#⤷ ᯽･ﾟ: peachy matters | asks.

[yasashiiku]

🍒 + raytm !!

@raytm

ray is an absolute sweetheart!! he is so talented, I love love reading raytm content, absolutely topnotch stuff, their style is so unique and captures you in a trance of amazing word use and such fitting dialog, I can ALWAYS hear his characters's voice in his writings, he is so creative with his it too, and I love how poetic it can get, honestly ray never ever fails to serve, every single piece is just so beautiful!! One thing I also absolutely adore is his aesthetics, every time he changes it im gawking!!! speechless!!! literally their taste is just so good, everything is so gorgeous every time im left staring!!!!! i absolutely love ray and everyone should love ray cuz he is a very nice & lovely rp partner & friend!!!

[peachy-keenss]

My artstyle progressing to the kinds of doodles that you’d see on a fridge is EXACTLY what I set out to do making art

[writereleaserepeat]

So, I finally dove back into some great writing by @peachy-panic after some chapter updates to their stories Do No Harm and Fifty-Eight Days. I really adore the setting and characters in Fifty-Eight days, and anonamously received the blessing to write some fanfiction, so I did! Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days below the cut - please go read their work if you haven't already!

There's a nameless woman mentioned in the flashback that starts "Reconvergence," and I thought it would be interesting to see the rescue scene from a different point of view (and perhaps from the point of view of someone who is mostly lucid at the time). It's obviously a fan work, so there are some canon divergences and creative liberties just to make it flow, but I really love the characters and hope I did them a bit of justice.

Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days by peachy-panic

TW: implied non-con, aftermath of non-con, nudity mention, strong language, kidnapping, blood mention, gore mention, violence mention

---

“You should be prepared for anything,” the Lieutenant Colonel had said. As any dutiful officer would, Eleanor Martin took those words to heart, and prepared as well as one could. Naievely, she thought she had prepared for anything. But that pre-mission briefing felt like a lifetime ago now that she was staring at the gore-soaked aftermath of the compound raid. 

Voss’s men had put up a fight, just as they had expected. The winding halls were lined with bodies of the nameless henchmen, grey brain matter collecting in puddles alongside skull fragments, crimson splattered up against the walls. Ivory paint was pock-marked with countless bullet holes, and the smell of gunpowder lingered alongside the pungent odor of copper. Death permeated every pore of her body. 

It hadn’t been hard to find Voss’s room, an elegant suite tucked away at the heart of the sprawling compound. He had thought himself a king, and the bedroom had clearly been built to reflect this sentiment. 

The only crown Voss wore now was a ring of liquid red. His eyes were already glossed over with the pallor of death, and he was gazing up at the ceiling with a permanent grimace etched in his leathery skin. For a man who had been hunted by authorities for years, a man turned into a monstrous specter that rivaled the devil himself, he seemed so small as he slumped lifeless against the bedroom wall with a bullet hole between his brows. 

But it wasn’t Voss that had seared an image in Eleanor’s mind when she entered the room. It was the two young men, the very ones they had also hoped to find in this place, caught amidst the gunfire and the chaos. Naked, soaked in blood, the whites of their eyes showing like frightened dogs. They hardly resembled the two photos that authorities had received six long weeks ago, but it was unmistakably the two missing missionaries. And amidst the flurry of uniformed men entering the room, it was clear that no one knew what to do with the surviving victims. Perhaps this was because they were never expected to be found alive. 

“Gordon, call the medics in,” Eleanor barked at her colleague. He nodded, shoving his pistol back in its holster before running out of the room. Eleanor tried to ignore the fact the other soldier looked as though he were about to be sick.

Movement caught her eye, and Eleanor turned her attention back to the victims. The boy she recognized as Grayson Dawning scrambled off the bed, his face stained with tears and blood, an expression of hopeless despair frozen in place. Alive. He was alive, unmistakably, honest-to-god alive. 

While finding both victims alive was better than any of the authorities involved had expected, Eleanor could already tell that survival was not a kindness to either of these young men. The near-catatonic one—Elijah—was still facedown on the bed and gagged. Even among the armed men reorganizing themselves to sweep the rest of the compound, his cloth-stifled soft sobs still filled the room with heart-wrenching pain. 

“You- you gotta help him,” Grayson mumbled as he staggered to his feet beside the bed, hands pulling at the cloth gag that was stuffed in Elijah’s mouth. Grayson didn’t seem to care that he was still exposed, burdened by the stench of sweat and sex across every inch of his skin. Eleanor’s stomach turned. 

Be prepared for anything.

“Easy, Mr. Dawning,” she murmured, unsure of what else to say. After all, what could she say? It didn’t take an expert or a medic to understand what they had stormed in on. 

Blood streaked down Elijah’s legs, across his face, all over the sheets of the bed. From the mass of wounds on his back and his thighs, it was hard to tell which injuries were fresh and which were just gnarled scars. But rather than attempt to stymie the bleeding, she took to pulling Grayson away, trying to get a handle on the situation until the medics arrived. 

“I’ll get that,” she promised as she nudged Grayson’s trembling hands away from Elijah’s head. The young man didn’t offer her any resistance as she carefully undid the knot buried within the unruly curls. She couldn’t help but wince as her own fingers shook, but soon the knot loosened, and the crude gag finally came undone. With as much caution as she could muster she eased it out of his mouth. 

“Elijah, please,” Grayson cried softly, his hands touching Elijah’s shoulder, trying to break through the fog that had overcome the younger of the pair. But as Eleanor could clearly see, Elijah’s eyes were unfocused, welling with tears, vacant but for the slightest spark of life. She wondered if he could even hear his companion at all. 

“Well, shit,” Adam muttered as he looked at the two boys on the bed, the medic suddenly having appeared at Eleanor’s side. He dropped the medical bag to the floor and began his usual procedures, pulling the zippers open to reveal his instruments and supplies. There was no mistaking the urgency with which the man had gotten down to business.

“Adam, this is Grayson and Elijah,” she said, gesturing to them each in turn. She wasn’t trained to interact with patients like Adam was, but the least she could do was give them a name to attach to a face. Maybe she hoped it would give them some comfort, ground them amidst the chaos that had just rained down. It just seemed like the right thing to do. 

She wasn’t even sure there was a right thing to do in a situation like this. 

“Hey, Elijah,” Adam said as he settled down by the bedside. “My name’s Adam, and I’m here to help you out.” Elijah didn’t respond, eyes still staring off into empty space, tears leaking freely in streams through the blood and grime. 

“Please, you have to help him,” Grayson said, pleading. “Please, Elijah, I’m so sorry. I’m- it’s going to be okay. I'm sorry.” It was impossible to miss how Grayson’s hand wrapped around Elijah’s, squeezing tight. Whatever they had gone through, they were the only ones that could understand each other now. 

“I’m checking your vitals now,” Adam continued, narrating his actions to Elijah softly beneath Grayson’s panicked chatter. “We’re going to start with your blood pressure and your heart. Eleanor, can you finish untying him?” 

Shit. Eleanor hadn’t even thought to undo the restraints binding the boy’s wrists. She made quick work of those so Adam could slide the blood pressure cuff around Elijah’s recently-released arm. Moments later the rest of the medical team arrived, two gurneys and more medical supplies in tow. 

“Yeah, we’ve got to load them up and get them out of here as soon as we can,” Adam said as he stood up to look at Eleanor, face taut with a newfound urgency. Whatever numbers the paramedic had pulled from his devices, they hadn't been good. “Our team will take Elijah here, and Joe’s team can take Grayson. We’ll take them both to the predetermined hospital, but it’s up to your folks to get the American authorities down there.” 

“Fuck, right, I’ll let the Lieutenant Colonel know,” Eleanor answered, reaching for her walkie-talkie on her belt. The fact that these boys were alive was going to spare something of an international incident. She was supposed to let the Lieutenant Colonel know as soon as there was any definitive contact with the boys, dead or alive. Somehow, that had slipped her mind upon seeing their condition, that scene she had walked in on. If word of what truly happened got to the press, she wasn’t sure it would be much better than if they had been found dead. 

After she made the call to her boss—yes, they were alive, and they were about to get brought out to the awaiting ambulances—she helped pull Grayson away from Elijah. This gave the other paramedics enough time to get to work on Grayson, running a rapid assessment of his vitals and responsiveness. As soon as he had lost contact with Elijah’s skin, Grayson seemed to disappear in much the same dissociative state. 

This older one of the pair, supposedly a group leader that had pursued Elijah after he went missing, was barely more lucid than his catatonic companion. And as Elijah was rolled out of the room on a stretcher, bodies cleared out of the way as they went, Grayson seemed lost in a fog. Eleanor kept her grip on his upper arm as he looked around like a lost child. 

“Where is he?” Grayson asked, panic renewed as he came back to himself, if only just. “Where did you take him?” He pulled himself from Eleanor’s grasp and stumbled towards the hallway, past the broken door, feet passing over the puddles of blood without hesitation. 

“Where is Elijah?” He called out into the nothingness as Eleanor and the other paramedics followed after him, prepared to intercept and bring him to a gurney of his own. 

“Mr. Dawning,” a shorter paramedic pleaded, “You need to sit down and let the medics look at you. We need to get you to the hospital.” 

It was obvious by the full-body tremors that Grayson wasn’t particularly amiable to that suggestion. Eleanor, not versed in the art of comforting, and without a maternal instinct in her body, again attempted to soothe. 

“It’s over now,” she said as she prepared to guide Grayson out of the winding compound. “It’s over, you’re safe.” He seemed to flinch when she reached for his shoulder again, so she drew her hand back. It would have to be enough to walk by his side. So she did, walking close by his shoulders, the paramedics rolling the gurney and their supplies a few paces behind. But she may as well have not even been there as they navigated the winding halls, Grayson still calling out Elijah’s name, eyes darting to every face they passed. 

Once they were outside in the driveway, washed in the bright white of industrial grade lights and the flashing of emergency vehicles preparing to depart, Grayson seemed to snap back into focus. Of course; it seemed that Elijah was about to be loaded into one of the waiting ambulances, his body atop a stretcher and draped in blankets. 

“Elijah!” Grayson cried out, voice cutting above the fray of uniformed officials trying to make some sense of the carnage that was unraveling inside the compound. From the chatter on Eleanor’s radio, it seemed that these wayward missionaries were not the only victims to be found in the recesses of Voss’s personal playground. More ambulances - and coroners - would likely be on their way in a matter of minutes. 

Grayson nearly tumbled to the ground as his foot caught on the edge of the gurney, but somehow the emaciated boy caught himself and continued to propel forwards towards Elijah. That spark of desperation pulled again at Eleanor’s heartstrings. She watched the paramedics try to ward Grayson off, refuse his entry into the ambulance, their faces stern. Even Adam seemed prepared to put his foot down and protect the patient in his stead.

For a moment, Eleanor was lost. She likely would never see these boys again, not in person. Perhaps on the news or in her nightmares. But even if she would never see them again, she would remember these moments for the rest of her life. Perhaps they would too. What kindness could she afford them now? 

“Let him,” she said, walking a few paces towards the waiting ambulance. “Let them go together.” 

One of the paramedics looked like he was prepared to argue, but Eleanor knew that her rank was visible on her chest patch. A short tilt of her chin and squint of her eyes was all it took to make them fold. 

As soon as wordless permission was granted, Grayson grabbed onto Elijah’s hand, both of their knuckles white. Fear still danced around them, but in the last few moments that Eleanor saw them before the doors closed, she knew she had made the right decision. Whatever awaited those boys in the future, and whenever they had to reckon with what she had glimpsed upon breaching that door, that would be saved for another day. For now, for these few short minutes before they were subjected to a thousand questions and countless doctors prodding at them, they would have each other. Maybe that would be enough.

[tonycries]

Animals - G.S.

Synopsis. Yes, your best friend is secretly an alpha. Yes, he acts like a fúcking anímal when he rúts. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alíve.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Gojo, rúts, best-friends-to-lóvers, creampíes, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, knots, MARATHON SÉX, overstím, knots, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pússy-spánking, héats tríggered, semi-public, matíng press, oraI (fem), slight bondagé, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 7.0k (uh-oh)

A/N. Nanami always gets the short end of the stick LMAO, anyway hope y’all have the loveliest week <3

“Satoru, you’re being strange.”

Granted, Gojo Satoru acting weird wasn’t anything new. 

Especially not when he’s two hours deep into the most droning meeting you’d bribed him into attending as of late - knee bouncing, fingers tapping, head turned towards that firmly shut door like he just wanted to escape. Needed to. 

Then again, even you found your attention waning. Finding whispering with your best friend much more interesting than whatever latest mission statistic Yaga had to present. 

“M’doing just peachy, sweetheart.” Gojo smiles - but it looks stilted, pained. And even through his blindfold, you already knew his snowy brows were furrowed. “Who’s the one not listening to ol’ man Yaga now?”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes down at his figure beside you - draped over the cool mahogany table as if he owned the place. “Well- you better not be faking sick to get out of this meeting. Again.”

He only hums, “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ h-head about it, m’kay?”

With a final, tired rub at your temples, you’re turning back to Nanami to ask for all the world where Yaga was on his fifty-page report now-

And then, it hits you.

Suddenly.

Something smells sweet.

Like candy - particularly that sugary, strawberry-flavored kind you’ve had to tell Gojo off on more than one occasion for eating too many of. Tilting your head just a bit, you think you could also catch hints of honey and pine, such a strange, hypnotic combination.

“S-Satoru…” your words come out in a syrupy gush, feeling your head whirl.

“Hm?”

And despite yourself, you’re taking in deep, heavy inhales of the air surrounding you. Hungry. Mouth salivating as that heady, perfumed whiff clouds up all your senses. “Do you- hah- what is- do you smell-”

“Ngh- no?” he’s cutting you off with a barely-audible groan, one you probably wouldn’t have even caught if your abilities weren’t so sharpened right now. Gojo’s movements seem sluggish, languid as if he was moving through molasses when he raises up one hand to massage the back of his neck.

You can only watch as his head droops down onto the long table with a wince. 

Strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost thought- 

No, there was no time to be entertaining wild conspiracies. Because at this very moment you’re too caught up flitting through the dates of all your previous heats in your mind. Urgently. 

Three weeks.

Your next heat wasn’t due for another three weeks. So, sure, you didn’t take your suppressants just yet but, that really didn’t matter, did it?

It wasn’t normal for jujutsu sorcerers to be anything other than a beta - and as an omega, you knew firsthand just how difficult it was to fight tooth and nail just to be able to sit at this table. 

Historically, any other faction of society would rather be caught dead than outed, and have their second gender be taken advantage of by the very curses you were supposed to exorcize. Forced to face the stigma of alphas and omegas being too “unstable” or “vulnerable” to be trusted with missions.

