#@ god i see what you have done for other people. why has it been ten years for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

specialgradefckr · 11 months ago

Text

Heatwave: Day 4

tw: explicit content. 13k+ words. College AU. Satoru/Reader, past (unrequited) Suguru/Reader and Suguru/Satoru. afab!beta!reader (they/them), alpha!gojo. feral!gojo, feral!reader, i am not sorry

Some alcohol, but no one is actually drunk. oral (reader receiving), sex toys, dirty talk, knots, satoru in rut, satoru is a little gross but only because he's obsessed, you and satoru take turns going insane over each other

childhood friends to lovers. humor. intense platonic love. PINING. so much pining. omegaverse antics. gojo has provider/caretaker!alpha instincts. this fic is more romance than smut so just read it if you want chemistry and yearning with gojo that ends in sex.

Prompt: A beta develops the ability to smell scents and finds themselves losing their mind.

You’d never particularly minded being a beta. Sure, alphas and omegas didn’t have to deal with periods, but considering how awful ruts and heats can be, you think you got the better end of the deal.

In isolation, being a beta isn’t a bad thing, although there’s times you’ve wished you were something else.

Your best friend, Satoru Gojo, is an alpha, and that had never really mattered, either.

Then one day – you wake up, as per usual.

You meet up with him and walk to Jujutsu Technical College together; Satoru lives on campus, but he likes to walk with you. Presumably to snag an extra ten minutes or so during which to be a pain in your ass.

As soon as he sees you, he beams, a spring in his extra large stride as he comes up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

This wasn’t unusual. He’d done this a million times before. What’s unusual is a – something in the air. You sniff, and Satoru picks it up right away, sniffing along with you.

Whatever you’re smelling, he must not detect it.

It doesn’t smell like anything specific, you couldn’t definitively match it to a food or candle or anything in particular.

It’s a sweet and sour sort of thing, similar to lemonade; it almost makes scrunch your nose, and at the same time your mouth waters as if you can already taste it.

“What is it?” He looks at you from behind those stupid sunglasses that somehow looked awesome on him. “I know it’s not me.”

“Nothing, I just thought I caught a whiff of like… a drink or something. I must have spilled it on my clothes somewhere.” You’re really sure you didn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

It makes less sense that the smell gets stronger when Satoru leans in towards you – way too close, you’ve gotta yell at him about personal space sometime – and takes an exaggerated sniff.

“You look like a pervert,” Your observation doesn’t stop him in the least. In fact, you think he sniffs even harder. “Have I got crack on me or something?” Satoru snickers at that.

“Nah, I’m actually not getting anything.” He leans in even more, almost towards your neck, “You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Ugh, stop it, you freak!” You shove him aside, and he lets you with a laugh.

You don’t smell it again for the rest of the walk.

You visit a doctor’s office. Nothing has been unusual between your legs, and god knows Satoru would have teased you about it immediately if he’d smelled anything different.

But the doctor tells you why you smelled something he didn’t; alphas, especially young ones not yet out of their teenage years, were generally blind to their own scents, as most people were.

What you’d been smelling had been Satoru.

Sudden onset scent sensitivity. Real tongue-twister of a name, but it was real, and you’d looked it up after they told you about it.

It’s funny, because you’ve never had a very strong sense of smell; Satoru had always been utterly baffled by it.

Especially after presenting, he was floored at the fact that you couldn’t tell that his jacket smelled like him, to which you’d asked him (very seriously) if he had ever heard of a washing machine.

Washing with soap did typically remove the scent from articles of clothing, but it was common for an alpha or omega to run their hands over fresh laundry, or toss a clean-but-scented blanket into the dryer for a quick tumble.

Scenting stuff. You’d never really gotten the idea behind it. All humans were born with scent glands, and their secondary sexes develop those glands – along with their genitalia – in different ways.

A beta like you had no secondary sex hormones, and consequently didn’t develop any secondary sex characteristics. While betas do have scent glands, the scent they produce is weaker, and they don’t emit pheromones at all.

However, human bodies and developments were as diverse as they were weird. It wasn’t uncommon for individuals to produce a specific hormone or group of hormones, developing part of a secondary sex’s characteristics without actually presenting as one.

Turns out your body produces a hormone linked to the ability to smell pheromones. The doctor said it had probably started happening during puberty, and over the years, it eventually led to your newfound sensitivity.

That didn’t make you an alpha or an omega, but it did clue you in to something that only they could sense. A whole new world of conversations and invisible signaling going on, pheromones, scents –

And, as you learned in a painful, awkward stint past Satoru’s dorm room at the college – there was no good way of saying this – cum.

Good old whiff of cum while you walked by, so profuse it almost kind of gagged you, head racing with confusion and alarm at what the fuck this new sensation was.

But very quickly you catch on to how your heart picks up, how your thighs clench. Alpha cum has pheromones in it, after all.

And a peek into his bachelor pad later reveals a trashcan full of tissues you wouldn’t have glanced twice at before. Maybe not even once.

Just beside them is a seemingly innocuous crumpled up sock and your nose is saying yUP. THE SEXY IS ON THE SOCK.

Okay, so it’s cum. And you know it’s cum. And you’ll know it’s cum every time you visit, and every time Satoru is even a little bit messy with it, which is always, because he doesn’t know that you can smell his cum.

Cool, cool, okay, cool.

But that was fine. Totally fine, right? It’s not like you thought Satoru was a monk or anything. So, your best friend jerks off sometimes. He’s a teenage boy, it’d be weirder if he didn’t!

It’s hard to look him in the (extremely pretty) eyes that day, though.

It isn’t a gross scent, exactly, it’s just very… distinct.

Satoru’s cum does still smell a bit like him, that tangy, mouth-watering scent, but with an unmistakable undertone that your brain can only register as horny.

But like. You know what it is! You’re forced to know! And even if you’re just a beta, you can’t help how you react to the knowledge.

Even if it’s weird, though, in a (deeply awkward, uncomfortable) way you’re glad.

You were close friends with alphas and omegas, and those friendships were just like any other, really, but there was this type of communication that you couldn’t understand.

Omegas and alphas would just get certain things about one another, a natural sort of empathy that only came from shared experiences.

A party that you weren’t invited to, a bunch of inside jokes you weren’t in on, a language you couldn’t understand.

Satoru was your best friend, but you didn’t think for a second that you were his.

His best friend was a fellow alpha, Suguru Geto. You’d met in high school, years ago, and you’d been crushing on Geto for a while before he presented. You’d already presented by then and you were sure he’d be a beta, just like you.

Even though Satoru had been telling you for weeks that he’d be an alpha. Said he could just tell. He just knew. Boy, it was annoying when it finally happened.

Alpha-beta pairs aren’t the rarest thing in the world but they’re not that common, either.

You’d been hopeful about it for a while, until you see how the two of them got along, understood each other so seamlessly, connected even during their not-so-uncommon arguments.

(Satoru had always gone to you, after those, to complain. As if you’d take his side over Geto’s! Even if you weren’t infatuated with the guy, he was way more reasonable than Satoru. High school Satoru was a menace.)

Even after Geto left for a different college, there was always this layer of distance that you felt between you two after he presented.

Satoru didn’t seem to know it existed at all, but you felt it, every time he or Geto or anyone else referenced these feelings that only alphas or omegas experienced. Feelings you couldn’t understand.

“Eugh, I’m in pre-rut, it totally sucks…”

“I told you, Satoru, order one of those online rut kits. The included toys work really well.”

“Whaaaaaaat? I thought you were gonna ask out that omega guy from Chemistry!”

“Don’t remind me, I almost wish I had. God, if I did, maybe I could spend the next rut with him…”

And it was bad enough that you kept being reminded of it, that your crush was an alpha and his dream partner would always be an omega.

That you’d never be what he wanted, just what he had, even if you got together.

What was worse was how touchy they got, even after presenting. Casually slinging arms around your shoulders, both of them, hugs to say hello and goodbye, the sudden familiarity and physicality you could only attribute to them presenting as alphas.

It was apparently normal for alphas or omegas to want to scent their close friends, and you were always stuck between the two. Some kind of pack behavior stuff.

Satoru constantly took your stuff, made plans with you then cancelled later, showed up whenever you were trying to make new friends to scare people off.

Like all your free time should belong to him, even if all he wanted to do was find an omega to bang. You were young, and dumb, and Satoru was your closest friend, so you let him get away with it.

He’d always been possessive like that. There weren’t a lot of people who could get close to Satoru, and even fewer people who stayed there.

He was needy, demanding, and capricious all at once, just as likely to leave you on read than to spam you with twenty messages in five minutes.

So hot and cold. Geto got most of Satoru’s attention back in high school, and when he could be bothered to hang out with you, Geto was usually there too.

Geto was less of a raging whore than Satoru, but they talked about it casually enough for you to know they both got around. Like it was some badge of pride.

Dumb alpha crap. Even when they didn’t want you, they had to be weird towards you.

They’d steal your clothes, try to get you to wear theirs, fussing over seemingly meaningless trivialities, like which colors you liked better, whose lunch you wanted a bite from, where you sat during movie night.

Exchanging looks while you glared at them, like they were speaking in a language you didn’t know. Satoru’s arm around your neck while Geto leaned into your side.

But you could tell what was going on between them. Bumping into each other, shoving one another’s shoulders and laughing.

The casual competition that extended to everything – sports, grades, social connections – not just you. How Satoru started spending more time with Geto, hanging out without you.

Nothing was more important to Satoru than finding someone who understood him.

He’d been utterly heartbroken when Geto left, and if this was how he reacted to losing a best friend who he insisted he didn’t have feelings for, you dreaded how he’d react to an actual breakup.

For his part, Satoru had gotten better. You got better at establishing boundaries, making other friends, and telling him directly that he made you feel like shit sometimes. Slamming the door in his pretty face had never felt so good.

If you’d known how easy he was, how that was all it took to get him crying and whining and scratching at your door, then you’d have kicked him to the curb ages ago.

Satoru had tried hard to understand you from then on, to respect your boundaries; borrowing things instead of stealing, keeping his commitments, be the friend you deserved, and not do weird alpha posturing crap.

But now you could detect some of the things that they could. You had a little look into the world he’d been living in, of scents and pheromones and irresistible arousal...

And you’re just as confused as before.

Confirming what you’d always thought; you’re a beta, he’s an alpha, and nothing in the world could ever bridge this particular gap between you two.

There’s so many weird things, so many mixed signals, it honestly doesn’t make any sense.

It has to be something an omega would understand, something Satoru or Geto’s ideal partner would just get, that you… couldn’t.

You start smelling Satoru’s scent in a lot of places, not just when you’re around him.

Somewhere in your closet. Okay, that makes sense, you remember him getting something out of there one time. When you look, you find the source of the scent – a scarf.

Satoru had bought a matching version after seeing it on you; it was something he’d done before. Shown up with an identical article of clothing, crowing about it totally looked better on him. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough at him.

He must have dropped it and thought it was yours. You’d sworn your copy of this scarf was in this closet, but you can’t find it, so maybe you wore it and left it somewhere else and forgot. Or maybe he picked up your version –

No, wait, he wouldn’t have. Satoru was supposed to be mostly blind to his own scent but he could smell yours, at least a little.

And scent blindness didn’t apply to objects or people that were actually scented… or maybe they did? You’d have to check it out. Just more alpha things you didn’t understand.

Besides, you were being pretty careless with your laundry lately. There’s an extra sock that appears in your wash, making you think that maybe he really did just leave his scarf and yours is still lying around somewhere, but the sock is nowhere near his size.

Sometimes you think this new scent sensitivity is just driving you crazy.

There’s more, too. Like a pen of yours that suddenly reeks of him; you recall having seen him put it in his mouth when staying over for a study session, but you’d assumed it was his own back then.

He would still help himself to your things these days, boy-prince that he was - he just made sure to repay you later, always with something nicer than what he'd taken. And he never took anything important.

Saliva was so strongly scented that even Satoru would have had to smell it, and he just did that to your pen? Eugh!

And how he leans into you when you’re walking side by side sometimes. An arm over your shoulder.

Now, you realize that with the way he rests his stupid lanky ass body against you, your hair often gets tucked into his neck, right where his glands ooze his electric scent all over you.

But Satoru’s weird, he’s always been weird. Probably a bit possessive, too – you remembered him and Geto doing this crap in high school, it’s just that you’re only now noticing how obvious it is to anyone who can smell it.

Then, one day hanging out in his dorm, you start to smell something different on him. His sweet and sour smell practically burns in the air like ozone, overtaking your head from the first sniff just like a shock.

Satoru doesn’t even notice you being weird about it, either, he just gets all huffy and tells you to come sit next to him.

Wait. Is he… is Gojo…

You look at him, making a face you’ve seen about a million times before, eyes glancing away as if bored.

One breath in and your senses scream horny. Horny, horny boy, horny jail, Satoru might as well be blushing and grabbing his crotch from what your brain is suddenly screaming at you.

This isn’t the scent you’d smelled before, when he had – oh god WHY do you have to be thinking this – just finished jerking off.

What??? What is it?? What is going ON? He hadn’t been watching porn or something before you came in, right?

“Satoru?” You say his name and his head instantly turns to you, like he’s standing to attention.

Something more trickles into the air just for a moment, a happy burst of pheromones reminiscent of a tiny little firework.

…He didn’t just, like, cum or anything, right?

Your name interrupts your thoughts, “What is it?” Big blue eyes looking at you. Pretty as ever.

There’s an inexplicable fondness that rushes through you, a rush of comfort, and reassurance, like you can tell him anything and he’ll help you.

“Uh, just – are you studying for Calc II? I have a test coming up.” Satoru isn’t in Calc II, what were you talking about? Why did you even ask?

“Yeah, I took it, let me get you my notes from last semester!” He shoves the chair back quicker than you’d expect, a grin creeping up his face, “Say thank you senpai~” He says in sing-song as he waves a notebook at you.

You roll your eyes. “We’re both sophomores.”

“But you’re behind me in this class,” Always so smug, “Don’t worry~ You know I’ve always got you, hm?”

Something feels too warm inside you for him to smell this horny. And why is it getting to you like this? What’s getting to you? Is this some kind of alpha thing? Does he even know he’s doing this?

You almost open up your mouth to ask him, but think better of it.

It’s not something you’d get anyways. You’re a beta and all.

“Yeah. Thanks, Satoru.”

He actually leaves you to study in peace after that. He takes the bed, claiming he just needs to review some stuff, and lets you sit at his desk and write answers.

Every now and then, you find your voice asking for help out loud with uncharacteristic meekness. Like you’re afraid he’ll tease you more instead of helping (the teasing, you expect, but surely you know he’ll help you anyways).

But Satoru darts over with an equally uncharacteristic attentiveness, looking over your shoulder, explaining the problem right away from beginning to end, patiently covering each part and answering your questions.

His face feels so warm next to yours. You know his neck – his scent glands – are digging into your shoulder where he’s looming over you, arms reaching around your side to point at different parts of the problem. Satoru doesn’t realize you smell it, but like this, his scent is overwhelming.

It leaves you flushed, tugging at your collar and swallowing dryly.

“Oh, you thirsty? I was about to get snacks!” He chirps before practically prancing off.

Satoru sounds weirdly excited to do it. It isn’t that weird – he loves study treats, “A little reward for working so hard~” – but his scent exudes a weird eagerness, a satisfaction, like he’s doing a really good job at… something.

What is this? Some alpha thing? You use the opportunity you get when he prances off to fan yourself. Take a deep breath or two.

There’s nothing weird about this, Satoru is acting the way he’s always been acting. He doesn’t know you can tell, now.

No way are you letting go of this advantage, after all that time he must have lorded it over you. In high school his scent was probably even stronger, and he and Geto rubbed it ALL over you!

Something catches your eye, though, or rather your nose. It’s on the corner of his desk, at the very edge. It smells like Satoru everywhere in here (you’d begun to learn that teen alpha boys, much like regular teen boys, absolutely reeked) but this scarf doesn’t. In fact, you think you recognize it.

Picking it up, you can smell your own scent on it, just faintly. Betas don’t smell like much, but this was something you wore often, and you can catch the faint vanilla sugar aroma that’s supposed to be peaceful and calming, like betas apparently are.

This was it, the same scarf that had gone missing in your closet. This one being yours – it still had your scent on it, somehow, even with how much Satoru reeked – and the one in your closet, as you suspected, was his.

The little thief! What was he doing with your clothing? Did he lose his scarf and decide to nick yours?

But… how could he have lost it in your closet? You were pretty sure you’d left yours in your closet.

From what you know about Alphas, they’re not supposed to like foreign scents in their “dens”, even from a mild beta. It would be immediately obvious that this doesn’t belong.

Maybe, being blind to his own scent, he didn’t notice your smell, but if he’d used it, even for just a couple hours, your scent should be totally gone from it.

So why’s it just sitting here, away from his bed or anywhere else the scent of you on it might be disturbed?

Satoru must have swapped them out intentionally. Or – why would he? If he took yours and just didn’t wear it, then that would explain it, too, right? Maybe the one in your room was yours, and he’d just swapped them back after wearing it. But why? Satoru would probably borrow your toothbrush if it saved him a trip to the convenience store, he didn’t care.

Your mind spins and spins until Satoru comes back, a couple bags of convenience store treats and drinks in hand, grinning and preening so hard – “Aren’t I just the best partner? Study buddy? You’re wel~come~” – if he were a dog his tail would be wagging wildly behind him.

Whatever. You’re just going crazy. Betas aren’t even supposed to be able to tell any of this stuff. It’s weird, you wouldn’t get it.

But Satoru gets you – has your back, like he always does. You leave his company smiling, content, like you always have.

After you ace the test the next night, you run at him beaming with excitement. He catches you in his arms and spins you around and you smell a pure and genuine joy in his scent as he teases you.

“Of course you aced it! You doubted my teaching?!”

“Never, Satoru-sensei~”

“Hehe. What a promotion from being your senpai!”

“I never admitted that!”

(Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. And you’ll hand it over with a smile, too, because when have you ever been able to say no to that pretty face?)

Just – you’re friends. You celebrate each other’s accomplishments, nothing weird there.

You see your scarf again after a night of drinking.

It’s so stupid. Satoru knows he’s a huge lightweight. He turned twenty right before finals so he’s not technically underage, but still!

So why was he drinking? You’d heard there was some kind of big get-together (Nanami was there, after all), but Satoru wasn’t a social drinker or anything. It was some kind of celebration after finals being over or whatever. Still, the Satoru you knew never drank.

Then you get a text from him, begging you to pick him up from the bar. Why? You’re a college student, you don’t have a car! He can text you, but he can’t get a taxi? He can’t be that wasted.

And you know it’s from him because only Satoru would beg for help while also making it sound like it was an honor for you to help him. Ugh.

The worst part is, even when he’s tipsy and stumbling, he’s well over six damn feet tall and easily sends you stumbling whenever his steps waver. One arm wrapped around you like you’re some kind of living crutch.

“Awh~ Came to pick me up? You really do like me, huh?” He crows, like he hadn’t pleaded with you over text. He smells like fruity vodka and – someone else. Must be an alpha he hung out with at the party.

“Someone has to.” You grumble as you deposit him into the car seat, shoving at his shoulder when he doesn’t move over right away.

He pats on his lap, head tilted back, eyes dreamy and half-lidded as he giggles. Three times, before you scoff, slam the door, and go around the other side to sit next to him. Dumbass.

The ride to the dorm is less annoying than you thought it would be, mainly because Satoru… isn’t actually that drunk at all?

Just tipsy enough to tease you to sit on his lap, apparently.

“Come ooooon! We never cuddle anymore!”

“We haven’t cuddled since we were nine, and you said I had cooties.” It was pretty normal, of course, but it had hurt at the time.

“It’s been over ten years, won’t you forgive me?” He complains, “What, you don’t love me anymore?”

“I’d love to smack you,” You mutter to yourself.

Satoru must overhear you wrong, because he wiggles happily in his seat, reaching out to pull you against him. You let him sit like that for the ride as he rambles on about his night.

It’s cute. You’re a huge homebody – Satoru knows that – but it sounds like he had fun, connected with some old friends. Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara – names you haven’t heard in ages.

