.

Most strikingly of all, however, is his now-rectangular head that opens vertically like a book. Opening it reveals ‘pages’ made of brain matter with writing and illustrations formed from blood vessels.

As for the contents of these pages? If Lecter looks at someone, even indirectly, they are automatically entered as a new page in his gray matter encyclopedia. Their page contains an unnervingly large amount of uncannily specific details, including but not limited to name, date of birth, email address, phobias, and blood type.

As long as he adds new people regularly enough, his body doesn’t even need food! Which is really good news, considering he’s not sure where his mouth wound up.

For some reason, a quirk of these entries are that they’re phrased like an RPG? Don’t ask Lecter why, he hasn’t a clue. The entries use terminology like ‘weaknesses’ and ‘resistances’, as well as making frequent reference to ‘EXP’ as if it was a real thing.

He’s a major contributor to Dan’s ‘Poll Viewers’ skill, and a big part of the reason it’s able to provide quite so much impossibly detailed information! Fortunately, Dan doesn’t seem to notice or care than a lot of the information Lecter provides reads like an RPGmaker enemy wiki page.

His monster name is Enpsychopedia. He came up with it himself!

Dr. Sunder

…But you can just call her Brenda!

Brenda is a ‘human’ ‘doctor’ who ‘specializes’ in helping the sane cursed population! Got an extra set of jaws? Non-euclidean intestines? A third arm that you can’t control that keeps making rude gestures? She can help!!

She promises to hack and cut and suture and stitch until you’re in the most human shape you can possibly be! It’s amazing how many parts you just don’t need.

She comes across as pushy and really seems to pressure people as hard as she can into making the ‘right’ decision. ‘Don’t you want to look human again?’

But she doesn’t seem to care about how the cursed themselves might feel about their condition. It’s one thing to remove dangerous, painful, or psychologically distressing parts… but Brenda universally advises the complete removal of any body part that deviates from the human norm.

In truth, rather than being obsessed with perfection or a puritan about the human form, she is cursed herself. And loves it! The reality is, she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about how people want to look or how they feel: she just wants their parts for herself. Very literally. Once a part is removed, she later transplants it onto her own body in secret.

Brenda PRESENTS herself as human. And it’s a very good illusion! Until you notice that she never really moves out from behind her desk.

The ‘Brenda’ that patients see and interact isn’t her whole body. It’s more like a finger puppet to a much, much larger being. Basically the frogfish from the Soingebob movie.

Her entire office is just the mouth, and the rest of her body is a horrible hodgepodge of transplanted parts.

Pretends not to have a name for her monster form when asked about it by those who know she’s cursed, but she totally does. It’s Mishmash.

Darner & Lucy

Darner didn’t look outside, but a dragonfly (Lucy) that made its way into his home through a cracked window already had. Quickly mutating to monstrous size, the insect attempted to eat Darner head-first… and largely succeeded.

But, seeing as Lucy was still in the unstable early stages of Visitor-induced metamorphosis, instead of chewing Darner their heads became merged together.

Both parties share one head, with Darner’s (still pretty normal) human body dangling down from the car-sized dragonfly’s head. He can still fully control it, but it’s feet usually dangle about a foot off the ground.

Darner has maintained his sanity, but Lucy is new to this whole ‘thinking’ thing and doesn’t like it very much. She’d really rather just eat anything that moves, with Darner is essentially stuck serving as her conscience. She’s getting better, he insists, but advises most people to keep their distance. Especially people who have wings. Those trigger Lucy’s predatory drive.

Darner controls a much smaller portion of their mouthparts, which he can use to speak. Even while Lucy is talking.

Lucy herself isn’t childlike, but she is naive, as well as oblivious to how brutal a lot of what she sees as normal is. The world used to be simple… if it was smaller than her, and she was faster than it, she ate it. And now? Quite a lot more things are smaller and slower than she is.

While she can usually be convinced by Darner not to try and eat humans or sane cursed, hunger is a very relevant factor. Their mouth, a hybrid of human teeth and a dragonfly’s ‘spring loaded’ jaw, makes for brutally effective hunting tool.

Darner is of the opinion that having a ‘monster name’ is insulting and degrading. Lucy thinks Draggin’ Fly is a pretty cool monster name for them.

“Gettit Darner? Huh? Do ya gettit? Because I’m always draggin’ you arou”-

“Yes, Lucy, I get it.”

#look outside #look outside game #dan #ocs

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 year ago

Text

So, I'm not a prisoner?

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 extra

summary: you did not expect that your mission to take down the traitor, could end in such a difficult situation for you…

pairing: Natasha x Red Room teen reader

warnings: fighting, weapons, stabbing, blood, implied sexual abuse

genre: fluff, angst

words: 3073

a/n: I wanted to do a fic like this for so long!!!! anyway, I just kept scouting tumblr trying to find fics like this, so I figured I’d finally write one myself :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

A quick in and out. That was your mission. How on earth did you manage to screw it up so bad. In and out. Assassinate the traitor and come right back.

Dreykov would’ve been so proud.

But that didn’t happen. No. Every single aspect about that night failed to go according to plan. You snuck into the event Stark had hosted, was able to blend in with the other party goers, and you were able to hide when most of the people started to leave.

Once it was just the Avengers left, you stayed in your hiding spot, observing them. You were here to kill Natasha Romanoff, and Natasha Romanoff only.

You could not afford any casualties, so you had it all planned out.

You’d wait until the Avengers would leave, and you’d take Natasha out before she could make it to her living quarters. You knew that once she made it to the living space of the Avengers tower, getting to her would be a lot harder.

However, against all odds, Natasha excused herself from the group quite early, saying she wanted to get a good nights sleep.

You internally cursed yourself, hating that this wasn’t something that you had planned for.

Around the couches were still some Avengers sat. You recognised all of them. Clint Barton shouldn’t be too much trouble. He was only a guy who’s good with a bow. For Maria Hill could be said the same thing, except she’s very skilled with a gun.

No, you were worried about the other Avengers still seated. Tony Stark could call upon his armour in mere seconds. Thor had the power of thunder for god’s sake. Wanda Maximoff has exceptional powers, and therefor, if you were to attack with her still in the room, you’d be immobilised in an instant.