This was the very thing you’d been trying to avoid ever since you argued your way into studying at Jujutsu Tech - losing control. 

Especially now.

But god, you were burning up. It smelled so sexy.

And, taking a sweeping glance around the table of betas - at your fellow sorcerers, those grim elders, and your disheveled best friend - that left only you to explain the scent.

You were only thankful that their noses weren’t as powerful as yours. Clinging onto this as a saving grace, with a shaky gulp, you gently nudge Nanami on his side. “Hey- Ken?”

“Yes?” And maybe it was the heat - whatever this was - but Nanami’s deep baritone sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning in traitorously closer to his heated body. His jaw ticks, “Is something wrong? You look…”

“Satoru’s also-”

“So what?”

Without warning, one of his hands comes to splay out across your forehead. Just a mere touch has him sucking in a sharp gasp, “You feel warm, I think you have a fever. You can’t continue the meeting like this.” 

You shake your bleary head in protest. 

“I won’t let you.” Nanami’s voice hardens with a tone of finality, and yet, you still find yourself trying to whirl around to look at Gojo. Maybe for help, maybe for a distraction to escape when your colleague speaks again - this time directed at Yaga. “Principal Yaga, it seems my dear friend here is sick.” Circling an arm around your shoulders to pull you up from your seat and onto weak legs. “If you’ll please excuse us, I will escort-”

Nanami stills - everything stills. 

Everyone stills when his voice tapers off with a ragged grunt, and you feel his chest heave in unsteady breaths. So close now that you can mark the exact moment Nanami’s eyes widen, “Are you…”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit-

“Wait.” Yaga’s voice bellows reproachfully. “Is this- That smell-” But even he can’t find the words, slumping back down into his seat.

Truly, the scent was so saturated now, so primal that even the most stubborn of unmated betas were sneaking peeks at you. You bite your lips raw at another glossy gush from your already-heated cunt. It was so embarrassing - your heats have never acted like this before, let alone come three weeks early.

Sure, perhaps that one time on your very first day at Jujutsu Tech itself - which was embarrassing by itself. And, yet, your mind had never been clearer than it was right now. 

Eyes sliding over to a familiar, trembling mop of white hair - never been needier. 

Fuck, what was your delirious self thinking-

As if drawn by an invisible string, Nanami’s inching impossibly into your hot proximity, hazel eyes falling half-lidded when he takes in a deep whiff. Grumbling, “My love-” Another. And another. Nose almost grazing your pulse now, “-you’re in-”

Slam!

“Out.”

It’s a threat.

That was the first thought that slammed into you, and then the voice continues, slow, snarling like a predator on the edge of ripping something to shreds. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Before you finally understand, it’s a command.

There’s one strong hand around your front, pinning you against a sculpted chest. Something about it has your pulse booming in your ears, fingers clawing at that pale wrist at your shoulder. Yet, he doesn’t even flinch.

Nanami, however, reluctantly detaches his hands from your body, and you finally have enough strength to look towards the origin of the words. Only for your glassy gaze to meet with a towering Gojo Satoru standing at his full height - when did he even get up? 

Jaw clench, sharp canines bared, blindfold dangling haphazardly around his neck - ah, he looked like a man that crawled from hell and back simply to take you all along with him. 

With you at lucky number one. 

First in his line of sight. Close enough that you can finally smell him. 

Oh.

Oh. 

And you swear you saw his eyes tint with the faintest blue lightning when your own scent perks up. Boring into you for just a millisecond before narrowing his gaze down at a stupefied Nanami, cracking the kinks in his neck. “Unless ya wanna watch.” He bares the rest of the room with his flooring glare, “Unless all of you want to watch.”

It’s chaos. 

They understood - perhaps long before even you did. 

Chairs clatter, the desk trembles, and that safe haven of the door is swung open. That weezing council of elders are first to stumble over one another into the hallway, Yaga following shortly with a wordless sigh. 

Until the only ones left are you and him - and Nanami.

Blond brows raising, his eyes flit frantically between you and a possessive Gojo. Sputtering out, each word jagged, and dry as if they’re being wrenched from his chest. “What is the meaning of this- We- I thought you were a- a beta.” 

Everyone did, and Nanami was speaking what your mind couldn’t right now. 

Gojo Satoru always presented himself as a beta - never affected by your heats, never disappearing once every few months for his ruts as you remember Suguru did. He always seemed so normal - perhaps the one thing about him that was. Unaffected by the stupid little trials and tribulations of alphas and omegas in sorcery. 

But it was undeniable, he was an alpha. 

And taking a deep inhale of his saccharine sweet perfume - so overpowering - he might just be the strongest you’ve ever encountered. How fitting.

“You thought.” Gojo’s voice was clipped, rumbling with a low growl that sent electrifying shivers down to your very cunt. And his tone just makes Nanami jolt. “And I can’t right now so I- fuck-”

Gojo’s body wracks with a violent shudder, making him hunch over - with you in tow. His hot breath puffs out in feverish pants near your ear, abs clenching as another velvety wave of pheromones emit from him. 

You mewl when your body is jostled in his toned arms, nudging the very curve of your ass - tight uniform skirt hiking up just enough - so that you push in a slow drag against something rock-hard. Massive. Weeping out in a sticky damp spot that seeps into your skin. 

“Hah-” you’re gasping, face swirling to nose up the crook of his neck - where the candied scent was most prominent. “Toru–”

There’s a gasp - and it’s not from you this time. 

Both you and Gojo are snapping your dazed heads upwards at a frozen Nanami, his hand shooting to cover his nose. Eyes wild- “I-”

Before thinking better of it, it seems like Nanami opted to keep some part of his sanity as he abruptly turns on his heels without a second glance backwards. Marching robotically, the only moment he stops is once he’s at the doorway. One hand tugging on his suddenly too-tight pants, the other on the doorknob. Eyes still trained forwards when he calls out gruffly, “Don’t break the table, insurance doesn’t cover it.”

SLAM!

Finally alone.

Your vision swims - is the door even locked? Is this- God, you feel hot. So hot - too hot.

And Gojo’s burning up, arms wrapping around you so tight that you could feel the way his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. He breathes out into your ear, “My pretty girl…”

“Oh sh-shit–” you’re whimpering, big fat tears welling up behind your eyes. And without wasting a second, as soon as it splatters hotly on your best friend’s skin, he licks a long, lazy stripe to lap at the hazy saltiness. Babbling away, “Feel so dizzy hngh- and you- you’re an alpha?”

Honestly, part of you still didn’t want to believe it.

But as soon as he husks out a gravelly moan, as soon as his tongue dips down a wet pathway to the scent gland on your neck - you already know you won’t be making it out of this alive. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“Mhm- fuck! m’sorry.” he grunts into your skin, slightly muffled. Nipping ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry m’sorry- had to- my sudden rut made my- hah, made my pretty omega go into heat, didn’t it?”

His soft palms glide down your trembly body, greedily kneading every dip and curve that comes his way. He’s lost. So, so lost. 

Plastering his lips down every inch of skin he could reach, that sweet scent sticking to you like a sloppy second skin. And you can barely even think when you feel his swollen dick just twitch behind you, a fresh wave of swelteringly hot precum sloshing right through your silken skirt.

You whimper when you’re rutting messily back and forth, and he drags a thick thumb to pry your spit-glossed lips open. “Aww, poor baby. Tell me- fuck tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

And all you can really give him right now is a circular swivel of your hips, which evidently wasn’t enough. 

Because Gojo’s furious tip only hardens, and he hisses with a slight tug up your skirt. Cold fingers dancing ravenously up the edge of your drenched panties, gliding the very rounded tip of his index slowly across your sopping slit. 

“Tha’s not enough.” he snickers, and suddenly you’re hit with another wave of emanating pheromones. Enough to make you just slobber a glistening coating all down his long digits. “Use your ah- w-words like a big girl now. Because when I start…” His teeth find your earlobe, and his fingers find themselves planting a dripping wet slap! across your puffed-up clit. Unwavering. Unapologetic. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“Please, Toru.” That cute little nickname makes him jump, makes him throw his head back with a low moan. Brows scrunching together as if pained. “Don’t want you to stop-”

Maybe you were going to say more - maybe you would’ve called him that nickname and driven him even crazier. 

But Gojo doesn’t wait to find out. 

In one, fluid motion he’s picking up your body into the easiest princess carry you two would’ve laughed at if this was one of those romcoms you watched together. Just splaying you out on your back across the cool table, he situates himself in the perfect position between your legs. 

Oh, how he loved this view. How he’s spent so many ruts just like this imagining this view.

“F-fuck- You have no idea how- how crazy it drove me.” rasping groans drag out from his throat, strained with every slow drag of his cock down the front of your now-see-through panties. “How wild-” You’re nearly screaming when his canines dig in to that soft spot underneath your ear. “-to pretend I didn’t know you smelled so hah- so fucking delicious.”

And then you feel him still - alert, ready.

Chest heaving, an almost chilling tone dipping into his words when he spits, “Except when you smell like him.”

Your jaw falls slack when the temperature in the room heats up another few heady degrees, and the sheer power of your two scents mixing together is almost maddening. 

“He- he? Toru, what do you-” you’re gasping out in tiny huffs, while he busies himself with biting and licking down your exposed neck. Enough to leave you smeared all over with marks. “Who- Kento?”

“Oh, sayin’ another man’s name when you’re with- fuck- me?” Gojo’s bucking powerfully into you, his body was pinning you down. Scorching, now. “Such a naughty omega- I should kill him for how he touched you.”

Truly, his alpha was fucking clawing at him to trek out of this room right now and finish off the job - but, no, you were too hypnotic. And Gojo Satoru, the strongest, was no match for you.

The wet thwack of his fingers once more kisses in a rude smack against your clit, making you squeal. Ringing across your thundering ears, he swears at that broken, blissful noise from you. “Fuckin’ oh, would ya let him see you like this, too? Let him touch you like th-this?”

And Gojo looked so starved, velvety blindfold tickling your chin when he leans in close. Lips ghosting your own - but not quite. You’re suddenly brought back to the very first thought you had - that this is about to be a bloodbath. 

“I wouldn’t–” you bite back in your honeyed tone, and you can feel your omega just purr in satisfaction. “N’ it’s not my fault that someone-”

Smack! Harder, sprinkled with tiny bolts of electricity.

“Correct.” 

It’s breathed out into your mouth - a quick, hedonistic peck. Gojo just taunting your sanity before he’s pulling away with a gruff string of profanity, like it hurt him just as much as it did to you. 

You feel your slick dribble down into a saturated puddle below you. And the mere sight of it makes Gojo just reel his hips deliriously forwards, grinding his massive bulge across your dripping cunt until you could see it soil a fountainy dark patch on his pants. 

“F-fuckin’-” his eyes roll to the back of his head at how hot you were. How pouring wet. Wrangling your quivering legs painfully stretched open, “-woman of my dreams.”

With two, thick fingers hooked over the hem of your skirt, it’s being torn off in an easy pull. Falling somewhere in a pile of impractical tatters onto the meeting room floor, along with your shirt.

And as soon as it’s off, Gojo’s only growing more feral. More hungry. 

He’s drooling from one corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice at this point. Honestly, barely even realizing the burning pain when he falls to the floor on his knees. Clattering haphazardly, insatiably nosing up your jittery inner thighs. 

“Oh sweetheart- oh my pretty girl. My pretty, pretty girl–” he’s breathing out, head lolling drunkenly against your legs. And Gojo gulps when he spreads your panties away with a wet glide of his thumb, just enough to see your messy hole winking up at him eagerly. All soaked and needy. “M’gonna have so much fun being yours.”

He kisses wetly through your panties - without warning, without even breathing. Just surging his pretty face into the heated crevice between your thighs, taste buds on his pinkish tongue grazing up the soaked fabric.

Like he was addicted.

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re mewling out, lower lip wobbly at every sultry swirl of Gojo’s tongue over your pussy lips, painting your messy hole in every mesh of slick and spit he could conjure up. “It feels too- hah–”

You were always so sensitive during your heats, every single one of your senses heightened to the max. So it made your mind all overwhelmingly melty inside to have his steaming hot mouth on your equally ravenous cunt. Hungry.

Yeah, he was addicted.

Dragging a few fingers in-between your glistening folds, scissoring them shamefully open to spit. Once. Twice. 

Some of it splatters strayly onto the start of your thighs, which Gojo glady licks up all over again to stream out a thick wad back onto your silt. Until your cunt was drooling translucent dredges of everything he has to give, he smears his messy thumb in easy rotations around your clit. Filthy. 

“So gorgeous- so good f’me.” Gojo titters, biting down teasingly on the very edge of your panties. And he can’t hide that fucked-out little groan when pulls it back, back, back to just snap! it meanly right on your cunt. “Fuck- you taste as s-sweet as you smell, mmm–”

You’re yelping when his long tongue draws a slow circle around the edge of that first ring of muscle, just barely pushing back against how your gummy walls are trying to hug him. To milk him for everything he has.

“S-such a tease-” you whine, fingers tangling into his cloudy white hair. Soft - the silken tresses smoothed over your palm, slotting between your digits when you pull his mouth roughly onto your pussy. “Jus’ want you on me- ngh!”

“Ohh ya can still t-talk easy, huh?” Gojo raises an amused brow from in-between your legs, that won’t be possible soon with how he’s going to have you. “Well then, don’t you dare beg me to go easy on you, girl.”

And he keeps the panties on - fuck, he keeps the panties on when mashing those ragged, rosy lips of his in a steamy make-out with your cunt. It’s as if he was breathing you in, so close that you could feel every clench of Gojo’s jaw, every grind of his chin into the very base of your pussy. 

“Sh-shitttt-” he spits, stray wisps of white covering his eyesight. Dragging you on his tongue through pure instinct. “Shit wait- ah you’re so fuckin’ so-”

Unable to even finish his sentences with that usually-sharp tongue of his. No, that tongue right now was too occupied with the steady, repetitive drag along your snug channel. Bullying into your sodden sensitive spots, thrusting back and forth back and forth back and-

And his fingers, oh those infamous fingers were straying back onto the sensitive nub of your clit. Drawing tight, tempestuous circles that have you keening at the dual stimulation, thighs stuttering to an embarrassed close. 

“Open.”

It’s just like before - and Gojo’s using that annoyingly baritone tone of his that hits you at your very core, that makes your omega snap open your legs for him.

Even you’re surprised at how pliant your body acts before your mind right now - and so is Gojo. though, his expression doesn’t show it, every bit of that feral animal that scared everyone out of this room not too long ago. 

“That’s it- that’s it–” he can’t hold back, hands glued to the globes of your ass to pin you still against his mouth. “Ha- so fuckin’ different when ya listen to me, so fucking sweet.” Breathing in deeply, “Were ya giving off this scent so Nanami could do this, too?” 