By the time you get to the dorms, you’re chatting animatedly about Nanami’s choice of major and whether or not it suited him (You really can’t believe he just went into Accounting like that. Why wouldn’t he go for Literature? He loved the book club you were both in! Satoru insists he was only doing it to get girls, though).

He starts clinging to you again in that weird way (he is totally not drunk enough to need it), where he rests some weight on you but not too much, at an awkward angle since he’s so stupidly tall.

It’s just enough for you to stagger with him to his dorm room, shoving the door open while he snickers at your fumbling – “Thanks for the help, Satoru.” “You’re welcome! Aren’t I just the best?” – like some prince on his throne.

You shove him in, utterly impatient, and groan when his hand finds your arm and pulls you in with him.

Satoru spins around once like the pretty princess he is, laughing to himself, smelling like ozone again as the arousal hits your senses. But he must not notice the surprise on your face, because he reaches out a hand towards you, beckoning while you back towards his bed.

Maybe he is more drunk than you thought, if he was this turned on –

Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. WAIT!

Your mind is racing ahead, thoughts flooding your synapses, eyes wide as you inhale again and detect the same thing.

The scarf. It’s there, in the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t smell like you anymore. It’s crumpled up in a corner, unmistakably dirtied.

He jerked off on it. He totally fucking jerked off on it. The scarf is literally crusted with his cum. THE FUCK???

It wouldn’t have been weird, just gross, but this isn’t Satoru’s scarf and Satoru knew that. There was no way he’d missed that it smelled like you! It might have even smelled like you when he was jerking off into it!

Did he – why would he –

If he wanted it to smell like him, why jerk off on it? He could just wear the damn thing! Actually, he had one that already smelled like him! And he gave it to YOU! Why???

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest churns harder.

You’re insane. You must be going completely insane.

The sock. No fucking way. There’s no fucking WAY. That would be so gross. Your insides are churning, hot and roiling with something and you just. There’s no way.

That’s the only explanation, because when you open your mouth, you actually say.

“Gojo did you – did you steal my sock? And my scarf?” Your voice gets higher in pitch, “And then jerk off on them?”

You’re definitely going insane, because the Satoru giggles like a kid caught with his hands in the candy jar. Maybe he really did get totally fucking smashed at the get-together. Maybe he’s been getting smashed these whole past few fucking weeks!

“Haha, yeah! I’m in rut, you can’t blame me,” He whines like he totally expects to be excused of this one little slip-up, like jerking off into an article of clothing that smelled like you was just boys being boys or some crap from high school, “And – hey! Don’t call me Gojo!”

He’s – he’s in rut? Had that been why all this weird shit was happening to you? He was just doing some weird alpha crap, and it was getting to you because you could smell it?

A groan escapes you. “Satoru.” Why does he light up when you say his name like that? Why does your chest feel so fucking – “Go sober up and pass out. I’m going home.”

You need to get out of here, before this shit gets to you any more. Satoru doesn’t know he can affect you with this. It’s never affected you before.

Your face is hot. So, so hot.

“Don’t leave.” The words sound like a whimper, like a wail, so impossibly morose. He’s on his knees already in front of you, pawing at you with both hands, clinging. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”

Crystal blue eyes gazing up at you, wide and tearful. Cheeks still flushed a little pink. Moonlight from the window filtering over his lovely features. Lust in the air, radiating off him, seeping into you with every breath.

He’s so pretty. Satoru’s always been the most beautiful person you know. He’s in rut, and he wants you to stay, and it shocks you how a thrill runs through you at the thought. Desire molten in your chest, dripping down to your core.

“You’re in rut, and you’re drunk – ”

“Even I’m not drunk off one strawberry daiquiri,” And though you’d like to deny it, if Satoru’s sober enough to snark at you, he’s probably not that drunk. Which means this is all his rut – “And god, I’ve wanted you so fucking long. Rut’s just made it worse.”

The words should feel like they’re shattering you. Like decades of friendship are teetering on the balance, on a tightrope over one stupid night of drinks.

Instead you just feel hotter than ever. Every breath tells you what it had been telling you from the beginning, what you were just too blind to see. Desire. Lust. Want.

“I thought we were just friends,” You say quietly, like it’s some confession.

He stands up so he can cup your face, tilt it so your gaze meets his. “It’s okay if you don’t – if you’re not – you know. If it’s too much right now. I was too pussy to say it for a long time, I just scented you, and hung out with you, and whatever else you’d let me, but…”

“How long? I know you didn’t like me in high school.”

“I fucking loved you in high school, I was just a huge dick. You know that.” Those pretty eyes look down, only for a moment, “Back then, I didn’t want to fuck you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you to death. Still do.”

“But you want to – ”

“Yeah, I super wanna fuck you now.” He looks back at you with that stupid pretty face and that stupid charming grin, way more cheerful than it has any business being, “But you know, you’ll always be my best friend, right? My number one. If I need to spend a hundred years convincing you that I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, that’s fine.”

A hundred years? You’d dare him to last a hundred seconds without whining for what he wants like the spoiled brat he is.

But his eyes are so bright, and you can smell how much he wants you. He wants you that much and he says this.

“I’ll be so good,” He purrs, arms wrapping around you and bringing you closer to him, “The best. I’m pretty, you know. And I’m rich. I’ll go out on dates with you all the time, my treat, and kiss you, and hold your hand, and you can wear my clothes, it’ll be so great – ”

Satoru starts stepping backwards, dragging you with him towards the bed as he moves.

You chuckle. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”

“Every minute of every day. Half of it I’ve been doing already.” He reaches the bed and turns you so your back is facing it. Pushes you gently to sit.

Satoru gets on his knees in front of you again, and your heart skips a beat. You’re starting to think it’s a good look on him. But his eyes are wicked, his grin feral, pheromones suffocating you in the next breath before he speaks.

“I know you want me too. Let me eat you out.” He’s already taking off his shirt, like he knows what it does to you when you see him shirtless.

Even in high school, that lean, swimmer’s body had left you flustered. Satoru’s always been like that, so effortlessly perfect looking, so unashamed at being seen. He grins at the feeling of your eyes on him, you think he’s even posing a little bit, the diva.

“Yeah, you like that? ‘Course you do. Best alpha around.” His gaze peeks up at you through lowered white lashes, “I’m something special, aren’t I? It’s all yours, baby. All for you.”

God, he’s so beautiful. You’re so weak for him. That hopeful smile makes your heart tremble. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ethereal with his white hair and shimmering blue eyes and lean, muscled body, and it’s all for you, all yours, baby.

“Satoru…” For a moment, you truly can’t believe this is actually happening.

And then a large, warm hand finds its way into one of yours, threading between your fingers, an easy smile on his lips as he looks up at you. This is him, your best friend. Satoru. Your Satoru.

He nuzzles his head against your legs, digging underneath your pants with impatient fingers, “Say you want me, just say it. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Why – why are you asking all the sudden?” Your will to resist him is dropping exponentially and you’re pretty sure he knows it. “Why now?”

“Why right now? I’ve been dying for you since my rut began, and finally got myself a dose of liquid courage.” He brings your hand up to his face, kissing over your knuckles. “But if you want to know why I want you… It just happened. Woke up one day wanting you and it never went away.”

“Wanting to fuck me, or wanting to date me?” You’d never thought Satoru would want you. It just seemed so impossible. “I’m a beta, it’s not like I can help your rut.”

Your hand is pressed against the front of his pants, unbearably hot, bulging outward. His fingers trapping your palm against it. It’s like you can feel him pulsing through the fabric. A knot big enough to break you.

There’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the idea, that makes you clench and think I could take it, makes you want to try and shove it inside, but you fantasized enough about Geto and his knot in high school to know. It would be sexy for about three seconds, and then it would just hurt.

Not the good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that leaves you hyperventilating, snot and tears crying as you panic over the possibility of an embarrassing ER visit, wondering if you’ve actually ripped something down there, it hurts that much.

“It’s all for you, babe, whether or not you want it. It’ll always be for you.” Satoru purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, “I’d take your hands over any omega’s pussy any day. Fuck, please, just spit on it, I could cum from that, you know?”

You giggle, bewildered and unreasonably turned on. “You sure you’re not still that stupid horny alpha boy from high school?”

Satoru leans forward so his chin rests on the edge of the bed, looking up at you from between your legs. You become explicitly aware of the wetness growing against your panties.

“Nope. Stupid horny high school me didn’t know shit. This is your modern Satoru Gojo, older and wiser and better than ever.” His eyes sparkle at you. Hand squeezing yours. “Let me? Please, please, let me?”

“Yeah,” the word leaves you like a sigh, from you and from Satoru, “You talk a big game, Satoru. Just try and make me cum.”

You don’t know why you make it out to be a challenge. It’s not easy to make you cum, but it’s not this impossible task either. He’s a clever boy, he can figure it out.

Step one he’s clearly got down perfectly, tugging your pants and panties down in a move so fast it tugs into your knees. You don’t have time to move for him before he lifts your legs for you, dragging your clothes entirely off in one swift, merciless movement.

Oh. You are wet. Your face heats up, and it doesn’t get better because then he grabs your thighs and tugs them apart, spreading you and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, where his face is.

“Okay baby,” He whispers against your cunt, breath hot against you, “One last time. Show me how you touch yourself, show me what you like.”

One last time?

God, you should have known this idiot would need pointers. Even if it was a perfectly reasonable ask.

“Sure, since you need it so much.” You mutter, mostly at the heat on your cheeks, the wiggling feeling in your chest at the way his eyes roam over you, following your hand down between your legs.

Something hot and slimy meets your fingers as soon as they get close, and you nearly yelp –

“Just helping,” Satoru’s got that awful self-satisfied look on his face, and he licks your fingers again, like he wants to suck on them, “Get you nice and wet, first, should never go in dry baby.”

At least he had that much sense. It’s hampered by the fact that he’s talking to you like he knows shit.

“Excuse me, this is still my pussy,” Covering your mortification at touching yourself to an audience with words, you dip your fingers into your entrance just to wet them up some more.

“Not for long,” He grumbles. What? “Just show me how you like it.”

“I’m trying!” You press against your clit from the side, rubbing against it indirectly, leaning into the sensation until you feel pleasure pooling from each press. “No thanks to… the peanut gallery over here.”

Satoru does shut up for a moment, and you try not to think about how it’s because he’s staring intently at your sex, like he’s about to take notes on it or some shit.

Fuck, fuck, he’s so stupidly pretty. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of those beautiful eyes on you. Curse your terrible fucking taste.

You focus on the presses, speeding them up just enough to not be too much, increasing how far you press in, just a little more, moving your hips to nudge yourself into it –

“Okay, enough.” A larger hand snatches your wrist, pulling it away. Your huff is nothing short of indignant and half-disbelieving. But then again, what had you been expecting? “I got it. No more touching yourself.”

The way he says it, blue eyes darkening, sounds a little more serious than it should. Voice a little lower. Scent dusting the air with something powerful, authoritative, distinctly alpha.

He doesn’t mean…

The thought is interrupted by the sensation of his mouth, warm and wide and open against you, so sudden that you cry out with the heat of it. Wet and welcoming.

His hair threads through your hands. It’s soft, so soft. Like feather down, fluttering at your fingertips. In the pale light pouring through the dorm window it shines like starlight. Something heavenly and pure and right there for you to hold.

Even when your hands fist in it, Satoru just moans, rumbling against your cunt as he lapped against it, drawing you dangerously close to the edge.

Those lips, those pretty, pouty lips, pressing tight against your clit while his tongue works over you. Smooth muscle laving over slick flesh, slipping through your folds.

A naughty dip into your entrance that makes you squeak, just exploring. Tracing along the edge, darting in to sample.

When he pulls away, mouth sinfully wet and shiny with strings of arousal, Satoru meets your eyes directly, deliberately. You watch him raise his two index fingers to his lips, open that awful, sultry mouth, and stick them both in.

The way he does it, tongue hanging out and pooling saliva, then laving it over his fingers, you almost expect him to start moaning like a pornstar.

He’s too dumb to do that, though, and instead closes his mouth around his fingers, sucking on them, and pulling them out with an exaggerated pop!

Yeah, that’s your Satoru. Dumbass. You’re horny and amused, and a little bit mad at yourself for it, too.

He catches it when you roll your eyes at him, and sneaks his warm, wet fingertips right up into your entrance while he latches his mouth onto your clit.

The fingers slide in almost too easily, but his are long. It doesn’t take him long to start curling them, dragging them along your walls inside until that, combined with his suckling at your clit, has you whimpering breathlessly, grasping his hair for dear life – it only makes him moan more, and that only makes sparks of pleasure dance up your already tight, throbbing core.

And it’s annoying, so annoying and so hot and unbearably fucking sexy how he looks up at you right when you’re at the edge, like he knows.

Free hand tightening on your thigh like he’s got to keep you from running away from him, pressing his tongue into your clit.

Rubbing it tightly like he fucking knows exactly how hard it sends you spiraling, panting and wide-eyed as you stare down at the beautiful man eating you out like you’re his last meal ever.

You can barely breathe for the way it takes you, hard and fast, flooding you all at once. Blood soaring with every heartbeat, pressure unfurled into ecstatic currents that ripple out from your core, through your whole body.

Satoru suckles on your clit gently, somehow in perfect time with the waves of pleasure that rush over you, making each one crest just a little bit higher than it should.

He never takes his eyes away from yours. He stays like that, softening, letting up as your climax abates and your clit starts to tingle, oversensitive.

Of course, when he pulls away, he looks invariably pleased with himself. You’re not going to say this out loud (regrettably, it looks like he knows anyways, somehow, he just knows this shit about you) but he absolutely should be.

It was a rush that went through your whole body. You felt like you were flying, breezing freely through the air with Satoru keeping you light.

“What, you want a medal?” It doesn’t have much bite to it with your voice all low and breathy and sated. Satoru just grins.

You move to lay back, but Satoru catches you, straddling you on his knees so he’s not sitting on you, pulling you forward against him. The bulge at the front of his pants rubbing up against your abdomen.

“If you’re offering a reward for my skills, I know just the thing~” Satoru sings.

Utterly cheeky of him, to spring this on you while you’re still in the afterglow. “Satoru...”

"Can I put it in? Please please let me put it on, I promise I'll be so good – "

You smack him upside the head, even though his whimper makes you feel both guilty and horny. Extremely horny, actually. He looks really cute, pouting like that, lips pursed like you really hurt him oh so bad. Like a dog that’s been scolded for something it doesn’t understand.

And maybe he is, with the rut in his brain. Stupid and horny and helpless to refuse you because of it, filled with nothing but the need to please you – every thought flowing through your head starts trickling between your thighs.

"No fucking way Satoru, you know I'm not built for that."

Then he whines, wide eyes looking up at you pleadingly, and you actually feel yourself dripping, clenching, ready for him again when you just came moments ago. Cunt aching for the warmth of him.

God, leave it to Satoru to turn you on so much your dumb ass is willing to even entertain the idea of knot training. He’s in rut. You’re just horny and too dumb to have learned your lesson about pining for alphas in high school.

"Not this time. I need practice." You feel yourself flushing even though it's your own suggestion.

He grins, all teeth and hunger. Eyes bright with something that makes your heart flutter.

"Not this time,” he agrees, “I'll train you. Stretch you nice and slow. Over and over and over again until you can take it without hurting. I’ll train you until you are made for it, made for me, won’t put it in until you’re begging. My omega.”

When did you say he would be training you? And why do his words send liquid fire running through your core?

“Not an omega, Satoru.”

“You’ll be mine.” Triumph laces his voice, “I’ll treat you so nice, I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want any knot but mine.”

Now he’s just going full alpha brain, “I didn’t want any knots in the first place!”

“You’ll want mine.” He says it with an utter confidence only Satoru Gojo can possess, “You’ll love it. I’ll make you love it. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best alpha, you’ll never have to make yourself cum again.”

And god, good god, how can he go from puppy dog eyes to proud alpha crowing in the blink of an eye? You just told him you didn’t want his knot! And you only half meant it! God!

“We’ll see about that,” Grumpy, flushed, that’s all you manage, and you’re not even that upset about it.

He rubs up against you like a cat, purring, “I’ll make it good for you, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Then you should take care of him, this time.

“Go get your toy, Satoru.” You tell him like you’re telling a dog to go fetch.

And he does, all eager and grinning as he darts towards a shelf, tugging a toy out of the drawer. It’s literally huge, enough that you might not be able to encircle it with two hands.

“Not as good as you,” He whines as he grabs the lube. You roll your eyes because he’s had none of you yet, “Wouldn’t be as good as you, any of you. You’ll use it on me yourself, at least, right?”

“Yeah, I’m using it on you, dumbass,” You fix him with a look, and he holds your gaze with a pout, “And get used to the idea.” God, you’re flushed again, this is all just so… eugh. “…Cause… you know. We’ll have to go through a lot of knot toys with me, so…”

There’s a spring in his step all the sudden, thrilled at the thought. Brightening as soon as you say “Yeah” – God, was Satoru always this easy?

He lays the toy on your lap like he really is a dog going to fetch, the awful terrible idea you were thinking of comes into shape.

It’s so embarrassing, just the thought makes you feel so… presumptuous, like you’re assuming so much about something you barely understand.

But he wants you. He said he wants you. So you do it.

Flushed, reaching between your legs (the audacity of him to whine and try to tug your hand away), you gather up your own slick and cum and other fluids, cupping them in your fingers.

Satoru’s eyes dilate, face blank with his staggered breath, as he watches you smear it all over the toy, particularly at the entrance. You squirt in a portion of the lubricant, too, reaching in and spreading it with your other hand. This should feel gross. This is super gross.

You’re so fucking wet. You could put even more on it. But something tells you Satoru would prefer that elsewhere.

“Come on, then. You bragged about it so much.” You look at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curled upwards as you loom over the fleshlight. “Show me the goods, alpha.”

With a fast breath he nearly rips his pants and boxers off, cock springing free of its confines and – oh. Oh. Yeah, you were definitely not getting that inside you tonight, not in any universe. But the thought of it makes your thighs clench reflexively.

It’s a pretty cock, too. All red and flushed, dripping and swollen at the tip. Long, unreasonably so, even with the heavy knot at the base. And this is before it’s expanded.

No wonder the toy’s so big.

You scoot back on the bed, legs spread wide, and you pat between them. Satoru’s taller than you, bigger than you, and you quickly realize this isn’t going to work with you sitting behind him, even if he wriggles happily when his chest presses to your back.

(You file this information to use against him one day, though. Satoru would probably melt if you let him be the little spoon.)

Spinning, you move so that you’re straddling his lap. Satoru seamlessly scoots back, giving you enough space to rest yourself on his thighs and trap his cock between the two of you.

You look at his (unfairly pretty) face. Back down at his dick. At his face again, where he’s smiling an awful, conspiratory sort of smile. All but vibrating with excitement.

When you spit on his dick he moans like he nearly is going to cum, and your cunt clenches at the sound. He wasn’t joking, was he?

Your hand darts down between your legs, and Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight, growling. The same hand quickly wraps around his cock, slick with your arousal. Satoru gives a shuddering gasp at the sensation, hips jerking into it. Everything he does has you getting wetter, it’s effortless for him.

And he knows it, too, smells it, because even while he’s catching his breath he gives you that terrible charming smirk that has you burning in the pit of your stomach. So annoying. Your hand tightens and he makes the most pitiful whimper.

You’re hit with the sudden and very real desire to take a bite out of him.

Pretty boy. Pretty boy, all for you, naked and bare in front of you, aching and whining for you to do with him as you please. You think you even see him drooling a little.

You take his lips instead, face tilted upwards as you press your mouth into his, like you can drink him up if you stick your tongue far enough into his mouth.

He’s sweet, because of course he is. A little strawberry, the faintest touch of alcohol.

Your teeth close on his lips, tender, soft, yielding. It’s so easy just to clench down, hard, while your hand pumps his cock some more, and it throbs, violently, as the taste of blood fills your mouth. He moans into it, tongue sliding, dancing against yours like he wants to lick you up.

He’s panting, still, when you pull away. Lips red and swollen and bleeding.

