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iydiamartinx · 21 days ago

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THIS MEANS WAR III

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 3.3k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I'm not fully sure how I feel about this chapter, since Jason is surprisingly tricky to write, but I hope you all enjoyed! warnings: attempted mugging & sexual innuendos

GOTHAM STREETS

You hadn’t stopped smiling since you left the bar.

You tried. You really did. Kept your head down, hands buried deep in your coat pockets, boots tapping out a steady rhythm against the uneven Gotham pavement. But every time your mind replayed something he said—or the way he looked at you when you teased him—your lips tugged upward like they were betraying you on purpose.

Dick had surprised you. In all the best ways.

You’d expected someone charming, maybe a little smug—he was too attractive not to be at least a little aware of it—but what you hadn’t expected was the ease. The comfort. The way conversation flowed like you’d known him longer than an hour. How he actually listened when you spoke, even when your words slipped into science—what Milo liked to call your “brainiac voice.” And not only did he keep up, he added to it. Challenged you. Made you laugh so hard at one point you nearly choked on your wine.

And then there was the way he looked at you. How he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—like you were someone worth listening too. Worth knowing.

You’d been on your fair share of dates—most forgettable, some mildly scarring. But this one… it felt different. Effortless. Familiar in a way that made no sense. He asked questions that weren’t filler. He listened like he cared. And when you’d said goodbye, he’d looked at you like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Truthfully, neither were you.

But you’d insisted on walking home alone—claiming it was close, which, technically, it was—though the real reason had less to do with distance and more to do with needing air. The space to process everything. A few quiet blocks to let the night settle over you before reality crept back in and your logical brain kicked down the door.

It was foolish, maybe—letting one good date stir up that much hope. You weren’t that girl. You didn’t do that. Even with Jake, it had taken a handful of dates (and a bottle of wine) before you’d started to soften. But with Dick?

It had been effortless. Like your heart had skipped the part where it’s supposed to check for red flags.

God help you, but you already kind of wanted to see him again. That was terrifying.

You turned into an alley—a shortcut toward your apartment. You were still buzzing from the date, your thoughts spinning, smile lingering like a stubborn echo. So much so that, for one foolish second, you forgot where you were.

This was Gotham. And rule number one?

Never take an alley after dark.

You didn’t see him coming. One shove and your back slammed into rough brick, the breath knocked from your lungs. A hand clamped over your mouth before you could scream. His breath reeked—alcohol, smoke, something foul and rotting—and the cold press of metal kissed your throat.

“Stay still,” your attacker hissed. “Or I’ll cut your pretty neck.”

Your mind screamed to move, to run—but your body froze. Just for a second. And then the fight kicked in. Old instincts reared up, you weren’t going down like this.

You forced your body to go limp, pretending to give in. Waited. Just until his grip eased. Then, with everything you had, you drove your knee into his groin.

He let out a strangled noise—somewhere between a groan and a wheeze—and stumbled back.

You ran.

Made it halfway down the alley before his hand caught your arm again. You spun, adrenaline lighting you up, and punched him square in the face.

“You bitch!” he snarled.

“Now that’s no way to treat a lady,” a deep, distorted voice drawled behind you.

Your attacker froze.

You felt it—the shift in the air. Watched his expression drain of colour.

“Hood,” he stammered. “It’s… it’s not what it looks like. I swear—”

The knife clattered to the pavement as he raised trembling hands.

Red Hood emerged from the shadows like a walking threat. Boots heavy, twin pistols holstered but clearly visible at his sides. The red helmet gleamed under the flickering alley lights, tilted ever so slightly. Unreadable.

“I saw what it looked like,” he said, voice smooth and mechanical through the modulator. “And I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it didn’t look like a misunderstanding.”

The man stammered. “I—I didn’t touch her, man! She hit me first!”

“Oh, poor you,” Red Hood said dryly, already reaching for him. “Bet that’ll sound real convincing when your jaw’s wired shut.”

He grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him against the opposite wall—hard. The man whimpered, sliding down like a sack of garbage. Dazed. Bleeding. Breathing.

Red Hood swiftly zipped tied him for the police and then he turned back toward you, and you instinctively took a half-step back before freezing mid-motion.

That helmet turned.

“You alright?”

You blinked, adrenaline still thundering in your chest. “Define ‘alright.’”

He paused. “Still breathing. Upright. Capable of sarcasm. You’re fine.” His tone sharpened. “Which means you can tell me what the hell you were thinking. Who walks into a Gotham alley at night?”

Your spine straightened. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t just wander into places like this unless you’re actively trying to get mugged,” he snapped, jerking his head toward the man slumped nearby. “You wanna end up dead in a gutter or are you just new here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry—should I have teleported home instead?” you snapped, heart still racing. “It was a shortcut. That’s it.”

“A shortcut?” he echoed, like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Congratulations. You shaved off what, thirty seconds? Was it worth the knife to the throat?”

“I didn’t know he was going to be there!”

“You never know,” he bit out. “That’s the point. It’s Gotham. Rule number one: don’t go out in the dark. Especially not in alleys.”

“I’m not stupid,” you growled, fists clenched at your sides.

“Then start acting like it.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You flinched, breath catching.

He paused, chest heaving slightly beneath the jacket. For a moment, the alley was silent but for the distant hum of the city. “You were lucky tonight. That’s all it was. Next time, maybe I’m not here. And maybe someone worse finds you.”

You stared at him, fists clenched, cheeks burning. Not with fear—but with embarrassment. Frustration. Fury.

“I didn’t ask for a lecture,” you muttered.

“No,” he said flatly. “You asked for a shortcut.”

“Asshole,” you spat.

“Sure. Call me the asshole when I just saved your ass.”

“I had it handled.”

That made him laugh—rough, humourless. . “You had it handled? Right. I showed up just in time to watch you get handled into a wall.”

You stepped forward, eyes blazing now. “Yeah? And I still got out of it. I kneed him first. Clocked him too. Or did you miss that part while playing Gotham’s angriest knight?”

He tilted his head, helmet gleaming beneath the alley’s flickering light. “That’s cute princess. You want a medal for being half a second away from a news headline?”

“No,” you snapped. “I want to not be treated like some helpless idiot because I had one bad night. You don’t know me.”

There was a pause—charged and electric.

“I know enough,” he growled.

You raised your chin, defiant. “Then you should know I don’t take well to being talked down to. Especially not by a guy hiding behind a helmet and a complex.”

He stilled. Just for an unnoticeable moment.

You weren’t afraid of him. Not the guns. Not the name. Not the reputation.

You stood there, furious and unshaken, like he was just another guy off the street who’d pissed you off. Not a vigilante. Not Red Hood. Just a man with too much attitude and a helmet to hide behind.

Normal civilians got scared. Normal civilians said thank you and rushed home with shaky breaths and adrenaline still spiking.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Because you weren’t scared. Not even close.

“God, you’re infuriating,” he muttered.

“And you’re annoying.” You folded your arms. “But here we are.”

Another pause.

The tension between you didn’t fade—if anything it seemed to thicken.

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

Finally, he stepped back, retreating into the shadows.

“Go home, smartass,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crouched to grab your fallen purse, and muttered a string of creative insults under your breath—but when you looked up, he was gone. And yet… you felt him. Somewhere above. Watching.

He didn’t stop watching until you were safely inside your building.

This was your first encounter with a Gotham vigilante—and man, was he an asshole.

Jason had just watched your infuriating ass disappear into your apartment complex—because apparently, Gotham shortcuts were death traps and you didn’t believe in better choices—when his comm crackled to life.

“How was the date, dickhead?” Jason muttered, eyes fixed on your building.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dick replied, voice disgustingly bright. Jason could practically hear the grin.

Jason grunted. “Answer the question.”

“It was great.”

Jason snorted. “No way.”

“I’m serious,” Dick insisted. “Smart, funny, terrifying—in a good way. Total knockout.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Terrifying in a good way?”

“She roasted me and quoted serotonin receptor pathways in the same sentence.”

Jason blinked. There was a beat of silence where he genuinely didn’t know what to say. Then one corner of his mouth twitched upward behind the mask, and his eyebrows arched slightly. “…Kinky.”

Dick barked out a laugh. “Right? I think I’m in love.”

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his masked face. “You say that every time someone tolerates you for more than twenty minutes.”

“This one didn’t just tolerate me—she mocked me with clinical accuracy. It was like foreplay for my ego.”

Jason shook his head, lips twitching again despite himself. “I hate you.”

“She also said she doesn’t do second dates often.” Dick went on, more thoughtful now. “So naturally, I begged like a man with no shame.”

“Which you are.”

“Exactly.”

Jason leaned back against the rooftop ledge, one boot resting on the low brick barrier, eyes still trained on the window across the street. His voice shifted, lower. “So… you’re really doing this?”

There was a pause, just long enough for Jason to hear the sincerity settle into Dick’s tone. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I want to see her again.”

Jason didn’t respond. Didn’t need to. The pause stretched, heavy in its own way, until Dick broke it.

“So what’s got you in a bad mood?”

Jason exhaled through his nose and tipped his head back slightly, gaze dragging upward toward the Gotham skyline. The clouds above were thick and dark, hanging low with a threat of rain. Sirens whined in the distance, their sound warping slightly in the wind.

“You know the usual,” he muttered, “beating up scumbags, saving civilians, keeping the streets clear for romantics like you.”

“Aw,” Dick cooed. “So chivalrous. Anyone ever tell you you’re a real catch?”

“Only in your dreams.”

Dick snorted. “Seriously though—bad night?”

Jason hesitated, gaze flicking toward the apartment window he’d just seen you walk past, you’d made it to your place safe. “Let’s just say Gotham delivered its usual charm. Creep with a knife, a civilian with a death wish, and me playing babysitter.”

“You alright?”

“I’m fine. She’s fine. Dumb as hell, but fine.”

“Dumb?”

“Took a shortcut through an alley. Alone. At night.” His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking hard beneath the edge of his helmet. “You do the math.”

“Oof,” Dick said, wincing audibly. “She’s lucky you showed up.”

Jason didn’t reply right away.

From the other end, Dick sighed. “It sounds like a usual night on the job. So what’s wrong?”

Jason’s jaw flexed. “She mouthed off at me,” he muttered, almost sounding petulant.

“So do you. Constantly.”

Jason scoffed, pushing off the ledge. He began pacing along the rooftop edge, glancing down at the street below. “She told me off, then strutted into her building like she didn’t almost get stabbed five minutes prior.”

Dick let out a low, impressed hum. “…Hot.”

Jason stopped mid-step, turning sharply. “Shut up, Dick.”

“You’re thinking about her, though.”

His hand flexed at his side. He knew exactly what Dick was doing—and worse, he knew he wasn’t wrong.

“I swear to God,” Jason growled, “if you don’t end this call—”

“Okay, okay,” Dick said, still laughing. “I’ll let you go. But I am getting the full story tomorrow. Don’t think I won’t drag it out of you.”

Jason rolled his shoulders, already turning his back to the apartment and heading for the fire escape. “I liked you better when you were getting shot at in Blüdhaven.”

“Love you too, Little Wing.”

The comm clicked off, blessed silence returning to his ears.

Jason exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. He turned back one last time, casting a final glance at your window.

“Infuriating,” he muttered.

YOUR APARTMENT

You groaned as you rolled out of bed, every muscle in your body protesting the movement. Your side ached, your legs were sore, and your back felt like it was body slammed by a bear. God, you really wished your body was sore for an entirely different reason.

You winced as you stretched, muttering curses under your breath. You really should’ve taken Dick home while you had the chance. Whoever said sleeping with someone on the first date was trashy had clearly never met Dick Grayson. That man could charm the pants off someone’s grandma and probably have her baking cookies for him after.

Speaking of…

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and blinked against the screen’s glow. One new message. From him.

“Had a great time last night. Can’t wait to see you again.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the stupid, giddy sound bubbling up your throat as you responded.

Thankfully, it was the weekend. No lectures. No lab work. No coworkers to fake professionalism around while your brain short-circuited over one man’s text. You had the whole day to yourself, and as you got dressed—tugging on jeans, your favorite coat, and a scarf soft enough to feel like a hug—you already knew where you were going.

First stop: Cafe Nero’s.

Your usual. A buttery croissant and a cup of iced coffee with a splash of vanilla.

Next? The bookshop.

The bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warm scent of old paper and fresh espresso instantly curling around you. Sunlight bled through the tall windows, casting golden slats across the hardwood floors and over the scattered reading chairs nestled in cozy corners.

You wandered toward the back, cradling your coffee cup in one hand as you traced your fingers over the spines of new novels with the other. The ache in your side throbbed beneath your coat, a stubborn reminder of what almost happened—but you ignored it. Compared to the fluttering thrill still tucked under your ribs from Dick’s message, it felt small. Distant.

He’d enjoyed last night.

He wanted to see you again.

Now, with a croissant in your stomach and your fingers itching for a new read, the world felt calm again. Almost normal.

“I wouldn’t pick that one.”

You blinked, turning your head—and your eyes landed on a man leaning casually against the next shelf. Thick leather jacket zipped halfway, dark jeans worn in all the right places, and bright, poison-green eyes fixed on you with an expression equal parts amused and assessing. His hair—black as ink with a streak of white at the front—was tousled like he hadn’t planned on being seen today, but his posture said otherwise. Confident. Sharp-edged. Like someone who didn’t mind getting into trouble—or starting it.

“Excuse me?”

He nodded at the book in your hand. “That author’s all hype, no heart. You’ll be disappointed by chapter three.”