You were fairly certain you didn’t need to worry much about Bruce Banner. Sure, he could turn into the Hulk, but he didn’t turn often, and lately, the Hulk hasn’t been spotted in the battlefield, meaning he probably had many trouble turning into him.

Pietro Maximoff shouldn’t bring you a lot of trouble either.

Your main concern were Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. One Super Soldier you could handle, but two? While fighting the rest of the Avengers? That wasn’t going to work.

Lucky for you, Wanda Maximoff had excused herself from the gathering a while ago. If you didn’t make to much noise, she wouldn’t be much of a problem. You could be outside before she’d even make it to the party deck.

Your original plan was to just wait. Natasha Romanoff would have usually sat through a party until far into the evening. You’d know, you’ve been watching her for weeks.

However, now that Romanoff has announced she was returning to her bedroom, a slight panic ran through your body.

Dreykov gave your 5 weeks to finish this assignment. That’s longer than any assignment you’d ever been on. You could not disappoint him with this. You had to kill the traitor.

You figured now was your only chance, and so, as Natasha Romanoff made her way towards the elevator, you followed her.

However, not even to your surprise, she stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“You know I’m an assassin, too? You’re good, but you’re not un noticeable,” she states, calmly turning around, being met with a gun to your face. The moment she stopped, you were wise enough to draw your gun, holding her at gunpoint for any sudden movements.

You could see a slight surprise appear on her face, before her face returned to her poker face once again.

“You’re just a child…” Natasha spoke slowly, seeming almost disappointed.

“You’re a traitor,” you spoke, loading the gun, taking a step closer. Natasha simply shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she spoke, before leaping towards you. You shot your gun, but Natasha was too fast, avoiding your gunfire as she ran past you, back to the other Avengers.

How on earth could you have missed that shot? She was right there.

Pathetic.

You don’t hesitate to run after her, determined to finish this tonight.

Very much not to your surprise, the moment you run back into the party hall, the Avengers are already standing up and ready. Ready to fight you.

You don’t hesitate to move forwards, and after fighting Clint Barton for mere seconds, you quickly realise they have no intention of hurting you. You could use that to your advantage, and you do.

You kick Barton hard, leaving him on the floor, heaving for air as you move forward, taking on Maria.

However, the moment you get close to Maria, two strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you back. They’re holding you tightly, and it doesn’t feel like they’re planning to let go.

You struggle in the hold, fighting against who ever is holding you as you try to break free. A small panic runs through your body. The fear of being captured by the Avengers taking place in your mind. You do not fear the Avengers, but the thought of being seen as a traitor by Dreykov hurts your heart more than words could describe.

“Stop struggling. We can help you,” you hear a voice behind you speak, and you soon come to realise the person you’re fighting is Captain America himself.

No wonder you couldn’t get loose.

Knowing it’s a Super Soldier, you’re quick to outsmart him, making him think you’re getting tired, relaxing your body is his hold. Because of this, the Captain lightens his grip a bit, giving you enough room to wiggle your arm free, moving it backwards to hit him in the face with your elbow.

Because of the surprise, he lets you go, allowing you to stand again.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you dash forward, holding up your knife as you use everyone’s shock to your advantage.

Everyone is surprised by your capability of escaping Steve’s grasp, not realising your already moving towards Natasha again. You reach her quickly, stabbing your knife into her stomach as far as it can go.

Natasha gasps, and you pull the knife out, watching as all the blood starts to seep from her stomach.

Slowly, Natasha sinks to the ground, Maria catching her, helping her down.

You move towards Natasha again, determined to get the job finished, but are quickly stopped by another pair of arms wrapping around your waist. You immediately recognise the metal arm, knowing that the Winter Soldier holds you in his grasp. You can’t escape him. You never have.

He pulls you backwards, pushing you to the ground as he tries to punch you. However, you regain yourself quickly, rolling away from under him and kicking him in the face.

Suddenly, you’re moved across the room. You forgot the damn speedster…

You raise your knife quickly, stabbing him before he has a chance to make another move.

“PIETRO!” you hear a voice yell, and you turn your head to the right. Shit. Wanda Maximoff must have heard the commotion and went down to take a look. You have to get out of there. You will never win a fight with her.

You move quickly, running towards the stairs. However, before you could reach them, you felt a stabbing pain in your left shoulder, the sound of a gun shot following soon after. You had been shot. Bucky Barnes had shot you in an attempt to slow you down.

But you didn’t let it.

Instead, you went towards the stairs a little quicker, dashing down the hundreds of flights of stairs to get to the main floor.

Of course, all SHIELD agents on the main floor were already expecting you, and you were followed by Steve Rogers, but you were quicker than him. You knew that.

You dashed past all the SHIELD agents, avoiding their gun fire as you made it towards an emergency exit.

The moment you stepped outside, you started your escape route. You already planned it, knowing exactly which way to go, no matter which way you would exit.

Steve followed you outside, but the moment he set foot outside the door, you were gone. You had disappeared into the night, leaving no trace.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Back in the Avengers tower, the team was recovering from your attack. Natasha was in bad shape. Your strike had been an attempt to murder her, and you didn’t miss any organs as you pierced your blade through her abdomen.

Pietro was much better. He was back on his feet quickly, seeing as though you stabbing him hadn’t been a murder attempt. You merely wanted to distract him.

It didn’t take long for Natasha to get back on her feet either, even though she was advised to stay on bed rest after the surgery.

Natasha was determined to find you, and she quickly got to work.

Even though you had made it out of the Avengers tower quickly, you were still hurt, and some of you blood had fallen on the floor as you made your escape towards the stairs. Clint and Maria had collected that blood, running multiple tests, only to find out you were not registered anywhere.

There was no record of your existence. Were you just another ghost story?

What they did find were traces of the Super Soldier serum. However, they were modified, almost as if they were genetically a part of your system.

Did that mean you were just another Hydra experiment? Natasha did hear you calling her a traitor. That had to mean you knew Dreykov, right? Who else viewed her as a traitor. I would make sense. Sending a modified teenage assassin after her, knowing Natasha was above killing children.

Even in the Red Room, she always hesitated when sparring against the younger students.

Dreykov must have had a lot of faith in you to send you after her. Natasha can only hope you’re not a graduate yet…

-------------------------------------------------------------

After the incident in the Avengers tower, you had fled to Germany. You figured it was best to leave the United States completely. And why would they ever search for you in Germany?