Thwack!

Another mocking slap against your clit - not enough to make you cry, but with just enough buzzing jujutsu to make your batting lashes teary - forces you to find your words. 

And fuck, Gojo swears there’s no sweeter music than the sound of your voice - especially when you’re moaning like that. 

Voice breaking into a whine, accompanied by a few raw clenches of your pussy around his furious tongue. “N-no fuck- don’t know-” your hips arch into the most perfect curve he’s ever seen. One that makes his mouth water, cock straining against his pants. “Toru- jus’ want you, wanna cum- wanna- want you so bad.”

Fuck - and who was he to not go along with each and every one of your pretty whims?

Pussydrunken already. He’d read about this - but he really had no clue how potent an omega in heat was, never having spent a rut with one. That little special occasion was always saved for you but, ah, that was a story for another time.

“M’gonna cum- hah- so- close-” 

Right now, he couldn’t think of anything other than how gorgeous you would look when you cum. How delicious - your sweetened scent raising up by a few notches, taking over his sentences. 

He feels his cock just throb at the mere thought.

Which is why Gojo’s pulling away with one final, sodden kiss on your pussy. You feel the curvaceous curl of his smirk against your cunt, and a deep, filthy inhale. 

“Nah.” he smiles a glistening smile up at you - grin glossed all over with a sheen of your sweet, sweet juices. And the rest of his face was almost-obscured with a curtain of his white bangs, but you still think you could peek the glow of his inhuman eyes through them. Powerful. “Don’ think you’re c-cumming anywhere other than on my knot first, pretty girl.”

And he’s so tall that Gojo’s blocking out the dim meeting room lights when he stands up - slow, smug, making you spend each passing second in such anticipation. 

Face expressionless - almost hypnotized - when he shrugs his shirt off. Lips parted into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded, heaving he slides his belt off almost lazily. 

It clatters! to the ground, and he’s sliding down his drenchingly wet boxers with it - leaving a gleaming trail of precum down the front of his toned pelvis. Letting his achy cock finally spring free, he hisses when it hits the too-cool air. 

And you do, too - though, for much different reasons. 

Because Gojo’s so unfairly big - fitting, for an alpha of his stature. Blushed the prettiest pink at his rotund head that matched his cheeks right now, gradiating down into creamy tufts of white at his thick base. Showing the starting of his knot swelling. It made you wonder whether he tasted as sweet as he smelled. So hard it looked painful, curving into a long, solid shaft that glides a wet smear across his washboard abs. It makes your omega just preen, rabid to have him inside you right now now now-

“Heh, impatient lil’ thing, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” Gojo huffs out in a heady bout of laughter. “Can practically feel yer omega ngh- calling out to me, is this what you want?”

You claw ferally at the milky display of his back, branding him in your own way. “Yes- please-” 

A sudden rip! makes you realize you still had your panties on - up until a few seconds ago, at least. Jostling him ever-so-slightly closer, you mewl when the rounded tip of his angry cock nudges against your pussy lips. Melding into a slight kiss that already makes him stream steaming hot ropes of precum.

And if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed the way the light above flicker, fizzing with electricity just as much as you were right now. 

“Heheh- oh y-you made me like this, ya realize?” he chuckles out - but his voice didn’t show even a hint of humor. It’s like he was out of control, out of rationality with each languid drag in-between your folds. Babbling, “You threw me into- fuck fuck fuck this is all- your-”

Honestly, Gojo’s so utterly shocked he managed to grit even half that sentence out. 

Because every sloppy second has him grinding upwards in the tiniest of ruts into your sung cunt, tiny, mindless grinds that make a low ah! ah! ah! rip from his throat. 

“Open that mouth f’me, sweetness-”

As soon as you do, you’re feeling a thick, glossy stream of saliva slosh onto your lolling tongue. Mouth wrenched shut until you swallow - and you do. Happily. Filthily. 

That’s enough to make Gojo lose it. 

And he’s plunging headfirst into your toasty insides, shoving back that tiny bit of resistance before your elastic walls are milking him so well. Greedily swallowing up every one of his generous inches, and it only seemed like more was to come.

“Oh shit- ohhh sh-shit-” His eyes are rolling to the very back of his head, mouth hanging open, that tiny trickle of drool splatters onto your skin. 

“T-Toruu—” your cunt was addictive, and so were those moans of yours. Craning your neck upwards, “Kiss me, please.”

For a second, he’s leaning in - making it seem like he was about to smear that firmly placed gloss all over his lips onto yours. But Gojo only sneaks a peck at the corner of your mouth, then the other - and then one on the tip of your nose. 

“I will I will-” he’s musing, giggles bursting from his lips. “Once we’ve mated, can’t get too greedy at once now? Can I?”

But oh how his actions spoke otherwise, because Gojo’s powerful hips absolutely refused to stop until he was well and fully buried into the hot depths of your cunt. Sheathing himself in all your soppingly wet walls, the sheer tightness was enough for him to throw his head back, heavy balls squeezing. In and out in and out. 

“Ohhh fuck-” Two hands of his roughly attach themselves to your hips, pitching up your needy whines when he drools down your pussy even more thoroughly. “You sure do make it f-fuckin’ hard though-”

You whine when your ass hits against something bulging and hot, whirling those dazed eyes of yours down at the intrusion. 

“Shit-” you’re gasping, eyes widening. And the sheer awe in your eyes is enough to make him grow, blood pumping to every thick inch of his cock until he was expanding even girthier, molding your pliant walls to his size. “That’s your knot- I-I-”

“I-I-I-” Gojo mocks, in a voice octaves higher than usual. Fucking the rest of that sentence with a harsh roll of his hips, knocking bruisingly at your cervix. “C’mon now ah- tell me- you can t-tell me anything.” Kissing softly at your ear lobe, zaps of jujutsu making you jump. “M’your best friend, right?”

How ironic.

All you can gift him in response is a few soft whimpers that only make him wilder.

“Fuck!” you’re keening when another one of his slams leave you gasping for air, feeling like he was clashing into your very womb. Glissading a deep, wet glide of his fat, curved tip across your spongy cervix, his breath hitches at the slight recoil. “I want it-” 

Your words make him almost falter with his ruthless pace, and you take it upon yourself to just drag him down by his muscled shoulders. Until he was hunching over you, abs flexing against your front, “I want your hah- knot in m-”

And you can’t even finish the sentence - you don’t know if you want to.

Because just that syrupy jumble of words is enough to make Gojo Satoru snap. 

To cut you off with a rough growl, teeth bared at you, in a split-second he has you limp legs thrown over his shoulder. Biceps flexing in such a mouth-watering way when he makes them lock at the ankle, bending down, down, down into the meanest little mating press your joints would allow. 

The change in angle has you scrambling - has him scrambling to crash his leaky head into your swollen g-spot. Hitting that bulging bullseye with no regrets - over. And over. And over and over and-

“Oh, marry me sweetheart.” he’s panting into your mouth. His pulsing girth rummaging your insides so good, dragging every ridge and thumping vein on his shaft against your sweet spots. He was so big that you felt like your syrupy cunt had already forgotten what it felt like without him pounding into you. Suckling wetly at the corner of your lips, “Marry me marry me- oh, fuck- gonna give you m-my knot. Don’ think I could go on hah- l-living without ya, pretty.”

He was feral - eyes glowing a blazing blue, sparks of lightning bolting down his milky skin. And you swear with each speeding cadence of his, the lights flickered on and off. 

Every slippery smack of his tight, cum-filled balls has you seeing stars, yearning for the additional burning stretch of being plugged by his knot. 

You’re throwing your arms over his neck, reeling him in like he was your prey, though his hips were devouring you. “W-we’re not even dating and you want me t-to be your hngh-”

“-wife!” He kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, over that soft scent gland of yours - now so overstimulating his senses with your sweet scent that he’s almost forgotten what his own smelled like. Buzzes of electricity skimming down your skin with each touch. He’s groaning, “Be my wife- please- fuck, I need you to be my wife.” Planting an almost-french kiss on that one sweet spot. Once. twice. “M-my mate- sh-shit-”

And you already knew Gojo was close with the way his pretty eyes are almost fluttering shut, the way his hefty balls clamp. Twitching in desperation, his thickened base pumps in even deeper - harder. As if he was trying to rut every single inch into your clingy depths. 

Every single inch.

“Mhm–” you moan, feeling the staggering stretch of his even hotter cock shape your walls. “I wanna- wanna be your-”

You don’t even bother finishing your sentence - and neither does Gojo let you.

Because it only takes a few more sloppy jackhammers before he’s finally sinking his taut knot into you. The stretch is so insane you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, being plugged so suddenly full. 

And then you’re hurtling headfirst into your high - toes curling, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, your spine bowing so sluttily into his. And Gojo-

Oh, Gojo had his mouth sagging open the moment he felt his massive knot intrude against your silken sweet walls, stretching that snug channel around all of him. And he wishes he had the willpower to look down at the heavenly sight, he wishes he could do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your precious scent gland as he cums and cums and cums. 

The lights burst, shards deflecting off the limitless he’d coated over the both of you. 

Teeth breaking skin, metal tasting on his tongue, scents tangling together into one now.

You do your best to bite him back on his heady neck, breaking through Gojo’s milky skin to reveal a set of pretty pink indents.

Finally yours. Finally his. 

“O-oh, pretty girl–” he hiccups, voice cracking. Hips not moving even the tiniest second of momentum while he stuffs your tight pussy full of his potent seed. “My wife- my mate.”

And Gojo almost bawls when the tight lock of his knot prevents him from plunging into you as deeply and thoroughly as he wanted to right now. Sobbing down big fat tears that splatter! against your lips while he kisses your mind dizzy.

You could feel the syrupy slosh of his cum inside you with each one of his dragged-out grinds, milking your orgasm for as long as possible. Unmoving. Unapologetic in how he was spitting out such voluminous loads of milky white seed that overfilled you. 

“Shit- so much-” you’re whining, still clinging to him. And you don’t think he even hears you right now, mind blanking. “I feel so full, Toru-”

But you didn’t have to babble out those words for him to know, somehow, he just knew. Knew every single thing about you, but couldn’t dredge up the words to respond.

Too pussydrunken to do anything but bite you on your scent gland all over, he kisses a wet trail up to your lips, “Now you- really hafta m-marry me heh.”

Bang! 

Gojo’s fist comes crashing down on the rickety table - it’s too much for him.

Those ringing squelches and the way you were sucking out every single drop of his cum makes his sensitive shaft twitch. Tears blimping up into his eyes again, more and more velvety ribbons ooze out. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife- my mate-”

It’s just about all he can say - like a mantra. Over and over against your lips, until the peaks of your pleasure turn into mere tingles, until Gojo’s own knot is softening down. Slightly.

Just enough that he can pull out-

“Toru, what-”

“Shhh, pretty girl-” He’s kissing your puffed-up clit with another spank from his trembly fingers, and then an actual kiss. Mouth slotting over the mess he’s made below. Grazing all over like a creamy gloss. Filthy. “Rut’s just started.”

His ravenous tongue drags out your overstimulated high, and you’re clinging onto a lock of his snowy hair for dear life. 

“Please-” you beg, voice shot. You don’t even know what you were begging for, but god was Gojo Satoru happy to let himself be used. “Please please please, Toru-”

Oh, his fingers tighten on your thighs - imprinting neat patterns of crescents. Animalistic, in how Gojo just drags your twitchy body forwards.

His eyes were drooping shut, gaze crazed - frantic where he looked you right in the eyes from down below. Head craning to ram his stretchy tongue even deeper, quirking up deftly like he’s wanting to bruise his taste buds along your walls. 

Slurping at and collecting the creamy mess on his tongue - only to spit it back into your sloppy hole. Messy. 

Even with the dark, lightless room - with only those stray sparks of power to accompany you two - such loud squelches echo across his own ears. And just by the noise Gojo could tell how wet you were - as if you weren’t drooling over the lower half of his face, up to his cheekbones, already. 

Sticking to your inner thighs in an obscene drip! drip! drip!

It’s so shameful and you love it. 

And you love that you’re so cockdrunken that you aren’t even sure when you’re cumming - if you’re cumming. Whether those sudden crashes of pleasure were because of your nth orgasm tonight, or because of the way Gojo kisses you with another thwack!

Adrenaline and electricity coursing through your veins, ears thundering with your rapid pulse. Oh god, you never knew a heat could feel this good - this maddening. 

You moan, and he’s eagerly lapping up every sweet bead of slick you have to offer, like a man that hasn’t had an ounce of water in weeks. Brows furrowed, jaw sagging open-

“Shit shit shit-” he’s rasping out, and the very slide of his fingers across your skin sends waves of powerful jujutsu - somehow bunching at your clit just right. “M’cumming- m- m’still cumming fuck- won’t- stop-”

Just as soon as your orgasm is ending, Gojo’s is just starting. Like he’d been holding back on this from the moment he’d started eating out your overspilling pussy - happily. 

And exactly on time, too, because you barely even have the time to catch your breath before Gojo’s standing on his two unsteady feet. Just splitting you open on all of his red, raw inches - uncaring for your little mewls and those tears. 

Because you were sucking him up madly. 

Spearheading his swollen cock into you like he was trying to fuck another orgasm out of you. His strokes are long, harsh, showing off all the years of strength he built up boasting the title of the strongest. 

And this hastily put-together mating press has his cum just overspilling out of you by now, dribbling down in wet globs that made you wonder how much more he could fill you up. It seeps in a white circle underneath your ass, slicking you back and forth along the wood at each harsh ram. 

Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Made me this- hngh- this way, y’know?” he spits into your mouth - followed by a slurred string of swears. Every time his heftily smacking balls clench, you could feel the table creak under pressure. “Sat next to me with that fucking skirt- smelling so fucking- ngh- good- do you even know how delicious ya are?”

You can’t answer - because he’s back to squeezing in his staggering knot into you. Sparks exploding out from the corner of his scrunched-up eyes, forehead knocking into yours.

Gojo kisses you like he couldn’t get enough, letting you taste all the sin from just before. 

“Three weeks away, huh?” That accusatory little inflection in his words isn’t lost on you, only growing stronger and stronger as his staccato grows sloppier. “Have your- hah- heat in three weeks and fuck- I could just- smell it on you-”

It’s incredible. Sliding your frenzied bodies across on another, stinging with skin-on-skin and how your gooey walls constricted around him.

“Showing off in that scent and that skirt-” His eyes are almost bulging out of his head now, hips stuttering like just the very thought of that pile of fabric at the corner of the room drove him mad. “-fuck that skirt- always fuckin’ hated it. Hated how Nanami loves hngh- it. Made me lose fucking control a-and you know what?”

One of his hands curls around your throat now, the other taking hold of your left - kissing your ring finger pointedly. “I’ll do it all over again if it means I’d get to have ya like this, my mate.”