Satoru grins at you, bent over, eyes glittering. Wiping blood from the corner of his lovely mouth.

It’s not enough to bite him. You want to devour him whole. You want him to be yours. You want to see him cum.

“Say my name.”

You hear it.

You fit the toy on top of him, and his hands dart towards you, grasp you with deceptive firmness, like you’re all that can anchor him. His nostrils flare as he slides into the toy lubed up with your own fluids, taking in the scent of you.

He’s probably smelling how wet you are. You slam it down, all the way to the knot, to wipe that stupid smirk on his face.

It works. Now his eyes are wide with shock, mouth gaping open, a noise like a squeak emerging from him as he squeezes his eyes tight, hips squirming uselessly to fit more of himself in.

Delight, wicked and thrilling, lances through your chest at the sight of him. Face flushed, eyes squeezing as he fights to keep them from closing, lips in a wide “O” like some kind of pornstar. God, he’s just too fucking hot.

Without thinking you bring your other hand to his lips, and Satoru closes his mouth around your wet fingers and moans. His half-shut eyes flutter at you, like he’s trying to tease you. Tongue threading between your fingers, cheeks going hollow as he sucks them clean.

His hips thrust up, eager, and he whimpers again. “Say it again.”

Your name, again, warbled around the fingers in his mouth as you twist the toy around him. You press it against his knot just for a moment.

“This is for me, you said?” You pull your fingers away, pull the toy up, and he whines at the absence, like the drama king he is, “You’re hard just for me? A beta?”

When he opens that unthinkably sexy, sultry mouth of his, you slam it back down again. It hits his knot and you bear down, “Ah – hahhh – ahhh~”, and god, your heart is racing and he’s only halfway in.

“Fuck,” He sobs, “Fuck, yes, please – ”

It’s hard to pull it up after that, his knot swelling and throbbing and Satoru squirming like some kind of desperate whore. Clawing at your shoulders as you pull the toy up again.

He keens when your hands leave him, only to brighten visibly as you tug your shirt and bra off. Oh, he’s lost all coherence but he can still cheerfully ogle you, huh?

One of his hands reaches for your breast, mindlessly squeezing. It’s so large he can hold it in his entire hand, and you watch his eyes dilate as he tries to buck up for more stimulation.

You reach back, pumping him again, and you keep pressing it down against his knot, shoving it a little further each time. His words are senseless, mumbles and mutterings, and his eyes don’t leave your body for a moment, like he’s drinking you in.

When you reach the widest part of his knot he actively wails, seizing you at the waist and digging his nails into you, and it burns like hot lines of pleasure over your skin. He’s shuddering now, all lean muscle and powerful form turned to a shivering mess before you, for you.

“Just a little more,” You breathe, “Almost there, baby. You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful,” a heavy SHOVE and Satoru cries out as his knot finally slips in.

The breath he lets out is pure relief and yearning tied in one. It’s harder to push down now with him lodged in it. His hands loosen around you, gaze going unfocused, and he mumbles something you can’t quite make out. His hands paw at you, like a blind man groping in the dark.

He’s really, really pretty like this. Needy, teary-eyed, desperate like a dog.

While you work the toy in short strokes, your other hand reaches up to his well sculpted chest, to the supple flesh of his pecs where you dig your nails into, just to hear him whine. To watch a streak of red mark where you draw your nails across him.

When you scratch across his nipple he whimpers again, hips shuddering so much it’s hard to keep the toy on him. His face flushes even harder, eyes trembling, grasping at you with quivering hands.

His abs, perfect like the rest of him, tighten, clenching up. His thighs clench up, too, and you see him actually thrust up into the toy, eyes wild with need. Satoru finally gets a grip on you, and he leans in, too, shoving his face into your neck.

It takes you a moment, pumping to toy to make sure he doesn’t lose his peak, for you to realize he’s smelling you. Taking long, deep breaths of your scent, shuddering like a man who’s found his paradise.

You lean your head to the side, just a little, just to meet his eyes. He looks up at you, he smells you; enraptured, delighted, desperately aroused by the sight of him.

“Say my name,” You beg him, “Satoru, say my – ”

He cums with a cry of it, a wail, and you realize what he’d been mumbling before. Shaking in your arms.

There’s something feral in your chest, something about him in this state that drives you absolutely mad. You keep pumping the toy, even just a little bit, hard friction against his swollen knot, the cum that must be hot and packed against him now.

He wheezes, delirious, and you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy. Squeaking while you squeeze him, with your hands, your mouth, your cunt.

He’s too pretty like this, too perfect. All yours, he’d said, and now he’s crying on your shoulders, shuddering with the strength of his climax.

“My alpha,” You coo, breathless, “Only for me.”

Satoru nods dumbly, pretty lips wedged apart, eyes bleary. Pressing a kiss to your neck, licking mindlessly at it. His skin is hot, like all the rest of him, flushed from his release.

You want to give him more. You want to mess him up. You want to fuck him up, take a bite out of him for everyone so everyone sees a piece missing, a piece that belongs only to you. You want to see him cry.

So you pull away to get a better look, but he clings to you. When you push him it feels like trying to tear your own heart out, so you let him kiss and suck against you until he’s kissing up to your lips.

Pretty white lashes fluttering while he nips at your lips, gentle as a kitten with tearstained cheeks.

Then he pulls back on his own and grins at you, so cocky you forget he cried at all.

The toy can’t come off him, locked where it is until the knot goes down, but that doesn’t seem to stop him in the slightest.

“I can smell you,” He pants, “I can smell it. You’re ready for me? Got so turned on by fucking me with that toy, huh?”

There’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile tracing at his lips, but you meet his gaze with your own fire. “So turned on. You looked so pathetic and pretty, whining and bucking into that toy like a desperate whore. If you’d moaned any sluttier, Satoru, I would have creamed my panties.”

His laugh is almost a howl, “Hahaha! Yeah! Just for you, baby.” He leans in to steal a kiss, “A slut for you. Let me show you just how slutty I can be, I can fuck you so so good baby.”

Your laugh is cut off by his fingers prodding at your mouth, “Spare some spit for your slut, yeah?”

The look you give him, like you’re telling him off while trying not to laugh, sends a shudder of emotion through him that you can’t identify.

You use the moment to open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out. Transfixed blue eyes follow your tongue dragging up his fingertips, how you drool on them, moving down and then drawing it up again to wet them.

Satoru makes a little noise and twitches and you know the toy has just milked another little squirt of cum out of him. Maybe knots are kinda cute.

And then he looks back into your eyes. Quick as a whip, closes his mouth around your fingertips, rolling his eyes back with an exaggerated moan, and he’s so fucking stupid and you’re so turned on you actually feel yourself throbbing. Your hands dart down to feel it.

Well, you’d known you were wet, but this was just embarrassing. Worse, since he could smell it.

“I’ve got you. Let me have you, I’ve got you. Leave it to your alpha.”

“Really big words from a guy who was crying when I pumped him with a fleshlight.”

Satoru doesn’t balk, he only grins. With teeth. “You bet I did, baby. Fucked me so good,” he purrs, rubbing up against you again, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed once more, “And I got you all hot and bothered, didn’t I? So let me take care of that for you.”

God, he really knows no shame at all. No wonder he didn’t bother to smother his moans. He knew what they did to you. He always knew what he did to you.

Except, you suppose, with the pheromones that are telling you right now to lie down and let him eat you into oblivion.

Your fingers draw up to your clit, gently pulsing again at the hungry look he’s giving you.

He bats your hands away from your cunt, “I told you I’d take care of you. Spoil you so good. You’ll never touch what’s mine again.”

“What’s yours?”

“You are, baby, all of you. Shouldn’t touch my cunt unless I say you can, that’s my job. Don’t tell me you think I can’t make you feel good?” His eyes sparkle in challenge, teeth bared in a grin.

That’s like, an under-negotiated kink or something. He totally doesn’t own you. He definitely can’t tell you not to touch yourself.

God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Every word has your cunt throbbing harder. It’s probably just dirty talk. Right?

“What,” You drawl, but your breaths are getting shorter as his fingers find their way inside you again, “Can you take responsibility for that, huh, Satoru?”

“I’ve never wanted to take responsibility for anything more in my life.” His fingers delve deeper, thumb rubbing over your clit.

You choke out a laugh, legs quivering. “Not a high bar.”

“It’s okay,” He steals another kiss before he falls off the bed and onto his knees again for you, “I told you, I can do it. You don’t need to touch yourself ever again. I’ll do it all. You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone but your alpha.”

“Ah,” Fuck, you really can’t speak at all, but – but every word is turning you on more, pulsing, pulsing, blood flowing down to the throbbing mess between your legs, “Ah – f-fuck! You don’t mean that, Satoru.”

Another breath, and then you continue, “What, are you really going to drop everything just to – to get between my legs – whenever I want to cum?”

Satoru groans like a broken man. “Please.”

His thumb is replaced on your clit with his tongue, just the right heat and slickness you were craving. Every lap sends your tender nerve endings throbbing. Thighs shaking. Close now.

“If I – if I ever want to touch myself, I just call you, you’ll come racing? Make use of that pretty face – hng, whenever I want? If I ever want to shut you up, I just sneak my hands beneath my panties – ”

The sound that comes from him sounds like it could be a sob, his hands wrap around your legs, seizing them in place as he abandons everything that’s not sucking your soul out through your clit, and fuck, fuck, how is he so perfect at this –

It comes, knocking the breath out of you, leaving you gasping. The heavy tug between your legs finally overwhelming your senses until everything just feels so good.

You reach out, groping numbly until you feel his soft hair in your hands, no strength left to squeeze.

Heat rocks through you, racing up your spine, swelling and swelling until you’re just warm everywhere, limbs tingling with a pleasant, blissful sort of numbness.

A hand settles over yours, large, heavy, and unbearably tender.

Every breath is orgasmic on its own, air flowing through you, heat radiating outwards until you feel it dissipate away gently.

Satoru’s moved you, slid you to lay on the bed while he sits over you. You don’t know when he did that, didn’t feel it.

It doesn’t matter. His hand threads through yours, and you watch him raise it up to kiss it again, lashes fluttering, lips still wet with your cum. There’s this look on his face, reverent and desperate, like he still can’t believe he’s gotten this lucky.

Finally, you see the toy slipping off, and with it, a gush of cum, sticky and trailing from his wet, stinging cock. He hisses at the exposure to open air. You’d honestly just tell him to put it in you if you weren’t worried he’d knot you in his sleep.

Satoru settles beside you, arms wrapped around your form, face buried in your neck.

“Love you.” You feel it more than you hear it, mouthed against your neck, “Love you so much.” A drop of wetness on your throat. “Love you, love you, love you… never leave me, please, never… love you so much.”

His fangs glance over your throat, where no mark they leave will ever stick.

Your heart spills out of your chest a little, through your mouth.

“I love you, Satoru,” You murmur, “I’m a beta, I can’t give you what an omega can, I…” Old wounds, all healed over and aching. “But I’ll give you what I can. If you want it.”

Arms squeezing you. His teeth turn into a kiss, up, up, up your jawline until he’s face to face with you.

“I want it,” He says, eyes shimmering as he leans in to claim your lips. “I’ll always want it. Always you.”

Hours ago

“So are you guy still friends?” Suguru asks, sipping his beer, “You were such a bitch about them in high school. I almost thought you wanted to date them, but with them being a beta and all…”

Satoru groans. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I get how I was in high school, but they liked you, didn’t they? So they’re definitely into alphas.”

“They were. Maybe we permanently turned them off,” he snickers, drawing another groan from Satoru, “What changed, anyways? Why do you want to get with them now?”

“I dunno, man.” Gojo sips at his drink. “It was like one day I was walking them to campus, and they were showing me this picture of a white cat with blue eyes. And they were smiling while they said It’s you, Satoru! and I was about to tell them to shut up but my chest just… exploded.”

“No way. That’s what got to you?” A smile plays on Suguru’s lips, “Do you still have the picture?”

“Shut uuuup. Anyways, I thought about it later and I thought, I want to walk with them every morning for the rest of my life. I want to never go a day without talking to them, or hanging out with them. Want to crawl in their silly little beta brain and live there rent free for the rest of my days.”

Satoru never paid rent to live in anyone’s head, and he lived in everyone’s. “Who’s to say you don’t already?”

“Not like I want to. I want them to think about me all the time, like I think about them. I want them to feel like they’ll die if they don’t see me every day."

His eyes shine with something dark and blue. "I want them to be all mine and no one else’s. I want them to think of me whenever they want something, come to me for everything.”

It’s as good as a love confession, coming from an alpha. Satoru doesn’t have to say it – Suguru knows what it means.

“So… have you told them?”

He startles when Satoru bangs his head on the table. “I wish! It’s like there’s nothing I can do to get them to look at me!”

"So... you haven't said anything, and you're just complaining that they aren't throwing themselves into your arms?"

"Exactly!" Satoru huffs, "I can tell I've gotten to them a little recently, too! We spend like, every waking moment together, and they let me. Why won't they just ask me out already? It's been months, I don't want to spend another rut alone!"

That actually is impressive, coming from Satoru. Back in high school, he would never spend his rut alone, until he and Suguru got close.

Suguru’s chuckle is nothing short of sinister, “God, you’re such a whiny bitch. Can’t believe you didn’t present as an omega.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He snarls, taking another swig of his fruity cocktail. Suguru wonders idly if he knows how much alcohol is in that.

“Sometimes I honestly thought you liked them back in high school, you were so damn clingy all the time. Total omega behavior. I would scent them for five seconds and you’d throw a total fit.”

The glare, the sudden sharp spike of angry alpha pheromones catches Suguru off guard. “You didn’t mean it, though! They had feelings for you and you knew it, and you didn’t like them back! You think I’m just gonna let you fuck around with my friend like that?”

“Hey, hey,” He shakes his head, like that can get the scent out of his nose. “I would’ve dated them, you know, treated them nice. They were cool, I would have given it a shot with them even if they were a beta. But they were so worried about your feelings, they couldn’t even confess.”

“Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve,” Satoru mumbles into his fruity drink, slumping forwards. “They would always side with you in arguments, too.”

“That was because you were an idiot. Godzilla couldn’t take on an Evangelion in a fight and you know it.”

“Dude, the cable! Literally all he’d have to do is cut the cable! I said this a million times! They were crushing on you, that’s why they said you were right.” His nose crinkles in that unbearably cute way. “The fuck was so great about you anyways? I’m way prettier.”

That makes Suguru laugh out loud. Satoru would know. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Satoru. You’re pretty even when you sulk.”

“Shut up, asshole. You didn’t deserve them, anyways.”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess I didn’t. You didn’t, either, in case you were wondering.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask.” Satoru sounds so pouty that he laughs again.

He gives Satoru’s shoulder a good-hearted slap, drawing out a growl from his friend. “We were a pair of fucking jerks back then, you know that. They should’ve ditched our dumb asses the week we presented.”

“You were a jerk. I never led them on, and it’s not like they noticed the scenting!”

“Heh. God, we got away with so much shit because they were a beta and didn’t know what was going on. Got into a pissing contest over a beta we didn’t even want to fuck.” Suguru sighs with a smile, leaning an arm on the bar. “I guess they were just that good of a friend, huh.”

Satoru bites his lip, resting his face on his crossed arms, laid over the table. “Yeah. The best. The one person I never wanted to lose, no matter what. I was so pissed off that you were stealing their attention when you didn’t even like them back.”

“Yeah. I know why you didn’t follow me when I left.”

Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so morose. I was upfront with my plans from the beginning, you were the one who chose another path.”

“I thought we were friends, though?” A smile plays over Suguru’s lips. Nostalgic.

“So did they. You ditched them, too.” He glares at Suguru out of the corner of his eyes. “Sure, they were too cowardly to confess to you, but you could’ve said something. You never even told them you could smell it when you turned them on.”

“Ha! Neither did you.”

“Why the fuck would I? That shit pissed me off. You’re not that hot.”

Suguru grins at him, “I’m not? You know, I can smell it when you get hard, too – ”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“If it wasn’t for me, then it must have been for them.”

Surugu knows damn well how many times Satoru got a boner because of him. It gets Satoru all cute and irritable.

“Go fuck yourself, Suguru. You can change the subject all you want, but you still ditched both of us. You think I should’ve ditched them along with you?”

He looks down, at his almost-empty beer. “You think they wouldn’t have followed you, if you followed me?”

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Satoru takes one last drinkof his fruity cocktail. His cheeks are flushed a faint pink; painfully attractive, even now. Prettiest alpha he’d ever seen.

He can’t even deny you deserve an alpha like him.

Beautiful, confident, loyal Satoru, who adored Suguru all throughout high school, but wouldn’t leave you for him.

Satoru who cared way more about protecting your feelings than acting on his own. You who cared more about Satoru’s feelings than your crush.

That’s not the kind of friendship you can get just by being similar, by understanding each other. It’s something you raise by hand. Feed it, shelter it, tolerate it when it throws a fit. Learn with it, grow with it, care for it even when it’s shitty. There’s married couples who don’t try that hard.

If friendship is love, then you and Satoru had been in love for years, and Suguru was just the best friend.

“I texted them.” Satoru blurted out. “They’re picking me up tonight.”

“Oh?” Suguru gives him a sly glance. “You telling me after all these years, you’re finally going to shoot your damn shot?”

A scoff. “Nah. I mean – I told you. I really didn’t have that sort of feeling for them back then.”

“Oh, I know.” He rolls his eyes, “But I figured it was going to end like this when you didn’t follow me. If you weren’t willing to leave them for me, then who would you leave them for?”

“Cut the shit, Suguru. If you love someone you don’t make them choose. Whatever you felt for me, your plans for the future were more important than that.”

Suguru stares at his hands. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you?”

Satoru looks away.

They both know why he didn’t ask.

“Still… you’re not going to shoot your shot?”

The blush on Satoru’s cheeks seems a little redder.

His heart aches, because once upon a time, that look was for him. Little stolen moments in locker rooms or during movie nights. A ghost of a heart that was once his.

“I dunno, man. They’re a beta, and I think our bullshit from high school still has them kinda fucked up. Like, they probably think I’m only into omegas.”

Suguru snickers. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty fucking funny. You’ve crushed on everyone except omegas.”

“It’s not like that! You and them just happened to be an alpha and a beta!” Satoru’s words are impassioned – like they get when he’s tipsy, “I just – I just liked you. And now I just like them. Doesn’t matter what they are.”

Three years later, he finally has a confession. It’s a liked rather than like, but at least he’s got the words out of Satoru’s mouth.

You’ll get more than that, he knows. Satoru would move heaven and earth for you.

You’ll get a confession and more, a lot more than a few stolen kisses or heavy petting session here and there, as soon as Satoru’s finished being a huge pussy.

Suguru gets up, glancing at his friend slumped over the counter. Satoru is too busy groaning to see the wistful look on his face, but he does hear his parting words.

“Good luck, Satoru.”

You settle into his arms. Warm, fuzzy, sated. Satoru wraps his arms and legs around you like some kind of koala.

He nestles your head under his chin, pulling you tight against him so you can feel his purrs rumbling against you, light and soothing.

The air is full of contentment, the scent of an alpha pleased and purring, every breath warming you down to the bones – even if his body pressed against you does a good enough job of that.

“Mmm…” It’s hard to think, hard to form any words when all you want to do is relax into blissful slumber, “Satoru?”

Your answer is a squeeze, a moment of tightness that leaves you breathless, just for a little instant. No ability to move at all, and even less will to. You’d laugh, if you had the breath for it.

Instead, you hum, “You smell good.”

He purrs harder at that, happy pheromones, a compliment any alpha would be pleased with. Breathing deeply against you, like he wants to take you directly into his bloodstream.

And then, for a moment, he pauses.

“Oh… Hey,” Satoru asks lazily as he snuggles into you, “How did you know about the scarf and the sock?”

He’s going to remind you of how gross and needy he was while you’re all sticky and tired and stuck in bed with you? Typical Satoru.

“Mmmh.” It’s hard to talk, warm and cozy as you are, all nestled against him, “You reek. Probably because of your rut, too… could smell your cum a mile away.”