You had rented an apartment, loving the small town you had chosen. Dreykov had given you 5 weeks to finish the assignment, and now, you had only 1 week left. There is now way that you’re going to succeed in killing Natasha within the week.

They know you are after her now, and they will be prepared for you to make a return. You screwed it up.

Sloppy.

Right now, you were just heading back to your apartment. You had taken a walk, deciding to make the most out of the freedom you had in the moment. The week would be over soon, and the moment Dreykov would send for your return you are certain you will not be seeing daylight any time soon.

After you arrived in the apartment building, you instantly felt watched.

Had the Avengers found you?

You made your way up to your apartment, pushing the key into the lock and walking through the small hallway. Someone was in here, you could feel it.

You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, keeping your back towards the living room.

“There are not a lot of places to hide in this apartment,” you spoke aloud into the emptiness of the apartment. Soon you heard a set of footsteps, and you felt another presence enter the room.

“You’re very skilled for your age,” you heard a voice behind you say, and you immediately recognised it as Natasha’s.

“And you are stronger than you look. I mean, even for you, I didn’t expect you to be on your feet so quickly,” you stated, turning around slowly. Natasha wasn’t holding a weapon in your face, something you were definitely expecting.

You scanned her quickly, seeing the weapons she held on her belt.

She didn’t come unarmed. Good. She’d be stupid to.

“I don’t mean you any harm,” Natasha said, taking a small step forward as she held her hands in the air, showing you her every movement.

You didn’t look impressed, instead just staring at her as she moved.

“Then you are a fool,” you told her, and you spotted a small smirk flashing over Natasha’s face. “And you are very full of yourself,” she said, moving towards the kitchen island, leaning on it.

“I can’t say I blame you. You took on a lot of the Avengers on your own. Even two Super Soldiers. That’s impressive,” she stated, giving you a small smile. You didn’t return it.

“What? Jealous someone better took your place when you betrayed us,” you asked Natasha, determined to get on her nerves.

Natasha’s smile dropped quickly.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I hoped no one would ever have to go through it again,” she told you, a hint of regret almost identifiable in her expression. Now it was your time to give her a small smile.

“You think you’re so important that everything should’ve ended with you?” you asked her, moving towards the kitchen island as well, setting your glass down, still holding onto it.

Natasha shook her head.

“What I am curious about, however, is the genetic Super Soldier serum that runs through your DNA,” Natasha paused, adjusting her stance before speaking again. “Tell me, was your dad a Super Soldier?”

You let out a huff of amusement, surprising Natasha.

“You think I believe you’re just here for a conversation? There are SHIELD agents placed on every corner of every street. Don’t think I didn’t notice it. The lovely young couple, drinking coffee at the restaurant downstairs? Amazing disguise, if you were trying to trick nine year olds,” you stated, finishing your glass of water.

Natasha smiles, clearly impressed with your observations.

“You’re right. I’m not here for just a conversation, although I do hope we can prevent violence,” Natasha started, but before she could continue you interrupted her.

“You’re here to bring me in.”

Natasha nodded, and the look on her face was almost apologetic.

“No one needs to get hurt. If you just come with me, there’s a big chance you could avoid confinement,” Natasha explained, yet you just scoffed and shook your head.

“Avoid confinement? Yeah right. There is no way, that after what I have done, your people won’t lock me away.”

“I can be very persuasive,” Natasha simply replied.

There was a small silence. Natasha knew you were debating your options. You didn’t seem like a brainwashed sheep. She knew that you knew better than trusting Dreykov’s lies. Sure, you still believed she was a traitor, but there is no way that you didn’t see that what Dreykov is doing is wrong.

“You know going back after a failed mission will result in punishment,” Natasha started, trying to get through to you. Trying to give you that little push you needed to go with her. “If you go with me, you’ll never be punished like that ever again,” she finished.

You looked up, deep in thought.

“How could you be so sure?” you asked her, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to respond.

“We can keep you safe-”

“I found you. I nearly killed you. Who’s to say some other Widow won’t come after me as well?” you replied, and Natasha gave you another small smile.

“I escaped the Red Room when I was 20,” Natasha started. “It took him 12 years to send someone after me. We will make sure we’ll take him down before he even has the chance to come after you.”

“How many times, did you try to kill him, exactly? Because I believe you attempted his murder twice already, both of which you failed. You blew him up in Budapest, and then another time when you took the air facility down. Do you honestly think you’ll succeed now?”

Natasha shook her head, seemingly recollecting her thoughts.

“I failed twice, and that was sloppy, but both times I didn’t have the Avengers on my side. You ran the moment you saw Wanda. You know what she is capable of. Taking down the Red Room for good shouldn’t be too difficult with the Avengers on our side,” Natasha explained, yet you just shook your head.

“I’m not like you,” you told her, yet Natasha just looked at you in confusion.

“I’m not some disposable widow like you were. I’m more important,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a sad smile.

“Everyone is just a disposable widow to him,” she started, but you interrupted her.

“I’m not. You tested my blood. You know I carry the Super Soldier serum. I’m not just some girl he picked up from the streets,” you explained, and Natasha gave you a small nod, encouraging to keep going.

“I can’t explain it, but he won’t just let me walk. He put too much time in my creation. He would never just let it go to waste,” you finished, looking down, avoiding Natasha’s gaze as you turned around, putting your glass by the sink.

“We’ll help you. I know that we can,” Natasha tried.

“Is it worth the risk? My life is not great, but it’s not terrible either. Dreykov values me, and I am not treated like a piece of meat, unlike you might suspect.”

“So the punishment is worth it, then? Knowing that in three days time, Dreykov will have you be recollected, and once you return to the Red Room, you’ll be punished severely for a failed mission,” Natasha paused, allowing you to let her words sink in.

“Or, in three days time, you could know you can go to bed without worrying about someone joining. You could know you can be safe, and sleep through the night without anyone disrupting you. Knowing that, is the choice really that hard?” Natasha finished, and you were almost at your breaking point.

Was it worth it? Was going back the best decision? Dreykov would hurt you, you knew that, but you deserved it. Didn’t you?

“Please, just come with me. We can help,” Natasha spoke, nearly begged.

You sighed deeply.

“Fine, but if you put me in a cell, I will go on a murder streak,” you told her, and Natasha let out a chuckle, before seeing your facial expression, and realising you were dead serious.