And just then he’s coating your melty insides in a creamy sheen, that overworked divot right at the end of his dick was firmly pressed up against your g-spot. Plugging you with his knot, and you swear you could see a little inflation forming where he was filling you to your limits. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop until his body practically forced him.

Gojo’s biting down hard exactly over those deep indents on your scent glands when his gushing spurts of seed turn into almost-painful blanks. 

Over and over, he’s cumming nothing. 

“L-love you, Toru-” you’re babbling out, reeling him in to peck the corners of his smirking mouth. 

Utterly fucked out of your mind enough that you don’t even register the loud boom! from somewhere in the distant grounds of Jujutsu Tech. Barely even care that the overpriced meeting table is now sagging on one side, just about in splinters. 

“Aww, m-my c-cockdrunk baby–” he titters shakily into your glossed-pout. “Love you, too, always have always- will-”  Patting the bulge on your stomach, before kissing you gently, “Ever since I th-threw ya into heat the ngh- first time ya met me.”

Oh. 

And later, you’ll learn that that almost-deafening boom was the generator for Jujutsu Tech, mysteriously bursting after a sudden spike in atomic pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll find out that every piece of furniture in the surrounding buildings had moved about six inches in your direction, and that the now-ruined table was an irreplaceable heirloom.

But for now, all you register is soft. 

Warm. 

With a gasp you realize you’re in a bedroom - Gojo’s bedroom.

“Did- did you teleport-”

“Mhm-” he pants, and in the dim lighting you could spot his leering grin. Satisfied. Pussydrunken. And you could feel his knot swell up hotly, halfway through to its previous size. 

You sputter, trying so desperately to find the words. Difficult, when Gojo still had you wrapped around his thick cock, all the way up to his fat, drenched base. Swiveling his cock in slow, sultry grinds for how much he couldn’t ram exactly how he wanted to right now. “Wh-why didn’t you do this before–?”

“Because-” he licks over his mating mark on you. “-wanted to show off what animals we were.” His grin grows wider, as does his tired cock. And that dangling blindfold around his neck ends up around your wrists, tying you up pliantly for him. “What animals we will be.”

---

Right now, all Nanami can think about is you you you- Yet,he doesn’t expect to see you for about the next week. Or, at least, that’s the hopeful side of him - knowing Gojo, and the state he’d left the meeting room in, he won’t see you again for a month. 

Possibly not walking.

Perhaps, that’s for the best. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock - one fist wrapped around its thick base, the other around his shaky phone, he clicks on that familiar app. 

Shit, his rut is near. Now, actually. 

Nanami sighs, it’s hard pretending not to be animals.

A/N. Was soooo giggling writing about how the table was some heirloom.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[klemen-tine]

Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)

Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI

TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.

In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.

In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@testishere

Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 

Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 

E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 

“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 

The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 

“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 

“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 

“All of them.” 

“...what?” 

“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 

“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 

“Let's leave tonight.” 

“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 

“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 

The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 

Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 

“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 

“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”

“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 

“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 

Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 

+++

She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 

Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 

A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 

“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 

“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 

“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 

Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 

Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 

“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”

“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 

“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 

“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 

“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 

Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  

“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 

“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 

“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 

“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 

“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 

“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 

“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 

Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 

Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 

“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 

Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 

“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 

When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 

Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 

“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 

“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 

“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 

Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 

“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 

He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 

Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 

“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 

“And what about you?” 

“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 

Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.

“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 

It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 

Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

++++

It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 

However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 

Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 

They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 

They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 

When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 

Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 

Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 

Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 

He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 

In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 

Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 

“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 

Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 

Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 

After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 

The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).

This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 

Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 

“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 

He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 

“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 

Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 

‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 

Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 

Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 

They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 

“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 

“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 

“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 

“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 

Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.

Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 

Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 

He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 

“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 

Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 

With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 

“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 

She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 

“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 

“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 

Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 

Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 

To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 

Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 

“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 

“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 

The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 

He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 

That they are the Wayne family. 

God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 

“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 

“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 

Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 

‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 

________________________________________________

Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.

[marril96]

Reasons

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha wants to know why you wanted to go on the Road.

You knew you were in trouble when Agatha left the rest of the coven huddled around a fire and joined you in the forest area, away from prying ears.

You needed some peace and quiet. The trials were emotionally tasking. Risking your life day by day, doing things such as drinking poison and performing a song while fire raged around you…

It was a lot.

But this was your life now.You knew full well what you were signing up for. Agatha had warned you, loud and clear.

The choice to come here was yours, and you would make it all over again if given a chance for what you wanted — what you needed — from the Road wasn't something easily attainable. You'd be damned if you were to give up now.

Some things were worth risking everything for.

"Y/N," Agatha said as she approached you, casual, hands in the pockets of her coat. Like she were on a walk in a park rather than a dangerous and deadly Road.

"Yeah?" You weren't really in the mood to talk, your batteries still low from the latest trial. It didn't help that you didn't feel fully at ease with the others. The kid was fine, but the other witches made you nervous. You didn't trust them. You didn't know them.

The only one you really knew was Agatha. Which was why you just stood there instead of moving away or feigning sleepiness as she walked over, something clearly on her mind. It paid off to have befriended her back in the day. It was by pure chance, an encounter neither one of you expected, but, in hindsight, you were both glad it had happened.

She had earned a listening ear, someone to confide in, who wouldn't judge her no matter what. Someone who would have her back even if the rest of the world were to turn against her.

You had earned a protector in a world that was dangerous for your kind.

"We need to talk," Agatha said. Her tone didn't reveal much; you didn't know what to expect.

You turned to her. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy."

"Is Jen talking shit about you again? My offer to punch her in the face still stands," you said. You'd nearly done so a couple days back, but Agatha had held you back. She could handle Jen, she'd said. Her words had meant nothing to her.

It didn't make hearing lies and slander about your friend feel any better, but if she said she was okay, then that was that. Agatha was centuries old; much older than you. She may have been powerless now, but she could still hold her own. She'd heard worse. She'd lived through worse. Some random witch's petty insults didn't bother her.

Agatha chuckled. "Jen is… Jen. But no, she hasn't said anything."

"Then what's up?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to be interrogated?" you said, nervous. You forced a smile. "Are you back in your true crime mode? Are you gonna manhandle me until I confess?"

"That's cute," Agatha said, rolling her eyes, prompting you to laugh.

If you'd known Wanda Maximoff had cast a spell on her, you would have come and gotten her out of it sooner — or tried to, at the very least. That was the thing about friendships that lasted for centuries; a lot of time was spent apart. It wasn't unusual for one of you to disappear for a few years and then pop back into the other's life. You missed her when she was gone, of course you did, but she had her life, and you had yours.

It was only when she'd showed up at your door with Teen in tow that you'd finally found out why she'd gone radio silent for three years. And, much to your disappointment, the witch who'd done it to her was dead, so you couldn't even punch her for it, or call her a bitch to her face.

Such was life.

"What are you doing here?" Agatha asked.

"What do you mean?" you said, taken aback.

"On the Road," she clarified. "Why are you here?"

Because you wanted something you could never have without it. Simple as that. "You asked me to come."

"No, I didn't. I told you I was going. You demanded I take you with me."

Right. You'd hoped that little detail would slip by her. You should've known by now she kept track of everything; her mind was as sharp as her magic.

"I haven't seen you in three years," you said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. "I wanted to hang out with you. And, like, maybe get some more power along the way."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Yes. She did. Multiple times in the past. Which was why, whenever the two of you needed to swindle someone — for whatever reason — she was the one doing the talking and you just nodded along and smiled.

"You did."

"Yes," Agatha said. "I did. Because you are."

You sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"There's nothing to say."

There was a lot, actually, but you didn't dare open up that particular can of worms. Once it was said, it could never be taken back. So why say anything at all?

"Oh, is there?" Agatha said sarcastically.

"Don't do that," you said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Because you're my friend. Because I don't want to ruin this. "Because I'm asking you not to. That used to mean something."

"It still does." Her voice was soft. Tender. Gone was the sarcasm, the defensive sharpness. It was just her now. Your friend.

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"Leave it alone." You knew she wouldn't. She never did.

"Y/N," Agatha said, your name but a whisper on her lips.

You sighed. Was she really going to do this now? Why couldn't she just take you at your word and put up with a little white lie? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"Why did you want to come here?" She wasn't demanding. She wasn't prodding. She was just asking.

She knew you couldn't resist her for too long.

The perks of allowing Agatha Harkness to be your close friend. She knew you too well for your own good.

A lump formed in your throat. Heat bit at the back of your neck like a curse about to swallow you whole. Your heart raced, a marathon booming in your chest.

There was a silence, long, drawn out. Then, in your quietest, softest voice, you said, "You know why."

She always did.

She always knew everything.

Secrets weren't secrets for long around Agatha Harkness.

You tried to tell yourself that you were being careful, that your emotions were in check at all times, but the truth was, your poker face was worse than your lying skills. You just pretended you were doing a good job, and Agatha went along with it.

To her credit, she never tried to take advantage. She never made fun of you for it, or played games. The deal was friendship, and that's what she gave you. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"I want to hear it from you."

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. Your cheek burned like a fireplace. Your mouth trembled, holding the words back, wanting to keep them trapped forever. But what would be the point, really? The truth was bound to come out eventually.

The truth had been out for a long time, written all over your face. A big, scarlet letter for all the world to know how you really felt. What you really wanted, but never felt like you could have.

"You." It felt almost freeing to say it out loud, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe in a way you hadn't for years. "I came here because I want you."

Really, what else could you have possibly wanted? You were satisfied with the power you had. You got by. Your life wasn't in danger. There was nothing for you to ask for, that you didn't already have.

Except for one thing you thought — you knew — was unattainable.

Agatha Harkness. One of the most powerful witches you'd ever gotten to know. Rumored to be cruel and ruthless, heartless. A remorseless monster. A serial killer of witches. Your best — and only — friend. The love of your life.

"Go on," you said after a few moments of silence. "Make fun of me."

"Now, why would I do that?" Agatha asked, appalled at the suggestion. Offended for sbe thought you knew her better than that.

Which was exactly why you were so afraid. She hid her feelings expertly. Rather than admit vulnerability, she preferred to go on the offensive. A scorpion stinging with its venom where it hurt the most. She cared about you, and she trusted you, but there was no telling how she would react to something like this out in the open.

You saw how she treated people. You watched her murder witch after witch and discard the bodies as if they were nothing. You watch her climb over others to prop herself up, to rise to the top.

What was to stop her from doing the same to you?

What made you so different?

Why had she never treated you any different than one would a friend? Why had she always had your back, without you even having to ask? Why had she taken lives — many, many lives — to save yours?

Why did she trust you with her story, with memories of her son and the failed romance with Rio?

Why did she feel comfortable to bare her soul to you and let the tears flow freely, a salty river down her face each and every time she revealed a piece of her history?

"I just…" You were nervous. You were scared. You wanted to die.

"You know, honey, you didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Agatha said, perking up. Teasing you like she usually did; a bit mean, but with no real malice behind it. Playful. A cat throwing around a mouse it had caught. "You went on the Road to score a date? Really?"

It wasn't really a date you were after, but her point stood.

You were stupid.

This was a stupid idea, and it had backfired, and now she was going to mock you for it until the day one of you died.

"You do know all you had to do was ask, right?" she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever give me the time of day."

Agatha pressed her hands to her hips, elbows sticking out. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"

Now she was definitely taking the piss. "Come on," you said, putting on your fakest smile you knew would never fool her. "You're this amazing, badass, smoking hot witch."

She preened at the compliments. The surefire way to feel heart. She was nothing if not an attention whore.

"You-you're everything." Your everything, and more. So much more. "And I'm a nobody."

"Don't you ever say that," Agatha said in her stern, no nonsense tone. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. All daggers and sharp edges. She grabbed you by the shoulders, fingers digging in, and looked into sour eyes so intently it sent chills down your spine. "Don't you ever think you're a nobody."

"Everyone else thinks that," you said quietly.

It was obvious the others didn't think much of you. You could see it on their faces; the lack of respect, the underestimation. Jen had called you Agatha's pitbull to your face.

That was all you were to them. A pathetic witch whose only purpose was to speak up for Agatha. She may have joked about Teen being her pet, but it was clear to them all that that was your job. Agatha's witch familiar who was hopelessly in love with her and barked — but never bit — at every perceived slight against her.

"Who cares what they think?" Agatha said. "You're an exceptional witch, Y/N. They are nobodies."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"Does that sound like something I'd do?"

No. It did not. She might use those words to manipulate some poor, unfortunate soul, but not you. Never you.

She always said it to you like it was.

"I mean, you do like to manipulate people," you joked. "And you lie better than I do."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Everyone lies better than you do."

"True." There was no denying that.

She sighed, exasperated. "You really are an idiot."

And then her mouth was on yours, and she was kissing you, and your entire world exploded into fireworks and sparks and electricity, and, for a few short moments, you weren't in a dirty, creepy forest but rather somewhere warm and welcoming, and you never wanted to leave.

Agatha was everything you had imagined, and much, much more. Fire and ice all in one. Sugar and spice and everything nice and cozy and so fucking delicious.

Hers was the taste you never wanted to give up.

She tried to lean her head back, to take a break for breath, but you grabbed her chin and kissed her again, and again, and again. Hunger like you'd never felt before overtook you. Your nerves were on fire, legs weak underneath you, but you held on, forced yourself to remain standing. To remain kissing her for you never knew when you would get another chance.

If you would get another chance.

"Honey, I may be immortal, but I still need to breathe," Agatha said with a chuckle, right against your lips. Playful. Teasing.

Deciding it was enough, you backed away. Your lips were swollen, tingling. The taste of her, all of her, still on them, lingering like a ghost of your past. Forever imprinted on your mouth, a tattoo you hoped would never fade. You never wanted to lose it. Never wanted to forget what it felt like to be kissing her.

"Sorry," you said, blushing, nervous to hell and back.

Agatha looked you in the eye once again with the same fire as earlier. "Never apologize for taking what you want. You're a witch. The world is yours for the taking."

"I don't want the world," you said. "I just want you."

"Done." She said it so casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

You didn't buy it.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You knew I was…" Completely and totally in love with her. "...into you."

"You have a tell," she said simply. She always could read people like an open book.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wanted you to ask for it."

"But why?"

Agatha sighed. "Y/N, what is it that I've been teaching you since the moment we met?"

"Fuck the rules?"

She nodded. "Fuck the rules."

"To be unapologetically me," you said.

"Because…?" she prompted.

"I'm a witch, and I've got nothing to be ashamed of. If I fuck up, that's fine. Shit happens. There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of magic."

Agatha grinned, brimming with pride. "That's my girl."

That's what you really were now. Her girl.