He hums in acceptance, and settles against you, ready to doze off.

For a moment, he’s silent, leaving the both of you to drift peacefully –

“EEEEHHH??”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #omegaverse #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #lemon #alpha gojo #beta reader #afab!reader #gn!reader

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airybcby · 10 months ago

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It's Nice to Have a 'Friend'

( soft launching with the haikyuu boys )

a / n — these are fun to make so i thought i'd do one for my favorite boys. find the blue lock version here !!

content — haikyuu characters x gn! reader, takes place during timeskip, fluff, tried to make it as gn! as possible, but the photos have women, lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — soft launching with the haikyuu boys <3

✿.｡. “ sun sinks down, no curfew, ” .｡.✿

has a great following for being 'aesthetic' even though they rarely try. most things they post have photos of things they've done in the week like pictures of their food or them working.

their followers are used to aesthetic photo dumps with 10 photos each that have no rhyme or reason to them, so when they get online and see a post from their favorite account with only 3 photos and the caption

" my love " with the song 'my love mine all mine' by mitski attached? there was immediate reactions, some trying to find out who this mystery person is while others seemed to be happy with just these little snippets of the relationship.

theyluvmeee: OMG?? anyone know who this is??

↳ anon2001: it's a soft launch for a reason. that's like- common sense i fear.

they don't think of themselves as a 'content creator', they just like posting their photos. however, they did like how much strangers on the internet would stand up for them and your relationship.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ AKAASHI KEIJI, ennoshita chikara, ARAN OJIRO, daichi sawamura

has a decent amount of followers, mostly just people they'd known in high school and family, but there were a few hundred people who followed for the cute quotes that they would post before one of their chaotic photo dumps.

their usual feed was filled with the first picture being a quote that really made you think and then the craziest pictures. them face down in a puddle after a night out? yep it's there. pictures of them at a scenic dog park? also there

people began following them for the stark contrast that showed in every post they made, but when they posted something with no quote and it was a soft launch? their fans had immediately blown up the comments.

volleyballfreak: A SOFT LAUNCH? with who? omg.

and they had replied to almost every comment asking just who you were with...

' my lover <3 '

oh he was down bad.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, aone takanobu, SUGAWARA KOSHI, osamu miya, NISHINOYA YUU, kita shinsuke, TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

so so so sooo many followers (that came with being a professional volleyball player you supposed) many people who didn't even enjoy volleyball followed them because of the silly stuff they posted.

their fans watched their stories where they would post memes and such, something that many pros didn't do on the daily...because they had a reputation to upkeep. to be fair, all of their followers never knew them to be the brightest, so nothing they posted caused up a stir.

until they posted photos they took with, what was supposed to be, some mystery person with the caption ' a soft launch on MY minecraft server ? '

and it would have been an AMAZING soft launch...if they didn't tag your PERSONAL ACCOUNT on every. single. picture.

you weren't a pro volleyball player, you weren't an actor, you weren't even a manager, nope! you were just some normal person who lives an everyday normal life.

they had the spirit, just not the execution, but that's why their fans (and you) loved them <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･BOKUTO KOTARO, atsumu miya, HINATA SHOYO, KANJI KOGANEGAWA

didn't get a chance to soft launch you before the paparazzi put out the tabloids of the both of you. the titles always saying something like "STAR VOLLEYBALL PLAYER WITH MYSTERY LOVER??"

the article was posted ten times over on every single social media platform there was, with many people with many different reactions replying to it

MSBYmomma: ur joking. he's literally mine

goofgoob: thank god one person on this team is in a loyal relationship.

the two of you hadn't even gotten the chance to open your own social medias before hundreds of texts invaded both of your phones. only from the people who knew of your relationship and were worried about the both of you.

so what did they do? reposted the photo on their story with two simple emojis...

"👍❤️"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, kageyama tobio, OIKAWA TORU, sakusa kiyoomi

✿.｡. “ twenty questions, we tell the truth. ” .｡.✿

i love soft launches and haikyuu <3

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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goodoldfashionlovercorpse · 10 months ago

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Casual (pt. 2)

pairing: Sirius Black x slytherin! potter! reader

summary: Y/n Potter has been in love with Sirius for as long as she's known him. During their 6th year at Hogwarts, they start hooking up. Sirius declares it casual, but are they both truly ok with this secret?

a/n: this is part two of my Sirius series! hope you enjoy. @hisparentsgallerryy and @planets-and-stars thanks for the support !!

warnings: angst, secret fwb situationship, jealousy, explicit language

Classes went on as normal: a few people passed while others clung for dear life. Unfortunately, Y/n shared a class with him, the one she fell for. She couldn’t pinpoint why she was glaring at him, maybe it was what Lucius had told her. All Sirius did was pretend she didn’t exist until the night. Somehow, he pays more attention to class when she’s in the room. James had sat next to her. She always felt guilty for hooking up with his best friend, he was such a good brother. Even when she was sorted, he bragged about his sister proudly, flaunting the fact she was the brains to his brawns. Sirius got paired with Snape, who was sending her glances that screamed “Help!” every time Sirius said something dumb. Gods, why did she stare at his lips? She always sent Snape a sorrowful expression, reassuring it’s just a partnership for the week. Potions had to be Snape’s and Sirius’s best class, so she didn’t worry that much.

“Ok, so, this week we’ll be brewing Amortentia. It’s powerful, so no one is allowed to drink any of it. Got that?” Slughorn asked, receiving hums from every student, “Right, now turn to page 201 and get started, you have all your ingredients set up. Have fun and remember, the first 3 groups to finish receive 5 house points each!”

As soon as Slughorn finished, James turned to the page. “Alright, I’ll dictate, you add. This should be finished by today, then ready by tomorrow.”

Y/n added the rose thorns, the pearl dust, and all the other ingredients, slowly stirring them. The twins looked at each other with puzzling gazes. “How is this gonna take people a week?”

“Maybe he wants it perfect?”

“Maybe.”

As the pair finished, Slughorn came behind them 20 minutes later. He congratulated the two and encouraged them to sniff. “What do you smell?”

James chimed up first, “Books, tea, that sweet scent of spring.” Ever the romantic, he described. From scents to scenarios, he gushed for 10 minutes as Lily stared at him, smiling. He played with his hands and then blushed once he was done. Turning to his sister, “And you, sis?”

Y/n went near and sniffed. She knew what she smelled, she knew who she smelled. But if Slytherins are taught one thing, it’s acting. “Some leather, a bit of peanut butter, and… dog?” She tried not to scrunch her nose, trying hard to come up with something, anything, to find someone else to match. Sirius was staring at her, his gaze locked on hers. “Maybe it’s Paul McCartney?” the crowd laughed. She stared at Sirius, no smile present on either faces.

Soon three more groups described their scents, the last one being Snape and Sirius. Snape described a simple smell, but she knew he smelled nothing, love just wasn’t his thing. Sirius, on the other hand, tried to finish it quickly. His hands were on his neck, resting on thin air as he bragged bout perfume and chocolate. The very things she liked. “I guess there’s the scent of a night out, doing makeup and dress-ups or whatnot,” he added, the corner of his eye directed at her. James was puzzled, staring Sirius down with pressed brows. She continued looking at Sirius’s table, seeing how Snape tried hiding under the table as girls came flocking towards their table.

“That’s so romantic!”

“I need to buy more perfume…”

“Hey, Sirius, wanna go out?”

Before you knew it, they were being whisked off by Prof. Slughorn to go to their desks. As class ended, only four out of ten groups had finished, much to her surprise. She started packing up, getting ready for her next class. Snape came up to her as James went over to Sirius. “Can’t believe I got paired with him.”

She shrugged, “You’re both top students, it can’t have been that bad.”

“It is when you’re stared at by everyone to smell something that’s not there.”

“Hey, everyone believed you.” she pats his back and smiles, gaining a half smile from Snape. The two went out of class, having no clue of Sirius staring at them, a layer of jealousy coated in his gaze. One that didn't go unnoticed by James. The Potter shoved his friend, mumbling something about ‘brotherly duties’. Perhaps tonight will be the night… then again, it was always casual.

Y/n and Snape went along with their classes, being joined by their other friends, but mainly just Lucius. Lucius was quite excited about the Ravenclaw party, and Snape planned on studying. Both gave her a glance, though. A sort of questioning look. “He’ll be there,” Lucius said.

She shrugged, looking down. It wouldn’t have made a difference, she would seen him tonight regardless of whether she attended, that’s how they worked. “I’ll probably go to help James and Lily.” she earned a shrug from Lucius, the other male yapping about homework and studies.

“We should start preparing for our test next week, though.”

“Relax, Sev, that’s days ahead.”

At least friendships weren’t casual, Y/n thought, laughing along with Lucius and hugging Snape. They departed at the common rooms, her having to go up. She smiled, maybe tonight will be about her.

#sirius black x potter!reader #sirius black x slytherin! reader #slytherin reader #potter reader #maraurders x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x slytherin reader #sirius black angst #sirius black x slytherin!reader #sirius black x reader angst

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shortbcofkoffee · 1 month ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | Next >

CW: Implied s/a and grooming (it's a misunderstanding), cursing

Jack Drake was not a fan of Bruce Wayne. For a few reasons. One, the man was annoying. He was loud and chaotic, seemingly having no care for social rules or stigmas. Jack’s seen more sex scandals about the man than he’s seen about a president. Two, the man was ditzy. He acted like a teenage girl, stumbling and blushing over the smallest things. If Jack didn’t know better, he’d think it was serious, but it so obviously had to be an act. No full-grown man who ran a company as big and successful as Wayne Enterprises could be as stupid as Bruce Wayne acted.

But lastly, and the worst of all, was the man’s relationship with Tim.

Tim, Jack’s son and the light of his life, spent way too much time with Bruce Wayne. Sometimes they went out together during the day, sometimes Bruce would pick him up from school, sometimes Tim would go to his house for dinner. It scared Jack. Everyone heard the rumors about Bruce, scooping up any blue-eyed, black haired boy off the street to come home with him. Jack hadn’t believed it before, he’d met Richard Grayson and Jason Todd a few times, and Tim used to hang out with the younger one at galas. They showed no inclination that they’d been abused, and Bruce always seemed much more level when they were around. Like, he finally had to be mature once he had children. Thought that could just be a public act. Jack found it funny at the time. It wasn’t so funny anymore.

Jack’s legs still weren’t all there. He’d gotten much, much better, but he still had his wheelchair on standby. Despite his physical therapist’s suggestion, he wanted to use his crutches for this upcoming gala. He and Tim had left a little early, so they were still sitting in their car, choosing to wait a bit before heading in.

“Dad, are you sure you don’t want your wheelchair? I’m sure no one would mind, I mean, Mrs. Donald has a wheelchair and no one’s said anything.” Tim frowned at him.

“Mrs. Donald is 86 years old. And I’ll be fine, Timmy, don’t you worry.” Tim gave him a look. “I’ll sit down if I need to. It’s not your job to worry about me, kiddo.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I’ll worry about who I want. And I think you should listen to your therapist.”

Jack hummed. Tim was very caring, always had been. Handsome, brilliant, creative, perfect Tim. Jack hated himself for taking so long to appreciate it. To appreciate everything about this amazing kid. When Tim was younger, the first thing he’d ask when Jack and Janet called was how they were doing and if they were eating well. Janet found it adorable and would joke about him mothering his mother. God, he missed that woman.

Tim and Jack entered the gala about ten minutes later. Jack hadn’t been to many since the Caribbean, and it wasn’t good to be out of the social loop. Usually, Janet would keep up with this sort of thing, and she’d be their people person. She’d lead conversations and hold a room while he talked business. As old-fashioned as it was, if two businessmen’s wives were friends, those two were more likely to work together. Janet was good at making friends. Tim was, too, but Jack didn’t want to count on him like that. Besides, it was rare that rich people brought their kids to galas. Just him, Wayne, and a couple of others.

Speaking of Wayne and holding a room, there was Bruce in the center, surrounded by women old enough to be his mother. He knew how to talk to people and how to entertain. One more thing Jack used to not mind, but now set a fire in his stomach. He looked over at Tim. The kid was looking in Bruce’s direction, frowning. He looked concerned… and nervous. Something spiked in Jack’s chest. Why was he nervous? What had Wayne done to make him nervous?

As if he could sense them, Bruce’s eyes rose to their direction and he beamed. He crossed the room quickly, waving goodbye to the old ladies he was talking to.

“Jack! Tim! Great to see you two.” He turned to Jack. Jack hated how this guy towered over him. Even though Bruce was a respectable distance away, Jack still had to tilt his head up a little. “I’m glad to see you’re healing well. I know Tim’s happy about it too, it’s all he ever wants to talk about.”

“Mr. Wayne-,” Jack started.

“Bruce,” Tim interrupted.

Bruce hummed an acknowledgement.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?,” Tim bit out.

“Course, kiddo. Jack, you don’t mind if I borrow Tim for a minute, do you?”

Jack wanted to say yes. He did mind. He still wasn’t certain of whatever the hell Tim was sneaking over to this guy’s manor for every other week. He didn’t know if he wanted to find out, he just wanted Tim to be safe. But they were at a gala. Everyone was watching everyone; if something happened, Jack would find out. And Bruce wasn’t stupid enough to do anything in public. He also didn’t appreciate Bruce calling Tim “kiddo.” That was his nickname.

“Not at all. I’m sure Tim would have more fun talking to you than chatting it up about business with some old men.” He shifted his weight on his crutches carefully so he could quickly pat Tim on the shoulder. “Have fun, son.”

With that, Bruce and Tim walked away, Tim whisper-yelling at him the whole time. Jack couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but he kept his eyes locked on them until he couldn’t. Eventually, he found himself wrapped in conversation with George Tonkach, the owner of a pharmacy chain. Jack often sold things to his company, first aid kits, bandages, gauze. All of those things. When he spoke, his accent was heavy, from Wisconsin. Small talk was usual for this sort of thing, just a bit of rapport to keep things light. They didn’t need to be friends, but it was good to be on good terms.

“And you know I’d like to keep the gossip to the ladies, but I gotta say, Jack,” George shook his head. “I’m worried about your boy. He’s always hanging around that Wayne.”

Jack huffed. “So I’ve noticed.”

George’s lips pursed. “I’d be careful with that. I’m telling you this as your friend, the two kids he had were injured more often than they weren’t when they were with him. And the second one, Jason I think, Wayne took him right off the street, he wasn’t even in the system.”

Before Jack could start to respond, a woman popped up next to him. Mrs. McDonna. “Are you talking about Wayne’s boys?” She looked up at Jack. “You need to be careful Jack, Lord knows what he does to those children. Playboy, recluse, multi-millionaire. Picked up that Jason as soon as the other one got too old for him. And you know, Tim’s always looked a bit young for his age, I’d worry about him. When you were… incapacitated,” You can say I was in a coma. “he was always over at Wayne’s house. Practically lived there. And you know my daughter-in-law is a teacher at his school, the boy barely showed up. And he’d always fall asleep when he did. Wayne must have been doing who knows what to keep him up all night.”

She hummed at the end of her speech, implying one of Jack’s biggest fears. The thought had unfortunately crossed Jack’s mind more than once. He didn’t want it to be true, so he shut down the idea as soon as it came. Even an inkling that anything remotely sexual was going on made his blood boil.

“I’ll worry about my own son, thank you,” he gritted out, harsher than he meant to. “I’m going to go sit down. Still healing, y’know?”

Mrs. McDonna huffed as he began to walk off, slower than he'd wish, stupid crutches. “I'm only saying to keep an eye out. Though he's had his claws in Tim for years now. I'd be surprised if something hadn't already happened. I heard the first time your son went over there was because he didn’t have enough groceries for the week when your maid was sick. Usually, a child would go to their parents for that, no? I wonder where you were.”

Jack swallowed the urge to call her a bitch for even insinuating something like that. Yes, he could’ve been more present before, it was what he was working on now. But he’d never neglect his son to the point he needed to go next door to ask for food. But he wasn’t going to start an argument here. Not in front of all these people.

“Mrs. McDonna, that's insanely inappropriate,” George said for him. Mrs. McDonna said something in her defense, but Jack wasn’t listening.

Jack liked to think Tim would come to him if something was happening. He knew he hadn't been the best father, but Tim had to know he could trust him. That Jack would never judge him for anything. He sat down by the food, away from most people. His eyes scanned the crowd again until he found Tim and Bruce. They were by themselves again, they'd been moving in and out of groups the whole night. No one acted like that was unusual. From what he’d heard, Tim had been coming with Bruce occasionally for the time Jack was in a coma. Did everyone think like Mrs. McDonna? Because if they did and they saw those two doing as they please without saying a word, there was a bigger problem.

Bruce's back was to Jack at an angle where he could still see the man's smiling, yapping face. Tim smiled back, light and relaxed, nothing like his gala face. It was a good look on him. If only it was directed at anyone else. Bruce raised his hand and Jack watched in slow motion as his fingers grazed Tim’s neck before settling where it connected to the boy’s shoulder. Tim flinched, ever so slightly, though it seemed like the biggest thing in the world to Jack. But he brushed Bruce’s hand away with the same nonchalance he would a piece of lint.

He lightly punched Bruce in the stomach, and the man frowned. The first frown of the night. Jack almost panicked, but it fled from his face as fast as it arrived, and he laughed. He ruffled Tim’s hair much to Tim’s chagrin. Tim frowned and desperately tried to fix his hair back into place. When the laughter died down Bruce put a hand on Tim’s shoulder and said something Jack wished he could hear. Because Tim went fully flush, pink down his neck, and shoved Bruce away.

Jack stood, swallowing his anger for just a few more minutes. Just an hour. So they could get home and Jack could freak out in his room. Tim noticed him as he came over and left Bruce’s side. He said something to Bruce before speed walking in Jack’s direction.

“Dad? Is something wrong?” He was still blushing and Jack fought the urge to log one of his crutches at Bruce.

“Yeah, kiddo, my legs are killing me. I think I’m ready to head out.”

“I told you, we should’ve brought your wheelchair in!,” he started, then paused. Tim stared at him like his head was on upside down. “You want to leave early? We’ve never left a gala before ten, even when I was a kid.”

“You are a kid, and I wasn’t fighting my physical therapist back then.” He bumped Tim on the shoulder. “Let’s stop bothering Mr. Wayne and go home, yeah?”

Tim nodded carefully. “Kay. Just let me tell him we’re leaving.”

Before Jack could protest, Tim was already beelining to Bruce. They said their goodbyes, Bruce patted Tim on the back, and waved at Jack, then he went off towards the champagne. At least he waited to be away from Tim to drink.

“What were you two talking about?” Jack asked on their way to the car.

Tim stuttered for a second before talking. “Uh, the… You know that field trip I went on in 8th grade? To Japan?”

“Yes?” Jack had forgotten about that. Tim and his class had a full expense-paid trip to Japan for a week. It was really sudden, they left the day after permission slips went out. But what did that have to do with Bruce?

“Well, Bruce funded that. He wanted to send my class on another trip as a gift or something. We were thinking Germany. He wanted my help to plan it. Then we talked about my friends for a bit because I asked if I could share rooms with them.”

Well, that raised more questions than it answered. Bruce Wayne was sending his kid on international trips and wasn't disclosing that? Sure it was the whole class but Tim said it was a gift for him. Also 8th grade? How long had these two been close and why hadn’t Tim said anything? There would be no point in getting angry at Tim, Jack didn't want to get angry at Tim.

“Your friends? Bernard and Darla?”

“I have more than two friends, Dad,” Tim huffed as he slid into the car. “But mainly them, yeah. And Ives. And Kevin and Callie a little bit, but yeah.”

Jack hummed. “Taking a trip with girls.” He pretended to wipe away a tear. “My son is really growing up.”

“Oh my God, Dad, shut up!” Tim shoved his shoulder, ears red. “It's not like that, I'm dating Steph.”

“Oh, yeah, that blonde girl. How's she doing?”

Tim smiled. A real, dopey, puppy love smile. Jack couldn’t help but smile in return. “She's fine. We're going out tomorrow.”