You arched a brow. “And you care what I read because…?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “Call it a public service. Mediocre storytelling is a crime. I’m just doing my part.”

You scoffed before glancing down at the book in your hand. “Right. And here I thought Gotham’s biggest crime was murder. Turns out it’s just bad literature.”

He smirked, completely unbothered. “Hey, murder’s messy. Bad writing’s slow, painful, and somehow still legal.”

You blinked. “…Are you seriously comparing my book choice to murder?”

He gestured to the cover, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying—if you’re gonna invest your time in something, might as well make sure it knows how to keep you satisfied.”

“And what do you know about what keeps me satisfied?” The words slipped out before you could stop them—sounding more flirtier than you intended. God. Milo was creating a monster.

His grin widened. “Because I know books. And I know women.”

You studied him more carefully now—the cocky set of his jaw, the glint in his eyes that said he was used to mouthing off and dealing with the consequences. He had the posture of someone who picked fights with the world for fun, and the scars to prove it. Everything about him was a bad boy, through and through.

He reached over, his arm brushing just close enough to make your breath hitch, the scent of leather, cologne and…gunpowder? curled around you. His body shifted nearer as he plucked another title from the shelf.

“Here,” he said, holding it out. You recognized the cover—it’d been trending online all week. “Strong plot. Sharp dialogue. Main love interest actually has depth… the kind that keeps you up thinking about them even after the book is done.”

You took the book, more to humor him than anything, and scanned the back cover. “And if it’s terrible?”

“Then you can yell at me over coffee. I’ll even pretend to be sorry.” His voice dropped an octave. “But if you’ve read it already, you know it’s a good pick. And if you haven’t—you’ll thank me for introducing you to it.”

You glanced up at him, “Well, I have read it.”

His smirk widened.

“And I agree—it wasn’t bad,” you said, slow and coy. “But it’s not her best work. Not even close.”

You state watching as his smirked faltered.

“You picked it because it’s trending. Vaguely steamy with enough grit to make it look deep when it’s actually just shallow fiction in a leather jacket. Compared to her earlier stuff? It’s second-tier, if we’re being honest.”

His eyebrows rose slightly—whether from amusement or disbelief, you weren’t sure.

“And,” you added, stepping into his space, “it says a lot about a guy who picks the easiest option without doing his homework. Because if you really knew anything about women—or me, in that matter—you’d know I’m more than capable of picking out my own damn books.”

Jason stared at you, momentarily stunned.

You set the book neatly back on the shelf and grabbed the one you actually came here for. “So, no. I’ll pass.”

Then you turned, heels clicking against the floor as you walked away, fully prepared to leave him behind in the dust of his own misplaced confidence.

“Wait—hold on—” he started.

“I’m sure you’ll have better luck next time, paperback Casanova,” you tossed over your shoulder, not breaking stride. “I’m sure there’s a girl out there who’s impressed by leather jackets and surface-level charm. Try aisle three.”

And with that, you disappeared down the row.

Then he exhaled a disbelieving laugh. Sharp. Breathless.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

He wasn’t exactly a womanizer—not like Roy, who’d mellowed out a lot since Lian was born—but he’d never been shot down that fast, or that hard.

You were infuriatingly attractive, all wit and spine, and it pissed him off how badly it worked on him. He really shouldn’t be wasting his time chasing after you —and yet, here he was. Standing in the middle of the aisle like an idiot wondering how the hell he was going to get a second chance.

You were something he hadn’t realized he was missing lately.

A challenge.

And he couldn’t resist a good challenge.

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Taglist: @mei-simp, @sept3mberchild, @a-brilliante-mariposa, @feralwolfkat, @mercuryathens

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kxsagi · 1 month ago

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hihihi~!

i really love your work and had a request to see if it was possible!

what’s your thoughts on bllk men if they were a girl dad? of course, they would be aged up. do you think they’ll do awesome or completely struggle with their daughter?

i just love girl dads, they’re so cute. i love bllk, too. so, why not put them together? <3

if you can do that, you’ll make my day!

“𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐚”

a/n: hi, this idea is so wholesome, i love the fluff!!!

i absolutely live for the daughter effect

(art credits go to kisa0813 on X)

ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, barou shoei, mikage reo, kaiser michael

isagi yoichi – “will try his absolute best but is also stressed 24/7”

reads every parenting blog and book he can get his hands on like it’s soccer film.

cries the first time she says “dada.”

overly worried about her crawling near anything mildly dangerous. “is that corner too sharp?? is the floor too hard???”

can braid hair decently now, but he watches a tutorial every time.

tried to play soccer with her once. she picked flowers instead. he proudly kept them in his wallet for weeks.

dad rating: 8/10 (competent, but emotionally overwhelmed).

nagi seishiro – “lady dad turned ultimate softie”

thought being a dad would be too much work… until she fell asleep on his chest once. now she has him wrapped around her teeny tiny pinky.

lets her paint his nails. also lets her put stickers on his face. doesn’t flinch.

he carries her on his shoulders all the time. even when she’s like 9.

naps together = sacred bonding time (his love language as well).

doesn’t know how to say no, so his daughter gets whatever she wants.

dad rating: 10/10 (shockingly incredible and a natural, chillest girl dad on the planet).

bachira meguru – “chaotic good dad”

teaches her how to climb trees and paint murals on the walls (with washable paint… sometimes).

she has glitter in her hair and so does he. always.

they make up silly dances in the living room. matching pajamas. karaoke battles.

lives for being called “her favorite person.”

tells her monsters aren’t scary because she’s scarier, and she believes it.

dad rating: 11/10 (she’s a menace just like him and they’re thriving).

itoshi rin – “emotionally constipated but trying so hard”

very awkward at first. holds her like she might explode.

eventually becomes her quiet protector. she doesn’t need words when he’s around.

learns to tie pigtails with surgical precision. might not talk much, but he’s very present.

when she gets older and gets her heart broken, he will hunt the boy down.

secretly lets her paint his nails black. she says he looks “cooler” that way.

dad rating: 7/10 (emotionally struggling, but loves her more than anything).

itoshi sae – “cool dad but unbothered until she calls him out”

acts chill, but his daughter has him clocked. “you act like you don’t care, but you bought me five outfits for one field trip, dad.”

drives her to school with sunglasses on. she still holds his pinky.

always says “no” to tea parties… until she calls him “sir sae of the pink palace.” then he pulls up in a crown.

gives subtle but powerful advice. “you’re already better than anyone who doubts you.”

dad rating: 9/10 (low effort, high impact. she’s his favorite person but he’ll never admit it out loud).

barou shoei – “terrifying to everyone but her”

she has a bow in her hair and he has matching scrunchies on his wrist. he pretends he doesn’t like it.

yells at anyone who makes her cry. teachers. kids. possibly clouds.

makes her eat vegetables. makes them look like her favorite animals first.

draws a lion on every lunchbox note. sometimes it says “roar today” in all caps.

once attended a ballet recital in a full suit. cried when she did a spin.

dad rating: 10/10 (terrifying dad, softest girl protector ever).

mikage reo – “spoils her endlessly and unapologetically”

designer baby clothes. baby yoga. a mini sports car she doesn’t even know how to drive.

makes flashcards to teach her 3 languages before age 4.

will throw her a birthday party that costs more than a wedding.

but if she says she’d rather have a picnic with him? he’s packing snacks in 2 seconds.

wants her to know she can do anything, even if it means letting her “do his makeup” for 2 hours straight.

dad rating: 9/10 (rich, extra, but devoted as hell).

kaiser michael – “wants to win best dad award… but needs help”

overly confident at first. “this’ll be easy, i’m amazing with kids.” drops the pacifier on the first try.

secretly has parenting books hidden in his bathroom. will never admit he cried at a lullaby.

tries to teach her german before she can even talk.

his daughter tells him to stop showing off when they’re at the park.

gets offended when she says “mommy’s stronger.”

dad rating: 6.5/10 (trying his best, needs some humbling. but he does love her to pieces).

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

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a guide to ditching the world's most persistent nerd! ✦ series masterlist

a nerd!gojo x baddie!reader series

synopsis : gojo satoru has been the bane of your existence since kindergarten. he rejected your chocolates, ignored your attempts at friendship, and solidified himself as the most insufferable nerd you've ever met. years later, you're a party girl with a trust fund and a talent for avoidance, and he's still everywhere—top of his class, heir to an empire, and somehow, still your problem.

when you're paired up for a project worth 60% of your final grade, you think you can slack off. gojo thinks otherwise. he tracks you down at exclusive clubs, drags you back to work, and worst of all—he looks at you like he's already won.

you flirt to distract him, he humors you. you push, he pulls. you seduce, he tucks your hair behind your ear and makes it your move.

oh no.

status : hiatus (6/? chapters, 41k word count) ✦ tags -> modern au, university au, tooth rooting fluff with a side of light angst, unresolved romantic tension, suggestive themes, gojo satoru is a green flag menace, reader has issues, power struggles but gojo is unaware he's in one, forced proximity via group project, reader tries to ditch gojo satoru and fails spectacularly, pining disguised as irritation, rich kids and their rich kid problems, the art of denial, humor (i hope), eventual happy ending, heavily inspired by HER (chase atlantic)

— chapter index

01 – the anatomy of a grudge

it starts with a princess, a prince, and a perfectly decorated box of chocolates. it ends with a broken heart, a flying carrot, and a lifelong vendetta. some wounds never heal. some grudges never die. and it is just impossible to avoid someone when you live in the same bubble.

02 – the psychology of making gojo satoru fold

step two in ditching the world’s most persistent nerd: don't let him drag you out of a party. don't let him make you do actual work. and absolutely do not, under any circumstances, fall asleep.

03 – you can't flirt your way out of protein deficiency

step three in ditching the world's most persistent nerd : do not wake up in gojo satoru’s condo. do not let him steal your custom-made designer heels. and absolutely do not, under any circumstances, let him blackmail you with breakfast.

04 – case study: identifying gojo satoru's type

step four in ditching the world's most persistent nerd: do not let him steal your food, do not let him drink from your straw like he owns it, and absolutely do not let him flip your own trap back on you until you're suddenly the one planning a date.

05 – scientific method: be vanilla, observe gojo, spiral

step five in ditching the world’s most persistent nerd: do not spend 50 million yen on an elaborate disguise. do not let him see through your every move like it’s a mildly entertaining game. and absolutely do not, under any circumstances, let him call you cute.

06 – scientific breakthrough : gojo satoru actually cares. terrifying.

step six in ditching the world's most persistent nerd: do not let him see you unravel. do not let him wrap his jacket around your shoulders. and absolutely do not, under any circumstances, ask him why he cares.

more to come.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo x female reader #cross posted on ao3 #nerdjo #nerd gojo #reader insert #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #fluff #jjk x you #gojo fanfic #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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droaxa · 11 months ago

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✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 2

✧ warnings: violence and force, yandere behavior, descriptions of dismemberment, blood, stalking, police, nsfw content, kissing, angst, smut, breaking in, attempted murder, cuts, dead dove, probably more stuff

✧ a/n: my most requested fic at the moment! i decided to take some of your suggestions and add my own twist at the end + yandere name reveal!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

yandere cheater wrestles you into his car after he drags you outta the cafe you’re in, unyielding as you try to pull away. the second he shuts the door and jets to the drivers side, you force yourself out the door and sprint down the street.

you hear his yells as you increase your speed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long. not only was he more athletic than you, but a look back revealed his terrifying expression. he was clearly set on catching you, having the advantage in his relatively relaxed clothing opposed to you, who was dressed for a date.

knowing you couldn’t beat him you came to a sudden stop of to the side of the sidewalk and he rammed into your side. stumbling back a few steps you stopped him. eyes wide and hair blown back, he looks at you mildly surprised.

“wha-” you interrupt him this time, taking advantage of his surprise by slapping a hand over his mouth.

you bring on an expression that you think is intimidating, “leave me the fuck alone, i don’t know what the hell you want but i’m not taking you back”

he scoffs like he has you all figured out, taking your hand off his mouth to reveal a smirk underneath. “guess mother dear will find out about your… escapades then”

smack!

you slap him across the face sharply, sound reverberating around you and leaving a tinge of red on his cheek. his mouth gapes as he looks back at you even more surprised, what happened to the mild mannered girl who he had cheated on dated?

“release those anywhere and i will fuck up your life asshole” you fume, hand still in the air as if to threaten him for another slap. “you’re the one that decided to cheat on me with every girl we knew. fucking own up to it”

you were sick of his shit, who did he think he was? you huff out a quiet fuck off as you pass him, shoulder bumping against his. as soon as you rounded the corner you sprint to a nearby parked cab, slamming the door on your way in.