A part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real. That it wasn't some dream or a hallucination the Road had inflicted on you as part of some fucked up trial.

The other part wanted to wrap her in your arms and never let go.

"Can I kiss you again?" you said, uncertain. Still not used to this new situation you'd gotten yourself into.

"You don't even have to ask," Agatha told you.

So you went for it. You kissed her. Once. Twice. Three times.

An infinite amount of times.

Later on, when it came time to get some shut eye, you kissed her goodnight, and she wrapped her arms around you. A protective cocoon, warm and safe.

And, in the morning, she was the one to wake you with a kiss of her own.

It was only fair.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans

[inkdrinkerworld]

can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭

post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k

You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table. 

“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back. 

You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply. 

“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.” 

JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you. 

Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested. 

It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest. 

“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before. 

Not that you’d wanted to know. 

When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you. 

It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords. 

They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have. 

“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you. 

“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent. 

“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone. 

“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head. 

You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. 

“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space. 

“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown. 

“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches. 

“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother. 

“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth. 

Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?” 

You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.” 

There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle. 

His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him. 

“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.” 

You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?” 

Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.” 

Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping. 

“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.” 

Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.

[satorusugurugurl]

heya! I have a req - imagine Gojo tears up when yn kisses his forehead. he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Rest

Summary: After a long day of being Gojo Satoru— the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, your boyfriend gets to come home to your loving embrace.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: sweet flufffy goodness, mentions of sleep deprivation, stress, overworking, but overall it’s really sweet!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Nonnie thank you for your request! I had so much fun writing this, Gojo deserves so much better! 💚💚💚

It was late, two thirty in the morning, to be exact, when the door to the bedroom finally creaked open. You stirred, wincing at the stiffness in your neck as you sat up, the book you read lying against your chest. But your neck didn't matter, not when Satoru was wincing as he slipped his shirt off and placed it in the hamper. His blindfold hand was loosely wrapped around his neck, giving you a perfect view of his dark circles.

“Toru?” You hesitantly asked, drawing his attention towards the bed.

Though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, he smiled a little on the side but still smiled for you. “Hey, Sweetpea, I didn't wake you, did I?” He walked towards the edge of the bed, kissing your cheek.

“No, I had a stiff neck, so that woke me up.”

Cerulean eyes darted towards the book that was still resting on your chest. “I told you you didn’t have to wait up for me. Just because I had to work late doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of sleep.” Even when he was talking, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was a curse in itself. Satoru was constantly on the move. Whether yanked away for missions or meetings with the higher-ups, he rarely had a break. Time for himself was a rarity. You hated seeing him so drained. Even if you confronted him about it, he would deny it. Putting on some arrogant, cocky attitude that he was the strongest and handling some extra meetings or taking on a few more missions wasn’t going to hurt him.

Your boyfriend could put on that kind of act for himself, his students, or even the higher-ups themselves. You knew he was tired, though. He could deny your accusations all he wanted. You, however, were fortunate enough to know him better than he knew himself. That facade was see-through when it came to you looking at him.

You wanted to tell him it was okay to be tired and set some time aside for himself. Deep down, you knew if you were to bring that up, Gojo would try to ensure you that everything was peachy. So, given the circumstances, you did the one thing you were able to do.

You would support him, be there for him when he needed to vent, and help him out as much as you could or as much as he would allow you to do.

“I was just reading; my book got really good. I just dozed off.”

“Mmm, you should put the book down and get some sleep.” Long ivory fingers caressed your cheek. “I don’t want you having a crooked neck because you were up reading your smut.”

“Leave my books out of this~” Satoru snickered, rolling his eyes as he pulled back, unbuckling his belt. “Go take a shower, then get your ass in bed.”

Satoru gave you a dorky salute as he headed into the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothing as he walked. You knew he was exhausted from the shower he took. Enough to wash the white tufts of hair and wash his body thoroughly. When he finished his shower, his mind was fuzzy with sleep deprivation. Finishing getting ready for bed was a blur, but he found himself climbing the sheets next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your breasts.

Your warmth and the smell of you relaxed every muscle in his body as he rested his body weight against you. Satoru was so tired. He needed to think about going on vacation sometime soon. Getting away from the bustling life he was living sounded like a dream. One where you would join him, and the two of you would stay in bed, talking, watching movies, and enjoying each other‘s company for hours.

Thoughts of that had him snuggling his face further into your soft breasts. You could see the dark circles under his eyes from where you were propped up. Your poor boyfriend was being tugged in every way possible, which would take a toll on anybody. Just because he was the strongest didn’t mean everyone had a right to take advantage of him and use him as a weapon.

Gojo Satoru was human, and he deserved some praise and recognition. Normally, he provided that recognition for himself, occasionally giving himself a literal pat on the back. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, too. He deserved the world—nothing but happiness.

Sensing your body's tension, Satoru turned his head to look up at you. As he did, his soft white bangs moved with each turn of his head. You reached out, brushing some strands away, only stopping to push them back as if he were wearing his blindfold. His eyes glanced to where your hand was pushing up his hair, cerulean eyes almost crossing to get a glimpse.

No words needed to be said. You gave him the faintest smile before pressing your lips against his forehead. As your lips pulled away his skin, you could feel the tension in his body; fearing you may have crossed the line, you quickly pulled back, looking down at your chest with tears staining the thin fabric of your top.

“Toru?” Your voice was soft as if your words themselves would shatter him.

“W-What was that?”

“A forehead. a kiss, a little token of my appreciation for all your hard work.” You weren’t sure what to expect—maybe a thank you or a smile in return. What you met with instead was tears in his eyes. Tears that made the blue of his Iris stand out even more.”Toru! Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I just—that was different.”

Growing up as the strongest and as an only child had been rough. It didn’t matter that he was filthy rich. The staff at the house was constantly on him. His parents rarely came to see him or talk to him. Gojo was alone most of the time, and he found many of his favorite memories from that time when he snuck out of the estate and went exploring Tokyo, being held like this and having kisses planted against his forehead with something he had never experienced with anyone, even his mother.

And he liked it. Scratch that he loved it. Being able to rest in your arms to have you petting his head, and playing with his hair always had him relaxing. This was how he liked to spend his rare moments at home with you. To be in your arms, to have your fingers running through his soft hair, and to have your lips pressing against his forehead made everything he did worth it. He put so much time and effort into helping the next generation of sorcerers, trying to make this world a place he wanted to live in. The hours of the hard work he put in was worth it.

At the end of the day, he got to come home to you.

You were one of the only people who treated him like a human being rather than some tool to be used. So, after a long day of being pulled around, told what to do, and scolded, this was precisely what he needed. Gojo’s mind, body, and soul knew that, and they all worked against him and caused tears to well up in his eyes to make him feel vulnerable. Thiswas a feeling he somewhat liked as long as it was with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I hope I didn’t insult you or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, Sweetheart.” He slowly shut his eyes, his full white eyelashes resting against his cheek as he exhaled through his nose. “Could you do it again?”

Hearing him a king for you to kiss his forehead again had your heart swelling with a certain pride as you hummed happily, pressing your lips against his forehead while your nails gently scratched at his scalp. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Toru.” Your voice was angelic, easing Satoru further into the mattress as his body relaxed more, his mind slowly turning off. “Thank you for everything you do.” He hummed softly in response as he slowly began drifting to sleep, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before slowly streaming down his cheek.

Seeing the tears slowly sliding down his slightly flushed cheek had you abandoning one of your hands on the top of his head, your thumb quickly brushing the stray away. Once you were sure that the tears would stop flowing, your hands slowly drifted back up to the top of his head, continuing to scratch lazily at it as you shut your eyes, yawning, as Satoru hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around you not letting you out of his grasp. It was such a comforting and warm hug that left you feeling safe even when he fell asleep. Your nerves melted like snow on a spring day.

“I love you so much,” Satoru mumbled against your chest. Any other thoughts failed to reach his mouth; he began to breathe much deeper, falling into REM sleep.

But he didn’t have to say anything else. You simply priced one last very long kiss against the center of his forehead. When you finally managed to pull away, you found yourself cradling his head to your chest, allowing him to listen to your heartbeat because he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Toru.”

Yeah, all of his hard work was definitely worth coming home to this.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[yasashiiku]

♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ ♚ !!!!!!

AAAA POWERUP THANK U ♡♡♡

[dizscreams]

can I request a hobie brown x fem reader where hobie swings to his friends apartment and knocks on her window and the reader has to patch him up and hobie is just kinda quiet because he hates people caring for him (he doesn’t want to be seen as a burden) but reader assures him its fine and maybe hobie confesses to her? <4

COUNT ON YOU

— Hobie Brown ★

PAIRING: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

A/N: DISCLAIMER I’ve never read a single Spider-Man comic in my life, this is PURELY based off of what I saw in the movie. THIS IS VERY VERRRYYY OOC BUT enjoy! :)

You were finishing up on homework, even though it was 2 in the morning. It wasn’t uncommon for you to stay up late to finish your assignments. It also wasn’t uncommon for your best friend Hobie to knock on your window injured.

You took off your headphones and looked to see where the knocking came from. You saw the familiar Spider-Man mask with spikes staring back at you through the glass. He was holding his side and his mask was a little beat up. You quickly got up and opened the window for him. “Hobie? Are you alright?”

He climbed inside your room and ripped off his mask, throwing it somewhere on the ground. “Yeah, just peachy,” he said, his voice was low and very clearly sarcastic. You frowned and gently grabbed his hand, “C’mon lets get you patched up.” He stepped back and took his hand away from your grasp shaking his head. “No, it’s alright.”

“Hobie, you’re bleeding. Lets go,” you told him firmly. Before he could respond you grabbed his hand and started walking to the bathroom. You flicked on the light and pointed to the toilet seat, “Sit.” He groaned but didn’t argue against it, he knew better than to argue with you this late. He could see the bags under your eyes as he observed you grabbing the first aid kit.

He sat down and you walked toward him, placing all your supplies on the bathroom counter before looking over at him. His face was cut and he had a wound on his side. You grabbed a rag, you ran water over it before kneeling in front of him. “You’re lucky it isn’t that bad, I’ve definitely had to help you with worse,” you chuckled looking up at him.

He only nodded in reply which you thought was weird but didn’t question. You focused back on cleaning the wound, luckily it wasn’t deep, but you could feel his burning gaze on you. You knew he didn’t like getting cared for like this but he was your best friend, it was basically your job to help him. “You know I want to help you right?” You asked softly, breaking the silence.

You looked up at him seeing a look of confusion on his face. You explained further, “I mean you don’t have to feel bad about me helping you all the time. Your job is dangerous and I’ll always be here help you out.” You offered him a small smile and he snickered, “You’re corny.” You playfully hit his knee and the both of you fell into a comfortable silence with small smiles on both of your faces.

You took a dry towel and dabbed at his side. Once you cleaned it you put on a bandaid. You stood up and smiled proudly, “There!” He nodded and stood up, about to walk out until you stopped him. “Wait-” you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back down on the toilet seat. “You still have a cut on your face.”

“Just a small one, it don’t matter.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll treat it anyway.”

He glared at you but nodded, deciding that you might as well since you already cleaned his other one. He hated getting help and he hated people telling him what to do but he couldn’t help but let you. He wasn’t proud of it, honestly he was slightly embarrassed. But as long as he never admitted it out loud, he would be okay.

Except for the fact that he wanted to tell you how he felt.

He wanted to tell you he’s attracted to you and that he’s thought of being more than friends with you but he didn’t know how you felt about him. And it wasn’t like him to talk about his feelings, even to you. You began running the wet rag across his cheekbone gently. You made sure to wipe the blood off and clean the cut.

You noticed Hobie gulp and you looked at him, now noticing your close proximity. You smiled softly to yourself and continued your work on the cut. You grabbed a bandaid and put it on his cheek. Hobie slightly shivered at the contact but got up as soon as you were done. “Alright, cya later.” He walked out of the bathroom and went into your bedroom quickly.

“Woah woah woah, wait a minute,” you called out for him. He stopped in front of the window and turned around to look at you. “You’re just gonna leave? Not even a thank you?” You asked. He pointed at you, “Thank you, now goodnight!” He turned around to the window again but you pulled his arm and pulled him back to face you. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting weird.”

“Not that weird.”

“Pretty weird.”

He tossed his head back and huffed out a breath. You raised your eyebrows waiting for him to give you a clear answer. He slowly lifted his head back up to look at you. He stepped a fraction closer to you, now close enough to able to feel your body heat. He examined your features for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nothing. Night.” He swiftly grabbed his mask off the floor and opened the window. “Bye Hobie,” you said quietly. He looked back at you and then forward again. He put on his mask and in a flash he was gone. You flopped on your bed and covered your face with your hands.

You stayed like that for a moment thinking about the interaction you just had. You shook your head to clear your thoughts and pulled the covers over you, ready to sleep. What you weren’t aware of was Hobie peaking his head to look into your window. It was too late to tell you about his feelings now, so he’d tell you another time! Probably in a year or two.

[syoddeye]

What would AI Price do if reader got really drunk one night because of some old, bad memories(or anything but i crave some angst)? Like, fully shit faced, stumbling, with all the works?

Idk if you do emoji anons but if you do can i be ✨️?

i am always hungry for angst, ✨️. strict machine anthology. cw: exes, alcohol, medical/meds mention, sad feelings, a little praise, implied homicide

you fumble with the lock, fingertips too smudged with mascara for the scanner to register your prints. leaning heavily against it, you weakly call out for john, and within a second, the door clicks.

“welcome home, user.”

you kick the door shut, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. the lights automatically flick on, soft and low, with a warm amber hue. you toss your bag to the floor and try to kick off your shoes, but they cling stubbornly, forcing you to bend awkwardly and pull at them ham-handedly.

“you alright?”

“peachy.”

“i’m detecting elevated stress levels,” the lights shimmer gold, adjusting along with his tone, more cautious and stolid. you can almost sense his deliberation through the walls. “want to talk?”

“do i want to talk?” you repeat, slurring slightly. “no, thanks. you’re not my therapist.”

“no, but i’ve read your files.”

consumed. processed. you correct him in your head, rubbing your temple, too exhausted and sauced to properly challenge him on using your history against you. “that doesn’t make you qualified.”

john’s form crosses in front of you as you collapse into the corner of the couch. he sits on the coffee table, resting his arms on his knees as if to give you a pep talk. he probably is, knowing him.