“Duly noted,” Natasha said, before motioning you towards the door.

What had you done…

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey

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targaryenmarvel · 11 months ago

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Fallin' All In You (Part 6) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl.

Warnings: Only cursing for now

Note: Hey, everyone, I hope you are all doing well. I just wanted to share the last chapter of Fallin' All In You. I'm sorry it took so long, but I had a horrible writer's block for the ending. Good news: I'm already working on my next series. I'll share more info soon. Happy reading, everyone!

Word count: 3,162

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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"Y/N," the blonde boy's voice pierced the air, a potent mix of urgency and confusion. He abruptly halted before the temporary fence enclosing the Ferris wheel, his eyes wide in suspicion.

You were frozen in your tracks as his voice hit you like a splash of cold water. At your side, Wanda gently let go of your hand and took a step away, causing a pang of pain in your chest at her sudden distance.

Pietro's eyes danced between you, yet yours remained fixed on the boy. The longer you remained silent, the more suffocating the atmosphere became. Crystal bounced on her feet uncomfortably and could no longer withstand the tension. She loudly clasped her hands together, drawing the attention of the group.

"I'm just gonna head to the restroom. I'll be right back, babe," she announced, awkwardly walking backward. Pietro half-mindedly nodded as he returned his gaze to you and Wanda.

"This is unexpected," he finally said, scratching his head. "I thought you were doing photography with Shuri today," he told Wanda with a quirked eyebrow before addressing you, "You said you were hanging out with Daisy, but instead, I found you here with my sister."

From your side, Wanda shifted, shooting you a questioning look. You internally kicked yourself for not thinking of a better lie than hanging out with another girl.

Wanda twisted her rings, eyes settling on anything but her twin brother. "Piet, I know you're upset. The last thing you expected to see tonight was your sister and best friend together."

Pietro scoffed and violently shook his head. "Is that what you think? Wanda, I've known about you two since before either of you did." The two of you shared a bewildered look, and Pietro released an exasperated sigh. "Sistra, anytime I mentioned Y/N, you'd grow flustered or hide away when she came over." He turned to you with a scrutinizing glare. "And you're no better, Y/N. Third grade, when Wanda shared her favorite color with the class, you suddenly started buying all things red despite blue being your favorite color."

You froze in place, utterly speechless, as his words hit you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you stunned and reeling. Your brain raced as the haze of the childhood memory disappeared at his words, and you suddenly remembered ruining your school supplies so your mother would have to buy you everything in red.

"I would have to be blind not to notice your little interaction while you're on the field. You were throwing lovesick glances at eachother throughout the game, for god's sake." He waved his arms around to make his point.

Your face flushed red, and you stuttered embarrassingly, trying to deny his words, yet you couldn't. Similarly, Wanda shifted in place, her face burning, as she stared at the grass.

"I'm not mad about you being together. In fact, I couldn't think of a better match since I love you both. Which is why I am hurt you were so afraid to tell me." He stopped stepping closer to you as he took a deep breath, calming himself. "It was fun at first watching you scramble around me, but now, are you that scared of me?"

Your heart dropped.

"Don't be mad at Y/N. She wanted to tell you, but I was too scared. You two have been friends since we were kids, and us being together..." She cast her gaze down, wrapping her arms around herself, and continued in a small voice, "If you want to blame anyone, blame me."

For the first time, you opened your mouth. "Wanda, you can't take the blame for a decision we made together. We are both at fault." You pried her hand away from its confinement, securing it as you turned to Pietro. "I'm sorry we kept it from you, Pietro. And no, it wasn't because I was scared of you. I lied because I was afraid of ruining our friendship."

Pietro's face softened at your declaration. "Y/N, unless you plan on hurting Wanda, you will never lose me, and I doubt you would ever do that to her."

"Never," you assured, shaking your head and glancing at Wanda. The young woman stared down bashfully with a tiny smile, and your heart swelled. You said the following words, staring directly at her. "I'm serious about us. I would have never risked our friendship if I wasn't."

"I know, and I'm sorry if I overreacted earlier. It's just you're my baby sister," he said, looking at Wanda.

She rolled her eyes, muttering, "It's only 12 minutes."

Pietro ignored her, turning to you, "And you're my best friend. That fact that you are together doesn't change anything. I still want you to rant to me when she nags you over playing too many video games like she does with me. Or whenever Y/N is being an idiot because we all know how dense she can be. I mean, it took her ages to figure out she liked you."

You turned red, and Wanda snorted, bringing her hand to cover her mouth in a futile attempt to save you from further embarrassment.

"No matter what, both of you can come to me."

Wanda lunged forward into his arms, hiding her face in his neck. He enclosed her in his arms, squeezing her tightly as he gave you a goofy grin.

"Bring it in." He removed one of his arms from Wanda and extended it to you invitingly. In normal circumstances, you would have pushed the boy for subjecting you to the embarrassing public display of affection. Yet the rollercoaster of emotions you endured clouded your judgment, and you soon joined the siblings, wrapping your arms around the two.

Although you could feel a few curious eyes on you and a tinge of self-consciousness, you still wrapped your arms around the two.

"Aw, how cute," Crystal cooed, settling next to you three, effectively ending the moment as you scrambled away from eachother. "Oh, don't stop on my account."

"Anyway, I wanted to ride the Inversion, but Crystal's a chicken," he flinched as she slapped his arm. "Are you down?"

You looked at Wanda, and she nodded. Yes, you were whipped.

"Lead the way."

The four of you made your way to the ride, only separating as you and Pietro got into the line, leaving the girls to wait on the other side.

Wanda and Crystal leaned on the metal railing, observing the spinning contraption in complete silence. Despite their lack of interaction, Wanda felt comfortable with the girl. Wanda had been around many of Pietro's conquests, and although she knew little of Crystal, she seemed different from the frivolous, self-centered girls his brother liked to date. Of course, she was otherworldly beautiful with her flowing strawberry-blonde hair, striking green eyes, and alluring personality: charismatic, confident, intelligent, athletic, but most importantly, kind. No wonder she was popular, and no wonder Pietro had gone after the girl.

Crystal shuffled on her feet while watching the operator open the railing gate, and more people, including you and Pietro, entered the ride.

"You know, when Pietro mentioned Y/N and Daisy were hanging out today, I thought the girl had finally mustered the courage to ask Y/N out," Crystal mused thoughtfully.