“to the university dorms please”

yandere cheater runs after you too late, rounding the corner as you take off in the cab. poor baby, you were still hung up on him cheating? he didn’t even really like those girls anyway, they weren’t good for anything except their bodies.

but you, you were it for him. he’d do anything to see your cute smile again, to see you whimper on his cock. he felt his swollen cheek, your anger may come in the way of him proving his love, but you’d understand in the end. how deep his love ran. all he had to do was prove was that those girls meant nothing.

two weeks had passed, two long peaceful weeks. your ex finally seemed to give up, the barrage of text messages and calls diminishing to radio silence and constant gifts at your doorstep suddenly stopping. maybe you were more intimidating than you thought.

the second you got home after the encounter, you had called your mother and explained everything. although she did yell at you for a solid hour due her disappointment in you sending out explicit photos of yourself, she understood your situation. after giving her instructions on blocking your ex if he tried to reach out to her you were finally at a peace of mind. at a zen. maybe you could turn a new leaf, you deserved it.

of course you had fucking jinxed it, just when you finally thought it was all over, your ex had tried to force himself back in your life again. deep down, you knew he wouldn’t give up that easy. he’d always be stubborn to a fault.

two weeks after the encounter a small navy present box appeared in from of your new dorm room door. still groggy with sleep you rubbed your eyes and picked up the box, bringing it inside. after contemplating for a minute, you finally decide to open it. in your sleep ridden state, you reasoned that it was probably something you’d left behind at your ex’s house.

it takes a minute to register the contents of the box, but when you do

“OH MY GOD”

you scream and stumble back.

two bloodshot green- brown eyes were pressed into the shiny white silk inside, the area around them a tinge of red. that alone could be passed off as a cruel prank by some immature students but the unmistakable metallic scent of blood lingering in the air said otherwise. that and the only other item in the plush silk: a silver bracelet with the initials ‘e.r’.

only one person you knew owned that bracelet and had those eyes, your ‘friend’ eva. but you had blocked and lost contact with her after you found her and your boyfriend together in the bathroom of the mall. there’s no way she would have just lost this bracelet either, you remembered her bragging about how it was permanent. being soldering together around her hand.

you were nauseous. oh god. you knew it was him, you just knew. sure you hated her but you didn’t want her to die. what the hell, what the fuck do you even do?

before you could think you grabbed your phone calling the only person you could think of.

“can you come over quick, please?”

20 minutes later a dark haired man rushed in through your front door, spotting you curled up in the corner. your eyes wide and still staring at the open box.

“(y/n) what’s going on?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly. you just point to the box and he takes a peek, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes shoot open “fucking hell…”

you turn to him, eyes teary “ray what do we do?”

ray was your one real friend through everything your ex put you through, and ironically your ex’s older brother. he was one that introduced you to your ex and thus he blamed himself for letting him hurt you, even though you’d reassured him that you didn’t find him at any fault.

he was reliable and kind, a shoulder to lean on when things got tough. you’d known him for almost two years longer than your ex and honestly if you didn’t meet your ex, the small crash you harbored for ray may have grown. after you met you ex you assumed that your feelings for ray had naturally died out but you couldn’t lie about the strange biting feeling in your chest whenever you saw him.

and even now he was talking care of you, taking you to the police station to talk to the police and turning in the bloody present. a few hours later you both were back in your dorm, sitting on the edge of your bed as you discussed the situation.

“look i really appreciate all this, you didn’t have to come with me to the station”

he smiles, “anytime (y/n), if it’s for you”

you smile back, face a little warm from his answer “that’s sweet”

he moves a little closer, your pinkies now you touching. “you’re sweeter, my asshole brother doesn’t know what he missed out on.” and you swear that you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

“really?” you ask coyly, leaning in slightly.

he nods slightly hesitant “if i had a girlfriend like you i wouldn’t dare disrespect her like that, i-i mean you’re thoughtful and pretty and-” he gets cut off as you lean up and press your lips to his. he immediately freezes up and you take his response as rejection, pulling away. fuck, he was obviously just being nice who even likes their brothers ex?

“i’m so sorry i though-” before you can finish apologizing ray’s lips smash onto yours, one of his hands in your hair to pull you closer and the other guiding your lips to his by your chin. in between heated kisses he mumbles,

“god i was waiting for so long,” a kiss.

“prettiest girl i’ve ever met” another heated kiss. his words of longing slur as he continues to kiss you, pulling you ever closer. his plush lips trail down your neck and to your stomach, slender hand playing at your waistband. his hooded eyes look up at you as his other hand wanders under your shirt. “can i?”

you give him a shy nod and he smiles, pulling down your pajama shorts to reveal white cotton panties. you cover your face with your arm out of embarrassment and he reaches out, keeping your arm down.

“wann’ see your pretty face, waited for it” you nod meekly and he flashes his dimples, continuing to pull down your panties and throw them somewhere behind him. your cute cunt, glistening with arousal was right in front of his face. fuck. gliding a finger up the slit, he watches as the slick from your pussy coats it. fuck.

an hour later he was in heaven, or at least you felt like it. buried deep inside your wet cunt as you moaned and squirmed under him

“ngh- fuck, so good fa’ me baby”

this was the stuff of wet dreams. he speeds up as he feels his orgasm approaching, praises and grunts slipping from his lips as he slams his hips against yours. soft skin against muscle, hot breath on your face from where he was above you. finally he pulls out with groan, wanting to stay buried in your warm. spurts of warm cum shoot up your stomach as he finally finishes.

ray collapses beside you, both of you sweaty and nude as you bathe in the afterglow. weakly, you smile at his tired form as you close your eyes, drifting to sleep in your warm bed.

bang!

you wake up with a start, wearing a shirt too big to be yours. must be ray’s. you look around the dim room and reach for ray, feeling nothing in the space next to your body. did ray… leave? that couldn’t be right. your bare feet hit the wood floor as you step towards your lamp and turn on the light. nothing.

you look around the bedroom and then head to the kitchen, turning the corner and switching on the light. immediately the kitchen floods with light and you gasp. the floor was tracked with blood, a trail leading from where you stood to your bathroom. was he hurt?! you cautiously approach the bathroom, a sharp metallic scent dominates your nose as push open the half open door.

“took a while to wake up didn’t you sleepyhead?”

your blood runs cold. it was your ex boyfriend. if the crazed grin in his face wasn’t unsettling enough the blood smearing on his cheek and splattered across his body sent alarms going off inside you. looking behind him you see the source of all the red.

ray. deep cuts run down his body, clothes shredded, and body half submerged in the now murky red water of the tub. on the tile floor next to him was your kitchen knife, covered in blood. without missing a beat you turned and sprinted to your bed stand, searching for your phone. there’s no way you would make it to the door in time, you needed to call the police and at least save ray.

haphazardly searching your bed and nightstand, you still can’t find your phone. where is it?

“oh lookin’ for your phone?” you turn to him. in his hand was the aforementioned object, light pink case looking uncharacteristically cute opposed to his blood-ridden form. “you’re a pretty deep sleeper hon, i mean i was rummaging around right next to you for this and you didn’t even hear”

“what are you doing raph?” you ask terrified, slowly inching away from him.

in response he approaches you, “what do you think? my girl runs off on me and the next time i see her she’s fucking my brother. you tryna make me jealous baby?” he leans in, expression seemingly amused but you knew better. he was pissed.

“and you’re wearing his shirt too” his large hand plays with the round collar of the tee, fingers ghosting over your collarbones.

“take it off”

eyes wide, you look up at him, “no i won-”

“take it off or he dies” raph’s face is dead serious, no traces of amusement left, stare burning into your face. “you want him to live right? i’ll call the police as long as you take it off”

you hesitate then slowly peel off ray’s shirt, letting it fall to the floor. raph had seen your body before right? it was a small price to pay for saving rays life. the action left you in only your cotton panties as you tried to preserve your modesty with your hands.

raph lets out a low whistle and steps forward, pulling you closer by the curve of your waist. chucking as you shiver due to his cold touch

“already forgot i feel baby? might needa reteach ya”

you look away from him, refusing to see the smug expression playing on his face.

at that moment you felt a wave of self hatred crash over you, why couldn’t you do anything about this? were you so weak that you couldn’t protect yourself, much less ray? but who were you kidding, you weren’t faster or stronger than raph. there’s no way you could get out of this situation with both of you alive without giving into raph.

raph places a rough hand at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. unlike his brother his touch was demanding and rash, the only purpose of it being to prove that you were still his silly girl. no matter how hard you tried to run away.

he coos at your troubled expression “where’s all that fire from before huh?” he grins at your submissive state, the one that he caused. “i’ll be nice, put your own clothes on. quick.”

was he playing with you? you take a look at ray’s shirt on the floor and then approach your closet under a guise of calmness, but a look at your shaking hands would disprove your confidence. putting on a bra, followed by a bottom and a top, then outer wear. anything to put more layers between you and him.

a look up at him reveals that he was already looking at you, probably to stop you from pulling another trick on him. he leans down to whisper in your ear but instead decides to press his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell. he mutters, face still in your hair “god i missed you” the sincere tone in his voice scared you the most.

he pulls away, expression distant and somewhat melancholy. “you know if you acted like a good girl from the beginning i wouldn’t have to do this”

before you can question him, his open right hand presses against your face, hard. the other hand supports your head to stop you from pulling away, body trapped. the bitter smell of something pressed on the tissue between your face and his hand floods your senses.

for the second time that night all your senses dull, and everything goes dark.

a/n: i know i know you guys wanted reader to get away from him! i just though this was more interesting then the reader getting back at raph and getting away with it. i like to make my yanderes stubborn loll. hope you liked the twist might write a part 3 ^^

#yandere x darling #yandere #angst #female reader #x reader #yandere ex #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #yandere cheater #yandere male #cheater x reader #obsession #dead dove fic

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sweetheartsofpanem · 1 month ago

Text

Drunk Magic and Other Domestic Miracles

masterlist

i think haymitch would be suuuuuper sweet while he’s shit face drunk (he’s sweet in his own ways all the time, but he’s overtly sweet when wasted) and only when he’s that drunk so i based this off that lil headcanon i have of him and this request. i hope you guys like this:)

pairing(s): Haymitch Abernathy x Female!Reader

warnings: haymitch being drunk, haymitch makes a comment about strangulation but it’s nothing bad, this is kind of just cute intimacy lol

word count: 1.74k

He’s a mess when he’s sober, all sharp edges and muttered curses. But when the whiskey kicks in, he starts doing the impossible—braiding your hair, baking you pies, knitting sweaters with crooked little hearts. He says it doesn’t mean anything. You’re starting to realize it means everything.

You don’t even remember what you were talking about when it happened—something about booze, probably, or the vaguely alarming contents of his pantry. One second Haymitch was slouched sideways on your couch with a bottle hanging from two fingers, muttering half-formed insults about your concerns with his pantry, and the next he was suddenly behind you, all grumbly focus and clumsy determination.

“Hold still,” he slurred, already combing his fingers through your hair with shocking gentleness. “You’re all knots and chaos. Can’t concentrate with it lookin’ like a damn rat’s nest.”

You blinked. “What are you—?”

“Shh,” he whispered, like he was performing surgery. “Makin’ you presentable.”

And then he braided your hair.

Not just some pathetic attempt, either. A real braid. Tight and clean and even, tugged with practiced pressure and tied off with a hair tie—a hair tie, which you’re certain you didn’t give him and have absolutely no explanation for. Where did he get it? Why does he have it? The questions multiply, unanswered.

“There,” he said proudly, swaying just slightly as he surveyed his masterpiece. “Now you look like a girl who hasn’t been raised by wolves.”

You stared at him. “How the hell did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged, acting like he hadn’t just done something so out of the norm as he flopped back down onto the couch. “’S just rope made of hair. Braids are braids.”

You sat there, stunned, touching the braid like it might vanish if you weren’t careful. It was beautiful. Which was somehow the most confusing part.

“Haymitch?”

“Mm?”

“I’m terrified to say this, but… that was weirdly impressive.”

He smirked without opening his eyes. “I’m full of secrets, sugar.”

You blinked at the nickname. It’s not biting or sarcastic—it doesn’t carry the usual edge. Just something warm and unexpected in the drunken haze. You let it pass, unsure what to make of it, but somehow it stays with you longer than it should.

The braid’s perfect. He’s drunk. The world is upside down anyway.

A week later, you find yourself sitting at his kitchen table with damp hair and hopeful eyes, a comb in your hand.

“Can you do it again?” you ask, offering the comb like a peace treaty.

He squints at you like you’ve just asked him to solve a riddle using only mushrooms and spite. “Do what again?”

“The braid. From the other night.”

“What braid?”

“Haymitch,” you say slowly, “you braided my hair.”

He looks mildly offended. “No I didn’t.”

“You did. With a mystery hair tie that may or may not have come from another dimension.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“It was you!”

After a long pause, he snatches the comb from your hand with exaggerated flair. “Fine. Move.”

You turn around, triumphant. That is, until two minutes later, when he growls in frustration.

“Why the hell is your hair so slippery? Is this sabotage?”

“It’s wet!”

“Feels like trick wire!”

He ends up tying your hair into what you can only describe as a deranged tumbleweed secured with a kitchen twist-tie. You stare at your reflection in the window and blink slowly.

“Beautiful,” you deadpan. “Like a noble shrub.”

He squints at it. “Looks fine.”

“You were surgical when you were drunk. Are you telling me liquor gives you hair-braiding superpowers?”

“Apparently.” He sounds offended by the fact. “Don’t ask me to explain it.”

“You’re like a fairy godmother who needs to be drunk to do magic.”

He grins at that, leaning back in his chair with smug satisfaction. “That’s right. You want a decent braid, you bring whiskey.”

A few hours later, he’s drunk again.

You find him in his living room, sprawled on the floor with his back against the couch like gravity gave up halfway through. The bottle is nearly empty. You weren’t even planning on going back over, but your hair’s still a little damp, and curiosity—or maybe something else—dragged you across the lawn.

He squints up at you like you might be a hallucination. “You came back,” he slurs.

“I live next door.”

“You came back,” he insists, like it’s a romantic gesture instead of you standing in your socks with a blanket over your shoulders.

Then he pats the floor between his spread legs with the kind of solemnity reserved for important ceremonies. “C’mere, sugar. Let me fix it. M’gonna make it right.”

“Fix what?” you ask, but you already know.