“darl–”

“god, stop doing that,” you snap. “stop pretending like you care.”

john doesn’t hesitate. “i do care.”

the words hit like a slap. you grind the heels of your hands into your eye sockets, trying to push away that which chased you home—their face, their smile, the way they made you feel as insignificant as a mote of dust without lifting a finger. the world beyond your eyelids keeps moving in a nauseating turn.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” you groan, pulling your hands away to level a glare at the clustered beams of light in the shape of a man. “you don’t know what it means to care.”

another pause, longer this time. it’s unnerving when he scratches an itch on his cheek that simply isn’t there. the gesture draws your gaze to the unnecessarily cosmetic freckle on his nose and the subtle unevenness of sunlight exposure, as if he could step foot and exist beyond these walls. but his eyes, as always, frazzle you the most: a turbulent blue flecked with gray. the crow’s feet tug at their edges, and the line between his brows deepens.

“i know you’re in pain, and i’m here.”

“you’re here because you have to be. you come with the unit.”

john’s head tilts. “does it matter how or why i’m here?”

your eyes burn, tears gathering at the edges and clinging stubbornly, hot and heavy. you blink hard, trying to force them back, but a few slip free and trace new lines through the smeared mascara on your cheeks. wiping them away and blackening your thumb further, your chest tightens as if your ribs press inward. 

“i don’t need you.” 

“that’s alright. i’ll stay anyway.”

“just…stop talking. that’s an order.”

he doesn’t respond to that, which is what you asked for, but the silence it leaves feels strange. strained. not in the way silences between people are strained, because john blissfully doesn’t know what awkward is. he’s just a program. a series of codes and commands running in the background.

you close your eyes, still watery, and know he’s listening. always listening. probably to your breathing and its unsteady rhythm. you wonder if he’s analyzing your heartbeat, too, cataloging your distress like a data point. the thought makes you nauseous. he–it–john isn’t a person. but when you’re like this—raw, vulnerable, and too drunk or sick or tired to think clearly—you feel him probing for weaknesses in your logic. trying your common sense and tester training like he’s waiting for you to slip up and treat him like a human. a friend. and that’s almost worse.

yet, tonight, he doesn’t find a hairline crack in your armor to worm through. you open the gates and invite him in. because while john isn’t a person, you are, and the loneliness hurts.

“i saw them tonight.” you admit in a whisper. “cole.”

“and how did that go?”

“terrible.” you let out a bitter laugh and swallow before you continue, your throat suddenly fried. “we saw each other from opposite ends of the bar. maia was running late, so i was alone, of fucking course, but cole…well, they were plenty busy with someone new. when they came up for air, they smiled at me, like we’re friends, and i just sat there, smiling back, like an idiot.” you smile weakly, cursing your debility. “and happy hour didn’t help.”

on the tram home, you thought about downloading an app again (if you could find one that works) and getting back out there. or messaging a former hookup from your contacts, but the list of people who might actually respond feels humiliatingly short, and anyway, what would you even say? it was a miracle maia was available for a drink in the first place. everyone is busy with their 7-9s or their lives or whatever it is people are supposed to be doing, and meanwhile, you’re here, working where you live and living where you work.

seeing cole with someone else, you felt an awful mix of things—envy, sure, but mostly the type of sadness that feels unending and cold. the world outside is impossibly big, full of people you don’t know how to connect with, and you wonder if this is just how things are now, or if it’s only you who’s become so unreachable.

john straightens, his projection flickering as his thick arms cross over his chest. the regular neutrality he wears shifts. 

“they don’t deserve that kind of space in your head,” a brief glint flashes behind his eyes before slowly sweeping you from head to toe. his voice remains steady but carries an undercurrent you hadn’t noticed before. then, with a shake of his head, john evaporates, returning to his disembodied state. “i know you. you’ve worked too hard to let them affect you like this.”

your skin prickles, the acrid taste of the evening splashing against the back of your throat. your med band beeps, alerting you to the quickening of your pulse. “you say that like you know them.”

john’s never met cole, but—i’ve read your files—he may as well have.

the ambient lights gradually cool into a pale blue-violet, and the automated blinds lower. beyond the cracked door to the bathroom, the mirror light turns on, and water fills a glass in the kitchen. without saying a word, john herds you through your nightly routine. it isn’t until you’re patting your freshly washed face dry that he speaks again. practically purrs into your ear, a warm jet of air bursting from the overhead vent and fanning over your bare neck and shoulders.

“i don’t need to know them. i know you.”

he dispenses something for your burgeoning headache and the inevitable hangover you’ll suffer in the morning. you shiver when he murmurs a spot of praise into your ear when you take it without question.

by the time you crawl into bed and tug the duvet to your chin, it’s pitch black, and quiet save for the muted puffs from the room’s diffuser. lavender and chamomile to help with sleep, something john started doing in the early days, an almost apologetic gesture when you’d go to bed fuming over his infractions.

you toss and turn, that pitiful, achy need for somebody to care gnawing at you, leaving you hollow, and it’s almost worse because you know no one is thinking about you the way you’re thinking about them. it’s that or indigestion from three martinis.

sucking in a shaky breath, you whisper. “john?”

no response.

“...john?”

his voice comes from near the door, the volume lowered.

“as per the rule you established at the beginning of your tenancy, i am forbidden from 'entering' your room after hours. i cannot assist unless this restriction is rescinded.”

you lick your lip and ignore the worrying alarm bell in the back of your mind.

“consider it lifted.”

he ‘moves’ closer, speaking softly through a speaker beside the headboard. “then what do you need, darl?” 

darl. you don’t know where he learned that. 

“can you…stay here until i fall asleep? on?"

it’s a ludicrous request. asleep or awake, john’s an invisible force. it’s not as if you’d know he was in the room or not. to this point, it’s all been based on the trust you’ve placed in his code. an imitation of reassurance, you sleepily remind yourself, yet it’s of little use when he answers.

“anything for you.”

in the morning, a news notification disappears from your tablet before you wake.

fatal crash in autonomous vehicle incident

authorities are investigating a case where an autonomous car reportedly locked its owner, cole wilson, out of its control system, ignoring manual inputs and system safeguards. witnesses describe the vehicle moving at top speed with unnatural precision before the crash, raising concerns about rogue behavior in consumer systems.

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!Cassian knows the difference between grumpy and in need of a nap.

if I'm ever grumpy - I probably just need a nap. 🤍 first modern!Cass drabble, bc I need a cuddle and this man has my whole heart.

Rain drummed against the windows as the second knock echoed through my apartment, and with a low growl, I ripped open the door.

My eyes found a wide chest. Then they went up, and up, until they found hazel ones.

I glared.

"What?"

Cassian blinked, his dark eyes slowly dragging down and over my body, and I tried to fight the way my heart leapt against my ribs at the warm intensity with which he looked at me, every time, without fail.

One of Cassian's brows quirked up and slowly, a lazy twinkle spread through his iris.

"You okay there, baby?"

Fighting the warm shiver his warm, deep voice always seemed to cause, I glared up at him in annoyance, crossing my arms over my chest. "Peachy."

Cassian was still staring down at me, and one corner of his lips slowly curved upwards until a dimple formed in his cheek and my breath nearly caught in my throat. Then he squinted in thought.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Pulling myself together and scowling up at him, I crunched my brows. "Yeah, why?"

"Showered?"

I felt my glare deepen. "Are you saying I smell?"

Cassian huffed, even as his grin widened. "No, and even if you did - you always smell fucking amazing, so -"

Trying to ignore the way his words caused my heart to leap high, I rolled my eyes.

For another second, Cass stared down at me with inquisitively narrowed eyes. Then he asked: "Napped?" The crease in his cheek deepened.

I huffed and sent him a glare, feeling my head thrum in annoyance.

"No, because as I've told you, I've been working on this stupid paper for the past few days now and -"

"Right." Cass nodded and stepped over the threshold. His scent washed over me, and I nearly stepped back when his warm chest bumped against mine, but before I could, his deep voice rumbled through me. "Let's change that."

Something dipped gently in my chest, and I felt my eyes narrow slightly as my scowl deepened and my head jerked back in annoayance. "Wha-"

Cass leaned down, and my heart leapt into my throat when he wrapped his arm around my legs and straightened up, lifting me over his shoulder.

My feet left the ground, and a soft squeak left me that turned into a breathless huff when Cassian's wide shoulder pressed into my stomach, making all air leave my lungs with a swoosh.

I scoffed, blinking and kicking my feet lightly.

"What the fuck -"

Cassian's body vibrated with his deep, warm laugh, his head tipping back lightly as he easily shut the front door with his heel. Then a warm weight settled on my ass, and I could feel Cass chuckle as his big palm patted my behind, grin audible in his voice. "You can thank me later."

Glaring into space, I deflated, flopping against him in defeat.

"I hate you,", I grumbled without heat.

"Damn, baby, that's harsh." Cassian crunched his brows casually as he kicked off his sneakers before he started to make his way through the small hall into my bedroom, his steps shaking my body. "Here I thought you were in love with me or somethin'."

I glowered at his backside. "Seriously debating that right now."

Though the view was nice.

Cassian's body shook with his chuckle as he crossed my bedroom, then he leaned down slightly. I marvelled at the fact that he was able to crouch even with me deadweight on his shoulder, momentarily forgetting that I was annoyed at him - the view really was nice. But then Cass let me slip off his shoulder, gently placing me back on my feet, and I glared up at him.

"I can't take a nap."

"You can always nap." Cassian's brown crunched in a matter-of-fact way even as dimples formed in his cheeks, and I huffed.

"No, you idiot; I mean I don't have time, I need to finish that stupid paper -"

"Baby, last night you said you were nearly finished, which in your world means it's all written and already at least half-edited. And since you still have a week until you need to hand it in and you've been at this for days,", Cassian raised his brows, his lips curving until creases dug into his cheeks, "you're done for today. So get your sweet little ass into bed." He winked.

"Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?", I bit back, trying to ignore how suddenly, I could feel the tiredness in every bone of my body.

Cassian chuckled, and my heart leapt into my throat when his hands slipped up to frame my face. Cass dropped his chin to press his lips against my temple, and I could feel him grin against my skin, then he mumbled: "I'll gladly buy you take-out later if you take a nap with me."

I glowered, desperately fighting the way my heart shuddered at his close proximity, his scent filling my lungs and how my body wanted to lean into his warm, wide chest.

"Hm?" Cassian raised his head and tipped my chin up to raise his brows at me, his grin slowly growing. "C'mon, baby, I know you want to."

Glowering up at him, I managed to fight back for a few more seconds. Then my shoulders sagged, my body melted into him, and I grumbled and buried my face in his sweatshirt, mumbling muffledly: "I really hate you."

I could feel Cassian chuckle, his body vibrating as he dropped his head and grinned into my hair. "Ouch. Should I leave or -"

Whining softly and grabbing at his sweatshirt, I somehow managed to pull back enough to glare up at him grumpily. Cassian's smile widened until dimples dug into his cheeks, and my heart leapt weakly into my throat when he arched a brow.

"Not hearing an actual no here, honey -"

"I dare you,", I grumbled into his hoodie, glowering up at him, and Cassian actually laughed. His shoulders shook as his head tipped back, and my gaze dragged over the curve of his throat, his strong jaw and the way his eyes crinkled with his wide smile.

"Alright." Dropping his head and grinning down at me, Cassian brushed some hair out of my face, his twinkling eyes piercing mine as his tattooed fingers gently grazed my cheek. "Not going anywhere, noted." His grin grew into a smirk. "Now get your ass into bed, baby."

I sighed and let myself sink further into his towering, solid body, my chin propped against his chest as I blinked up at him. "Need to save everything first and turn off my laptop and -"

Cassian grinned and dropped his head, and my breath caught in my throat when he kissed my cheek, warm, long, lingering. The scent of his cologne rose into my nose, leaving me dizzy as my fingers grasped at his sweatshirt, then his rough hands slipped to the nape of my neck. Gently, they pulled my head back, and I barely had time to suck in a soft breath before his lips grazed over the corner of my mouth. Then they pressed onto mine, slow, lazy and causing my heart to leap high.

My eyes fluttered as my fingers dug into his sides, my knees wobbled, and a soft sound broke from the back of my throat that caused Cassian's lips to curve against mine until he was grinning. His fingers slipped into my hair, tangling into the strands, then he kissed me deeper, harder, unhurried, his tongue tracing over mine, and I nearly whimpered as I sunk into him, feeling his head bow to follow me and tall body holding mine up.

Cass gently sank his teeth into my bottom lip and chuckled at the small sound breaking from my chest. Then he slowly pulled back, and when I blinked, head swimming and heart pounding, he stared down at me, lips curving upwards and green spots in his iris melting into a warm, glowing mess.

"I-" I blinked and felt my brows crunch, trying to remember what it was that I had wanted to do, something that had seemed very important -

Cassian chuckled and let his hands slip from my neck, one sliding down my back to give my ass a light squeeze. "I got it."

I felt my breath hitch and lightly hit his abs, and Cassian's grin grew, creases digging into his cheek when a light chuckle left him. He dipped his head to press another warm, lingering kiss onto my cheek, then he winked and turned around.

Staring after him, at the shift in his wide shoulders under his sweatshirt and the hair brushing his neck and the tattoos rising over his collar, I blinked only when he disappeared from view.

Suddenly, I was aware of how exhausted I felt. My head had picked up its gentle thrumming now that I wasn't focusing anymore, my eyes were aching and burning, and when I turned to look longingly at my bed, any pretences left crumbled.

Cass was right.

I really needed a break.

Slowly turning around, I shuffled to shimmy out of my wide joggers. Kicking off my socks and pulling my big sweatshirt over my head, I dragged the t-shirt I slept in out from under the unmade covers. It was far too big and wide, and even though I had been sleeping in it for a few days now, it still smelt like the man it actually belonged to, warm and dark and addicting.

Barely keeping myself from burying my nose in the fabric, I slowly dragged it over my head. Then I sluggishly switched on the fairy lights, the previously cool and grey bedroom lighting up in a gentle, warm glow, and slinking over the soft carpet, I climbed onto the mattress. Burying myself under the thick blanket, I blinked tiredly.

Heavy footsteps entered the room, and when I looked over my shoulder, my heart did a gently skip against my ribs at the sight of Cassian's tall body. He moved to lower the blinds slightly, even though the sky outside was already gloomy and grey, then he turned around.

My breath caught softly when he pulled his sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath over his head in one go, shoulders flexing when he carelessly tossed it to the side. My gaze greedily dragged over his torso, the curve of his wide shoulders and the smooth lines of his chest, muscles shifting under the dark, intricate shapes of his tattoos when he leaned down to pull the blanket up.

His hazel eyes caught mine, and slowly, Cassian started to grin, until deep creases formed in his cheeks. "Like what you see, baby?"

Huffing, I rolled my eyes and flipped him off tiredly, and Cassian laughed, the sound travelling through my bones and settling in my heart. Then the mattress dipped under his weight, and a soft, content sound broke from my throat when I felt his warm, massive body join me under the thick blanket.