Wanda's furrowing face sharply twisted her way. "Ask Y/N out?

"Yeah, everyone knows she's had the biggest crush on her since freshman year, but you beat her to the punch. I'm not disappointed, though. You two make a cute couple," she explained dismissively, not sensing Wanda's distress, before waving to the moving ride. "Oh, there they go!"

She watched as the platform spun, and the two continued in silence. Wanda's mind lingered on the so-called Daisy. Who the hell was this girl who had a crush on you? Why did you tell Pietro you were hanging out? Did you know of her feelings? Wanda's head filled with insecurities like a dark cloud lumming in the sky.

The thoughts continued as you and Pietro rejoined the girls. However, they eased into the back of her mind as you took her hand and flashed her a bright smile—a reminder that she had the privilege of tasting your lips; she was on a date with you, and you wanted her.

Wanda squeezed your hand as the two of you followed Pietro and Crystal to the game stalls after deciding to continue as a group. The two of you teased her brother as he attempted to outsmart the rigged games as if you hadn't faced the same predicament earlier as you tried to impress Wanda.

"Why don't you try hook-a-duck? Maybe you'll have better luck," you playfully suggested as Pietro failed to knock down the entire tower of cans for the third time. Wanda snickered into your shoulder as her brother fixed you with a glare.

"Fuck off, Y/N. ," he said as he handed the boy in charge of the stall more bills. He recoiled his arm, preparing to throw, before an idea crossed his mind. "In fact, why don't you show me how it's done?" he offered, extending the bean bag to you.

You huffed nervously, looking to Wanda for help, as you remembered how you could only knock over a few cans earlier. Wanda had cleared all the cans.

"You should give it a try," she said with a devilish smirk, crushing any hope of evading the challenge. You stared at her in betrayal, eyebrows drawn together and mouth agape. Wanda revealed in your reaction, finding it humorous and equally adorable, so much so that she leaned in to kiss you on the cheek and whispered, "Aim for the bottom middle, detka."

A blushing mess and dazed, you took the bean bag from Pietro and positioned yourself behind the stall. Detka. The word rang through your skull, and you tried to recognize its meaning. For all you knew, she could be calling you an idiot, yet the soft and endearing tone made you think otherwise. You would ask her later, you settled.

You experimentally swung your arm, analyzing the pyramid. The base consisted of four metal cans, and per Wanda's instruction, you were to aim for the second and third. You inhaled deeply before releasing the bean bag in an underhand throw. It hits the second tier's third can, and three crumble, leaving seven remaining. You run your tongue between your lips, irked that you have missed your target, and you readjust your position. You throw again, this time hitting your target. The remaining cans in the second and third tier fall, and they miraculously knock the first can in the fourth tier, leaving only one left.

Wanda cheers you on from behind, and so does Crystal; Pietro complains beside her. "Babe?" He questioned reproachfully, and you stifled a laugh.

You aim the final bean bag at the remaining can, calculating how much strength to use. The bean bag grazes the can, moving slightly but not falling over.

"Fuck," you whisper defeatedly.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" Pietro mused, quirking an eyebrow at you.

"I don't think you have any room to talk, Piet. She still did better than you," Wanda defended, crossing her arms as you returned to her side with your new keychain.

"She's right, babe," Crystal joined in, biting back a laugh when Pietro turned to her with a look of betrayal.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be. You're going to gang up on me, now?" He scoffed, his eyes jumping between the three of you. "Traitors."

The three of you could no longer contain your laughter at Pietro's antics. Oh, how you had missed him the past few years. Though you chatted frequently, nothing compared to the banter you shared when you were together.

"You're such a drama queen, Piet," you say, wrapping your arm around Wanda's shoulder, who hides a snicker behind her hand.

Pietro turns to respond, but Crystal takes him by the arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The boy's face softens, and the bright lighting of the stall allows you to notice a faint redness on his face as he grins, pleased with himself. He had accomplished what he sought: charming Crystal.

Some of you wanted to tease the boy, yet how could you when his sister had you following her like a lost puppy? Her kiss or a simple touch had you melting like ice on a scorching summer day. The evidence came when Wanda turned to you, a radiant smile spread across her face, causing your chest to tighten and leaving you momentarily breathless.

The group of you wandered around the fairgrounds, and before you knew it, it was 9:45 PM. You could feel your body growing tired, your feet aching after so much walking, and you could tell Wanda felt the same way. As your arms circled her waist with your chin resting on her shoulder, you could see her head tilt up and release a long yawn.

When Pietro and Crystal invited you to watch a local band the organizers booked to play, you and Wanda declined in favor of going home. Wanda fell asleep within ten minutes of your journey home, perhaps lulled by the soft voice of Lana del Rey. Unlike the night she had stayed over, you couldn't afford to admire the sleeping girl lest you wish for disaster. Then, you would undoubtedly replace Jarvis for the worst date ever.

You contented yourself by humming to the music and tapping on the steering wheel. When you parked in front of her house, Wanda remained deep in slumber, her chest rising slowly with each breath. How could she become more beautiful each time you look at her?

You reached over, gently rubbing her arm, and Wanda groaned, scrunching her face into a scowl, disgruntled by being disturbed.

"Wake up, sleepy head. We're here," you said, biting back a laugh.

Her eyes snapped open at your words, embarrassment washing over her face.

"Sorry," Wanda said, rubbing at her eyes.

Your lips twitch upwards, arching a singular eyebrow. "What for?"

"I fell asleep."

"I don't mind. In fact, I immensely enjoyed the little nose scrunch you do when sleeping. It's cute," you teased, recalling the small detail from the one time you risked a glance.

"Oh, god, stop," Wanda grumbled into her hands.

You hummed, your teeth grasping your lower lip, lost in deep contemplation.

"I don't think I will. I like making you blush. It makes you even more adorable," you stated matter-of-factly.

"Is that so? How about you then? You were red as a tomato when Pietro exposed you. Hmm, buy everything red because it's my crush's favorite color."

You opened your mouth to counter, yet nothing came out. She had you.

"Touche," you said.

"Oh, let's not forget all the staring you do. Just so you know, I have noticed. I preferred not to call you out, but why not since we are discussing what's adorable? Definitely adorable, don't you think?"

"I invoke the fifth," you said with a pout, glad for the lack of lighting, which concealed your burning face.