“The rat’s nest,” he mumbles. “Tried earlier. Failed. I failed you.” He looks devastated. “Twist-tie was not the answer.”

You almost choke trying not to laugh. “No, it really wasn’t.”

He holds his hand out for the comb you didn’t even realize you brought again. “Gimme another shot. I got the magic back.”

You hesitate only for a second before settling down on the floor between his legs, your legs stretched out in front of you, one arm resting casually on his knee. The contact is small, steadying—quietly intimate in a way neither of you acknowledge.

His fingers are clumsy at first, warm and wandering, but then something shifts. The same rhythm from before returns—steady, practiced. He hums to himself, off-key and tuneless, as he works. It shouldn’t feel comforting. But it absolutely does.

“Sorry ‘bout earlier,” he mumbles near your ear. “Didn’t mean to make you look like an angry bush.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“’Cause you’re sweet,” he mutters, tugging the braid just tight enough to ground you. “Sweet, sugar. Let me do right by your hair. Deserves better than me sober.”

You smile without meaning to, the corner of your mouth tugging up as his breath warms your neck.

When he ties off the braid—with the mystery hair tie again, of course—he leans his forehead against the back of your head for a second like he’s hit the emotional wall of drunken sincerity.

“There,” he murmurs, pleased. “Now you’re shiny again.”

You don’t know what that means. You don’t ask.

It’s a few weeks later when you learn he has another absurd drunk talent.

You weren’t expecting to see him that night—you were just coming by to return a book he lent to Katniss, because apparently even she has limits on how long she can tolerate his handwritten notes in the margins (“this guy’s an idiot,” “wow, murder again?”). You don’t knock. You never do anymore.

But you freeze halfway through the doorway.

Because Haymitch Abernathy—victor, drunk, emotionally stunted disaster of a man—is sitting on his couch with a half-empty bottle at his feet and a pair of knitting needles in his hands.

Knitting.

Knitting a sweater.

It’s light blue. There’s a tiny uneven heart on the sleeve. You know it’s a heart because you can see the failed first attempts in a little pile beside him, a lumpy collection of false starts that clearly pissed him off.

And he’s muttering to it like it’s got opinions.

“Been workin’ on it whenever I drink,” he slurs proudly, barely glancing up as you stare at him like your brain has short-circuited. “Was gonna be a scarf. But you’re cold all the time, so it… evolved.”

“You knit.”

“I drunk-knit,” he corrects, stabbing the needle through a loop like it insulted him. “Tried it sober once. Ended up stranglin’ myself with the yarn.”

You walk in slowly, in complete disbelief. “You’re making me a sweater.”

“Not just you. Made Peeta socks.” He scowls. “He doesn’t know. Gonna sneak ‘em into his drawer. Real covert-like.”

You honestly don’t know what’s more ridiculous: the fact that he’s doing it, or the fact that he’s actually good at it. The stitches are neat. Focused. Full of care he’d never admit to while sober. The little heart on the sleeve is uneven, but it means something. It feels like being seen through a haze of whiskey and grumbling affection.

“You’re a menace,” you say, sitting beside him, careful not to touch the project. “A drunk, secret-knitting menace.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Better than fightin’. Or drinkin’ and fightin’. Or fightin’ the sweater.”

That one’s muttered under his breath. You don’t ask for details.

It spirals from there.

A few days later, you catch him in the kitchen making a pie from scratch at two in the morning, completely plastered and dusted in flour like he lost a fight with a snowstorm.

He turns slowly when he hears you in the doorway, one eye barely open. “S’for you,” he slurs. “Wanted you to have somethin’ warm in the morning. Don’t eat enough.”

“You’re making me a pie?”

He nods solemnly, like this is a sacred task. “Been practicin’ my crust technique. Had to drink three glasses just to get it right.”

He burns himself pulling it out of the oven, curses loudly, and then proudly presents you with a lopsided apple pie that somehow smells like it came from a professional bakery.

You can’t even mock him. You just eat it, silently stunned, while he watches with the wary expression of a man who put too much heart into something and doesn’t know how to ask if you liked it.

There’s no pattern to it.

Sometimes it’s a perfectly carved wooden bird on your porch step.

Sometimes it’s him fixing a squeaky cabinet hinge like it’s a goddamn life mission.

One morning you wake up to find your leaky roof patched with tar and spare sheet metal, and when you confront him, he just mumbles, “Was worried mold would start growing. Thought I’d… do somethin’ about it. Had to drink half a bottle first. For focus.”

You’ve never seen someone so functionally incompetent while sober and yet domestically gifted when plastered. It makes no sense. It breaks physics. You don’t understand it, and honestly, you’ve given up trying.

But one night, when he’s working on your sweater again, arms moving clumsily but steadily, he murmurs, “You always looked like you needed someone to take care of you a little.”

Then, after a pause, without looking at you: “Think I like tryin’. When I can.”

You don’t say anything. Just rest your head on his shoulder, watching the needles move, the yarn tug, the world settle into something oddly steady for once.

Haymitch Abernathy is a drunk, foul-mouthed, emotionally constipated man with hair-braiding hands, secret pie recipes, and a sweater in progress just for you.

And somehow, despite everything…

It feels right for him to be so soft.

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underscorezoo · 5 months ago

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“Easy,” I murmur, “easy.” I show her what a deep breath looks like, trying to steady her growing panic. Her body shakes, her blue eyes wide, sweat glistens across her forehead. I rub my thumb against her knuckles, her hand gripping mine like life depends on it.

“It hurts,” she whimpers, eyes closing with a hard wince. My other hand closes around her jaw and I softly blow hair into her face to cool her down.

“I've got you, darling.”

She shakes her head in refusal, a cry bubbling up her throat, “oh. Oh.”

“Tension isn't helping our baby, please relax.” She gives me a look that makes me want to bury myself alive to recover from it. A hopeless scared gaze that makes me want to claw out my eyes on top of being five feet underground.

“Help me,” she whines, “get him out of me.”

I flash a look at the royal healers around me, their eyes mildly impatient. I give them a cold stern look that has them shifting into action to avoid my ire.

“I'm still convinced it's a little girl,” I smile, brushing her hair that's matted onto her forehead.

“There's nothing little about her then,” she groans and shifts away from me, her body locking up, “no, not again,” she cries and her fingernails dig into me. I have several of these wounds now but I can't even register it with the way I've been watching her so intently.

“Breathe,” I remind her quickly, “breath in and out. Relax your jaw.”

Her teeth are bared to the world, the entirety of her rigid, airless.

“Breathe,” I bark, my worry crawling up my mouth.

She does but the sound that leaves with it is enough to drive me over an edge. My hand leaves her face and falls onto the swell of her stomach, bare to the room, our child begging to escape it. A blanket covers her lower half and I'm tempted to tear it away to see if there is progress. A healer beats me to it, bending my wife’s knee up and opening her legs like a butterfly, blanket falling away.

“That's the sound we were waiting for, your majesty,” the midwife coos gently. “You’re ready to start pushing. It’ll all be over soon.”

Terror strikes me like a hard fist to the jaw and I sit there in stunned silence. My wife on the other hand starts a tantrum, limps a chaos as she tries to leave the bed. None of us expect this but with her so bloated, she barely makes it before I'm holding her still, pinning to the mattress. Her eyes are crazed and dazed with pain and anger.

“I am not pushing,” she hisses at me as if I was the one who suggested it.

“Are you saying that because you're afraid of the pain or because you don't think you can do it?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I dare to let my hand travel down between her legs, my fingers breaching the now expanded opening. I almost groan, “darling,” my head slumps towards her with near relief, “you are so close.” I feel the spot of thin hair, the curvature of a baby’s head. Our child.

“Get your fingers out of me,” she groans, whimpering.

“First I've heard that one,” I smirk. She flashes me a warning look that I eat up.

She again seems to be primed with a retort when both hands furiously find the bottom sheet. Giving my hand, wrist, and arm a break from her piercing touch. A terrified little yelp breaks from her mouth and one leg loses grip on the bedding and kicks out.

“Oh please,” she heartbreakingly pleads. So unlike my vicious wife. “Make it stop.”

I instinctively brush my knuckles to her cheek, my other hand resting low on her stomach. “You need to push, darling,” I press on her skin, “and hard. You're going to be just fine if you do that.”

She says something incoherent, a blubbering mess of raw emotion, exhaustion, and pain. Still she does what we all hoped, pushed. Her face tight with determination, chin to her chest, the sound of an animal in full heat coming out of her. She's never looked so beautiful.

“That's it,” I encourage softly and twist, getting a cold cloth for her forehead and neck. She relaxes instantly, tears streaming down her face.

“I can't do this,” she says, voice breaking.

“Of course you can,” I say softly.

She shakes her head in defiance of my words. Head tipping back against the pile of pillows behind her. My wife shrieks, her body shaking violently. “No, please, no,” she begs.

“It comes, your majesty, push,” the healer beckons.

My focus waivers between how vulnerable and how strong my wife is in this moment that I too am breathless for a spell before I am smiling, staring down at the peek of dark hair.

“I see her, darling, push oh please push.” Our ‘please’ is so contrasting that I laugh. She follows my suggestion and cries out again, this time her hand finding my forearm and holding tight. She looks at me, a face full of unabashed fear and loathing, “you did this to me.”

I still can't wipe the joy from my face so my, “I know,” comes out manic.

She whimpers, tears cascading down her face and mingling with sweat. She swears colorfully. That head of dark hair moves forward and now holds her folds open and taut. She's screaming loud enough to break the windows and I'm there, holding her head against mine, getting closer and closer. “Shh, it's almost over, you're doing so well.”

“Small pushes now, blow out, stretch wide,” the healer mimics the breathing she wants to achieve but my wife just lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.

“Hurts,” she mumbles.

“You're amazing. I'm so impressed,” my lips brush into her sweaty hair.

“Don't say that like you're surprised,” she huffs at me.

I chuckle, leaning back to take in her burning blue eyes. “I'm not surprised.”

“Just a few more pushes,” the healer coaxs.

I watch the head pop out with a bit of liquid and a shrill cry from my partner, who now pants wildly, eyes lidded with weariness. “Pull it out,” she demands, narrowing her gaze to menacing.

“You'll push in a minute here,” the healer amends for her.

“Just take it out,” she begs and then groans deeply, eyes closing quickly, “ohhh nooo” I watch in fascination as the baby starts to rotate slowly.

“Hold on, dearie,” the healer tugs the cord up and over our child’s head eliminating a threat against its life already. “Open these legs wider for me, there you go. Push, push, push.”

Thankfully my wife follows her orders. Her face bright red, and voice raising as more and more of the child emerges. Unceremoniously the screaming is replaced by the baby who now flails around in her mother's arms. Her. Our daughter. My wife and I lock eyes, her face split with adorable shock as if she hadn't just gone through all the work to make this happen. I slump towards them both, my adrenaline wearing off and I'm realizing my own hand has left crescent moons into my flesh from concern. I relax my body and take a deep breath.

“Thank gods,” I murmured to no one in particular. I look up timidly to my wife who wipes our baby with a towel and scrunches her entire chin towards her neck to get a better look at the purple screeching face. Our daughter finally has a lapse in annoyance and her eyes open, stormy gray eyes forming a perfect mirror to gaze into. My wife drops back, a lifeless laugh forcing out of her, “all that only for her to look like you.” She sounds both bitter and proud.

I grin, “she will no doubt be a stunner like me then.”

She huffs loudly but matches my smile, content with such a notion.

“The next one will look like you.”

Her jaw drops open. “The next one?!”

#birth #birth fic #giving birth #birth kink #painful birth #graphic birth #fantasy #fanfic #vanilla birth #fluff

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kugisakiss · 5 months ago

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※Replacing Hakuba with Sonoko in the Gosho Boys and vice versa

Expectation:

Reality:

Hakuba's mildly terrifying love triangle // Sonoko's incredibly disappointing harem of boys

It took me a while to get to it but I've been sitting on this idea for the last 2 years after seeing these tags on an old post of mine by littlechibs, so shout out to them because they're right and I liked the idea a lot <3

Girl's Side | Boy's Side

#dcmk #detective conan #suzuki sonoko #hakuba saguru #gosho boys #teitan girls #peace and love on this earth i'm not tagging them all <3 #my art #empress sonoko and her 3 advisors but she only uses them as a sounding board for issues with her love life-#since they're all wholly unqualified to give her good advice #i have more planned for this which i will hopefully finish and post before the end of the month but no promises

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my-castles-crumbling · 3 months ago

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woo - @wolfstarmicrofic - background dorlene and squint and you miss it jegulus - word count: 539

It had taken Sirius five long years to figure out his feelings. He wasn’t sure why– possibly because his bigoted mother had taught him from an early age that it was wrong to feel this way. Or maybe because he was so good with girls– how was it possible that he liked boys? But either way, by the start of his sixth year, he had finally accepted the truth: Sirius Black, renowned girl-crazy womanizer, was completely and utterly in love with Remus Lupin.

But after going through a complete crisis over the summer and accepting this realization, he was presented with a new problem: he had no idea how to woo a man. So he decided to ask the only girl he felt comfortable sharing his problem with.

“Oi, McKinnon!” he called to Marlene a few days into the term. “Can I talk to you?”

Marlene, who was talking with Dorcas Meadowes, looked over to him. “What?”

“Erm,” he squirmed, looking to Meadowes and back again. “Alone?”

The expression on Meadowes’s face was unreadable, but that wasn’t was Sirius was focused on. Marlene just shrugged and told the other girl to wait where she was, before pulling Sirius off to the side. “What is it, then?” she asked, looking mildly curious.