“Then it's good we left early, then. So you can get to sleep and have plenty of energy tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

#this is a 3+1 and the next part will be out like tomorrow #jack drake #tim drake #bruce wayne #jack drake pov #fic #robin tim drake #timsteph #3+1 #tim drake fic

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almondmilktargaryen · 8 months ago

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Duty & Sacrifice (Part Three)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Fem!Reader

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: Mourning child loss (written by someone who's not a parent), lying

Word count: 4.6k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Just as when he left Flea Bottom, the guards do not look twice at Aemond as he walks through the Keep. They do not see his face, nor the two cloaks he wore (Criston gave him his to hide the blood). No, all they see is his boots as they bow upon passing. The only words they utter are, “My prince.” Aemond faces forward. His eye does not stray. And his head stays up.

He turns sharply after climbing the stairs, finding his chamber doors in the east wing. The guard outside mimics the expected behavior before Aemond pushes himself through.

Out of all things unexpected in one night, Floris being absent was jarring. She sticks to a routine, just like him. With the candles already snuffed out, the smell of smoke had been replaced by the open air from their balcony. She should’ve retired hours ago.

Perhaps the gods wanted to leave him alone after… all of it, reminding him how alone he truly was. Still, Aemond looks around, peering past corners and squinting into dark areas at the far ends of their chambers, straining his vision with the distance as he feels the chains in his chest. They weighed down his heart and lungs as he staggered and lifted the bedcovers. Caution camouflages with his grief and takes hold just as strongly. Floris could be anywhere.

The weight, the chains stacked on themselves. Aemond discards the cloaks and mixes them in their shared dirty clothes. The view of King’s Landing taunts him; the capital he once saw from a safe distance nearly two years ago. Even in daylight, the people were nothing more than specks of dust. None of them could hurt him. He never thought it would be the reason, once again, why he felt this way. It was only more proof that he has not changed, still stupid. Three and ten, self-loathing, and stupid.

Luc used to represent his self-loathing. Now he sees Alyssa.

She was warm whenever he held her to his chest, like the sun washing over the cityscape. She was a blaze as fiery as her hair. Now she’s snuffed out like the candles in his chambers, but this time far away from home.

Aemond grips the barrier of the balcony as he falls. The stone scratches his skin as he clings to it like a cliff’s edge, yet he sinks down and down. A heave escapes him, squeezed out of him as the imagery of it all floods back, every angle pouring in as he convinces himself there was something he could have done. Before the alleyway, before Chataya’s. Surely, there was a step he missed. He had to have, so he retraced it all while shivering, like winter was here.

The door creaked open, making Aemond’s head spring up like a deer hearing a twig’s snap. He plugged his grief, picking himself up in the shroud of darkness and rubbing his face.

“Aemond!” Floris’ silhouette is barely in view, but he still recognizes it as she pushes her bangs from her forehead. Her rapid breaths grow louder with each step toward him before she’s fully in the moonlight. She’s in her nightgown. The black one from her mother that matches her hair, both now in crumpled waves. “Where have you been? Daeron has been in a state demanding to see you.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

A hand remains in her hair, the other on her hip. “He won’t stop crying. A nightmare, maybe? I put him to bed hours ago, and the handmaidens said he woke up screaming.”

“I’ll go to him.”

“Wait.” A palm meets his chest, square in the center. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond stares into the dark of their chambers just above her head before falling to her blue eyes. It was wiser not to speak.

The tips of her fingers are cold as they brush under his eye. Her short nails barely scrape his unmarred cheek. The wetness shines under the moon as she turns her palm to him.

He pulled out his usual excuse, putting a hand over his patch. “Eye pain.”

“Eye pain?”

“Yes.”

“Your upsets usually force you to rest, not tears.” She observes the residue before wiping it on her gown. “I haven’t seen it this bad since Baelon’s last name day.”

“Well, it happened. It comes in waves. Or sometimes a moment’s fit.” Another way to cover himself in the future. He’s discovered grief rises in him at inconvenient times. Gods love to torture. “I can’t control when they occur, Floris.”

“I never said you could. I just—”

“I need to see Daeron.”

The children sleep in the west wing of the Keep now. After what happened to Jaehaerys, Aemond insisted their rooms be away from the royal quarters. He made sure there was a guard at their doors day and night. Jaehaera included. Tonight, however, there were two guards outside Daeron’s door, appearing dazed and confused. Yet they still had the sense to bow to their prince.

Aemond opened the door to find five handmaidens completely helpless. But like the guards outside, Aemond was also confused when finding his son not screaming. His body only bounces in place like he had the hiccups. His head was down and he gripped his little golden blanket.

“He’s tired out his throat, my prince,” one handmaiden says. Her voice shakes.

Daeron looks up when hearing the title. His little eyes are puffy from crying so hard, and Aemond’s heart, merely hanging by chords, can still twist in on itself as he watches his boy’s lip quiver.

“Leave us, please,” Aemond says.

“Forgive us, my prince. We tried our best.”

Daeron rubs an eye with the heel of his hand. “Papa, my… throat hurts.” His voice sounds like he swallowed gravel from the training yard.

“I’m sure, sweetling. Hold on,” Aemond turns his head to the group. “My son is thirsty. Please, one of you fetch him some water. Add some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.”

Their curtsies blend with their departure. The door shuts behind him.

The candle on Daeron’s bedside table revealed the redness across his face, hot and sticky with tears. Aemond walks to the foot of the bed. He’s careful not to let his weight go too suddenly, recalling the height difference this time between this bed and Baelon’s. He’s not hesitant though with stretching out his arms. “Come here,” he says.

Daeron springs from his covers, leaving behind the small golden blanket as he crawls into Aemond’s lap. He hugs him at the neck while Aemond holds him at the waist. It’s a long hug, something they both need. He smells like outside, earthy yet sweet. He lets himself feel the boy’s fragile ribs steadying themselves. His father was here now. There was no need to worry. So they took in air as they needed it—with ease. When he pulls back, Aemond grabs the spare handkerchiefs left behind. Daeron still sniffled, but refused to blow his nose. Aemond pinches it instead.

“What’s upsetting you so much?”

“Am I to be Lord of Storm’s End?”

“What?”

Snot dribbles on the handkerchief. “I had a dream.”

Aemond cocks his head. “Tell me about it.”

“I had a dream that… that we went to Storm’s End to see Uncle Royce. But I was alone. And-and—”

“It’s alright.” Aemond rubs his son’s back. “It’s alright.”

“You wouldn’t let me fly Morning. I couldn’t get back home.”

Aemond gave pause as he listened to Daeron. The boy’s lip quivers again as Aemond’s thoughts swirl, shushing his son as he remembers Helaena. Aemond clears his throat. He smiled down at his son. “I know what this is,” he says with an exhale. “Come with me.” He holds him close as he stands up, walking across the rooms to settle at his window, the other side of King’s Landing before them. Aemond used Daeron’s fleshy arm to point. “What’s that building there?”

“S-Sept?”

“That’s right. The Grand Sept. Your Aunt Helaena is there. You never got the chance to meet her.” He petted Daeron’s head, white fluffy hairs that swept to the front and covered his forehead. He looks back up at Visenya’s Hill. The sept’s cylindrical corners and golden domes draw eyes to the center of the city. One of them held three bejeweled urns with their ashes inside, and Aemond dares not sniffle. “She would have dreams like yours, except she would often be awake. They would overwhelm her all the same. We didn’t understand them.”

“What happened?” He doesn’t look up at Aemond when he asks, only straight ahead at the sept. Meanwhile, Aemond blocks the memories; gore and blood still trailed the back of his mind if he ventured far enough. His leg bounces as he exhales slowly through his mouth, sounding like a haunting wind. Daeron didn’t notice. Aemond couldn’t gather an answer. What could he say? His sister went insane. She killed herself. He found her on Maegor’s spikes. She blamed herself for something that was his fault, and he never got to apologize.

“She lost her sons in the last war. Your cousin Jaehaera’s brothers.”

“Were they soldiers?”

“No, no.” He’s perfectly between Jaehaerys and Maelor in age. The ages they remain for the rest of time. He skips that. “But she loved them so much, losing them was too much to bear for her.” He rests his chin on Daeron’s head, just catching the tear streaking down his cheek before it dripped onto his son’s scalp. Observing the sept again, he longed to be ignorant of such despair. He shook Alyssa from his mind (as best as he could) to come back. “That’s how I feel about you.”

Daeron relaxed a little, his back touching Aemond’s chest. “But what about—” he coughs. “Uncle Royce.”

Aemond ignored the name. “These dreams can be very vivid. About things we already know. Your uncle named you heir, so you will be Lord of Storm’s End one day, yes. But you will go when you are ready.” He kissed Daeron’s head, inhaling his scent as he tried sniffling subtly. “We will ensure your brother receives proper training in royal proceedings as king. Your mother and I will ensure you’re prepared as a lord.”

Daeron doesn’t speak. He picks at the leather of Aemond’s jerkin.

Aemond, in return, hugs him tight with both arms. He gets close to his ear. “You’re not leaving me for a long, long time. Is that what you needed?”

He finally nods. His little white sideburns tickle his nose.

“Good. Because it’s the truth.” He picks him up again. “Now, time for bed.” His sniffling boy buried his head into his neck as he cuddled close, his fingers wrapped around the back. It was painful to do so, he could admit, but he still pried him off. His fingers slipped off him like broken stitches as he made him settle back in bed. He was reluctant, but gave him the golden one, avoiding the black stag sewn in the corner. He kissed the boy one more time before walking to the door.

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“Uncle Royce. Where is he?”

“I assume at home.”

“But in my dream, I didn’t see him there. I said I was alone.”

Aemond blinks rapidly. “Perhaps… you didn’t venture far enough to find him.”

He rubs the satin edge of the Baratheon blanket.

“He loves you very much, Daeron. He wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“I know. I just don’t feel like he’s there.”

Aemond said nothing, only watched his son. His purple eyes, swollen and exhausted, darted up at Aemond briefly. They eventually went back down as he pulled his bigger blankets over his lap. Aemond could feel there was something else there, more his son wanted to say. And Aemond, for all the love he bears for his children, didn’t want to hear it tonight. So, he slowly turns on his heels.

“Papa?”

He suppressed his curse. “Yes?”

“Was… Aunt Helaena… were all her dreams true?”

Aemond swallowed thickly as he saw his wife do hours before he left for Flea Bottom. The truth is painful to keep down as he hears Helaena’s voice speaking of rats, then Jaehaerys’ head rolling on the floor just hours later. Still, Aemond looks his son in his beautiful purple eyes as he sternly says, “No. Now go to bed.”

Daeron doesn’t move for a moment, but eventually lays down. Neither of them say goodnight.

Finally, Aemond exits and heads back to his room. Keeping his head up, he pushes down his anguish with each step. He’s not out yet.

Floris barely waited for the door to close before she pounced. “Where have you been?” She is now the starkest thing in the room, all the candles alight again and casting a deep orange across their chambers and she is as dark as tonight’s sky. Only her cream skin contrasted with her hair and attire.

“I told you,” Aemond said. “At a meeting with the City Watch.”

“Her arms crossed over her small belly. “For two hours?”

“Yes.”

“When have you had a City Watch meeting last two hours?”

“Just now.”

“Aemond.”

“Floris, please.” He walks past her, cornering himself on the damn balcony. He lacks the courage to even glance at the city, choosing the brush below instead.

“What did this meeting consist of?” Her voice gets closer.

“My business with the City Watch.”

“Our baby boy wailed for his father.” Aemond can hear the way she bares her teeth. “And wherever this City Watch meeting occurred in the Keep, you were nowhere to be found.”

“It was a meeting in the city.” He spat out the first retort in his mind. “A dire meeting.”

“What could be so dire that you could not tend to your own son?”

“Someone killed a baby.”

The brewing storm halted with a catch in her breath. Her suspicion, though, is still strong around her. Aemond could smell it like rain in the air. He didn’t speak further. Rather, he found the nearest chair and fell into it. The barrier’s small columns blocked the city, similar to a cell as he thought of the woman he loved near the Old Gate. He cannot tell which one is the prisoner, as he pressed his temple with two fingers.

Floris crouched in her gown. Her gaze was heavy as Aemond did everything to keep from letting unnecessary information slip from him. “We took care of the killer. That’s what matters.”

Floris’ pale hand meets the crook of his arm. A thumb doesn’t brush back and forth like it did when his mother succumbed to her fever. The other arm does not wrap him in closer like it did when his nightmares of war jolted him and woke them both. Her thick brows didn’t slant in sympathy. They were straight and stern. “Whose baby was it?”

“What?”

“Whose baby was it?”

Aemond rips his arm away, the leather of his sleeve squeaking sharply from her grip. “What relevance is that?”

“Because you’re a kinslayer.” It rolls off her tongue so naturally.

“I’ve told you not to—”

“It’s what you’re known for, Aemond. I don’t understand how one baby would concern you.”

Aemond slams a fist on the arm of the iron chair as he stands, turning his back to his wife before facing her again. “You know I lost my nephews in the Dance.”

“After killing another.”

“Don’t!” His fingers curl into a fist. It’s when his father crosses his mind that he throws the force against his hip and lets out a shaky exhale. “Floris.”

“With your brother’s bastards rotting in the alleyways, I just don’t understand the difference.” She picks herself up, pushing with her knees and holding her belly. Aemond doesn’t help her.

“Because she wasn’t a bastard.” He spits out the words. Another lie, but he doesn’t care.

“Then whose baby was it?”

The chamber doors groan slowly. Aemond doesn’t move from his wife, but refuses to answer. Even as he sees her anger boil her skin and streak her cheeks, he keeps his mouth shut and watches the doors.

“Forgive me, my prince. Princess. I do not mean to disturb.”

“Cole.”

Even in a tunic and linen breeches, he stands like he wears his Kingsguard armor: feet apart, hands collected at his front. No blood in sight, and his hair is disheveled as if someone tore him from bed.

“Leave us,” Floris snaps over her shoulder.

“Cole, what news?”

He delays in reply, clearing his throat. “Once again, we require your presence, my prince.”

“With what?” Aemond slips around Floris before she can stop him.

“With, uh, burial arrangements.”

Aemond stood still, frozen.

“If the baby has a family, they can decide for themselves,” Floris says. “I don’t understand why such matters require my husband.”

“The family is quite… distraught, princess. As a mother, I’m sure you can understand the idea of such pain.”

Floris’ eyes falter slightly to the floor before glaring back at Criston

“The maesters have wrapped the body and prepared her for her final journey.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond says.

Floris snatches Aemond at the arm. “No!” Her heels skid on the stone floor.

“Do you wish to see the child’s body yourself?” Aemond snaps back at her. “For proof she’s real and your husband has a heart?”

He expected Floris to let him go, in every sense of the phrase. But her small fists only coiled tighter around his forearm. Everything hard about her expression fractured before him. The blue in her eyes glisten brilliantly as she shakes. “Please, Aemond.”

“It won’t take long, princess. I assure you. Your husband will be back soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Aemond sighs. But he looks his wife in the face as he pulls his arm from her hold a second time. He walks to Criston.

“Please.”

It falls on deaf ears.

Neither speak a word as they make their way through the Keep, nor create any sense of urgency with their footsteps. The only ones who look them in the face are a number of Gold Cloaks, either nodding or appearing extra sullen.

They don’t exit through the front doors. No disguises with them now. Instead, the pair navigate through Maegor’s tunnels to find their escape, opening one (of many) secret doors. The scale of Aegon’s High Hill meets them, the white waves of the Blackwater and a bobbing rowboat just below.

“How did you do it? Is Alyssa—”

“Not now.”

Criston jumps down first, landing on a small area of flat rock. He scales down the small mountain with ease, and Aemond follows with enough distance to not disturb each other’s footing. They hug the jagged walls and Aemond keeps his eye focused down on his own feet, his impaired sight working against him more than ever, with only moonlight just barely revealing shadows here and there. Criston even turned around to help him with some of the hill’s slimmer edges, but he refused, wanting to retain his focus. Over time (and with an absurd amount of patience), they meet at the bottom. They let the steep decline guide them to the small beach, meeting the rowboat.

“We have paid some Gold Cloaks to act as alibis in case your wife wants to inquire. They have already spread the word to others.”

The pools of Floris’ Baratheon blue eyes stick with him. She barely faltered upon word of her father’s fall in battle, nor a tear shed at his funeral. She maintained a grace fit for an unmoving force like her. Yet it was Aemond who pushed her tonight. He pushed her to tears. “And the maesters?” He inquires while clearing his throat. “What you said back there, that was true?”

Criston stretches his arms out to steady the boat. “Watch your step,” he tells him. But before Aemond can even take a step, he’s holding out his hand. Aemond looks down at it.

“I can get in fine on my own, Cole.”

“Just…” He gestures again and keeps it out until Aemond reluctantly takes it, one palm meeting the other. Criston guides him in and continues holding tight as the wood creaks under his boots. He doesn’t let go until Aemond sits down, the boat wobbling. Then Criston steps in on the other side, the Blackwater just missing his ankles, rocking the boat all the same. He grips the edges as he steadies it before reaching down.

Even the late night couldn’t hide the bundle of white waxy cloth, the small bloodless being that he held himself just hours ago. He can still feel the phantom wriggling in his arms from her twin’s screams. Now she is here, still. Still and cold as Criston handed her over. But even as the wind blows, Aemond hovers over her to shield her from the chill. He whispers to her as he does.

“I asked Maester Orwyle to wrap her, so we have another alibi should we need it. With her… injury…”

Aemond traces over her eye. Where her eye would be.

“There was no reason to suspect she was anything but a peasant child.”

“And Royce?”

“The less you know, the better.” Criston then pulls their weight with the boat’s oars as Aemond’s fingers brush the outline of his daughter’s face. The noise of moving water surrounds them as he pictures her. He pulled her into the world first, and he never thought bringing his third child into the world would affect him as deeply as his first two. He never imagined she would leave the world the way she came: wet and screaming.

It wasn’t until Criston docked the boat on the other side of the bay that he thought about asking where he—they—were being taken. He still stood unsteadily when stepping out, eyeing the breathing mountain amongst the young trees: his Vhagar. White birds that were perched on her spine flew when she picked up her head. She doesn’t yawn as she normally does when she wakes up, leaving Aemond to wonder, again, just what they’re doing here.

She peers from her high vantage point, neck fully stretched out as her acid green eyes peer at them both, watching them trudge through the brush of her dwelling. She sniffed the air harshly, sounding like a long hiss if Aemond wasn’t looking. Criston continues pushing the vegetation aside (as he had clearly done before, given the faint imprints of feet in the lush grass). It’s not until they make a circle around her that he sees the pyre; a shadow of dry black timber. Thick logs made the foundation as smaller sticks crossed each other to make the bed.

“She was a Targaryen,” Criston says. “She deserves a proper sendoff.”

Aemond clings to the cloth, securing her against his chest as if he is concealing her under his cloak all over again. He stares at the stick bed, and Vhagar lying behind it. Her chest rumbles, something like a hum that causes the earth to tremor under them. Her neck cranes down for a closer look, and Aemond can see the slashes in her pupils as he feels the creaking of her ancient joints when she tries standing.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond tries adding some force behind his High Valyrian.

She doesn’t listen. One foot forward, and the ground quakes. Roots and leaves shiver. The length of yellow teeth come into view as she takes another sharp breath.

“Lykirī!”

Still nothing. Her snout is inches from his forehead as her sniffs are smaller and more rapid. Her pupils drop to his chest, then back to him as she nudges him. Aemond has to step back to replant himself, but doesn’t order her to be still. His hold on Alyssa remains firm, closer to his chest than her mouth. She closes her lips, and the vibrancy of her eyes disappears when they do the same. Aemond’s forehead meets her snout, and Vhagar is silent as Aemond keeps his sobs down. He clenches his teeth hard and his jaw already aches from the tension.

Eventually, Vhagar steps back, leaving Aemond to walk to the pyre. He was not sure how long it took him to get there. Neither Criston nor Vhagar spoke. The strain from his temples to his eye, and now his jaw, made every step feel glacial. But eventually he did. He couldn’t imagine the sticks being more comfortable than that cot, but he didn’t pick her back up. He swallowed the snot and bile, meeting in the middle of his throat as he stepped back. Criston stood next to him. Vhagar looked at him.