Wanda reveled in her victory with a knowing smirk. She would have happily continued her teasing were it not for a yawn that reminded her of her fatigue.

"I should get going," she signed.

"Okay," you agreed reluctantly, knowing you could talk to her for hours. However, you would not prevent her from getting her much-needed sleep.

Wanda moved to grab the door handle, but you stopped her.

"Let me," you said, rushing out to her side of the car to open the door. "Oh, let's not forget this."

You opened the back door, retrieving the bear you had gifted her. You then accompanied her to her front door, where you both lingered, trying to prolong the moment.

"Thank you for today. It was fun." Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, shielding herself from the light night breeze.

"Best date you've had, right," you remind, and Wanda rolled her eyes with a smile tugging at her lips.

"So far," she countered before giving you a chaste kiss. "Goodnight, Y/N." She turned to leave, but you reached out, grasping her elbow, fueled by the sudden kiss, to ask something you had been dying to.

"Wait," you drew out the word, heart hammering in your chest. "I was waiting to ask you because I wanted to do it right. You know, after we told Pietro—not that I need his permission or anything," you fumbled, scratching the back of your neck. Wanda watched, amused yet curious.

"Anyway," you said, taking her hands into yours and looking straight into her forest-green eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Wanda remained still, processing your words. For a moment, you thought she would reject you, telling you it was too early to commit in such a way. Then, something shifted, and you noticed the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes, reflecting pure happiness. Her wide grin stretched from ear to ear, revealing a set of radiant, pearly white teeth. Her answer came in one word.

"Yes."

"Yes?" you questioned, unbelieving eyes switching her own to her lips as you pulled her closer.

She only nodded, closing the gap. Your lips locked together, fitting like puzzle pieces in a gentle kiss. You quiver under her delicate hands as they settle on the curve of your jaw. Your hands found a home on her waist, pulling her closer and sealing any gap that remained between your bodies. Your lips moved gracefully and in perfect sync in a kiss of pure tenderness and devotion. There was no rush as you parted with a gasp, searching her face and finding her swollen red lips gaping for air and unbridled affection in her green eyes.

The mesmerizing sight ignited a surge of emotion as you retook her lips with intensified passion, causing your teeth to collide in a fierce kiss. Your surroundings disappeared, unconcerned by being discovered by the neighbors or Wanda's mother. You could only think of Wanda, the warmth of her body, and the hunger with which she returned your kiss. You felt your body ascend as you bit down on her bottom lip, and she moaned.

The kiss and the day's events quickly overwhelmed Wanda with emotion, from cracking jokes or intentionally making a fool of yourself just to make her laugh to the heartwarming way you had gifted her your skeeball prize—the same one she had dropped in favor of grasping your jaw. She would have to take better care of the bear. Even being discovered by Pietro had ended pleasingly. Everything had been perfect—everything except...

Wanda suddenly pulled away, lips smacking from the action. The brunette arched an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side in the menacing manner you loved. Although confused by the action, it only made you want to kiss her more. It was only her following words that stopped you.

"Who the hell is Daisy, and why did Pietro think you were out with her today?"

You chuckled nervously, looking at anything but the brunette. You were so in trouble.

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A/N: Thank you to all who have read this story and liked, commented on, or reblogged it. I was hesitant to share my writing, but your support has given me the confidence to continue posting my work. Hopefully, you'll like what I have planned next!

Taglist: @alexawynters

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #targaryenmarvel fics

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bucketslutz · 11 months ago

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Don't Be Late (Logan Howlett/Fem mutant reader)

Chapter 1

(A/N): btw this takes place in an alternate universe where the x men as a team don't really exist, but the members and mutants obviously still do. readers powers are similar to atom eve from invincible, if you haven't seen that show i highly recommend it, but if not, you don't really need to know any of that to understand readers powers, they'll be explained in more detail later on.

Summary: You've spent your entire academic career trying to hide who you really are, your goal to end up working in a small museum or archive and live the rest of your life going unnoticed. The first day of grad school you meet someone that sparks something deep inside you that you never thought existed. Your history professor, Logan, makes you feel things you've never felt from someone before. Will you keep hiding your feelings, or will you get too close and risk him knowing who you really are?

Warnings: 18+!! explicit sexual content, minors DNI!! pls!!! oral (fem recieving), logan being a munch lowk, oral on the couch, teasing, dirty talking, cursing, logan being an asshole professor, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3,208

You anxiously rub your forehead as you struggle to find parking on campus, circling and circling the lot. Finally, someone pulls out and you turn in aggressively, someone in front of you flips you off, probably eyeing the same spot. You’re late. Very late. You have an American Civil War class, it’s an advanced level, with a professor whose name you cannot remember for the life of you. You’ve been preoccupied this summer, and time escaped you before you got the chance to research his credentials. It’s your first day of grad school and you’re late. A long commute, a new college, and shitty parking. You hope to god the professor doesn’t care or notice when you slip in late, as you carry a specific kind of disdain for drawing attention to yourself.

You were 13 when you first noticed something was wrong, walking home alone from school when a stranger tried to pin you down and do god knows what to you, until your eyes glowed a deep fuchsia and you threw him across the alley with a strength you didn’t even know you had. Your veins began glowing the same pink color and pulsating, scaring you shitless. You ran to the woods behind your house, avoiding your family for fear of harming them. With enough practice over the years, you’ve learned to control your abilities. Your eyes only glowing occasionally when you’re especially frustrated or angry. Sometimes even when you’re…taking care of some sexual urges. While you don’t know what causes these powers, you do know the general population’s feelings about mutants enough to understand that no one can know what you are. You don’t keep boyfriends for longer than 3 months, you don’t let friends become closer than you need them to be, and you don’t tell anyone what you are. You just want a normal life.