“You can’t judge me, alright?” Sirius said nervously, heart beating wildly. He hadn't told anyone besides James about his feelings and he was suddenly terrified.

“I already know you’re an arse, Sirius, nothing can make it worse,” Marlene rolled her eyes.

He sighed, steeling himself. “Fine. I need…I need boy advice.”

Marlene’s face instantly flashed through such a range of emotions that Sirius was a bit surprised she didn’t yell or faint or something. She looked shocked and amused and confused and almost like she pitied him. But after a moment, she settled on giving him a bemused grin. “Boy advice? Like you fancy-”

“Yes, alright? So-” Sirius hissed, looking around to make sure nobody was listening.

But Marlene seemed quite at ease. “Listen, Sirius, I’m honestly happy for you that you’ve finally realized you’re in love with Remus. I feel like you’re probably the last to know, to be honest. But the fact that you picked me to ask for advice is truly hilarious. Why didn’t you ask James?”

And Sirius had to take several minutes to process that sentence. “I….you knew?” he started with his first reaction.

“You’re not subtle. Neither of you are,” Marlene shrugged.

Sirius blinked and stowed that information away for later, unsure of how to respond. “What do you mean, I asked the wrong person?” he questioned, a bit hurt. “I thought you wouldn’t judge-”

“Oh, I’m not judging. In fact, we’re very similar,” Marlene grinned. “Or did you not realize Dorcas and I are dating?”

Sirius gaped, looking over to where the Slytherin was waiting impatiently. Now that he thought about it, the two girls did spend a lot of time together. But why… “Why should I ask James, though?”

Marlene chuckled, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna let him give you the details on that one. But let’s just say…he’s not straight, either.”

And with that, she strode off, leaving Sirius dumbfounded and more confused than ever.

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littlewriters-posts · 1 year ago

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Phoenix - Damon Salvatore

Part two of the request I got the other day

part one is here

https://www.tumblr.com/littlewriters-posts/751027674692059136/hey-darling-can-i-request-the-damon-salvatore-x?source=share

Plot: Y/N comes to mystic falls as a foster kid, knowing nothing of the supernatural world. The catch? Y/N lost all her memories, of the past 150 years.

Stefan had sworn both Elena and Damon to secrecy.

Damon had come storming in, his usual stony expression riddled with worry, interrupting Stefan and Elena, announcing the arrival of his old love - that somehow she had come back to life.

Elena was sceptical at first "Are you sure it's not just another doppelganger curse?" she asked, a frown on her face. The name rang bells in her head but she couldn't quite place why.

Stefan shook his head "No, she told Damon she had the Phoenix curse. Not too unsimilar from your one actually, apparently she when she dies she gets reborn again from the ashes, all memories wiped,"

"Except when she wore that necklace," Damon interjected "If we could just find it, we could get her memories back!"

And she would remember me, went unspoken.

Stefan sucked his teeth slightly. Part of him wanted to dismiss Damon's hope, but the other half recognized that this was the first ounce of humanity Damon had shown in years.

"What did you say her name was again?" Elena asked

"Y/N, L/N," Damon said "Apparently she's now living with your friend, the Bonnie," he raised his eyebrows at her, as if demanding an explanation.

Elena's eyes widened "Oh my god," she muttered to herself before turning back to Stefan "Bonnie said that her Grams had signed the papers to adopt this girl, Bonnie said it came out of nowhere. But then she died, and demanded that Bonnie's dad do it instead,"

"Y/N, from my time anyway, was very close to the Bennet witches," Stefan mused silently.

"Yeah they spent years looking for her, and failing," Damon added

Stefan then turned very serious "Damon if she is Y/N you cannot go near her. Remember she doesn't know you, and you don't want to scare her away,"

"I won't scare her away," Damon said looking mildly offended "I am the eternal stud, everyone loves me,"

Stefan rolled his eyes "We really need to find out if it is her first, or just some weird coincidence,"

"What so she can fall in love with some boring human?" Damon asked snidely.

Elena stood up, looking sympathetically at Damon, which he hated.

"Look she loved you once right? I'm sure she'll love you again," she reassured and Damon scoffed so she continued. "She'll be with Bonnie on Monday, I'll become friends with her first, then we can go from there,"

Damon grumbled, but seemed satisfied with that answer, and disappeared upstairs without another word.

Stefan walked up to Elena, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"As much as I hate to say it, he's not the same person he was when he first met her, and chances are she's exactly the same,"

Elena sighed "We'll see what she's like on Monday,"

Y/N was terrified. Dressed in her flares and green top that Bonnie had kindly bought for her, she faced herself in the mirror.

The thought of being in the same room as people she didn't know made her feel rather sick.

"You'll be fine," Bonnie reassured, leaning on the door "Come on, I'll drive you,"

Y/N nodded, brushing all negative thoughts out of her head as she followed her new friend out of the door.

She tried to focus on Bonnie's voice as she chatted at her, telling her all the school drama as if knowing that would help her fit in more with the rest of the group.

But all she could focus on was the outside world, and how different yet familiar it seemed to her.

"We're here," Bonnie announced "Come on, Elena and Caroline are meeting us inside,"

Y/N nodded, giving the other girl a grateful smile. Bonnie had already told her everything about the two others girls, Elena was the sweet one who's parents died in a car crash, and Caroline was slightly outspoken, but lovely when you got to know her.

Elena hadn't told her friends about Damon's history with the new girl, for some reason it didn't seem right. She didn't want to taint anyone's view of the girl before they met her.

Y/N hid behind Bonnie slightly, as they approached the two girls who were waving excitedly at them.

Caroline was quick to embrace Y/N in a hug "Oh I am so excited you're here! It's about time we got some new people in this town,"

Elena rolled her eyes with a smile "It's nice to meet you," she said

As Elena studied Y/N she couldn't help but think that she was nothing like she imagined. She pictured someone meddlesome, someone stony faced and cold hearted like Damon not - not this.

Elena watched as Y/N gave a shy smile, her head held high but fidgeting fingers giving away her nerves.

She reminded her of a baby deer...or lamb...or maybe an otter. Something vulnerable.

"How are you finding it? Have you ever been to school before?" Caroline asked. Elena smacked her arm

"Caroline!" she exclaimed and Caroline looked sheepish.

"Sorry,"

Y/N shook her head with a smile "It's okay, I don't mind answering questions. I - I actually have amnesia, I don't remember anything until I reached about sixteen? Then I was home-schooled by my foster mom,"

Caroline stared at her with wide eyes "So you've never been to a party?"

Y/N shrugged "I mean I might have done, I just won't remember it,"

"Well you're in luck, the founders ball is soon!" Caroline practically squealed "I won Miss Mystic Falls last year, so I can help pick out your dress!"

Y/N hesitated, the thought of entering the hall with yet more people was giving her heart palpations, but she also wanted to make friends.

"Sure, when?" she asked with a smile

"How about Saturday?" Caroline asked and Y/N looked to Bonnie for help.

"We'll be there," Bonnie reassured and Y/N sighed with relief, at least there would be somebody she knew.

"What class have you got first?" Caroline asked, reading Y/N scheduled over her shoulder "Oh no fair! You'll be with Elena and Bonnie," she sighed dramatically.

"ooo History with Mr Tanner, good luck," Elena said, giving Y/N a smile "He's evil,"

Y/N laughed "Surely he can't be that bad,"

Y/N was wrong.

Not only did Mr Tanner sit her at the back in between a boy called Matt Donavon, he also sat her behind another boy called Stefan Salvatore, who was so tall she had very little hope to see the board in-front of the class.

And then he had the audacity to ask her question's in-front of the entire class.

She was quite sure he face was utterly red, and Stefan turned round to face her, making the redness worse.

"It's okay, he did that to me the first time as well, he's a dick," he reassured and Y/N felt the sudden urge to hide under her desk.

"Thankyou," she whispered, her eyes lowering to her paper and Stefan gave her a soft smile, trying not to show his concern.

If he had any doubts now they were sealed. He only knew one person who looked that panicked when talking to people, and he could recognize that face anywhere.

Unfortunate it meant she was still the same person that she was before, and Damon wasn't.

After history Y/N was grateful to Caroline, who talked her ear off on who was hot and who was not, although she found herself growing weary of the constant chatter and found her gaze wandering across the courtyard.

A large crow caught her eye, as it stared at her unblinkingly.

"We're going to the Grill after school wanna come?" Bonnie asked, cutting Caroline off her rant as she did so.

"I'd love that," Y/N said softly, breaking her gaze from the bird.

"What have you got next?" Elena asked

"Er - maths," Y/N replied, checking her schedule.

"Ah shoot, we've all got Biology," Bonnie said sympathetically

"It's okay, Stefan has maths, he can show you the way!" Elena interjected, smiling at her friend.

Y/N grimaced, as much as she didn't have anything against the boy, she'd take getting lost as appose to having to strike up a conversation with a stranger.

"I don't want to bother him," she said quietly.

Elena shook her head, before waving Stefan over from where he sat on the bench.

"You'll like him, he's quiet like you," Caroline reassured and Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"Ignore her," she said smiling apologetically.

"What did I say?" Caroline frowned, but Y/N smiled.

"It's okay, I get what she meant."

Caroline smiled from ear to ear. She often felt out of place, constantly saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, or saying it the wrong way and getting reprimanded. But Y/N made her feel understood.

"Do you mind walking Y/N to maths?" Elena asked Stefan as he approached.

"Sure," he shrugged "I'll make sure you don't get lost,"

Y/N smiled gratefully, not quite meeting his eyes before waving goodbye to her friends and following alongside him.

"How are you finding your first day?" he asked eventually, noticing her fidgeting hands immediately.

"It's okay, just a lot of people," she shrugged, glancing around at the people shoving past her and she shrank a little.

"Must be overwhelming," he mused thinking slightly "You know there's a graveyard not far from here - sounds dark but I find it's the only place you can really get some peace and quiet,"

Y/N looked up at him, for the first time meeting his eyes. "Thankyou," she said earnestly. "I've only got a half day today, something about adjusting to school life, so I might go after then - where is it?"

"Turn right out of school, go down the road to the old bridge and turn left," Stefan said simply as Y/N hurried to jot it down.

Someone with her sense of direction had to be prepared.

"Great and er - how do I get to the Grill from there?" she asked nervously.

Stefan didn't judge "Follow the middle path into the woods, keep going and then go left at the second turning. Turn right when you get to the old building. Just follow that path and it'll lead you back to the street,"

She thanked him again, feeling slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to navigate it without help, nor would she have to ask a complete stranger.

After Maths, Y/N bid goodbye to the younger Salvatore brother, before texting the girls where she was going, and that she would meet them at the grill later. With Stefan's direction's written down, she was sure she wouldn't get lost, and too her relief she didn't.

So there she sat, next to a random grave, her head resting against the cool stone.

In her hands lay a notebook, the date marked clearly at the top as she jotted her thoughts down.

Her doctor had suggested a diary, after losing your memory for no apparent reason there was no evidence to suggest it wouldn't happen again.

She didn't notice Damon watched her from the shadows, a pained look on his face. He hated the way she looked so tense, her fingers often pulling at the strands of hair that had escaped the messy braid. He could even smell the blood that came from her bitten lips.

But what he hated most was how she was exactly the same. The same slight crease between the brows, the same nervous fidget patten, the same soft hum as she wrote.

It was like she had never changed, like nothing had ever changed her.

He wanted to speak to her, even for a moment but he stopped himself. She hadn't changed, but he had. Even if she did, even if she could, remember him, would she still love him after learning everything he had done? Everyone he had killed?

Would she be able to see past the scars he's obtained and his bloody hands and still be able to see him?

He didn't know. And that killed him.

So there in the shadows he stayed, watching and praying that she would be kept safe.

Y/N shut her book with a sigh, stuffing it back in her bag. She glanced at her phone and saw that it was time to go, surprised that she had been this long.

But it was nice, the quiet, it made her feel whole again.

"Right, to the Grill we go," she muttered, biting her lip slightly.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking down the middle path. She was unaware the Damon was still watching her with the same pained expression.

She came to the turning and abruptly turning, feeling rather pleased with herself as she did so for not getting lost.

As she walked she took out the slip of paper she had jotted the directions down in, and to her absolute horror the ink had smudged.

"Oh no. Oh nononono," she muttered, looking around herself in horror. She remembered something about turning near a building but what building was that?

She turned, telling herself she would just go back the way she came and ask for help, before realising the path she was walking down was a forked path and she couldn't remember which one she had taken.

"Oh crap crap crap," she whispered.

She felt the air around her grow colder, her lungs fighting for air as she tried not to panic. She'd been lost before, she'd be fine. It's not like Mystic Falls was dangerous.

Behind his hiding place, Damon cursed himself. He looked at her panic stricken face, the face he'd seen a thousand times before when she was forced into social situations, and felt his heart tug slightly.

"You lost?"

Y/N whirled around, her eyes wide and heart pounding, before coming face to face with the man she met her first night of Mystic Falls.

"Damon?" she questioned, frowning slightly "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, walking towards her trying to look as non threatening as possible. "I like it here, it's quiet,"

Y/N relaxed slightly "Stefan said the same thing - you're related aren't you? Same last name and all,"

Damon smirked slightly "Brothers," he responded. "So are you lost?"

Y/N's cheeks reddened slightly, a slight pout on her lower lip "If I say no, will you save me my dignity but help me anyway?"