“Dracarys.” He orders it as pathetically as he did before.

Again, she doesn’t follow him. She opens her mouth with no dragonfire. Her massive head twitches to one side, looking at him as she did the first time he ordered her to fly at Driftmark. But just as Aemond can feel the ache in her bones, she can feel the chains in his chest.

Neither of them wants to do this.

Aemond takes a breath, swallowing something like courage. “Dohaerās, Vhagar! Dracarys!”

Her head drew back with another hiss and her pupils thin out before her eyes close. Her neck curls back and she stretches her jaw. It’s always slow. Even the green color that lights up her mouth. He would be convinced that the pyre lit at the same speed, but Aemond fell into the grass; his knees giving in like the wood did under the intense heat.

Criston is still there as Aemond sobs freely, the sounds of it drowned out by the cracks of sticks and logs. He holds Aemond tightly as he buries his face into Criston’s shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” he tells him. “She’s ascending to the heavens where she belongs. No one can hurt her anymore.”

Aemond blocks his nose in the cloth of Criston’s shirt, sucking in air through his mouth so he doesn’t smell any of it. He remembers how Helaena wailed when she held Jaehaerys, his body limp and the blood soaking into her dress. The woman he loves screamed the same way. The cry of emptiness, a gaping wound inside. Aemond doesn’t have the lungs to scream like that. He just thinks of Helaena on the spikes. “I have to go to her,” he finally says. He pulls away, and Criston’s silhouette is nothing but a bleary shadow. “I have to before—”

“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”

“It doesn’t mean she won’t need me. We still have a child to take care of.”

“She has a child to take care of. You have three. Two of them are here. Another will be in the coming months, and your wife does not need the extra stress of questioning your whereabouts.”

Criston now sandwiches Aemond’s face between his hands. He doesn’t scream at him, but the force of the bones in his hands is hard against his skull.

“Don’t make me build a pyre for your fifth child, Aemond.”

His voice catches in his throat. Neither mother of his children wishes to see him now. Helaena once felt the same, but Aemond’s mistakes called him and Aegon to war, leaving her to grieve on her own. He turns to the pyre, a green haze that occasionally spits at the sky. The smoke burns his nose, making his eye clench shut against the sting. In that darkness, he remembers his mother and the knife to Rhaenyra’s eye. She understood sacrifice. And it was now his turn.

Criston stands up. His outline is still blurry and black, but Aemond can just see his hand outstretched for him. “Your family needs you.”

Aemond remembered his role. And he took Criston’s hand.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn @immyowndefender @teal-anchor @dixie-elocin

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arc-misadventures · 7 months ago

Note

Can we have Jaune and Coco rag on Cinder for her outfit she wears to blend in at Beacon? Its not very good looking.

(Also is it offensive to have Coco do a gay disappointed stare?l

We Need To Talk

Cinder: Alright, we've got our uniforms, now it's time to blend in with the rest of the students.

Mercury: This should be easy enough to do.

Emerald: They'll just see us as any other student.

Neo: (Rolls her eyes as she fellows these three imbecile)

Cinder: Alright, now all we have to do is mingle a little so we don't stand out as a bunch of loners. Let's ming...?

Jaune: ...

Coco: ...

Cinder: Uhhhh... Hi...?

Jaune: You are wearing... a school uniform...?

Cinder: Of course I am. I'm a student of, Haven Academy, so of course I wear their school uniform.

Jaune: ....

Coco: ...

Coco: It doesn't fit her.

Cinder: What?

Jaune: And, yet... it does?

Coco: It's her face.

Jaune: Partly.

Cinder: My face, what's wrong with my face?

Coco: She looks too old to be a student.

Cinder: Old?!

Coco: But still, the school uniform does fit her.

Jaune: In the porn film category?

Mercury: Pfft!

Coco: Yes, that's why it fits so well! She looks like she's the star in a porn film!

Cinder: EXCUSE ME?!

Jaune: But, not the bland crap you'll find in, Atlas: Girl with pigtails being done in by the school jock.

Coco: Of course not! She has too much class for that! She is more like the kind you find in, Mistral. Where she seduces the shy classmate with a massive package, or is seduced by her teacher showing her how much of a daddy complex she has~!

Cinder: A what complex?

Jaune: Or, she's the milf seducing her daughters schoolmate while wearing her old uniform.

Coco: Nice~!

Cinder: W-W-What...?

Mercury: Piftails?

Emerald: Daddy complex?!

Neo: (Silent laughing!)

Jaune: Overall grading?

Coco: Seven out of ten. She looks good in that school uniform, but she doesn't look that good in it. You?

Jaune: Six out of ten. She just looks too old. Like five years to old to be in school.

Coco: Agreed.

Jaune: There you go, six point five out of ten. Congratulations!

Cinder: Thank you...?

Coco: So, lunch?

Jaune: Yes, I am quite famished.

Cinder: W-What just happened?

Yang: Whoa, that was close...

Cinder: Close?

Yang: Yeah, those two are part of, Beacons Fashion Trio. They judge everyone's fashion, and based on their verdict. You can suffer grave consequences based upon your fashion choices.

Emerald: They judge you based on your fashion taste; What do they do, say really mean things?

Mercury: write you a strongly worded letter?

Emerald: Pfff!

CEM: Hahahahaha!

Yang: They water boarded me.

CEM: HAHA-Ha...?!

Emerald: T-They did what?

Yang: They waterboarded me... for wearing fucking crocs.

Cinder: Y-You're kidding me...

Yang: By the gods I wish I was... So you lot better be careful. If you dress unfashionably... You will learn true fear...!

CEMN: ...

Emerald: The fuck is with these people?!