Your forehead is slick with sweat by the time you arrive at the history building, your breath heavy and labored, not from how fast you were walking to the building, but from anxiety, which is also the source of the excessive sweat on your brow. You cannot recall this courses class size, and you damn yourself for forgetting to check; not knowing if you can slip into the large class quietly or if everyone will be able to see you come in. This isn’t undergrad where people stumble in hungover with 10 minutes left of class, this is a graduate program where people go on to become masters in their fields of study. And you’re going to look like a fool in front of everyone. You approach the door to the classroom and can see through the window that it is, in fact, a small class. Fuck. There are maybe 15 people in there total. You hold your breath as you attempt to quietly push the door open, but it fails you with a loud, obnoxious creak. Every head snaps towards you, including the teacher, and you offer a meek smile to your classmates and turn your head towards the professor to issue a brief apology. You swallow hard when your eyes land on him. his tall frame is leaning against the white board, a little scary looking with muscles that bulge against his crossed arms, peaking out from under his rolled up sleeves. You’re surprised they’re visible even through his plaid button-up. His hair is fluffy, dark, as well as his beard…or actually, you should say mutton-chops, as that would be a more accurate descriptor. He glares at you, and you swear you’ve held his gaze for hours, but realistically it’s only been no more than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” you offer timidly.

The professor nods lightly, his jaw tense, and waves you off as he continues addressing the class. You attempt to quietly maneuver to an empty seat in the back, trying your hardest to not trip over your classmate’s bags and chairs. You feel like it takes forever to get to your seat, hoping no one pays too much attention to how clumsily you scoot past the chairs and over obstacles. You try and settle as quietly as possible, unzipping your shoulder bag and retrieving a pen to take notes. He’s still going over the syllabus, thank god.

“The only homework you’ll have is an essay, every week—every Friday—you have an essay due. Then every 3 weeks you’ll have an exam,” he instructs, rather nonchalantly. “And while I don’t give a shit if you waste your money and don’t come to class,” his eyes suddenly are fixed onto you, you swallow a lump of anxiety lodged in your throat as he continues, “The school cares a helluva lot more so, if you don’t mark your name down on the attendance sheet, you forget, you’re late, or whatever the hell, you’ll be absent. I’m not going back in and fixing shit.”

Noted. He turns his gaze back to the rest of the class and continues talking about the curriculum for the rest of the semester. you try to keep your head down as you scribble notes into your notebook, trying to look busy, when in reality you want to kick yourself in the face. You left your apartment too late, you didn’t anticipate the amount of traffic on the interstate, and you conveniently forgot how terrible parking is on college campuses. You look up to see the professor checking his wristwatch with a furrowed brow, like he’s considering something.

“Alright, that’s all i’ve got today, get out,” he commands, his gravelly voice showing slight indignation.

There’s a general look of confusion around the room at his abrupt dismissal with 45 minutes left of class. As people begin to shove their belongings in bags, you quickly get the memo as you collect your notebook and pen in your hands and stand up, ready to depart from this nightmare as soon as possible. But you’re the last in your row, shoved into a corner. the line of people in front of you have their chairs pushed back to the wall as they slowly collect themselves. It takes an obnoxiously long time for you to get out from behind the the long row of desks, even longer to leave the class as everyone shoves their way past you and out the door. Finally, you find an opening, but before your foot can even reach the threshold, there’s a strong grip on your arm. You turn your head to meet the gaze of your professor. Your heart skips a beat as he maintains eye contact briefly, before he hands you a piece of paper and lets go of your arm.

“Find your name, mark it,” he directs, causing you to scramble for the pen in your hands as you scan the paper for your name.

You try and offer a polite smile to the professor, but he remains stoic and unamused, making you feel even more uncomfortable. Once you find your name, you ungracefully set the paper against your flimsy notebook for structure, and scrawl a shaky check mark next to your name. You offer the paper back to him.

“Here, thank you, um, professor…” you trail off awkwardly, forgetting that you never actually checked what his name was. He takes the attendance sheet from you.

“Logan,” he answers.

“Ah, thank you professor Logan—”

“No,” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “just Logan.”

“Logan, right. thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his tone far from indicating the typical politeness of the statement, and rather literally cautioning you to never bring up this act of kindness again. And with that you turn to leave the class, unsure of why this gruff, sturdy, serious professor bended his own personal rules just for you. But no matter with that, you at least know you’ll never be late to his damn class again.

***

You pull into the driveway of your house with a sigh. It's late, the time you prefer to get home, so you can fully relax and use your powers in peace. Despite living in the middle of nowhere, you still fear someone will mistakenly pull into your driveway and catch you flying into your second story window or creating an apple from nothing. The lack of sound, except that of the chirping crickets and cicadas, puts you at ease. You release the tension in your shoulders and float off of the ground, propelling yourself to the patio on the second story of your house. You unlock the door with a flick of your wrist, the fuchsia energy encasing the doorknob and letting you into your bedroom, you then toss your things down onto the floor. An exhausted groan escapes your lips as you face plant onto your cool, soft bed. Not even coming up for air when you fling your arm up and slam the door shut with a pink, crystalline whoosh. You turn over to face the ceiling, your eyes fluttering shut within the comfort of your bed. Longing to get out of your stuffy jeans and bra, you trail your hands over your body and watch as your clothes dissipate into a pink flash while you manifest some boxer shorts and a loose t-shirt. Finally comfortable, you slide under the covers, wanting to sleep off one of the most stressful days you've had in a while. A morning full of classes, then 5 hours interning at the museum, before finally finishing off your day at the convenience store down the road working a 6 hour shift. While you can create most anything you want with your powers, you cannot create the full nights sleep that you most desperately need right now.

As you drift, you think about how embarrassing of a morning you had. Stumbling into class like a fawn learning how to walk, Logan directly looking at you when speaking about attendance, Logan shoving the attendance sheet in your face so you mark yourself as present, Logan's strong arms and the way they looked with his sleeves rolled up. Logan's fluffy, dark hair and--No. Shut up. Don't think about that, he's your professor for god's sake. And, more importantly, an asshole. No amount of muscle or sheer sexiness will distract from that fact. You repeat this fact to yourself as you doze off, not wanting to give in to immature thoughts of attraction. Despite falling asleep to the negation of that attraction, your subconscious drifts somewhere you know you shouldn't physically go.