Damon laughed "So you've got an abysmal sense of direction, it's not the worst thing to be bad at - come on, it's this way,"

"How do you know where I'm going?" she asked

Damon froze for a second before recovering "Stefan's going to the Grill too, I just assumed,"

Y/N shrugged, falling comfortably into step besides him. She couldn't tell what it was, but she felt more at ease with him than anyone she'd met so far at Mystic Falls. Like she already knew him.

"They go out a lot, I don't know how they do it," she mused, covering up a yawn.

Damon eyed her carefully, not wanting to come off like he was staring but also unable to tear his gaze away from her.

"You could just not go?" he offered but she shook her head.

"I can't, I need to go to the Grill anyway to ask about any jobs they've got going there," she sighed "These girls love shopping,"

Damon frowned "Job? Aren't you a little young to have to work? You should be out their partying," he smirked.

Y/N wrinkled her nose "Plenty people my age work Damon, I'm not a child. Besides, I don't have any family money...or any family and once I turn eighteen I don't get any support anymore,"

Damon said nothing at first. Money had never been an issue for him, he was a Salvatore after all, and his powers of persuasion meant he could get anything he wanted if he was smart about it. But she was just playing a human over and over again, with nothing to fall back on.

"Well I'm sure you'll find something," he said finally "Mystic Falls is fully of rich people, which mean nobody wants to work," he said amusedly and Y/N laughed.

"Alright Miss Y/N, you're here," Damon announced waving his hand in-front of his as if she would miss The Grill building right in-front of her.

"Thankyou so much Damon, that's twice you've helped me out now - I can't thank you enough," Y/N said sweetly, smiling up at him.

Damon swore he felt his dead heart stop.

"It's no problem - just do me a favour and don't tell my brother. He doesn't like me much,"

Y/N didn't question it as she waved goodbye to him and stepped into the restaurant to meet her friends.

Damon watched her through the window, still not wanting to tear his eyes away from her. His attention soon diverted to the bar manager coming out the store for his smoke break.

Within a flash Damon was next to him, forcing the man to look him dead in the eye as he did so.

"You are going to accept Y/N L/N into whatever job she wants, with whatever hours she requires and pay her double for working weekends," he said lowly.

Compulsion really was handy.

In the bar, Y/N was laughing with Caroline, the other two not appearing yet.

"So who's your date going to be?" Caroline asked gleefully, "I mean you don't have to have one, but you also kinda do if you want to go for Miss Mystic Falls," she added.

Y/N shrugged "I don't really know anyone Caroline, I'm quite happy just to watch and support you,"

Caroline's features softened slightly "You're so sweet," she gushed "Elena and Bonnie don't really like it, they think it's old fashioned,"

"Well it is," Y/N pointed out "But just because something is traditionally feminine doesn't mean you can't enjoy it,"

Caroline smiled "See this is why I like you, you just get it. So tell me, any cute guys caught your eyes yet?"

Y/N shook her head with a smile "Is that all that goes on through your head?" she asked.

Caroline shrugged "You'd only say that if you were deflecting!" she pointed out "Spill,"

"There isn't! I've met like, three guys since I've been here, one of the is Elena's boyfriend and the other is her ex!"

"So who's the third?" Caroline asked, her eyes widening.

Y/N blinked - she hadn't expected Caroline to catch onto that little detail. She gulped slightly, the feeling of tightness returning to her chest. Damon hadn't wanted Stefan to know about him helping her - and Caroline would surely tell him. But she also didn't want to lie.

"Oh erm...I met him on my first day. I got lost finding Bonnie's house and he helped me,"

Caroline clapped her hands together "Oh my goodness! What did he look like, was he hot? What was his name?"

Y/N laughed slightly, amused by the blonde's actions "I don't know, he was tall, dark hair. Really sweet,"

"Oh I bet it was Tyler! You know he's been staring at you all day," Caroline gushed and Y/N blinked.

"Tyler?" she questioned the name foreign on her tongue.

Caroline nodded "Yeah he's on the football team! A bit of a douche but when he likes you he's just the sweetest,"

Y/N nodded slightly, her gaze shifting round the bar "Does anyone at school work?" she asked nervously and Caroline's gaze shifted into one of sympathy.

"Yeah, Matt actually works here. And Tyler sometimes helps his dad with Mayor stuff,"

Y/N nodded, the gnawing pit in her stomach growing slightly. She hadn't even considered that people would look down on her for having a job before Damon's tone of voice told her otherwise.

"But don't worry, no one will care. A girl called Vicky used to work here, and nobody picked on her for having a job," Caroline reassured

Y/N then spotted the manager who was heading back to the bar. "Oop - there he is - wish me luck!"

"Good luck sweetie, hope you get it!"

As Y/N walked over, she mustered the courage to actually look the man in the eyes as she spoke to him, hoping that forcing herself to make eye contact would help.

"Hi," she gave a small awkward wave "I'm Y/N L/N, I was just wondering if you had any waitressing jobs going,"

The Managers eyes seem to shift a little, before he responded with a great smile on his face "Of course! Someone just left today so we have an opening. We can fit the hours around you, and you get double when you work on weekends,"

"Oh!" exclaimed Y/N, not expecting it to be that easy. In fact she was kind of upset since she had a whole speech written on how she would be a great worker. "Oh great, when can I start?" she asked.

"How about next Wednesday? Wednesdays are the quietist days, so we'll have plenty of time to show you the ropes,"

Y/N tried to hide her excitement "Great - thankyou so much!" she called over her shoulder as she practically raced back to the table.

Bonnie and Elena had arrived, sitting down in the vacant seats.

"Did you get it?" Caroline asked and Y/N nodded happily. The girls applauded her, giving her hugs and for the first time Y/N felt truly in place.

"What you can still come shopping with us right?" Elena asked worriedly and Y/N nodded,

"Yeah he said I start on Wednesday and I can pick my hours," Y/N said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Nice," Elena said approvingly "Well done Y/N,"

Y/N blushed a little "Thank Elena,"

Non of them noticed Damon, sat in the corner facing away from them, a small smile on his face.

Saturday rolled around sooner than Y/N had expected and she found herself slightly dreading it. As much as she loved her friends, they were richer than she was and whilst they would be looking at the prettiest dress, she would be looking at the price tag that came with it.

But as she entered the dress shop with her friends, all thoughts soon vanished as she laughed at Caroline's dramatics.

"I wish we could of found you a date - you would have had such a great shot at winning," Caroline said sadly but Y/N shrugged.

"I'd rather just sit and watch then have to dance with somebody I don't know," she replied.

"Well still...I'm going to try this dress on!" she announced picking up a blue number.

Elena patted Y/N shoulder "Ignore her, it doesn't really matter," she reassured. "Which one should I try on?" she then asked, holding up two almost identical dresses.

"Both of them," Y/N replied simply "We've got all day haven't we - and Bonnie why don't you try that green one over there, you'd look stunning!"

Bonnie smiled, grabbing the green dress to change.

It was then a dress in the corner corner caught Y/N's eye, it was a dusty purple, the slight jewels encrusting the top. It was beautiful.

She glanced at the tag.

Way out of her price range.

"Would you like to try it on?" The shopkeeper asked gently but Y/N shook her head.

"No it's okay, it's way out of my budget anyway,"

The shopkeeper bit her lip, "You can try it on anyways, no harm in a little dress up,"

Y/N looked at her hopefully.

"Really?"

The shopkeeper nodded with a smile and Y/N's smile brightened, as she rushed into the changing room.

The dress fit her perfectly, hugging her figure in all the right places before flaring at the bottom. The colour seemed to make her skin glow.

Too bad it was too expensive.

"Come on, let us see!" Caroline begged and Y/N sighed, opening the curtain and letting the girls squeal over it.

"Oh it fit's you perfectly!" Bonnie remarked "You need to get it,"

Y/N shook her head with a smile "And buy the first dress I try on?" she responded, not wanting to tell them that it was simply too expensive.

"See - she get's it," Caroline said with a laugh "No go change so we can try more stuff on," she pulled the curtain back over her friend.

She sighed, wriggling out of the dress with difficulty before placing it back on the hanger.

She handed it to the shopkeeper with a smile.

"It was beautiful but I just can't afford it," she said sadly.

The shopkeeper nodded understandingly "We have a sale section over there if you'd like?"

Y/N nodded, before spotting Caroline sorting through many dresses in her arms.

"Got enough there Caroline?" she asked amusedly and the blonde sighed in exasperation.

"I just don't know which one to pick, I wore blue when I won last year, but I've already worn blue," she tutted putting the blue dress back on the rails. "You found anything yet?" she asked.

Y/N thought back to the purple dress, but didn't want her friend to pity her.

"No, I might come back another day," she said softly. Or to another cheaper shop she added in her head.

"I'm starving, shall we go to the grill?" Bonnie asked.

"We go there all the time, I'm sick of chips and the smell of beer," Caroline whined. "Can't we go back the the Salvatore house, they always have great snacks,"

Elena hesitated. Her and Stefan were trying everything they could to keep Damon from doing something rash, and that meant trying to keep Y/N away from him.

"I'm actually kind of tired," Elena said, yawning. "Why don't we go to that smoothie place downtown and then we can all go home?"

That seemed to go down well with the rest of the group, and Caroline quickly bought Y/N's smoothie before the other two could notice, and before she could protest.

"Don't worry about it," she brushed off when Y/N tried to pay her back, so the girl just sipped her smoothie in peace.

When Y/N arrived home, she was utterly exhausted from the full day, and was about to collapse on the bed when she noticed a parcel on it.

She frowned, wondering who on earth would have put it there. She's been with the girls all day and Bonnie's dad was away on business.

Perhaps Elena had Stefan drop it off, or maybe Bonnie had snuck in whilst Y/N was downstairs.

She opened the box carefully and gasped.

Inside it was the same dusty purple dress she had tried on in the shop.

She gingerly took it from the box, looking everywhere for some kind of tag to say who it was from but there was nothing.

"Bonnie?" she called uncertainly, not knowing whether or not to be excited about it.

Bonnie came in, fresh out the shower and drying her hair. "You o - oh you bought it!" she gushed remarking at the dress.

But Y/N shook her head.

"No I couldn't afford it, it was just here when I got back,"

Bonnie frowned "Oh...maybe Caroline bought it for you then? You know what she's like,"

"Yeah," Y/N echoed staring at the mystery dress "Do you think I should wear it?"

Bonnie nodded "I mean it would be rude not to, and it is a beautiful dress. Besides what harm could a dress do?"

Y/N shrugged, putting the dress on the hanger and hanging it outside her wardrobe, admiring it in the light, before a tap on the window startled her.

She whirled around, only to see a crow staring at her unblinking through the glass pane.

"Oh shit," Bonnie muttered, her eyes wide "Y/N I'm just gonna make a phone call okay?" she said quickly, before practically running out of the room.

But Y/N attention was on the bird as she opened her window for it.

"You hungry?" she asked and threw the bird a bit of bread. It just stared at her some more, before flying away. She shrugged, closing the window.

Back at the Salvatore household, Elena and Stefan rounded on Damon with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me why Y/N has just received a dress that she didn't buy, but was trying on earlier today?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

Damon scoffed "I don't owe you an explanation," he said snidely.

Elena shook her head "You need to stay away from her Damon, she doesn't remember you. You're just going to end up hurting yourself,"

Damon shook his head "I didn't go near her did I? I bought her a dress that she wanted, and she doesn't even know it was me. Tell her Caroline bought it, she's always doing stuff like that,"

Stefan had so far said nothing, not even when Elena turned to him for backup. Instead he was looking at his brother with a saddened expression.

"It's okay," he finally said with a sigh "I mean, it's not like he's hurting her,"

Elena pursed her lips, not wanting to admit that she simply just didn't trust Damon around her new friend. But she had to admit, she met Damon when he was at his worst, and Y/N originally met him when he was still human.

Damon said nothing, but carried his bottle of bourbon up to his room.

"Maybe they should meet," Stefan said lowly "I mean, he's not going to kill her,"

Elena shook her head "So he can take his pain out on other people when she doesn't fall in love with him? You said so yourself, Damon's a monster - and Y/N just doesn't seem like the type to deal with that,"

Stefan stared into the fire, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What if they met here? That way we could keep an eye on Damon, make sure he doesn't do anything too rash, but at least he wouldn't be secretly trying to see her without us knowing,"

"Okay," Elena nodded, "But after the founder's ball next week, I can only focus on so many things at once,"

Y/N found herself in two minds over the founders ball. On the one hand, it was quite exciting to be getting dressed up and ready with her new found friends, but on the other hand, it was a long day to be around people.

She tried to push that thought out of her mind until Bonnie said,

"We're all having an after party at the Salvatore's, so I'll drive you there after,"

Y/N tried not to show her grimace "Do I need to bring spare clothes?" she asked and Bonnie shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure Caroline will change into another dress, but me and Elena will be going casual so it's up to you,"

Y/N then crammed a skirt and jumper into her bag, with some joggers in case it got too cold.

After Bonnie helped her tie the corset laces on her dress, the sudden restriction of breath was noticeable but not uncomfortable.

"You look stunning," Bonnie reassured, seeing the fleeting look o nerves overtake her friends face. "Now listen, I'm driving but me and Elena and Caroline all have to go upstairs because of the Miss Mystic Falls thingy, but we'll come find you as soon as we can okay?"

Y/N nodded, deciding against speaking for the fear that the nerves would make her be sick. She was nervous, and she didn't even have a part to play.

She was grateful for the three girls as they all chatted in the car, meaning that she didn't have too, and even as they left to go upstairs, Y/N gave them a small smile and wished them good luck.

Now what.