Cinder: Don't worry, I'm certain nothing bad will happen. Afterall we all dress fabulously~!

~~~

Cinder: BERERERE!?! GERGHERGHERH?!!

(Splash)

Cinder: Bwah! (Cough, Cough, Cough!)

Coco: A leather vest, a leather pauldron, grey tight sports pants, high heel shoes, and fingerless bicker gloves... What the fuck were you think that, that was fashionable?!

Cinder: It was just an outfit!

Jaune: It was a crime against fashion!

Coco: And, don't even get me started on the bandages you're using as a bra! Lady, ditch the bandages! There isn't even anything to show!

Cinder: Hey?!

Coco: Why are you even associated with this walking trash bag, Roman? I thought you had better taste then this?!

Cinder: Roman...?

Roman: Hey, she threatened me into working with her! I've been trying to get out of working with her cronies. You think I want to work with this slob!

Cinder: You betrayed me...?

Roman: I may have made a lot of money working for you. But, the threats to my, and Neo's lives..

Neo: (Smiles, and waves~!)

Roman: And, your plans to destroy, Vale have soured my moods to keep working with you. But, your taste in fashion?! That's too far for me missy!

Cinder: What?!

Glynda: She was going to do what? Roman, why didn't you tell me, I would have dealt with her?

Roman: Her fiery red dress was fashionable enough I let it slide, but this! This thing crosses the line!

Glynda: Understandable. Now tell me what it was she was planning, and I'll get you a plea deal, to avoid a lengthy jail sentence.

Roman: Deal!

Cinder: TRAITOR!

Roman: Oh, pish posh. I was never on your side to begin with. The only side I'm on was mine, Neo's, and fashion!

Cinder: When I get out of here, I am going to gut you like a...?!

Roman: Blah blah blah! Dunk her, Neo!

Cinder: Wait no!

(Spash!)

Cinder: BERGERHUR?!! DURGEHEREDEREDGUR?!!! BUDERDGHER?!

Glynda: She's holding her under rather violently...

Roman: Bitch melted her ice cream.

Glynda: A true monster...

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #coco adel #cinder fall #mercury black #emerald sustrai #glynda goodwitch #roman torchwick #rwby neo

281 notes · View notes

bkglovergirl · 1 year ago

Text

♡𓂃Water guns

Bakugou X Reader

𓏲Aizawa gives you and katsuki a second chance and with that it leads to a downward spiral of things.

Word count; 4.4k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

“I’m giving you two a second chance.” Aizawa is in front of you and Katsuki, holding your hero suits. Katsuki had gone to Aizawa privately and asked for the second scenario, claiming he trusted you and that this whole situation wasn't on you. He threatened Aizawa not to tell you he went to him before Aizawa threw him out of the room. “A pair from class 1B is the villain. You won’t get to know who the pair is and this training is taken place in a facility outside of the school.” He tosses the cases at you. “Get changed and we’ll head over to the facility.”

All of class 1A steps off the bus. Everyone is here so Aizawa can prove a point. Mess up and ask for a chance. The entire class has to be behind for you guys to get that chance. You and Katsuki are in your suits and so is everyone else, Aizawa is not so mean and is letting others train if you and Katuski get this done quickly. This facility is owned by Endeavor, it has everything you can possibly imagine as he needed to be the best at this as well. You and Katsuki are set up in a house? “What the hell.” You look around. “Okay, we need to set up a plan. We have no idea who these people are and this domain.”

“Let’s just fuckin run out there!”

“No dumbass!” the peace that you and Katsuki created for a moment is shattered as you two bicker back and forth for God knows how long. “What’s that smell?” You look around frantically, have the “villains” already found you both? Do they have an advantage because of Aizawa that you don’t know about?

“Blue flames?” You look at Katsuki and follow his eyes. Blue flames are slowly swallowing the door. Smoke fills the room quickly, and you panic, having a coughing attack.

“Are they trying to kill us?! They are taking this way too seriously!” Katsuki grabs your hand and you quickly tighten your grip, He brings you up the stairs and breaks open a window. “We are not paying for that.” you joke but quickly shut up as bakugou lets go and jumps out the window. You look out, “What the hell?!”

“Jump!”

“No what the fuck!”

“Jump, I’ll catch you!” You jump, shut your eyes, and jump. He catches you. “Why are your eyes closed?” You look at him and laugh. “Y/N, you are so stupid.” He blushes.

“Ok put me down.” you look back at the house while he puts you down slowly, “Holy shit ten more seconds and we would have been flamed... Katsuki you don’t think…?”

“I don’t know, it’s Endeavor. This is a pretty good-built facility.” An alarm goes off and a big slamming sound is heard on the other side of the training area. “Fuck!” You both run quickly toward the sound before a wall of blue flames becomes between you and Katsuki. You look around frantically before seeing a man standing on top of a building. He has black hair and purple bruising all over his skin. Is he smiling at you? “Y/N?!”

“I’m okay!” the man laughs, jumping off the building and landing close to you. The blue flames start growing closer to you. He’s mumbling something along the lines of distracting you away from the rest, and this will be an easy kill. You take a deep breath and grow a longleaf pine under you and Katsuki, it brings you both up above the fire and lets you jump onto a building and you run. You see debris and smoke on the other side, it'll take under a minute to get there, “So close…” you mutter. A scorching burn rises up your arm. He got your right arm. You quickly wrap it in a longleaf pine, it won’t stop the pain but it will stop the fire. Your path gets blocked again by blue flames. “Fuck!” You are getting way too dehydrated and dizzy which means you are gonna struggle to use your quirk.

“Y/N!”

“Go help the others and then come get me!” Katsuki for the first time hesitates, and he doesn't like that. He listens to you and runs to the others, his heart beating faster than it ever has. Smoke fills your lungs, and you look around for the villain. He stands in front of you a couple of feet away with the same smile.

“I’ll make it easier on him and make sure there isn't anything he has to come back for.” Flames come your way, and you make a shield; it withers just a little enough to burn your cheek.

“Fuck.” you move and run. It’s just straight-up fire and smoke. It’s hurting your lungs. It’s hurting your plants which means you have a useless quirk. “I’m going to die…” You mutter. You are still running toward the group and you see Shoto in the distance. You see Katsuki behind him and smile before you feel a wave of heat. You don’t know what happened but you blacked out. Katsuki watches as flames engulf you. He freezes. He watches as Todoroki and Midoriya run towards you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

All you hear is beeping, talking, and silence. You can’t see anything, so all you can do is listen. You can’t understand the voices that come around every once in a while, it’s all blurry. Eventually, you open your eyes. “She’s Awake! Aizawa she’s awake!”

“Loud...” you mutter as your eyes get used to the bright light. Then, you see a blurry figure with green hair walks out of the room. You feel the warmth on your hand and you slowly look down. Your right arm is covered in bandages and someone is holding your hand. You look back up and see Shoto. He’s smiling at you softly, it looks like he hasn't slept in days. Midoriya walks back in with Aizawa and Katsuki. Katsuki walks up to you quickly, his face is flushed and he’s breathing heavily. He looks at you and Todoroki and stops moving. Aizawa walks up to you and sighs.

“It’s always something with you.” You let out a small laugh but stop quickly once it hurts. “Do you remember anything?” You look over your body. Your legs are also covered in bandages, and you can feel the uncomfortable bandages on your cheek and chest.

“The fight that happened today? Some um… Villains?” You feel Shoto squeeze your hand softly. “And I guess I got hit.”

“Y/N that attack happened over two weeks ago,” Aizawa admits. You notice all the boys look at you worriedly except for Katsuki, he’s looking down.

“What?” “You are correct you did get badly hurt, but that attack happened two weeks ago. Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki all have been taking turns watching over you and some of your classmates have been stopping by and also taking care of you. You kept stirring but… You never fully woke up. We got concerned you um… never would.” With that Aizawa brings his hand to his face and he continues to speak. “You have severe wounds. The ones on your cheek, chest, and arms will leave scaring. Your legs we aren't certain if they will yet.” He looks around at the boys and then looks back at you. “I’m happy you're safe. I’ll come back to check on you with the nurse later.” he walks out and you hear him sniffle. You smile and give your attention back to the boys. Midoriya is the first to speak.

“We were so worried about you… I thought… Never mind that!” he smiles. I should go tell the other!” He runs out. Shoto is next to speak, and unbeknownst to him, he had cut off Katsuki from speaking.

“I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. The villain that attacked you knows me and my family… and he got word of the training and you… with how close we are he figured you were an easy target… I am so sorry!” he slowly picks up your hand and kisses your knuckle then slowly rests his forehead on your hand. “Please forgive me. Please.”

“Of course Shoto…” You smile. “This isn't your fault, I don't blame you, and see I’m okay!” you regret raising your voice but whatever you have to do for Shoto. Shoto picks his head back up and gives you an unconvincing look. “Shoto please believe me. I am okay.” you both stare at each other before Shoto finally smiles. Katsuki coughs interrupting the moment. “Shoto you should go get some rest and food.” he goes to interject but you stop him, “Come visit me after but go take care of yourself please.” He nods and stands up. Walking out he gives a glare to Bakugou and exits the room. You look at Katsuki. He doesn't look at you. “So… guess I have to make up all the meals I couldn't make you the past two weeks.” You joke and laugh, He doesn't laugh and you sit up reaching for him.

“Stop doing that!” He gets close to you and grabs your hand, laying you back down. You look at him confused. “Stop acting like everything is perfectly fine! You almost died for fuck sake!” he sits down on the bed looking at you. “It’s not okay.”

“Katsuki…”

“I could have lost you then what?!” You winch and he slumps.

“I’m alive and awake now, so let’s not dwell on what could have happened, okay?” Katsuki stares at you, and your heart skips a beat. Slowly, he leans down and places his hand on the cheek that has the bandage. He rubs his thumb over it slowly before kissing you. You are surprised, obviously, but you kiss back. He’s just as surprised as you are with the fact he kissed you and the fact you kissed back. You go to sit up to lean into him more but winch from the pain, causing him to move away breaking the kiss. “Katsuki…”

“Guys, look!” Katsuki moves away from the bed completely, and the class piles into the room after Midoriya. You smile at them, and they smile at you. Katsuki leaves the room.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

After a few days, you are able to go back to the dorm room and go back to your normal life besides the obvious scaring on your body and the sharp pain you get sometimes. Shoto helped you get back into your dorm. “I can open the door myself, you weirdo.”

“Why won’t you let me help you.” He opens the door.

“Because if you are going to help me, I’ll complain to feel less guilty.” You smile before laughing. You walk into your dorm, and he follows. Katsuki is sitting on the couch, looking at you both. His arms are crossed. “God, Dad, he brought me home on time.” You joke, but clearly, he could care less about your jokes. Shoto doesn't get the hint of Katsuki’s annoyance and walks into your kitchen.

“What do you want? I’ll make you lunch.”

“I can make her lunch. I am her husband after all.” He stands up.

“A good husband would already have food ready for her and would have gotten her from the nurse's room.” Katsuki pauses for a moment. He’s stunned. “So Y/N what would you want?” you look between Shoto and Katsuki before walking into the kitchen. Katsuki takes that as you choosing Shoto and his throat burns and his stomach nots. He’s fuming and all he can manage is walking into his room and slamming the door. “Such a baby.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

It’s like Todoroki is doing this on purpose. For the past week he’s done nothing but be a wedge between him and you and it’s pissing Katsuki off. He’s trying to do this for you but Todoroki is always just one step ahead. Katsuki is known to be angry the majority of the time but this feels different. It fueling each minute and he feels like he’s about to burst. He tries taking it out during training but it eases only for a second and this confuses Katsuki. In the past it’s always worked for him so why the fuck isn't it working now?! He grabs his towel and wipes his face before getting himself a sip of water. He takes a deep breath. Why isn't this working? He hears a familiar laugh and looks around. He sees you and of fucking course Todo fucking roki. He puts down his water bottle and towel. He rushes out of the training room and goes up to you both. “The fuck are you guys doing together? Again.” You go to explain but Shoto stops you. Katsuki doesn't like this very much.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because it fucking does?!” Seriously who does this dude think he is? “Why can’t you go bother your own wife and leave mine the fuck alone?!”

“Why should I leave her alone? All the times you've left her alone it causes her to be endangered.”

“So it’s my fault?!”

“You didn't get to her quick enough during our training.” Todroki points a finger at him, “And your dumbass left her during the attack so she got hurt!”

“Don’t point that finger at me! It was your dumbass family drama that caused her to get hurt in the first damn place!” With this Todoroki steps closer to him and his fire quirk is activated.

“Say’s the one who froze when we needed to go save her.” You look at Katsuki. Katsuki doesn't look at you. For the first time, Katsuki bites his cheek and walks back into the training room. With a satisfied smirk, Shoto looks at you. Your arms are crossed and you are pissed looking back at Shoto. His smirk drops. “What?” you shake your head and walk away. “What?!”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

It’s late. You've already made dinner, and it’s starting to get cold. Shoto had brought you to the dorm against your wishes, and you slammed the door in his face in retaliation. Your guess is that Katsuki is still in the training room. You sigh, looking down at his dinner, before grabbing a blanket from the living room and walking out onto the balcony. You don’t know how much time has passed but it is quiet and the only lights outside are the streetlights. “What are you doing outside?” You flinch and look at Katsuki, he’s leaning against the door.

“It’s nice out.”

‘The heat is on and you left the door open.” You roll your eyes and look away from him.

“I left your food on the counter.”

“Thanks.” He walks off into his bedroom, completely ignoring the food. Confused, you stand up and walk towards his bedroom, stopping him from shutting his door.

“Excuse me?”

“You left the blanket outside and the door open.”

“Don’t ignore the obvious bullshit dude.” He just stares at you. “What is with you?! I made you dinner and you are just gonna ignore it?!”

“I’m sorry I thought you would have preferred making that shit for Shoto.” He mocks his name and you glare at him.

“So what I do for you has been shit?” He shrugs and you drop your hand from off the door. “Whatever. I don’t know what your fucking issue is but glad to know everything I have done has been pointless.”

“Oh please we all know you wanted those points to switch and be with Todoroki.”

“Are you for real right now? All my actions have shown that's what I want?! Really?!”

“Yeah. Really.” He shuts the door in your face. You stand there astonished before cleaning up Katsuki’s dinner and putting it away in the fridge. You try to convince yourself you are only doing it to prevent food from going to waste, but the convincing doesn't work. Despite how mad you are, you want to make sure he eats okay.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

For days, you and Katsuki have ignored each other. People have asked each of you, and you respectfully shake your head no and say it’s nothing. Katsuki, on the other hand, gives them death glares. You still make food for him, and it'll go uneaten. When you give up hope that he won't eat, he eventually does, so you keep making him food. You always wondered how your family ignored each other when growing up and you never understood how they could do it so easily. You understand to an extent, that the act of ignoring each other isn't an issue. Katsuki does most of the work fully pretending you aren't even real. The mental pain of ignoring each other is affecting you more than you like and Katsuki feels the same.

Two weeks pass, and it’s the fireworks festival. The school does this annually, putting on a grand display and making it a whole day thing. You and the girls are in Momo’s room getting ready. The girls have really been helping you during this whole situation and the bond you share now is something so important to you. “We are gonna make you look stunning Y/N! We can use all my stuff. Yes, even the very expensive stuff of course!”

“Thanks, Momo but why would I do this for a guy who won’t even glance at me?”

“Oh, honey, this is NOT for him; it’s for you, silly!” The girls continue getting you ready. Kyoka and Ochaco work on your makeup, Mina on your hair, and Momo on the best outfit for you to wear. After a few hours, you are ready! The girls start taking pictures and start giving you compliments and in all honesty, you just wanted to go to the festival already.

“Is he gonna be there?”

“Who cares?” You did. Except you weren't going to say that. You walk up to the full-length mirror and look at yourself.

“Do I even look good with this scar on my arm?” You’ve fully healed over the past few weeks thanks to recovery, girl, but your right arm has scarring, and you've been slightly insecure about it. Doesn't help that the outfit you are wearing shows it off completely

“It makes you look sexy!”

“Whatever you say, Mina.” You smile, “should we get going?”

The weather is perfect, to say the least. The school has rented out a nice park, full of flowers and trees, right next to a river, where on the other side, they’ll light the fireworks. Booths are set up for food, drinks, and fun things to do. You and the girls are going back and forth on what to do first. You watch as a few say drinks and food while others say games first. You just watch not having a strong opinion for each until someone catches your eye. Behind Momo you see Shoto waving at you, and you smile waving back. He walks towards you but halfway someone shoves into him. Katsuki keeps walking not even acknowledging what he did. “Hi Y/N.”

“Hi, Shoto.” Just like how Katsuki ignores you, Shoto chooses to ignore his existence.

“Oh hey, Todoroki! Are you here with anyone?” Ochaco asks as the girls look at him.

“No.”

“I have a great idea!” This could be true or the worst thing Mina says. “We should go to one of the games, and Todoroki and Momo can battle to see who the better spouse is!”

“That’s actually not a bad idea and would be fun to watch,” Kyoka says.

“You down for joining us Shoto?” You look at him and he looks away from Momo and looks at you.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t go easy on me.” Momo smiles at him.

“Don’t plan on it and you should pick the game.” You walk over to Ochaco and wrap your arms around hers, you guys start walking around to find a game. Momo eventually settles on ring toss, you sit down at the water gun booth to watch them. Momo and Shoto stand next to eachother with five rings each. The first round starts and of course Momo wins. “Another one.”

“Shoto we are not gonna sit here and watch until you win.”

“Yes we are Y/N shush.” And the second round starts, this time the bottles move side to side making it more difficult. You feel the presence of someone sit next to you, You ignore it at first before you hear a grumble. You look back to see a random student with his friend, you stand up quickly and apologize for being in his way.

“Don’t take up a spot if you arent gonna do anything.”

“She was waiting for me, so you gotta move it.” Katsuki puts an arm around you and you look over at the group seeing if anyone notices. You lock eyes with Ochaco and she gives you a thumbs up. The boys apologize and run off not wanting to deal with Katsuki. You take a seat again and Katsuki hands money to the stall worker and sits next to you. “One game, one winner.” you face your water gun rolling your eyes.

“Whatever you say.” It was not one game, it was six and the group stopped watching Shoto’s game and huddled around you guys. “What happened to one game!”

“You keep cheating!”

“How?”

“You keep shooting me with water!” You laugh.

“FUCK!” Katsuki slumps back, you stand up ad cheer. You turn to Shoto giving him a high five and turn back to Katsuki. He stares for a beat then stands up and walks off.

“What is his problem?” Mina asks, you shake your head.

“I don’t know but let’s go find Izuku.” The hours pass and for others it went by very quickly but for you it didnt. The whole time you spent looking around for Katsuki and you couldnt find him.

“Hurry up lets go find the perfect spot!” The fireworks start in fifteen and honestly you werent feeling it anymore.

“I think I’m just gonna go back to the dorm guys..” you were met with a lot of disergrement.

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“Yeah I’m not feeling well.” You lie.

“Oh let me walk you back.” Shoto goes to grab your arm but you step back, “No it’s okay. Stay.” You give them all a smile, say your goodbyes and walk back.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

“Katsuki?” Nothing. You sigh and shut your dorm door. Luckly for you, your dorm faces right where they are gonna be setting off fireworks. You brush out your hair and walk to your balcony. “Cold…” you mumble shutting the sliding door and resting your body on the railing. You do the math in your head, it took you five minutes to get back here so that means itll be about ten minutes until they start. After some time you hear the sliding door open.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I can’t be in my own dorm now?”

“You should be out with your friends at the festival, not here.” You don’t say anything and Katsuki stands next to you, You glance at him.

“Why are you shirtless?”

“Because my wife wouldnt stop splashing me with water.”

“Stop Katsuki. I’m over this back and forth of you being mad and then not.”

“And I’m over Todoroki getting all your fucking attention. Piece it togehter Y/N.” You look at him fully.

“Me piece it together? I shouldnt have to do that? Why can’t you tell me straight up? You are so bold and loud but for some reason between us you shut down completely. It’s ridiculous.”

“Have you ever thought for one second why?”

“You rejected me Katsuki. In middle school, it was a full on embarrassment. Sorry I wasnt jumping to conclusions.”

“We were in middle school.”

“You made fucking rules when I tried getting you to take this simulation seriously.”

“Why’d you smile at Todoroki. You face him fully.

“What the fuck are you on about.” He faces you, he is red.

“During the Villian attack when you were close to the main group, you saw Todoroki and instantly smiled once you saw him.”

“No I didnt?” You crossed your arms. Katsuki puts one hand on the railing and squeezes it.

“Yes you did Y/N I watched you.”

“I smiled because I saw you.” his hand untenses.

“Yes Dumbass, I smiled because I saw you before I almost got killed by flames.” His hand tightens again. “What?” he stays silent so you repeat yourself again. “What?”

“For the first time I hesitated in battle.”

“So?”

“Because I thought I…” he pauses and looks down. “I thought I just watched you die and I couldn't, my brain couldnt comprehend it. For a split second all logic was out the window.”

“Where you ignoring me because of that?”

“I was ashamed.” He looks back up at you. “There goes fucking Todoroki and Deku running and there I was, frozen. Even if it was only for a second. It was a second to long. I don’t like what you do to me.” A boom goes off and the fireworks start up. The sky is full of assortment of colors. You and Katsuki both look. “I love you Y/N.” He says it not thinking you’d hear him and after this whole thing he can go back into the ignoring routine you guys established.

“I love you too.” Katsuki looks at you and you don’t look at him. He grabs your right arm and stops his movement. He stares at the scarring on your arm. You look at him before removing your arm from his hand and hug him. He squeezes you tightly before letting go and facing the railing. “You ignore me like that again and I’ll kill you.” He hugs you from behind.

“Mhm..”

“I’m serious Katsuki.” He kisses your cheek. “Fuck these fireworks.” You turn your body to face katsuki and look up at him, He looks down at you. “Kiss me.” He stares at you for a minute. “Katsuki I swear-” He cuts you off and kisses you. You wrap your arms around his neck, and with that, he picks you up and sits you on the railing. You wrap your legs around his waist and deepen the kiss.

Tags;

@andysdrafts @eyesforbkg @kukikoooo @musicbecky @mia-luvs @yoyolovesdaiki @onlykarenkun @gina239

#bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski

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starlightvld · 1 year ago

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Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying.

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor.

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke.

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same.

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle.

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time.

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse.

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled.

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home.

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears.

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

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thesensteawitch · 9 months ago

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Message From Your Previous Lifetime!!!!!!!!🥀🌿🪵🥀🌿🪵🥀🌿

Pick A Pile Reading

🥀🌿🪵🥀🌿🪵🥀🌿🪵

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls!🌾

Here is another pick a pile reading! This is a collective reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't. 🌟

IN CASE YOU WISH TO BOOK A READING WITH ME THEN FEEL FREE TO DM ME ON TUMBLR OR REACH OUT TO ME ON THE BELOW GIVEN EMAIL ADDRESS:

([email protected])

BOOKING FORM • RATE CARD • TIP MY BLOG

(PAID READINGS ARE OPEN!🤍💫)

🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾🪵🌾

Pile 1 🥀

Hello, my beautiful pile 1. While I was shuffling the first deck to get a card for you, I saw a ship, and the cards that you got are the moon and the sun (at the bottom). Maybe you've sailed across the oceans in your previous lifetime and spent your days and nights traveling with the ebbs and flows of the water. Next we have the snake and the swan. Maybe the letter S means something for you. God, the amount of self-reflection I see in your pile is insane. You seem to be an old soul. The wisdom you carry in this lifetime is the work you've done in your previous lifetimes! Yes, LIFETIMES. In this lifetime, you're in the process of recalling your gifts. It's so beautiful. Your energy is magnetizing. You've got a deep understanding of light and the dark, the polarities. In this lifetime, you're called to find your balance. In your previous lifetime, you were a nurturer. Someone who played an important role for society but the role was such that people didn't pay much heed to or just couldn't recognize. But what you were doing was helping others immensely. It helped them in their survival. You could have been a trader. You came into people's lives and helped them, and they didn't even recognize you.

You appeared to be a normal person, but only a few were aware of what you do! It feels like you were on some secret mission, and that's why no one had any idea who you were or how you were playing an important role in the collective's life. It also seems to me that you played multiple roles in your previous lifetime. You couldn't be put into a box. Strong Aquarius and Sagittarius energy I am picking up. And a bit of Pisces too. Even your tarot cards are so on point! You have the fool, six of wands, seven of pentacles, the moon (again!), ace of pentacles, and ten of cups. You've lived for others! And you held so much compassion for others that you went to huge lengths to make sure others were living their best lives. In this lifetime, it seems you find it difficult to express how much you love and care about others. I feel you are restricted from giving too much to others. Maybe this time you're supposed to learn to balance and make sure you live a complete life too. You need to remember that you're not God, and healthy boundaries are necessary to live a joyful life. When we focus too much on one aspect of life in one lifetime, then in another we may feel restricted toward that area because we lost our balance by putting excess energy in one area. And nature always finds its balance. At times you may feel conflicted regarding whether you should be selfless or selfish and may feel more comfortable just thinking about yourself. But if you overdo this, then again you'll create imbalance. Learn to fill your cup first so that you can fill others' cup as well. Maybe you're an overthinker as well. And due to this overthinking, you often feel drained or have headaches. Also, you need to heal your throat chakra so that you can freely and fluently express the love you hold for others. You can be the hero, but not the martyr.

Pile 2 🥀

Hello, my beautiful pile 2. Your card took some time to come out. And you've got the tower as your main card. While shuffling, I heard the word 'shame’ in my mind. There's something that your energy doesn't want to disclose about your last lifetime. Maybe what happened was quite tragic. The strength your soul has today is because of the ugly experiences that happened in the previous lifetime. Your soul feels a bit reluctant to go into the details of what happened. It would rather want you to just remember your strength. God! Are you stubborn, pile 2? Well, you are! Clearly. Your past energies are distracting me by sliding so many cards out of the deck. Your soul wants to look forward to the future, and it's kind of glad that it reincarnated in this era. I heard, “Where people are not actively attacking someone's home.” I mean, wars happen in this lifetime too, but your soul feels a bit relieved in this one because it's here it's different. You went through a huge loss in the previous lifetime to have strong willpower. I hear, “I am afraid of all I am. My mind feels like a foreign land. Silence ringing inside my head. Please carry me, carry me home.... I got addicted to a losing game.” I feel that sometimes you surprise yourself with your own strength. You wonder from where all of this power comes from. It's all because your soul remembers, no matter how hard it wants to hide what happened. It cannot reverse the effect of it.

I really don't know if you're optimistic or pessimistic, but your soul is saying that it cannot fight its fate. The way you show up in the world, no one can judge that you've got a world of barren land and broken homes within you. It's tragic. If sometimes you feel gloomy, know that it's the hollowness coming from the past. Oh God, maybe some of you are crying over someone or a lost connection. This is very specific. I hear, “Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to have than I thought.” You feel more than you ever show! Don't do that. Please. You do have a playful side to you, which can truly pull you out of this intense energy that's flowing in circles within you and cannot find a way to be released. There's something that you're waiting for from your previous lifetime. Oh No! Some of you're waiting for your past life lover. I just heard ‘Romeo and Juliet' (it's a reference). Perhaps you were forced to separate from your lover in the past lifetime. The songs are going crazy! 😭 I hear, “But it's all good I haven't known anybody like you. I have heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime, and I'm pretty sure you're that love of mine.” Now I'm sure this is about love. Some of you may have had a tower moment in a connection you wanted to live for lifetimes. You and this person are in hermit mode. And it seems to me that the ball is in your court? This connection is your dream come true. Don't worry, I can see that divine timing is at play in this connection. The one who left the connection is supposed to make the move. You're meant to be with the LOVE OF YOUR LIFE in this lifetime. I mean the cards say it all. You have the king of cups, ten of pentacles, eight of cups, the hermit, the star and the knight of pentacles. The oracle card says, “Wait for important information.” So I feel one of you will be intuitively guided to this connection or you already are. I did not expect the message to take such a strong turn. You've got so much to confess to this person. In fact, you both do! Justice will happen here. It's your unrequited love from the last lifetime.🥹