You're in Logan's office, your ass perched on the edge of his desk. Logan's back is to you, locking his door and drawing the blinds. He turns to you, his stance almost primal and animal-like, like he can't wait for the chance to devour you. The thought of that causes your arousal to swirl deep in your stomach. Logan saunters towards you, bearing his lower teeth like a predator ready to take their prey. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he gets closer, causing you to spread your legs, hoping the clear view of what lies beneath your skirt will draw him in closer. It seemingly works as he closes the distance between you two, his waist now flush against your lower stomach. Tingles shoot down your spine at the sudden contact, blood rushing down to your pussy. He pants as he brings his hands to your waist and strokes up and down the sides of your body, then achingly slow up your neck, then finally stopping at your chin. One hand creeps to the nape of your neck where he lays his palm flat while the other pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating that he's close to having his way with you. He holds you there for a beat, his face so tantalizingly close to yours that you can feel his breath against your skin. You whine gently when his lips teasingly graze your own. The fingers pinching your chin adjust slightly to grip your jaw instead, allowing him better control to tilt your head up towards him. His other hand, at the nape of your neck, travels upward allowing his fingers to gently rake through your hair until he roughly takes a fistful and tugs. A soft moan escapes your throat and you try to satiate the throbbing pressure between your legs by rubbing your thighs together. An amused huff leaves Logan's lips as he looks down at your squirming figure beneath him.

"You gonna be good for me, princess?" he asks in a low, gruff tone as the hand on your chin trails down the side of your neck before landing on your breast. He massages the flesh fervently, finding it harder to hide his own desperate arousal and need from you. You moan into his touch and arch your back into him, your pussy searching for more friction that Logan is expertly avoiding giving you by not allowing his pelvis to meet yours.

"Logan," you gasp.

"C'mon, baby," his voice soothes, like smooth velvet, "tell me you want it."

"I want it," you whisper, desperately seeking any sort of release.

"Good girl."

And with that, Logan removes the hand on your breast so he can aggressively hook an arm under your ass and easily hoist you up with one fell swoop. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, reveling the feel of his palm that covers your asscheek. With a growl Logan spins you around and throws you onto the couch in the corner of his office, barely allowing you a second to recover when he crawls on top of you and captures your lips with his own desperately. The kiss is aggressive and needy, tongues dancing together ungracefully, teeth clashing, hasty lip bites between kisses. His hips grind against yours roughly, causing you to hook both your feet around his ass to keep him there for as long as you can, desperately seeking more friction. His hands alternate with each other between grasping your breasts to gripping your face passionately. Without breaking the kiss, he hooks his arms under you and drives you further up the couch so your upper back lays against the armrest. You whine when his lips leave yours, but it's quickly replaced with a moan as his lips travel down your neck, chest, the stomach he exposes by lifting the hem of your shirt, biting the fabric at the waistband of your skirt. You squirm underneath him, anticipating what's gonna happen next as his face nestles between your legs. He licks, bites, sucks, and kisses the skin of your inner thighs, causing you to gasp with each harsh move of his mouth, before promptly melting into a moan when he alleviates his biting or sucking with a kiss or flick of his tongue. Your clit is throbbing, your pussy aching for him to get closer to your center. So he does. His tongue dances along the edge of your panties, not dipping much further into the fabric, his head alternating between each of your lips. You whine desperately as Logan's mouth hovers above your core, his hot breath teasing you further. He looks up at you and into your eyes as his mouth latches onto your thinly clothed pussy, causing you to squirm and moan underneath him, the already damp fabric from your arousal, getting further soaked from Logan's saliva.

"Logan," you whine fervently. "Please."

His mouth leaves your pussy, just barely hovering above it now.

"I gotta make you want it, princess, it's no fun unless you're begging for me to taste you," he breathed against your pussy, his voice low and syrupy. He quickly resumes the hold his mouth had on your pussy, making your back arch off the couch with a moan.

"Okay, I'm officially begging, please, Logan, please," you whimper, not sure how much longer you're able to take his teasing.

"Atta girl," he rasps against your pussy. Like nothing, his fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and he rips it off of you with an experienced strength, leaving your pussy now exposed to Logan, and your torn lace panties on the floor.

"So wet for me, huh?" Logan teases through a cocky smile. You squirm more underneath him, causing his hands to move to your hips to hold them down. Logan stares hungrily at your cunt, removing one hand from your hip and bringing it to your pussy lips to rub it tantalizingly slow with his fingers. Flicking his eyes up to meet yours, he finally brings his tongue to your folds and licks up to your clit. You moan throatily and bring your hands to his hair to give it a tug of appreciation. He groans enthusiastically into your pussy, eating at it like your core is the forbidden fruit dripping in molten pleasure. He's animalistic in his movements and noises, lapping at your clit with groans and grunts in pleasure, almost growling even. He brings his fingers to your core, tracing the hole before shoving two digits inside of you. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them with each push inside. The noises are lewd and wet with each drive of his fingers. Your moans grow more desperate and needy as you climb towards your climax, the death grip you have on his hair growing stronger and stronger. The hand holding your hip down crawls up to your breast, grasping desperately at your flesh, hastily circling your nipples with his thumb. Your breaths quicken, your eyes flutter shut as he continues the steady onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers.

"Logan, I'm so close, don't stop...please..." you trail off, beginning to lose yourself in your pleasure. Logan responds with needy moans against your clit and the continuous pumping of his fingers in and out of you. His grip on your breast loosens to grasp your side, slinking down to your waist, definitely leaving a mark with how rough he grabs at you. As his lips and tongue continue lapping you up, you can feel your arousal swirling in your stomach more and more. Your moans grow louder, your hips begin bucking. Logan groans into you, desperate to feel your release around his fingers. White hot pressure forms around your clit as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm, you look down at Logan and lock eyes with him just as you feel yourself dropping off.

The feeling of hot pink fire pricking your eyeballs jerks you awake, mid-orgasm, your eyes glow a pulsating fuchsia. You pant heavily, your orgasm ending unceremoniously against your fingertips. Leaving you disappointed. You huff in annoyance, wishing you could plunge yourself back into the wet dream that ended in a rather mediocre way. No, wait, that was your professor. You shouldn't be feeling, or thinking, this way at all. You feel disappointed in yourself for having such lewd thoughts about another person, especially a person of authority. You catch your breath, turn your head to face the clock on your nightstand and gasp when you see the time.

"Shit, shit, shit," you curse, hastily throwing yourself out of bed. "Please don't be late today."

(A/N): and that's that!! i hope people enjoy! this concept popped into my head earlier today so i've spent my sunday working on this, if people are interested to see where this goes, please leave a kudos or comment!!! TYYY🫶🏻🙈 i also posted this onto my ao3 here if you would like to view it there and keep up with it there as well!

#x men #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #hugh jackman #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool and wolverine

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