She glanced around the room, feeling suddenly very small as she realised she didn't really know anybody in there. She settled by grabbing a glass of champagne that she knew she wouldn't drink and settling in the corner, watching everyone go by in their dresses.

She watched and clapped as one by one the elected girls descended the stairs, each one getting an applause before moving to the middle of the room.

"That's a beautiful dress," Came a voice, and Y/N jumped slightly, turning towards the sound of the voice. Her demeanour relaxed slightly as she realised who it was.

"Hello Damon," she said, her smile more genuine. "And thankyou, I'm not entirely sure who got it for me, but I love it,"

Damon said nothing, but a small smile played on his lips.

"You don't look to be enjoying yourself," he acknowledged and she sighed.

"I know, I'm just...I hate crowds," she admitted "I'm so glad you're here, finally a face I recognize,"

Damon stared at her a little, the want to let all of his emotions tumble off his tongue was great, but he knew that it would be a disaster if he did so.

"You owe me a favour, Since I have rescued you what - twice now?" he asked teasingly.

Y/N rolled her eyes "Alright Mr Salvatore, what do you want?" she went along playfully.

"A dance," he replied simply, extending his hand and she laughed nervously.

"I'm a terrible dancer, I don't think I've ever even learnt!" she exclaimed but Damon's blue eyes met her wide ones and she relented a little.

"I'll lead you," he replied gently, taking her hand in his own. "Come on,"

Y/N accepted his hand, gracefully walking to the middle where more couples were now dancing with the original girls.

"This is going to be so embarrassing," she muttered, her eyes darting around as she saw that other people were watching her.

"Hey - look at me," Damon commanded, his tone soft. So she did, his blue eyes staring into her own and she felt her breath hitch slightly. There was something ever so familiar about them, like a safeness that she couldn't quite place, like somewhere she had been before but couldn't quite remember.

And they were dancing, in sync and ever so graceful, neither one of them ever breaking eye-contact with each other.

"Oh my god, is that Y/N with Damon?" Caroline ran up to Elena, horrified and Elena nodded with a grimace.

"It's complicated," Elena whispered back to her friend. "We think Y/N used to be an old friend of his - well old girlfriend - back when Damon was human. But she disappeared, and now she's back. And here's the catch - she doesn't remember any of it,"

Caroline's eyes widened "Y/N a vampire?" she whispered in shock but Elena shook her head.

"No she's cursed, every time she dies she get's born back into the same body, with no memory of the life before,"

Caroline looked at Damon, narrowing her eyes "If I didn't hate him so much I'd feel sorry for him - do you think he still loves her?"

Elena nodded with a sigh "Stefan said he never stopped looking for her after she disappeared,"

Bonnie grimaced "Can we please stop feeling sorry for Mr Killer over there, he's literally killed people Elena. We can't let him have Y/N, we both know he's end up hurting her,"

But as the trio watched Y/N and Stefan dance, even Caroline who hated Damon the most, couldn't help but admit the softness in his eyes when he looked at Y/N. Like a humanity that wasn't there before.

"You're an excellent dancer," Damon remarked, pulling her to the side after the song ended.

"I was only following you," she laughed, "Also why do all these drinks have alcohol in, what's wrong with something that actually taste nice," she said bitterly, setting down a champagne glass with a wrinkled nose.

"I'll get you something," Damon reassured "Wait here,"

Y/N didn't have chance to tell him that he didn't have to, he was already gone.

"I do hope my brother wasn't bothering you," Came the voice of Stefan Salvatore as he walked over to her.

She shook her head "No, he's actually really sweet," she said with a soft smile, glancing back to where he had gone too. "He's actually gone to get me drink since I don't like champagne,"

Stefan raised his eyebrows but didn't comment further on the matter, not daring to spoil her image of his brother.

"Where's Elena?" she asked.

"Gone to find her brother I think," Stefan glanced around to spot his girlfriend who was indeed chatting to her little brother. "I'm driving you all to the afterparty now, but I'm coming back for him because there's no room in the car,"

"I thought Bon was driving?" Y/N asked with a frown but Stefan shook his head.

"She's already drinking," he said amusedly

"No worried Brother, I'll take her," Damon had come back, standing besides Y/N and staring at his brother with an emotion Y/N couldn't quite place. "Got you some orange juice," he said, giving her a slightly smile. She thanked him.

Stefan hesitated, not wanting to start a scene, but also not having an excuse ready.

"Alright," he finally said after staring his brother back some more "We're leaving in ten minutes,"

Stefan then left, and Y/N eyed the que to the toilets with distaste. She didn't fancy waiting in the line just to get changed like many of the other girls were.

"Can we go back sooner?" Y/N asked, and Damon turned back to her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"And why would you want that?" he asked and Y/N's cheeks burned.

"No - I didn't mean-" she stuttered slightly before gathering her thought's and frowning at him "I just want to get changed," she said defiantly.

Damon laughed "Relax I'm just messing with you, come on before Stefan think's I'm kidnapping you,"

Y/N rolled her eyes, put picked up her skirts so they wouldn't trail on the floor, before picking up her bags that she had left in the cloakroom. Or tried to, before Damon took them from her.

"And who would I be if I let a lady carry her own bags," he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She curtseyed playfully "Well thankyou Mr Salvatore," she said mockingly, a slight blush blossoming her cheeks.

She didn't understand why, but she felt more comfortable around Damon than anyone else she had met so far, except perhaps Elena, and she had been around him the least.

But there was something utterly familiar about him.

He gave her a cocky grin before opening the car door for her.

"How long are you going to keep up this gentleman act?" she asked as he got in the drivers seat. He put a hand on his chest in mock offense.

"What makes you think it's an act?" he asked, and Y/N laughed, which was quickly followed by a yawn. "You're sure you're up for a party?" he asked.

Y/N nodded, her head resting against the window watching the scenery drive by.

"Thank-you for being so kind to me," she said, glancing at him. His fingers tightened one the wheel slightly.

"You're welcome," was all he said. As she turned away, he tried desperately not to look at her, not to wear his heart on his sleeve like she wore hers.

"Welcome to the Salvatore party," he said when he arrived "Bathrooms down the hall, go right then wa-I'll show you," he said, realising that she would probably get lost.

He then noticed the slight frown on her face "What's wrong," he asked, concerned.

She shook her head "Nothing, It just looks really familiar,"

Damon shrugged "Looks like any old museum I guess,"

She smiled at him as he opened the door to the bathroom, shutting it behind her as she entered.

"Be quick, or I'll miss you too much," he called out and smiled to himself when he heard her laugh.

In the bathroom, Y/N was quick to get dressed, the only problem being she couldn't quite reach the laced up corset and she groaned.

Stepping timidly out of the bathroom she spotted Damon who was leaning against the wall, staring into space.

"Damon?" she asked, and he turned to her with raised eyebrows. "Ca you help untie me please?"

He froze for a second as she lifted her hair, turning her back to him.

His fingers danced carefully over her skin, the temptation to hold her almost overwhelming but he cleared his throat and pushed that thought out of his head.

He carefully undid all the silk ties, letting him fall beneath his fingers. Y/N clasped the front of the dress tightly, so not to let it fall down.

"There you go," Damon said quietly, almost whispering. Y/N turned to him, almost bumping noses with how close they were.

"Thankyou," she replied softly, glancing into his blue eyes as they studied her own, before clearing her throat and returning to the bathroom to get dressed once more.

Damon leant on the wall his hands rubbing his head.

He needed to get a grip he decided.

Y/N changed into the miniskirt that Elena had leant her, with an oversized jumper that barely brushed the bottom of the skirt.

"Okay I'm all ready," she announced and Damon smiled lazily at her.

"About time, the party is about to get started." he said, leading her away and to where numerous people were already standing and Y/N felt herself shrink behind him slightly.

"Y/N!" Elena announced, grabbing her friend by the arm and leading her away from Damon with a glare to the man. Damon watched, biting the urge to follow her down.

Y/N looked back to him, looking slightly regretful and giving him a soft smile, which he raised his glass too.

"So you and Damon?" Bonnie questioned, raising her eyebrows.

Y/N felt her skin burn slightly "He's really sweet," she said quietly

Caroline screwed her nose up "But-Damon seriously? He's such a dick,"

Elena rolled her eyes "Maybe he just really likes Y/N," she said pointedly to Caroline, who pursed her lips slightly.

For the rest of the night the girls kept a close eye on Y/N, not wanting her to see Damon but also not wanting her too suspect anything. However as the night drew on, the girls got more drunk, and Y/N remained sober allowing her to slip away.

It's not that she wanted away from them in particular, but the crowds were getting far too much for her.

So she found herself wandering the halls of the Salvatore building, the vague familiarity of it making her head spin a little. Her fingers ran down the walls as she walked, feeling the old wallpaper beneath her fingers.

She came to the double doors, and something in the back of her mind was begging her to open it, so she did and gasped.

A library.

It was beautiful, with even a seating area near an old fireplace and rows and rows of books.

She marvelled at the sheer amount, before picking a random one and collapsing on the sofa that was there. It didn't take her long to get comfy, curling up against the arm, the book on her lap.

Back at the party, Damon was looking for her, the slight worry settling in his heart.

He cornered Elena, frowning at her "Where's Y/N?" he demanded "I thought you wanted to keep her safe,"

Elena looked around "I thought she went to find you," she said, the worry edging into her voice, barely audible over the slurring of her words as she danced with an empty cup in her hands.

Damon glowered at her, if it was anybody else she would have had her throat ripped out, but he stopped himself.

"Guess I'll go find her," he said sharply.

It was then the thought occurred to him that Y/N said she found the place familiar, and he was sure that apart from in 1864, she had never stepped foot in the building.

And where did she go whenever there was a party?

The library.

He almost laughed when he saw her, curled up against the arm of the sofa, a book in her lap and utterly oblivious to the world around her.

"We were worried about you," he said smoothly, trying to mask the dying worry in his voice.

Y/N looked up with wide eyes, quickly shutting the book and scrambling to her feet. "Oh God I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. It's just...you have a library in your house," she said weakly, looking embarrassed.

Damon waved her off "You're welcome to use it any time you like, the door is always open,"

Y/N smiled gratefully at him, sitting back down in the seat.

Damon watched as she read, the uncanny similarity between now and when he first met her almost to real to bare. Yet she didn't know him now, just like she didn't know him then.

But maybe she didn't need to remember him, maybe he could get her to fall in love with him a second time.

Y/N shivered slightly, even her thin jumper not quite enough to protect her from the coldness of the large house, especially since the room itself was so big.

Damon eyed her "You look exhausted, want me to take you home?" he asked sincerely.

Y/N shook her head "I can't, Bonnie has the house keys and god knows where she is,"

"You're more than welcome to stay here," Damon said softly and Y/N looked up at him in surprise.

"I wouldn't want to intrude," she declined but Damon shook his head at her.

"It's a boarding house Y/N, we have tons of spare bedrooms for exactly that reason,"

Y/N bit her lip, her eyes downcast as she considered her options. "Only if you're sure," she said finally and Damon resisted the urge to celebrate.

"Come on then sleepy, up to bed," Damon said smirking slightly, helping out of her cozy position on the sofa. She groaned softly as she felt her joints click, but the warmth of Damon's hand in her own made it all worth it.

"Do we have to go through the party?" she whispered as she exited the library.

"God no, Elena would kill me," Damon said mindlessly.

"Why?" Y/N asked curiously and Damon froze, realising what he just said.

"I can be a dick," he responded after a beat. He didn't want to go any further, unsure on what she already knew, and the fear that she would then hate him was evident.

Y/N shrugged "Well, at least you admit it," she said a smile "First step to recovery I guess,"

Damon scoffed "I do not need to recover,"

Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from laughing, which Damon noticed with a slight smile. He opened one of the doors, allowing her to step inside.

"You should find everything you need in here, there's an en-suite so you won't get lost trying to find the bathroom, and there will be some clothes you can sleep in," he said in mischievous tone, a suggestive joke on the tip of his tongue but for some reason he stopped himself before he could say it.

"Thankyou Damon, really," Y/N said sincerely, after marvelling at the room.

Damon nodded at her with a smile, before going to close the door as he left.

"Damon?" Y/N asked, and he popped his head round the door lazily, his blue eyes never leaving hers. "For what it's worth, I like you,"

Damon felt his heart leap into his chest. It wasn't a love confession, he knew that, but she liked him. She wanted to be his friend, and that was a step in the right direction.

"I like you too sleepy, now get some sleep,"

Y/N nodded with a smile, staring at the door as he closed it behind him.

Part of her wanted him to stay, but the other part was content knowing she'd see him in the morning.

#damon x reader #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x female reader #damon salvatore #damon salvatore fluff #damon x female reader #tvd #tvd universe #the vampire diaries

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spiicii · 3 months ago

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bloodline property / valentine’s day (roman)

roman reigns x fem!reader word count → 2.9k summary → your tribal chief makes sure to treat you right for valentine’s day. you know that you should tell him about what happened last night with jey, but this isn’t the right time. you should focus on roman and just try not to think about jey tonight. unfortunately, roman brings up jey himself. links → masterlist / taglist tags → unprotected piv sex, dom/sub, daddy kink, subspace, dacryphilia, hair-pulling, humiliation, degradation, possessive behavior, praise, dirty talk, spanking, face slapping, lore accurate tribal chief (roman is not always nice to his cousins), bad communication (you’ve been warned!), mildly dubious consent (girl is confused!)

Friday ✩ Valentine’s Day ✩ Roman

While you were free to spend the rest of the week with his Bloodline, Roman had made it clear that Valentine’s Day was for him and him alone. And if Roman was anything, it was traditional.