Pile 3 🥀

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. It seems that the purpose you were following in your last lifetime didn't reach its full potential. Divine intervention happened, and you had to stop doing what you were doing. But that helped you reflect and gain even more wisdom. You've been slow in your work, but you're doing it well. In this lifetime, you're supposed to fulfill your purpose and enjoy the fruits of your hard work. You may be someone who is detail-oriented and likes to have their life organized. You do better when you are not rushed. You clearly don't do well under pressure. You've got speed too, but you cannot always be racing. The spirit animals that came out for you are- spider, cheetah, and deer. As your purpose remains unfulfilled in the previous lifetime, in this lifetime you feel that you're not good enough. Sometimes the attitude of being a perfectionist leads you to serious burnouts and even confusion. You are never satisfied with life. You're always looking for the next best thing. Because you had no control over fulfilling your purpose in previous lifetime, you may struggle with the need to control everything around you. But the universe wants you to surrender and trust the unknown. Just fall in love with what you do and let go of the results. If you remain too much in your masculine energy (which is to keep doing and doing!) then you may end up distorting your feminine side that allows you to receive your blessings in abundance! Also, as much as it's important to be consistent, let yourself be flexible and don't try to live by the schedule. Do what your intuition calls you to do. If you are willing to listen, you can hear your intuition guiding you in every step of the way. I hear the word ‘wounded warrior’ for you. The challenges that you face in your everyday life, especially while creating something, come your way because YOU ARE CAPABLE of rising above them. In this lifetime, you're being hit left, right, and corner by the synchronisties because the universe wants you to sit down and decode the message and remember why you reincarnated. What was the true reason? Also, another message that is coming for you is that you've free will to redefine your purpose as you move forward because you're learning, recalling, and consistently expanding your vision.

Life can be overwhelming for you, but know it's only overwhelming when you find yourself stuck in a loop. You think your main job is to free yourself from cycles after cycles. You break free from one big circle and then from another even bigger circle, and this keeps going on. And it gets exhausting, I know! But I do see that the universe is about to hand you the key to break free from this never-ending trap and be the one looking at the source of these loops. You're supposed to stay connected to the divine, and that's all. You're out of your misery! Maintain faith at every second of your life. Visualize God walking with you every step of the way! And you will be free. Then whatever you do, no matter how small, will give you immense success! I know you do see people around you and you wonder that they aren't doing as much as you are and they are still ahead of you. Why? Well, I don't know about them. But for you to win and be able to make your talents reach every corner of the world, it's necessary for you to walk with God. Human capacity is limited, but when our energies get intertwined with that of the source, that is when we become eternal and what we do can live forever. It all happens with the grace of God. In the last time you had your faith broken because you were doing everything right and yet you couldn't fulfill your purpose. In this lifetime, you're not born to just fulfill your purpose but to regain your faith in the creator so that whatever you create lives for lifetimes.

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worldofkuro · 8 months ago

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXXVII

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Should I be ashamed, it's been two weeks and I didn't have time to write anything. I really hope you will enjoyed today's chapter. TW: Knife play, semi-smut, Alastor and reader being crazy for each other.

It’s been a few days since Alice’s last nightmare.

Now, it was your turn to have them.

Each night, you would be haunted by Alastor’s father’s face. Even if you knew he was dead, you were so confused about what was happening these last days. And more than confused, you were scared.

You were sure he was dead,heck you were the one to finish him, so why would you daughter see a spirit that looked like her deceased grandfather when you killed him more than ten years ago? Alice could only see the spirit of animals that have died recently… So how could she see him? Furthermore, who put the man’s eye in your door? Was that a threat ? Any advice ? Why an eye ? Was someone watching you? And how did they manage to have Alastor’s father's eye ? How ?

You sat up in bed, your nails digging inside your arms. You were overwhelmed. Now that Maurice Richemont had died, lawyers were coming at your door because the man gave almost all of his wealth to you and Alastor. So you needed to sign papers, and even more papers…

You sighed as you remembered the paper you had signed numbly. Maurice had given you the Richemont’s estate… What could you do with that? On one hand, you didn’t know what this mansion could offer you, but on the other hand, it meant that Trey couldn‘t live in your best friend's house anymore…

From what the butler, William, told you: Trey seemed to be irritated because he couldn’t go inside the house, but he didn’t seem worried. Was that good news..? Bad news..? He had to take his stuff and leave the mansion yesterday… But you knew he would come back.

Just like you and Alastor, had a secret room for your voodoo’s ritual, Trey must have a hidden room where he could make his sacrifice for Lucifer. Now, you need to find it in the huge Richemont’s domain.. You had to go … The more you waited, the more he could erase what he has done.. There must be proof of his evil deed…And then you would make him fall…

“ You seem deep in thought, my dear.”

You looked up, startled as Alastor sat down next to you on the bed. It was around midnight, and Alastor made a habit of going to see if Alice was sleeping soundly since she had seen… his father’s ghost..

You nuzzled against him, your face against his neck and breathed in his natural odor. You felt your body relaxed as your husband wrapped his arms around you. You knew he was affected by his father’s ghost’s appearance… And yet, he was still smiling at you, looking unbothered.

“ I was thinking…About everything that had happened…”

“ Mhn… Don’t bother your silly head about it. Let me handle it.” He whispered sweetly into your ear.

If only you could. You knew Alastor would, could, take care of everything if needed… but you were his wife, and you knew - oh god you knew- how Alastor needed you to keep his human’s mask. You loved him as a monster, you even missed the murderous side of your husband…but Alice needed Alastor as a father…Not the monster you loved, you craved.. Maybe when your daughter will be older, you will make her meet the monster behind the smiling face… The monster that was her dad…

But then , what were you..? When you knew deep inside of yourself that you didn’t want Alastor to deal with everything? When you craved to dug your blade inside of someone’s flesh, smiling with blood dripping from your face with your husband next to you, praising you for your murder…

What were you?

“ Alastor… I think… we should make a reunion with the people… who wants to destroy Trey.”

“ You and me. There, we can have our little reunion. Should I raise my hand to speak?” He teased you, his hands moving toward your cheeks to force you to meet his gaze. You rolled your eyes at him with a little chuckle. He could be so childish sometimes…

“ No. I’m talking about Williams, Alyzée… “

“ Dear, are you asking others for help?”

You stared at Alastor’s eyes, even if his smile was still present on his lips, his eyes were telling a whole different story. You wished you could crack your husband’s head open to see what logical and illogical thoughts were swimming inside his mad mind. You didn’t think he would be against it, after all he was the one using others, so why would he be surprised that you opted to do the same… but with a different energy..?

“ Well… I told you that John was–”

“ Aah.. His name coming from your pretty lips is really annoying. What? Do you truly think John will be on our side because..?” He tilted his head toward you with a mocking and vicious smile on his lips. “ Are you forgetting my dear? He is our next target. Our next kill.”

“ Alastor, I’m not trying to save him from us. But imagine, he helps us get rid of Trey and then we can kill him while disguising it as a suicide. We could manipulate the press thanks to Alzyée saying he self-destructed himself because he had to kill one of his family’s members.”

You stopped speaking, putting your hand on your lips. Did you really say that? Those words that passed your lips so smoothly, without stammering, made by your own mind, really came from you..?

You were surprised, confused. Most of the time, Alastor was the one creating those cruel, twisted plans that made you flustered and yet…You were always saying that Alastor was a monster disguised as a human but…

So were you..?

You gasped as Alastor’s lips crashed against yours. His hands were grabbing at your hips, his nails digging into your skin which made you sigh in pleasure against his mouth. His hands were larger than yours, more powerful, more skilled to kill…

You missed him…

“ Darling, those words… Are you trying to inticite me..?” Alastor breathed against your neck making goosebumps appear on your skin. You looked at your husband who was busy biting at your throat, forcing you to lie down on the mattress.

Your husband… Your sweet twisted husband… Who gave you everything in life, a family, murders, excitement, fear, power…

You quietly moved your hands toward your pillow with a sweet smile. Your thoughts were spiraling inside your mind, you felt euphoric… You grinned when you felt your blade, hidden under the pillow, as usual. With a swift movement, you pushed Alastor on the mattress and climbed on him, your knife against his throat.

You hoped to see Alastor’s surprised face as you pinned him on the bed but he only observed you with a knowing smirk. His thumb was caressing your waist, while his other hand was stroking your cheek. You frowned, smacking his hand from your cheeks.

You were kind of tired of being seen as an angel.

You moved the tip of the blade from his throat to where his heart was. His heart was beating with its only purpose: You.

You smiled down at your husband who let his hand fall on the mattress, his eyes getting darker. You knew how he loved touching you, he needed to feel you close to him… And yet, he was already giving up on touching you..?

“ Well, darling ? When you are the one on top, you should know what to do. Are you going to stab me ?

“ You would enjoy it too much..” You whispered, sliding the blade on your husband’s shirt. You cut the fabric until you could see Alastor's bare chest. You bit your lips as the sight, how could your husband be so good looking…

You slipped the blade on his chest, watching his reaction, but his eyes were trained on you. He was watching your face, it seemed like he was looking for answers. You moved your face closer to him until you touched his lips with yours.

The kiss was slow, you could hear your breathing mingling with his, the sound of your lips locking together being louder with your gaps in contrast with the quiet room. You sat on his pelvis, brushing your chest against his torso, being completely under his spell even though you wanted to be the one in control. You moaned when his arms crushed you completely against him.

His hands moving to your legs made you come back to yourself. You moved from his lips, smiling when you saw him trying to run after your mouth. You sat on his abdomen, watching as he panted underneath you. His smile was still present but it was straining and you loved every bit of this scene.

You spinned the blade around your skillful fingers before digging the blade into your own flesh. You bit down a sigh of pleasure at Alastor’s shock’s face. You used your shield to trap him underneath you, making it so he couldn’t touch you or move.

“ Dear, wha–”

“ Alastor…” You sighed with a smile, moving the blade from your wrist and stared at the blood pouring from your wounds. You moved your gaze toward Alastor as you licked your own blood, making sure the blood was falling on your white nightdress. You smirked when you felt him trying to move from underneath you, but your shield was making it impossible. “ Well? Don’t you like the spectacle ?”

“ I’m the one who makes your wounds, no one else.” He spat, his smirk twitching.

You moved to undress him completely. Even if you weren’t the one naked, you couldn’t help but feel like you were. Your husband’s stare on you was so focused... His eyes were looking at every single aspect of you, from your lips, to your eyes to the roundness of your breast hidden behind your clothes, by the little twitch of your legs from your own excitement…

“ Should I make you beg for me, Alastor?” You asked, trying to keep your voice strong under your lover’s gaze. You almost pouted when he snickered at your words.

“ Well, why don’t you teach me, you seem good at it.” He tilted his head on the side, some of his locks of hair falling in front of his mocking eyes.

You frowned at his words, remembering how many times you had begged for your husband. He wanted to play this game? Fine.

You stood up from the bed and walked toward your vanity to bring the chair next to the bed, Alastor observing you with interest. You took off your nightdress before sitting on the chair, playing with your knife in your hand. You smiled at your husband before spreading your legs in front of him. Then you created multiple cuts to your breast, making it so the blood was dripping on your on your belly and between your legs, making your husband’s pupils dilated.

You moaned as you felt the blade digging into your flesh, never deep enough to be dangerous and yet… you craved it. But not from your hands, but from Alastor’s.

“ Darling.”

You kept your eyes closed, moving on hand toward your femininity before playing with yourself, wet from your own excitement but also because of the blood. You bit your lips, ignoring Alastor’s demand for your attention.

You felt so powerful, Alastor was fighting against your shield to touch you, he was demanding you to open your eyes and watch him. He was almost begging for you… You moaned louder as you pumped your fingers in and out of your wet entrance. You felt tears gather behind your eyelids, the feeling was pure euphory.

You opened your eyes, watching as Alastor was staring at you with pure madness, his veins on his neck so visible you almost wanted to bite it. His smile was more like a snarl than what he was used to showing. You could see his body relaxed a little once you laid your gaze upon him.

“ Curse of my sanity, drop the shield.”

You giggled, moving your finger on your clit, shivering at the coldness in his voice.

“ No. Aren’t you the great Alastor? Forcing your way out of my shield should be easy for you.” You mocked him, smiling even more when you noticed his eyes turning red. Just a little more push… Just a little more push to see the monster you loved…” Maybe you aren’t that strong… Maybe you can’t satisfy me…” You whispered as your finger began to move faster on your wet clit just as his lips lost his smile. You whined when you saw his emotionless face if not for the maniac glint in his eyes. He seemed calm. Like a predator observing his prey before taking action.

“ Are you really fit to be my husband ?” You asked, your panting making it hard for you to speak without stuttering. You couldn’t stop your mouth talking, you wanted him to react, you wanted your Alastor. “ Maybe I should have taken Jo–”

You gasped when you felt one hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it so hard you could barely breathe. You looked up and smiled weakly at your husband who was staring at you with a cold face. He took the knife from your other hand easily, before placing the tip of the blade against your skin, where your heart was beating furiously.

“ Say his name, while you are in this state, I dare you.” He whispered, his voice cold but his eyes red of burning obsession. You felt tears in your eyes as the grip on your neck didn’t lessen at all. You smiled at him, putting your hand around his wrist.

You adored him. How could you live without him?

“ Well? Cat got your tongue..?” He raised an eyebrow, playing with the knife in his hand. “ I should carve my name on your body once more, I’ll make it so you won’t be able to heal yourself. Even the Gods won’t be able to tear my soul from you. I should take out your heart and carved my name on it, would you like it?” He tilted his head, his smile horrifying and yet you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs as more wetness fell from your lower lips. You nodded at him, his pupils dilated even more. “ You wish for it? You wish for me to–”

“ Stab…me….”

Your croaked words make him groan as he pass a hand through his brown lock before smiling down on your with a blush on his cheeks, saliva dripping down on his chin.

“ Oh dear, you are spoiling me.” He leaned his body toward you, a hard blush on his cheeks, his eyes shining with madness. “ Would you? Let me stab you?”

You wanted to see how Alastor was when he wanted to kill. You knew he wouldn’t do anything that would put your life in danger but you craved to see his darkest side for you and only you. You nodded to confirm your words.

“ Aah… dear.” He moaned, wiping the saliva from his chin. “ A stab to the chest shouldn't be deeper than 10 centimeters, or else it could be lethal.” He spoke with excitement, which made you smile softly. He kept talking about every other place he could stab you, how many centimeters you could take..

But you were surprised when you saw him kneeled between your spread legs. He kissed your thighs, biting it, cutting it with the knife which made you throw your head backward, moaning loudly. He licked the blood from every cut, even the one you made yourself, he cut it once more making them his.

You were trembling from arousal as you felt him lick your vulva, wet from your own excitement and the blood from your cuts. You couldn’t help but squeeze Alastor’s head between your thigh, gasping for air as he devoured you, never letting you rest, not even one second, making you beg for air.

But you didn’t want him to stop.

The feeling of Alastor being the one to have so much power over your breath, your pleasure, your life, all of this was making you lightheaded. Your back arched as you felt yourself close to cum on his face and then you felt it.

A sharp pain between your breasts.

Alastor has stabbed you, right where your heart was.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as you came on his face, your wetness gushing out of you. Your body was shaking as Alastor never stopped licking and sucking at your clit. You could feel the cold blade between your chest and it was driving you crazy.

Alastor stabbed you, Alastor stabbed you , Alastor stabbed you, Alastor stabbed you ,

Alastor stabbed you, Alastor stabbed you , Alastor stabbed you, Alastor stabbed you…

You opened your eyes, not even noticing you were sobbing from overstimulation. You were feeling so many emotions and feelings at once…

“ Darling, look at me.”

You blinked the tears from your eyes and looked at your husband who had his face in front of you with a sweet smile. His eyes were maniacally beautiful and only for you…

“ You are perfect, you are the moon of my every night. I’m the water that raises every full moon to try to reach you …I’m the snake that watches the bird flying away from my grips.. You are my madness…”

You smiled tiredly at him, closing one eye when you felt him stroke your cheek. If you were the moon, Alastor must have been the sun. He was always the center of attention, he was vivid, brilliant and could hurt so badly… But he was the one making you shine… or hiding you when he wanted.

You looked at the knife moving as you were breathing. You didn’t want to heal this scar… The scars on your heart shall always be from Alastor…

Were you crazy?

You looked up at Alastor who was panting. His eyes were fixated on your chest, the blood dripping from the wound the knife made. He leaned down your chest and placed a bloodied kiss on your skin, making you sigh in pleasure.

“ I should heal myself…” You whispered as a cold energy came from you, your eyes shining with a purple hue. Alastor took back the knife slowly, and stared at you as you used the Baron’s power to heal your wound.

“ Aah… What would I do without you, dearest?”

The next few days seemed to be calmer. Alice wasn’t having nightmares anymore but she said she had found another friend, a boy that was around the same age as her. You smiled at her, maybe having an imaginary friend could help your daughter. You would sometimes watch her play in her bedroom, happily playing with her different plushie and talking with her imaginary friend.

She wasn’t bringing Eamon with her all the time, and you asked Alastor to stop her training. She needed a break and it seemed like her child’s mind decided that creating an imaginary friend was the solution. You asked Baron Samedi if she was talking to a dead soul and he reassured you that it wasn’t the case… He told you that with an amused smile.

Now, you had other problems, you felt energy that wasn’t from your family multiple times in your house. And you remember clearly that Trey told you he was trying to watch you but couldn’t. Maybe he was still trying… You needed answers.

“ I’ll go back to my father’s grave and try to understand what happened.”

You looked at your husband who was sitting on the sofa. He was helping Alice with reading books, so you were a little surprised when he talked out of the blue… and yet, you should be used to it.

“ Alone ?”

“ Yes, I have other things I need to do.” He stood up after patting Alice three times on the head. “ Would you rather have me with you for the mansion tour?”

Today was the day where you felt ready to go to the Richemont’s estate and watch what you could do with all that wealth and mostly, find clues about Trey. You kissed your husband, reassuring him that you would go with your daughter furthermore Williams was already waiting for you there.

“ My shadow will stay with you.”

“ You mean, Shadie?” you grinned as Alastor grimaced. Since your daughter had called his shadow ; Shadie, you couldn’t help but use it. She had decided that your shadow would be named: Shade.

“ Yes… Shadie… I’ll be back for dinner.” He kissed your forehead with a fond smile before falling into his own shadow, disappearing completely. You wished you could also teleport long distance…

Since the fire accident you didn’t use your shadow to teleport, you didn’t use this skill… Maybe you could try right now..?

“ Mommy? Can I bring Eamon with us ? He wants to meet my friend !” Alice smiled at you with a big grin. You kissed her forehead with a sweet smile.

“ Really ? Then, let’s bring him along!”

You watched as Alice ran to her bedroom to take the fawn plushie. You closed your eyes and concentrated on your shadow. You could feel its hands rootting inside of your feet. you were thinking about the place you wanted to be, your mind picturing the Richemont’s mansion as clear as you could remember.

“ I’m ready mommy!”

You reached for your daughter before the two of you fell into your own shadow. You screamed when you fell on a soft surface, your daughter in your arms. You looked up quickly and realized you were into the living room and nobody was around.. You sighed of relieved while Alice was begging you to do it again.

“ Who is the– Miss. Sanglar, little Alice..?”

You turned your head toward the butler who had a cane in his hand, ready to beat the intruders he thought you were. You waved at him, your smile twitching.

You weren’t very subtle.

“ How did you…?”

“ I came from the front door of course.” You lied with an innocent smile. “ But no one was here.”

“ Oh, yes, excuse me, I was busy in the kitchen. All of Mister Felleur’s employes have been removed, just like you ordered. “ He smiled at you. “ Alastor told me you would come today. You are going to find clues about Mister’ Felleur’s involvement with… the murders he committed.” His smile dropped, you could feel his sadness like it was yours. “ He … He killed the Richemont’s family..”

You walked toward him and hugged him. Trey might have done all these awful things… he might have taken away your best friend but you would have your revenge.

“ Mommy, come on ! I want to see where my auntie used to sleep ! I want to see her dress! ” Alice ran toward you with a big smile. You pondered the idea but quickly nodded. After all, showing your daughter where Alice used to live might help you feel better…

You showed your daughter every room you used to share with Alice, from her office, to the saloon, until you stopped in front of her bedroom’s door. You peeked at your little baby who was looking at you with sparkles in her eyes..

Was it a good idea to show her the room where your friend and her baby were murdered…?

You watched as Shadie made the choice for you and opened the door before vanishing once more. Alice ran inside the room while you walked slowly behind her, looking at the room that didn’t change at all. You looked to the bed, where it was once dirty by your friend’s blood…

You shook your hand, feeling lightheaded. You should open the window…

You turned your face toward your daughter who was reaching for a book from the huge bookcase. You tilted your head when you saw her whisper.

“ What are you doing, Alice?”

“ I’m talking with my friend !”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. You opened the windows, smiling as the light of the sun came inside the room. You sat on the bed and closed your eyes.

Now, you needed to find a room where Trey had done his sacrifice. If that room existed, it would be in the Richemont’s mansion, it would be easier for him to work here. You concentrated on the energy around you, you could feel your own energy, Alastor’s shadow’s energy, Alice’s and…

You gasped when you felt another energy that seemed familiar. You smirked, you found it.

Trey’s energy.

You stood up and looked around, the source of energy was close to you, and you remembered Alice telling you that wealthy people always had hidden room in their suites.. You walked around Alice’s former room, trying to find something that would open a door…

But nothing..

You sighed after searching for a whole hour. You were getting more irritated by the seconds, you could feel the energy, it was so close, you could almost grasp it… And yet, you couldn’t find it.

“ Damn it…”

“ What are you looking for mommy?”

You turned your gaze toward your daughter with a tired smile. You stroked her cheek as she giggled.

“ I’m looking for a secret room… But I can’t find it.” You sighed once more, putting your face between your palms. You felt like you were going to be crazy, this energy was nagging you, sometimes it was strong and sometimes it was so weak you had to stop moving to concentrate so as not to lose the connection with it.

“ I know something you don’t know~”

You raised an eyebrow at your daughter who was looking at you with a smile so similar to Alastor you could almost see your husband’s face on your daughter.

“ Oh really?”

“ Yes! My friend says it was supposed to be a secret but because Mommy wants it, I will show you!”

Alice turned around and trotted toward the bookcase. You tilted your head as she whispered toward a book and waited… She then looked at you and waved at you to come closer. You walked toward her, not very sure if you were losing time or not.

Your daughter took a book off the bookcase and you gasped as the furniture opened itself, revealing stairs that were going down. You quickly put yourself in front of Alice but your daughter was already running down the stairs excitedly.

“ Alice!”

You ran after her, being careful of the steps you were taking. You gagged when you entered a wide room that was mostly Trey’s sacrificial place. You could still smell blood, the ustensile weren’t even cleaned…

You walked toward a desk and grimaced when you saw eyeballs, hearts and other things inside of jars… But one jars made you stop breathing. You took the jars and gasped when you read the label on it.

“ Alastor’s father's eye, killed by his childhood friend and himself.” You whispered under your breath as you read out loud what was written. You looked at the book on the desk and began to read.

“ Making a deal with devils… How to save a soul… How to resurrect someone with their family’s blood..?... How to keep someone alive.. Using a descendant as a vessel..” You shivered as you kept reading the notes that were in the books. “ How to defeat Voodoo..” The book fell from your hand when you read that sentence.

You truly didn’t know anything about Trey. He knew much more than you thought. He had many notes… You kept reading and paled when you saw he had even notes about Alastor, Marie, Alice, John… even yourself. He knew everything since you were a kid. He had notes about your parents, your family that was out of the country… even notes on your daughter.

That bastard… You kept reading as you saw more recent notes. Some were in french … in basque if you remembered correctly…

“ Ingredients: Erori…use it with–”

“ There you are !”

You spun around when you heard Alice’s shout. You ran toward her, feeling like you could vomit at any moment.

“ Alice !”

You stopped at the scene in front of you. Alice was sitting in front of a cage, holding the bar with her little hands. She was looking at something inside.. or someone... You walked closer and gasped.

Inside the cage was a little boy, he seemed truly like he was starving… He had blond hair and blue eyes with a hint of gold inside of them. He looked at you and seemed terrified. You sat next to your daughter, trying to seem as small as possible.

Was Trey using children as sacrifice? How vile…

“ Hello.. I won’t hurt you… okay..?”

The boy backed away from you, his back hitting the cage. You winced at the noise and from the way he held his head with his hands, he must have hurt himself. How could you show him you were not a danger for him..?

“ Don’t be afraid ! This is mommy!” Alice whispered at the boy who stopped shaking. Maybe he was scared of adults… You smiled at the boy who was looking with those familiar eyes… Where did you see them..

“ I’m Alice’s mother… She told me you needed help.. So I came here.” You gave him a soft smile which seemed to help him relax. He crawled toward you, staring at your face.

“ You… You won’t hurt me…?”

His voice was low, so weak… How could someone do something like this to a child!

“ No, of course not… “ You observed him, trying to see if he had any serious injury. You could see bruises but nothing life threatening. “ I’m here to help you, I will save you, we promise, right Alice?”

“ I promised it! I said I would come!” Your daughter nodded, holding the little boy’s hand with hers. You tilted your head, staring at Alice.

“ Is he… the friend you were talking about..?”

“ Yes!” Alice grinned at you while the boy seemed scared that you would hurt him because of your discovery. You quickly smile at him trying to reassure him.

“ I see, and what is your name, my boy?”

“ Erori…”

You flinched as you heard the boy sharing his name. You stood up, saying you were going to look for the key to open the cage but you quickly went back to the book.

“ Ingredients: Erori…use it with the blood of his parents. The ingredient must have been drenched in the blood of multiple sacrifices so his soul is attached to the devil you want to make a deal with… Then you can make a deal to make a translation: A soul from the same family owned by the same devil…”

You put the book down, feeling numb… It couldn’t be… He was supposed to be dead… Trey said he burned him.. He killed him after killing Alice… whose soul is owned by Lucifer… He killed him.. He burned him… Alice was only 6 months pregnant… He couldn’t be alive..

You walked toward the cage, staring at the same blond hair and blue eyes your once cherished friend had.

“ What is your full name..?”

“ My name is Erori Richemont, madam…”

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