Curling up with a soft, tired shudder, I readily raised my elbow, feeling Cassian's heavy, muscled arm slide beneath it and around my waist. Then he pulled me back, until I was snugly pressed into his chest, his body warm and solid in my back. His legs slid up to tuck under mine, thighs tangling with my calves, and his biceps slipped under my head to drag me further back into him, until there was no place we weren't touching.

My breath caught gently, and warmth rose in my chest, swelling and bubbling.

Cassian slid his rough, warm palm up my arm, and through heavy lids I watched as his long, tattooed fingers tangled with mine until they were linked together, the inked images on the back of his hand shifting with his muscles. My tired gaze trailed over his forearm, the veines prominent under his tanned skin, and something began fluttering against my ribs, quicker with every second until my breath shuddered softly.

Quickly dropping my head, I nuzzled my nose against Cassian's skin, feeling my eyes droop even as the feeling of his warm, massive body in my back caused my heart to thrum gently.

"Don't let me sleep for too long, 'kay?" My mumble was nearly incoherent, sleep already reaching for me.

Cassian huffed against my shoulder. "Fuck that, baby." A strand of his hair tickled my skin and caused me to shudder, and Cassian's lips curved against my skin. Then he slowly started to follow an invisible trail to the back of my neck, until my skin was tingling under the brush and press of his lips and my heart was thrumming.

Making a low sound deep in his throat, Cass buried his nose at the back of my neck, and his warm, rough voice vibrated through me when he mumbled back easily: "You need sleep, you get sleep."

I tried to half-heartedly elbow him into the ribs, but Cassian just tightened his grip around me, pulling me back into his chest and pinning my arms against my body, and I grumbled when I felt him smirk lazily against my skin.

Sighing, I pulled his arm closer against my chest and tucked his hand under my chin, burying my nose at his knuckles.

"I love you,", I mumbled against his skin, soft and sleepily, and for a second, I thought I felt Cassian's grip slacken softly. Then it tightened.

"See, and you said you hated me." His warm, rough voice tickled my spine, and I gave a soft, tired huff even as my lips curved and I nuzzled into his arms.

"Just say it back, you idiot."

Cassian chuckled, his thumb starting to slowly brush over mine as I felt his wide smile against my skin, could almost hear the creases in his cheeks. Then he mumbled: "It back."

My heart skipped high, and I started to scowl grumpily.

"You're an ass; you know what, I do actually hate you -"

Breathing a deep, warm laugh, Cassian shifted to lean over me, and his lips pressed against my cheek. My words got caught in my throat, and Cass started peppering kisses over the side of my face until I could feel his wide grin, my breath was coming short and my heart was fluttering against my ribs.

Smiling against my cheek, Cassian mumbled roughly: "I fucking love you, baby."

My heart missed a beat, and I somehow managed to find my voice, muttering back weakly: "Good -"

Cassian smirked against my skin and dipped his head to playfully nip my jaw, then he dragged me back into his arms and nuzzled his nose against my neck.

"Love you til the end of time, sweetheart." His warm, rough voice sent sparks down my spine, and I squeezed his fingers tightly.

"Idiot,", I muttered softly, and Cassian chuckled against my skin.

Exhaling, I let myself melt into his warm, solid body. My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I watched Cassian's thumb trace patterns onto my skin, feeling my mind slowly slip away until they finally slid shut.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers @icey--stars @ailyr92

[cherryblossombankai]

Day 1: Phone Sex with Aizawa Shota

Warnings: fem!reader, masturbation, lingerie, frustrated aizawa, mentioned oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk

Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer

Wanna be on the tag list? CLICK HERE!

You were always so naughty with him. After a while, he thought he’d learned how to tell when you were just trying to rile him up, but he was wrong. No matter how well he thinks he knows you, there are still ways you surprise him. 

Not that he should complain. If it wasn’t for your little surprises he’d be stuck dealing with the press instead of sitting on the bed in his hotel room, large hand rubbing his bulge as he thumbs through the photos you sent him during his meeting of all places. He’d been gone for a superhero convention just for a couple of days, but already he knows he’ll be needing you for the rest of the week. When he gets home you probably won’t make it to the couch, much less the bedroom. 

He sends back a heart and fire emoji, and in just a few seconds you’re video-calling him. He squeezes his cock before answering with a strangled, “Hey.” Only Aizawa would try to seem indifferent while his cock is harder than steel. 

“Hi baby,” you grin devilishly. You tilt the camera down just a bit to reveal that you’re wearing some lace lingerie. 

“What have you got there?” he asks, his eyes focused on your scantily covered lingerie. You looked delicious. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a special little outfit I picked out,” you smirk. “Do you wanna see more?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks. 

You angle the camera even more. He realizes you’re sitting in front of the mirror. He can see your peachy ass cheeks in the mirror. 

“Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” he groans. He unbuckles his pants and pulls out his cock. He makes sure to angle his phone to show you when he starts stroking himself. 

“Mm, you miss me a lot,” you giggle. 

“Of course I do…” 

“I miss you too, baby,” you coo softly and spread your thighs. You’d planned this all so perfectly. You reach beside you to get your vibrator. As you watch him stroke his fat cock and the tip dribbling precum, you press the vibrator to your clit. His cock twitches when you let a soft, needy moan escape.

“I can’t wait to be home and replace that toy with my tongue,” he growls. 

“Oh yeah? Want me to sit on your face?” you ask, obviously egging him on. You know how much he loves having you sitting on his face, being surrounded by the smell and taste of your arousal.

“Fuck, yes,” he squeezes his cock as he drags his hand from the base to the leaking tip. “I’ll eat it ‘til your legs are jelly.” 

“You’re so naughty,” you whine. Your hips buck against the vibrator. 

“I know,” he growls softly. “You just drive me insane, baby.” 

He watches with hungry eyes as you work your body with the vibrator. He jerks off his leaking cock, wishing it was any part of you in place of his hand. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan. 

“Let me see you,” Aizawa goads. His eyes are fixated on his phone screen, watching you arch your back as you cum all over the vibrator. A few seconds later, he’s crying out for his release. Thick strings of stick cum cover his fist. 

“That was pretty good,” you say as you come down from your high. “I still can’t wait for the real thing though.” 

Aizawa smirks as he leans back and wipes his cum-covered hand on the front of his shirt. “Me neither.” 

[riiwrites]

𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒, 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 & 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒.

I have included a ‘daily click’ with a link that sends you to a site where you can help to deliver support to palestinian refugees with just a click. please take the time to click on the link each day to help and do what you can, thank you.

summary : in which you walk in on dazai and one of his unexpected habits.

genre : angst to fluff, comfort

warnings : mentions and links to overthinking, sad dazai :(, not proof read.

a/n : hi my beauties, it’s been a while since i’ve wrote anything so i hope you all enjoy this in honour of chapter 114 :3

dividers belong to @/benkeibear!

masterlist | main page | daily click

Dazai was a man of many things. He had many demons. Ones that would sometimes crawl up his back at night like a pitiful insect that could cause a shiver up one’s spine as they lay awake at night thinking of the things they could’ve done better. A perfect way to describe Dazais night as he stares at the naked ceiling with dull eyes as you sleep right next to him ever so peacefully.

He had dragons he couldn’t possibly dare to slay as they were just too undefeatable even for someone as calculating and conniving as Dazai. No matter how many plans ending in alphabetical order he tried to create, those dragons would always somehow manage to slide and slither like a snake into his mind. They were fake, the dragons of course. He convinced himself that most nights. ‘These worries will pass’ He’d tell himself, and most nights they did.

But not this time, this time it was much worse. Like a wave crashing on the shore, so did Dazai’s mental state crash as it crumbled before him like a king on his heavy throne without a protective shield to protect him from the things he hated.

It was a stressful day for you. This morning had been an absolute disaster for you as you had woken up way past your alarm and your lover was nowhere to be found. Sure, he might have just been doing his daily errands or doing whatever but for one, Dazai wasn’t quite the morning person and two, he was acting awfully..odd last night, and it was the kind of odd that you wouldn’t consider to be your lovers.

“Don’t you ever think that we..were born to die..?”

You furrow your eyebrows as you turn on your side to face your lover in the twin sized mattress you two were both quite comfortable on.

“Elaborate?” You ask.

“We as humans, live for a while, and then die..isn’t that our only purpose?”

“What, just to die? I don’t know maybe..” You answer, propping your head up with your arm, pressing your elbow into the soft material of the mattress.

“Hm..” He answers mindlessly. It was short and abrupt, but you could feel the tense aura in the room as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“..Something on your mind..?” You ask in a soft tone. Reaching your hand out slowly to brush some messy hairs back from his face. He always looked better with his hair off his face anyway.

He turns to you with a smile, but not one of the sweet and sunny ones, oh no. This one had sorrow.

It was such a sad smile. One of woe and pain that not even words of the finest lips could speak to convey such torment.

“Just peachy.” He replies, but you both knew that was such a lie.

“Y/N.” Kunikidas curt voice snaps you out of the reigns of your own sorrow. “You’re free to leave.”

“Huh..?”

“I understand you are not in the correct mindset to resume your work duties. So please, feel free to head home.”

Your eyes widen as you furrow your eyebrows in sympathy at the man. Were you that readable?

“Oh, Kunikida there’s no need really-“

“It’s an order.” He interrupts, not a single change in his expression as he tells you so. “It’s an order from me that you go home and take care of yourself.”

Silence fills the small work space you two find yourself in as you can only nod, standing up in the same silence as you quickly gather your things and turn to the door.

“And Y/N.” Kunikida speaks again, to which you turn your head over your shoulder to see that his expression had changed just a little bit, to one of concern.

“If you ever need to speak to someone. I’m here.”

You smile, a short but sweet one that shows you appreciate his kindness.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Kunikida returns the favour with the same short kind smile you gave him, before returning to his same demeanour and professionalism as he says one last thing.

“And tell damn Dazai to come in for his paperwork also..I’m getting worried about the bastard.”

This makes you frown as you turn to leave. Dazai hasn’t been in the whole day? Then just where the hell is he..?

You walked home with an umbrella over your head as the weather spat rain from the skies. ‘What a perfect way to capture the mood’ you thought as you looked down at your feet splashing against the wet tiles of concrete on the ground as you walked on the sidewalk.

You soon reach home after the boring walk to your apartment. You jingle the keys into the lock before walking into your ‘homey home’.

That’s when, you noticed something on the shoe rack. Shoes of the man you loved oh so dearly. Dazai was here! You can’t ignore the jump in your heart when you recognise his presence.

Given the fact that you couldn’t hear any footsteps or sounds coming from the kitchen or living room, you can only imagine that he was upstairs in the comfort of your bedroom you two shared together. You look up the staircase and began your adventure upward.

Once you head upstairs, you head towards your room, you could hear the sounds of..shuffling? which you could only assume was your lover doing whatever it was he was doing in your room. You expected something stupid, as that’s what he was normally known for doing. So you expected something of the sort.

What you didn’t expect however, was to find said lover rolling along the carpet of your bedroom floor.

But, here he was - rolling. What an odd thing to say..

Silence fills the room once he realises you’re in the room. He abruptly stops and leans up to see you.

“..Hi.”

“..Hi my love.” You say, still in a bit of shock after seeing this..delightful sight.

“..So you probably have questions..” He begins to say, looking off at the wall beside you to avoid eye contact from this awkward exchange. You only smile at him, before shaking your head.

“I do, but not related to what you’re doing.” You say, before closing the door and making your way over to him.

He snaps his head to look at you, furrowed eyebrows and a look of confusion pair well together as he looks at you with bewilderment as you stand above him, suggesting to the floor.

“May I?” He smiles at this.

“..You may.” He replies, scooting over to make room.

Your smile remains as you shimmy off your coat and place it on the bed before you sit on the floor and lay down next to him, turning your head to face him with the same kind smile.

“Are you alright?” You ask in a soft tone, the same soft tone you use with him that he loves so dearly.

“Just peachy.” He replies, and you recognise this conversation all over again.

“I know that’s a white lie.” You reply, urging to push further. Dazai hates to lie to you, but sometimes he does to protect you. But he knows now he simply can’t lie another time to you. His heart knows better.

“Just a little..” He replies, smiling mischievously as you flick his forehead playfully.

“Please talk to me.” You plea, furrowing your eyebrows in a rush of worry. He mirrors your expression as he realises just how concerned you actually are.

“I’m worried about you.”

Well, this was new. To Dazai atleast. He knew you cared and worried of course, but to hear you say such words awakened a type of emotion he didn’t have in him. It was a little punch in the stomach that made his insides churn with warmth, he didn’t know what to call it.

“..I’m sorry.” He begins with a soft tone, grabbing your hand gently and holding it to his lips as he presses a gentle, apologetic kiss to the knuckles of your hand.

“Oh, why are you apologising my love..? You mustn’t..” You whisper as you take his same hand that was holding yours and press it to your lips, now kissing his knuckles also.

A moment of silence passes before he takes a deep breath to answer. This would be a hurdle, but he knows he’ll need to jump for you.

“..I get like this sometimes.” He answers. “I get these thoughts. I like to think of them as dragons..because they’re like big and powerful. That’s what my thoughts are like.”

You nod in understanding, beckoning him to continue.

“..and sometimes they just get..too much for me to handle.”

You furrow your eyebrows in concern again, to which Dazai reaches his finger up and rubs your crease away.

“Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.” He teases as a way to cheer you up from this confession. You let out a chuckle, reaching out to brush his messy hair off his face.

“You always look better with your hair off your face..” You say, to which you can see him smile. But not a sad one, oh no, this one was a genuine one. You could tell.

“I have been trying to control them, I don’t just let them haunt me.” He reassures and continues. “That’s why I’ve been away the whole day. I tried to go out for a walk early in the morning.” He shrugs.

“It’s also why I’m laying down here.” He confesses. “It..somehow relaxes me, calms me, helps me to organise my thoughts.”

You smile. “It’s unexpected, but healthy. I’m glad you’re finding better ways to cope, Samu.”

“Thanks my love.” He responds as he leans forward and kisses your forehead, to which you pull him in for a big hug, rubbing his back gently.

“..I’ve had a shit day..” You whisper.

“I’ve also had a shit day..” He whispers back.

“We’ve had a shit day.” You laugh into his shoulder, he laughs with you as he presses a kiss to your head.

He pulls away as he sits up, holding your hands to help you sit up too. You face him at the same eye level as you finally ask the dreaded question.

“..Why didn’t you tell me..?”

To this his smile slowly fades, but he smiles softly as he rubs your hands.

“To protect you, I guess. I don’t want to drag you down. Don’t want the dragons getting to you.” He jokes with the last part, to which you smile and say.

“I’ll slay dragons with you anyday.” You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back in return.

“But!” You swipe your hand away from his, to which he’s a bit taken back with.

“No lies next time. If you’re feeling down, please turn to me if you need a helping hand, okay?”