On Friday morning you awoke to a dozen red roses and breakfast in bed, his words sweet and his smile happy as he pampered you. He showered you with gifts, including a beautiful backless dress that he wanted you to wear out to dinner with him that evening. And when he took you out, he was sure to show you off, keeping his arm wrapped around your waist and smiling for the cameras as he led you to a private room at the nicest restaurant in town.

He wore a custom-made suit, his hair slicked back in a tidy bun and his eyes only for you as the two of you laughed and talked over dinner. He was thoughtful and attentive, his questions interested in your life with him and his Bloodline. Did you feel taken care of? Were you enjoying yourself? Was his pretty girl happy? And when he led you out of the restaurant, his large hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you close, he smiled at a reporter and told him that he had the most beautiful woman in the world to take out for Valentine’s Day.

It was perfect.

You weren’t thinking about Jey. Nope, you definitely were not thinking about Jey.

Because that would be wrong. Because you shouldn’t be thinking about Jey. You should be focused on your Tribal Chief. You should be focused on Roman, the man who found you two years ago crying and alone and had given you a purpose. A family. That’s where your loyalty was.

You had tried to sit still during the dinner, terrified that Roman would somehow be able to read your mind and know that you’d professed your love to his Right Hand Man. How would he react if he knew? What would he say?

In your time with Roman, he’d never told you that he loved you. And you weren’t mad about that. He’d made it very clear when he first took you in that this was a power dynamic. He got what he wanted: complete control and domination; a perfect, pretty servant to keep his bed warm. You got what you wanted too: to be completely owned and dominated, allowing your master to call the shots and take care of you.

It was a mutually beneficial relationship, one with a lot of perks. He gave you money and gifts, allowing you to live in his fancy penthouse with his family. He allowed you to fuck his Bloodline, more than happy to share you with the people he cared about the most. He gave you a purpose in life, a feeling of satisfaction from knowing that you had a master to serve. He appreciated you. He took care of you. He made you feel safe.

The two of you had never talked about feelings, nor did you ever feel the need to. You were fond of Roman, of course, but you weren’t in love with him. You loved the power he had over you, the feeling of being completely and utterly owned. You loved how good he fucked you. You loved how he took care of you. But you didn’t love him. Not like Jey.

You knew that you could talk about your relationship at any time, and perhaps you should. Roman had made it very clear that communication was important and he wouldn’t be happy if he knew that you were hiding something from him. Besides, you truly doubted he would be angry. What was he going to be mad at? That you’d caught feelings for his cousin, a man he loved like a brother? Since when was that a crime?

But what would you even say to him? He’d probably ask you what you wanted, but you didn’t know. You felt terrified that he would end the power dynamic between the two of you and you didn’t want that. At least, not yet. You didn’t know who you were outside of him. For the past two years, you’d been Bloodline property. His property. And that gave you comfort. You couldn’t handle a big change right now, not while you were still confused and scared.

Besides, tonight wasn’t the right time. It was Valentine’s Day and you wanted to give Roman all your attention and devotion tonight. After how well he took care of you, he deserved that at least.

You shouldn’t have been particularly surprised when Roman pounced on you the second you made it back to his penthouse, his mouth hot and possessive over yours as he pulled you into a searing kiss. He corralled you to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you as he claimed your mouth for his own, his tongue slipping into your mouth at your easy submission.

He was quick to push you back against the bed, already hiking up your dress to shove his hand between your legs. He smirked when he found that you weren’t wearing any underwear, wetness already coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fucking slut,” he crooned. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Your eyelids fluttered as if he’d just whispered the sweetest pillow talk in your ear, leaning against his strong body to steady yourself as he parted your wet folds.

Roman chuckled. “Need me that bad, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him through your long lashes, your mouth already open and small pants escaping. “Please, Daddy. I always need you. So bad.”

The Tribal Chief loved you like this: all needy and desperate for him. Only for him. It’s why he always made sure to have these moments where it was just the two of you. He needed to remind you that while he generously allowed you to fuck his Bloodline, you belonged to him. And no one else.

He removed his fingers from your cunt and you couldn’t suppress the needy whine that left your throat.

Roman was quick to shush you, already shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it to the side. He began removing his cufflinks, the small ruby ones you’d gotten him for his birthday last year, and set them on the bedside table, his gaze at you dark and hungry.

“On the bed, slut. Present yourself to your Chief.”

You hastened to obey, already moving onto your hands and knees as Roman began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. You yelped as he landed a harsh swat across your ass and he chuckled at the sound.

“So eager, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You arched your back and presented yourself. A hazy fog was already beginning to settle over your brain, entirely focused on being good and obedient for your master.

You felt the bed dip and Roman’s large hands grab at the soft flesh of your hips, his thick fingers brushing across your sex to collect the wetness there. You let out a small gasp at the feeling, your body already beginning to thrum with pleasure.

And when his fingers began to dip into your empty hole, you felt your eyes roll back at the feeling, a wave of submission and obedience washing over you as the Tribal Chief lavished you with his attention. He was the only person in the world who could get you into that headspace, your mind slowing down until you could only focus on one thing: obey.

Roman moved closer to you, his large hand reaching up to brush some of the hair out of your dazed eyes. He made an appreciative sound, his voice deep and calming.

“Already going under, baby?”

Whenever you got this it was hard to speak, but you still tried, no matter how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth.

“Yes, Daddy.” The words were barely audible, no more than a whisper, and Roman’s gaze at you was understanding.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, running his hands appreciatively down your exposed flank. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

You gave him a slow nod, your eyes already half-lidded as you looked up at him.

Roman reached up to curl his hands into your hair, his grip firm, but not painful. “Say your safeword back to me.” He commanded and you were quick to obey.

“Red.” Your voice was already wrecked.

“And if you can’t speak?”

You reached out a hand and typed his thigh twice, feeling relieved when he beamed at you.

“Good girl.” He cooed, cupping your cheek with his hand just to watch you nuzzle into his touch. “So good for me, sweetheart.”

He pushed his fingers past your lips and you relaxed, allowing him to fuck his fingers into your mouth at a slow and leisurely pace.

“I love seeing you like this,” He hummed, continuing to push his fingers further down your throat until you felt like you might gag on them. “Just a pretty little doll for me to play with. Just need your holes filled, don’t you, baby?”

You nodded around his fingers, obediently sucking on the digits no matter how deep they went. And when he finally removed them you let out a small whine, looking up through your long lashes to stare pleadingly at your Tribal Chief.

Roman gave you a condescending pat on the cheek before standing, moving behind you and out of your line of vision. You felt your body thrum in anticipation, the room quiet as you waited for your master to decide what to do with you.

“Such a needy, submissive little thing, aren’t you?” murmured Roman, the head of his cock already beginning to push into your hole. “Such a good girl for me.”

You were grateful that he took it slow, your body struggling to adjust to his massive size as he began to push further into you. You could feel the distant burn, but it was quickly sizzling into pleasure, your back arching further on instinct to grant him more access.

Roman chuckled, keeping his movements gentle and slow. “You need it that bad, huh?” He teased, digging his fingers deeper into your flesh so hard that it would leave bruises. Just how you liked it.

And when he bottomed out, you could hardly breathe, your entire body feeling impossibly full. He stayed still for a bit, appreciating the way your body trembled beneath him and your hole continued to spasm and clench around his length.

“Still so tight,” he breathed. “Not sure how you do it after getting fucked every day by my Bloodline, pretty girl. Such a talented slut, aren’t you?”

You were beginning to feel antsy without him moving, so you started rocking your hips back to try to simulate some kind of friction or movement. Roman let out a displeased noise, smacking your ass so hard that you gasped, immediately stilling.

“Don’t be greedy,” Roman admonished, even as his hand reached out to soothe the skin he had hit. “You’ll take what I give you, whore. And then you’ll thank me for it.”

Had your brain not been so foggy you would have had some kind of intelligible response for him. Instead, all you could do was moan as he pulled out and slammed back into you, the force so strong that you were sure you would have fallen into the mattress had the Tribal Chief not been gripping you so tightly.

Roman set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward as he pounded into you. You could hear the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, his heavy balls smacking against your clit with every thrust. You felt white-hot heat spreading across your body as pleasure began to build inside you, breathy little moans falling from your mouth after each rough thrust.

“None of the others fuck you like this, do they?” Roman’s tone was conversational, not even a little bit breathless despite his brutal pace. “Solo’s too quiet, isn’t he? He won’t say what you want to hear. What you need to hear.”

He yanked you closer to him and you yelped, your eyes screwed shut at the rough treatment.

“You like hearing what a dirty little slut you are. How you’re so desperate you now need five men to fuck you. Never met a bitch as greedy as you.”

The mixture of arousal and humiliation at his words had your entire body flushed beneath him.

“Jimmy’s probably the only other one who roughs you up like this, I know.” The Tribal Chief continued. “But he just can’t do it like I can, can he? He doesn’t see you for what you really are: a pathetic little cumslut who can’t even last a few hours without begging for someone to fill your holes. He just doesn’t understand you, does he, baby?”

He was crooning the words like he was reciting a love poem, your hole spasming helplessly at the degradation. Roman noticed and laughed, landing another harsh swat across your ass.

“And poor Sami… He doesn’t even know what to do with you, does he? He’s never met a whore as needy as you. He probably blushed and fucked you like some teenager in high school. He couldn’t give you what you wanted either, could he?”

Some part of you felt like he was being unnecessarily cruel. You liked Solo. Jimmy. Sami. They made you feel good too. Then Roman grabbed you by the hair and yanked you up from the mattress and whatever protest you might have had died on your lips.

“Don’t even get me started on Jey,” the Tribal Chief snarled, his thrusts somehow picking up more speed at the thought of the younger twin. “Little Jey. My Right Hand Man. He’s a good soldier, but he’s no Chief. He’s too soft-hearted. Too sweet.”

Roman spat the word like it was an insult.

“He treats you like you’re made out of glass. Too gentle, isn’t he, slut? But you don’t want to tell him. Don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

The Tribal Chief laughed and the sound was mean.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. That’s why you belong to me. I know what you need. I know what you crave. That’s why I’m the only one who can give it to you. Isn’t that right?”

Your heart began to pound in your chest, feeling tears prick at the corner of your eyes at his words. Jey wasn’t too gentle. Jey was perfect. Everything about him was. You could feel yourself beginning to slip out of subspace, almost wanting to protest at the Tribal Chief’s words. He shouldn’t talk about Jey that way. He shouldn’t.

Then Roman twisted his hips sinfully and you groaned, nearly blacking out from pleasure. Despite how much you cared for Jey, everything Roman said was true. Your scalp was stinging, your hips aching from how hard he was gripping you, yet you couldn’t deny just how good it felt to be used like this. As he continued to drill mercilessly into you, you were reminded that your pleasure was just a bonus. You were here to serve your Tribal Chief, his power and dominance completely overwhelming you as he held you up by your hair.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Roman laughed, smacking your ass again just to hear you moan. “I can feel you strangling my cock, whore. Gonna come for me? Gonna come on your Tribal Chief’s dick?”

You could barely nod around the tight grip he had on your hair, your words completely gone as Roman’s cock turned your brain into radio static.

“I know you can’t beg me for it. My cock’s turned you braindead. It’s okay, your Tribal Chief understands, sweetheart. Come for me.”

His commanding tone had your body obeying on muscle memory alone. You felt your body convulse, the tension inside you snapping with such an intensity that you nearly sobbed, your body coming apart at the seams.

Roman made a pleased rumble above you, your hole clamping down on him and triggering his own release. The Tribal Chief filled your insides, the feeling warm as your body began to relax. You felt full. Sated. Your brain was still hazy, your thoughts fragmented as Roman continued to shallowly thrust into you, ensuring that you took every last drop of his seed.

He slowly pulled out of you and you collapsed against the bed, a puppet with her strings cut. Roman made an appreciative sound, leaning forward to card his hand through your hair.

“So good, baby girl.” He cooed, his voice low and soothing. “Always so good for me.”

Your eyelids fluttered at his touch. Although you could barely think straight, you still felt a small seed of guilt sprout in your chest. You hadn't liked how he talked about Jey, but you hadn't stopped it. Weren't you supposed to care about him? Why had you allowed it, even though you didn't enjoy it?

But you enjoyed the rest of it, didn't you?

You tried to tell yourself that it was just all part of Roman's game. The disdain he'd had in his voice when he talked about Jey wasn't real. He respected Jey. He respected all of them. They were just words. They weren't real.

Roman's grip on your hair suddenly tightened and you whined, your mouth still open and your lips covered in drool. The Tribal Chief’s face was still hungry and your heart stuttered at the sight.

“Where are your manners, slut? What happened to my sweet, polite little girl?”

You struggled to find the words, your thoughts still hazy, but a slap to your cheek brought you back to your senses.

“I’m sorry,” You breathed, your eyes still glassy. “Thank you for using me, Daddy. Thank you so much.”

Roman released his grip on your hair and your face fell into the puddle of drool you’d left on the sheets, your body still limp and boneless. Your cheek still stung from how hard he'd smacked you.

“Good girl.”

Despite your confused thoughts, your safeword was the last thing on your mind. It felt too good, the humiliation and degradation positively delicious. You couldn't help it - you craved more.

And when Roman grabbed your hips again, already gearing up for round two, you told yourself that you wouldn’t think about Jey again tonight. You’d focus on your master and be good. You didn’t need to think. You just needed to be Bloodline property.

_____

previous part: valentine's day (jey)

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