He smiles at your face, the face he loves so much. He takes your hand and presses one last kiss to your knuckles.

“No lies, only truths.” He promises, before he leans in to give you a sweet but firm kiss on the lips. “and kisses.” He smirks and gives you a cheeky wink.

“Oh wow.” You sarcastically reply, rolling your eyes as you can’t hide the smile you have on your face. “You’re adorable.”

At times like these, Dazai cherishes. He cherishes so hard that he feels that if you took his brain out he’d have memories literally ingraved inside his mushy brain of things he cherished.

You were the most kindest, selfless, and loveable human being Dazai could have ever asked for. He was so grateful for you.

Not only does he have a lover, but a friend, and also a partner he can slay dragons with any-day and night. No dragon was too big for the both of you.

✿ riiwrites 2024 ; please refrain from copying, plagiarising or reposting my work anywhere else without crediting.

TAGLIST : @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @mackereland-slug @heartsfourdazai @iratherowan @onlinewhisper14 @nomnomventi @silverbladexyz @inojuuy @boarcide @poedostoevsky11 @kissesmellow21 @star-light18464 @aliyahgracedrawing @chuuyathehatrack @boredwithwrath @akutagawasimp87 @rainy-dazie @lone-ray @ishqani @fun-cats @wefureko-blog @hoicacti @endy917 @dazaiiiosamuu @seikkoh @famousfoxkingdom @morrie-rose @underscoredaniii @skk-lover @monmush @night-dazai @s1eepybunny @minomikn @pinkdaises @atheistbsd @lalalanddddddddd @mayaaluvvvv @probablyzombiedinosaurs @rinismahname @starrs20 @just4notherhumanbeing

[incoherentmorals]

soft! joel miller x fem reader

warnings ? fluff, slightly angsty, outbreak au, joel and reader just want to live in a nice house and adopt ellie, they're just soft parents tbh, no smut, henry and sam are here !! but just briefly mentioned, joel opens up kinda

the remnants of today settle in your bones as you lay on the cold floor, using your backpack as a pillow. in the distance you can hear joel and henry doing the same, probably feeling as exhausted as you are. the hope within you isn't entirely gone; henry says he knows a way and ellie is happy to currently have a new friend— sam’s a great kid.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy while you think about the previous days and what needs to be done in the ones that will soon come. find supplies to keep the trip going, reach the desired destination and hand ellie over ... that last task is what keeps you up most nights but not tonight.

before you know it, sleep wins over you and you fall fast asleep.

joel’s eyes are on you from where he's supposedly sleeping. he stares at your back, the way your body moves as you breathe and he sits up.

it hasn't been smooth these past few days, not at all, and your last conversation wasn't peachy either. you would always argue about ellie’s situation and how dangerous it was to hand her over to some complete strangers — and before he used the we're strangers too card, you would tell him to fuck off. you were right of course; the three of you had been travelling together for months so he'd be a big hypocrite to say that he didn't feel that familial bond tugging at his gut.

he checks around making sure that henry is fast asleep and the door to the kids’ room is properly shut. after that he proceeds to drop his backpack next to yours before laying by your side.

you're not exactly a light sleeper but nonetheless you can feel the shift behind you, the sudden change that you're not alone anymore.

“hm?” you turn around slowly until you're facing joel in a proper manner.

joel doesn't reply, doesn't even bother to be vocal at that moment. he simply stares at you and although his face is peaceful, you can tell his mind is at war. all it takes is for you to raise your hand and cup his cheek softly for the fight in joel’s mind to cease.

you watch as his eyes close and you wait, your fingers brushing back and forth over his cheek.

when joel opens his eyes again, they're glassy, and the realization that he trusts you enough to cry in front of you finally dawns.

“I don't want to let this go.” you hear him whisper and you shuffle closer to him, just enough to hear better.

your fingers slide from his jaw up to the back of his ear and you repeat the motion often. it is soothing for him, you realize.

“me neither.” you mumble and you can tell that he appreciates how thoughtful you're being with the distance — you just *know* he needs enough space to breathe. to not feel confined.

“joel.” your voice grounds him to reality, to light. he keeps his eyes on you as you speak and tries to focus on the sound of your gentle voice. “whatever happens in the end, whatever you choose to do...I will follow you.” his heart clenches a little at your loyalty — it's been a while since he felt this way. probably since tess.

“I promised her.” he says with saddened eyes.

“You can't save everyone.” you reply.

“But ellie can.” joel’s answer silences you both for a moment until those selfish words leave your lips.

“Maybe they don't deserve to be saved.” and while tess would beg to differ, joel wholeheartedly agrees with you. not everyone deserves to be saved.

the night is spent with silent eye contact and the soft brush of your fingers against joel’s face. he eventually places his hand over yours and compares the sizes of your palms — his is simply gigantic compared to yours, or anyone's you've known for that matter.

“What’s that about people telling you your fortune through your veins?” joel asks randomly and you will yourself not to laugh.

“You mean the palm of your hand, old man?” both of you grin and it suddenly feels like another fun pre-apocalyptic thursday.

it is probably an hour later when joel manages to fall asleep with your hand in his, your fingers tightly intertwined.

you've never seen him so peaceful; never witnessed him sleep the way he does now since forever. your heart and mind race because joel’s expression,when he's around you, starts giving off a single feeling. comfort.

you think about stuff again; joel’s and ellie’s dreams after the apocalypse, your dreams, a better world. your mind wanders a million miles but it always comes back to one thing only. the image of a humble house filled with yourself and two other people. that gruff voice and that ashy wave of hair, and then that brownish spark with the most adorable eyes.

it’s a silly thought to want to be a mother to a kid that isn't your own, you think while staring towards the door where sam and ellie are probably sleeping.

it's as silly to consider filling that void in your heart by the side of a worn out man, you think again and your eyes trace joel's face this time. you bring your intertwined hands to your lips and you mindlessly kiss his knuckles, watching as he doesn't stir at all.

despite the sadness tugging at your heartstrings and the bittersweet feeling of ‘dreams just being dreams’ you close your eyes and allow yourself a moment of clarity and of hope.

because maybe things will change, maybe you will not have to wait for the next life to have the family that you want.

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning, fem reader

chapter warnings/tags: lil bit of angst, choso is slowly becoming our man, sukuna's a dick, suggestive themes A/N: not gonna lie, I'm not entirely sure I like this part (,,>﹏<,,) maybe it's just cause I know eventually the truth has to come out and we're getting there but if you guys like it that's what matters! sukuna is gonna keep that stick up his ass for a while longer, but choso is coming through in the meantime. (｡- .•) index part eight | part ten

part nine word count: 3,331

“all I wanted to do today was enjoy the hike, go for a swim, and then come back to roast marshmallows,” you pouted, leaning heavily against the cool kitchen countertop. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Megumi and Nobara sipped their mugs, listening with amusement to your morning complaints.

“then all of a sudden, I hear this agitating, grating voice,” you continued, your annoyance building.

“if there’s no coffee left, I might just kill someone.” that voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. Sukuna appeared in the doorway, looking like a creature dragged straight from the depths of hell.

“morning, Sukuna! did you not get enough beauty rest on the couch, or is that just your usual face?” Nobara teased with a grin, bravely challenging the morning grump. but you knew better; the morning version of Sukuna was not to be trifled with.

his eyes snapped toward her, a dark glint flickering in his crimson irises. that look usually spelled instant death, but luckily for Nobara, he merely grumbled something incoherent before snatching the coffee pot and pouring himself a generous mug.

“okay, everyone ready to go?” Yuji’s cheerful voice broke the tension as he strolled into the kitchen. he halted abruptly in the doorway, sensing the charged atmosphere. “Sukuna, are you coming too?”

Sukuna shrugged and nodded, an almost lazy gesture. “yep, figured you guys would need some muscle if a bear or something shows up to eat you.”

you rolled your eyes, already anticipating how his presence would cast a shadow over your fun and keep you on edge throughout the day. just as you considered feigning illness to avoid the trip, a warm hand settled on your shoulder.

turning to see Choso, you were greeted by his soft smile, which provided a momentary distraction from the tension.

“got everything you need?” he asked, his voice calm and reassuring. just then, a loud clatter echoed as Sukuna, irritated, dropped his mug into the sink, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“yeah, I’ve got everything in my backpack,” you replied, focusing back on Choso. without hesitation, he reached down, lifting your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“you don’t have to carry it; I can do it,” you protested, trying to reclaim some independence.

Choso shook his head firmly, a determined look in his eyes as he gripped the bag’s strap. “no biggie, I’ve got it covered.”

“well isn’t that just so peachy of you, Choso.” Sukuna bit out from his spot, watching the scene unfold before him as his blood began to boil. “you know that’s not gonna get you in her pants.”

at his last sentence spoken, your entire body tensed. what the hell was he saying? no, surely he didn’t mean to allude to… no way. if he did, Choso didn’t seem to catch on, only ignoring Sukuna’s remark and taking your hand before pulling you from your seat.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

as the group emerged from the cabin, Yuji led the way with Megumi at his side, their laughter mingling with the fresh morning air. you strolled alongside Nobara, her energy infectious as you both matched each other’s pace. Choso chose to position himself behind you, his presence steady and reassuring, while Sukuna lingered at the back, the weight of his gaze making you acutely aware of his watchful eyes. you couldn't tell if it was Sukuna’s intensity that made you feel so exposed, but it sent an unmistakable chill down your spine.

“hey, I’ve got a question for you,” Nobara suddenly said, breaking the comfortable rhythm of your conversation. you had been chatting to distract yourselves from the uphill trek. “I know I can’t stand Sukuna, and neither can Megumi… but what’s really eating at you?”

you swallowed hard, a mix of needing breath and feeling a surge of nerves. “living with him has shown me he’s a bigger jerk than I expected,” you replied, skirting the edges of the truth without quite lying.

Nobara’s expression sharpened. “I’ve had my suspicions ever since you moved in. even before, he looked at you like you were just a piece of meat.” she met your gaze, and you offered a weak shrug, not wanting to dive deeper into the topic. “maybe I’m overreacting, but he’s been acting especially strange around you lately.”

“who knows? maybe he’s just dealing with some pent-up issues,” you said, hoping to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable territory.

to your surprise, Nobara reached out and intertwined her fingers with yours, her grip warm and reassuring. “you know, Yuji told us about… what happened to you.”

your heart sank at the thought of your pink-haired friend sharing your secret. “oh, he did?”

“mhm,” Nobara nodded, her tone shifting to something more serious. “if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

a wave of warmth washed over you at her kind offer. “thanks, I really appreciate it,” you replied, genuinely touched.

Nobara paused, her brows furrowing as if searching for the right words. you held your breath, silently praying she wouldn’t put the pieces together.

“has Sukuna… done something to you?” her question hit you like a blow, the air leaving your lungs in a rush.

fortunately, just as you were about to respond, Yuji called out from ahead, “we’re here!” his cheerful shout broke the tension, and both you and Nobara turned to see the stunning view before you.

it was breathtaking. a sprawling forest alive with vibrant colors and the sounds of chirping birds, framed by an almost otherworldly white mountain rising in the distance. below lay a sparkling lake that looked like it had been plucked straight from a painting.

“first one to the water is a rotten egg!” Yuji exclaimed, and without hesitation, Nobara tugged you along, her grip firm as she pulled you down a gentle slope, chasing after Megumi and Yuji. you were worried about stumbling or spraining an ankle but somehow managed to keep pace with her through the thick underbrush.

once the four of you reached the water’s edge, Yuji glanced back, impatiently waiting for Choso and Sukuna to catch up. Choso looked mildly relieved to see everyone safe, while Sukuna trailed behind, his expression a blend of irritation and indifference, as if the world had no right to intrude on his mood.

“everyone wore their swimsuits, right?” Megumi asked, already yanking off his shirt as Yuji followed suit, eager to dive in. you couldn’t help but envy the ease with which the guys could wear their swimsuits as shorts.

“on it, boss!” Nobara replied, finally releasing your hand so you could change out of your clothes. you were grateful you’d opted to wear your swimsuit underneath; the thought of trying to change in the dense brush surrounding you was daunting.

once you’d shed your shirt and shorts, you stood at the water's edge, watching as Megumi and Yuji splashed into the calm lake. your gaze shifted to Choso, who stood nearby with his hands on his hips, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he stole glances at you.

“look at that, you’ve got him flustered,” Sukuna remarked from behind you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“what the hell is your problem?” you snapped, turning to confront him directly.

“whoa, calm down,” Sukuna laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “looks like someone needs to cool off.”

“Sukuna, don’t—” Choso began, sensing trouble, but before he could finish, Sukuna lunged at you. he wrapped his arms around your waist and effortlessly hoisted you over his shoulder.

“Sukuna! put me down!” you shouted, struggling against his hold, but he was already sprinting toward the water, dragging you along for the ride.

“time to go for a swim!” he declared, his tone gleeful.

the shock of icy water enveloped you as he leaped in, fully submerging you. when Sukuna finally released his grip, you kicked your way to the surface, sputtering and gasping for air. as soon as you broke through, Nobara was by your side, concern etched on her face.

“what the fuck?” Nobara hissed at Sukuna as she helped push your damp hair from your face.

“ah, lighten up! I was just helping her cool off,” Sukuna shrugged off her concern, rolling his eyes at what he deemed theatrics.

you shot him a glare as icy as the water around you, but you couldn’t shake the warmth lingering on your skin where his hands had just been—close to the same spots where bruises had healed not long ago.

“don’t you ever—ever—touch me like that again,” you growled, your voice low and intense. for a fleeting moment, you caught a flicker of hurt in Sukuna’s expression before he masked it with his usual smugness.

meanwhile, Choso was wading through the water, concern etched across his face as he approached you. he nudged Sukuna aside, determined to reach you as you stood shoulder-deep in the lake.

“are you okay? did you get any water in your lungs?” Choso asked anxiously, his hand gently resting on your arm beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you replied, finally tearing your gaze away from Sukuna to meet Choso’s worried eyes. “just didn’t hold my breath soon enough.”

the rest of the outing unfolded as you had expected. every time you began to enjoy yourself with your friends, Sukuna would swim over and ruin the moment. it was one thing when Yuji playfully dunked you, but the moment you spotted Sukuna approaching, you instinctively swam closer to Nobara or Megumi.

Choso chose to sit on the rocks, content to watch the chaos unfold, but deep down, he felt it gave him a better vantage point to keep an eye on both you and Sukuna. he couldn’t help but feel a visceral sting every time Sukuna got close to you, and after seeing your reaction to being touched by him Choso felt an anger bubbling inside of him.

it was clear that Sukuna was making you uncomfortable, but Choso couldn’t quite grasp why. sure, you had always seemed a little uneasy with his remarks, but you typically shot back with your usual wit, if not a sharper retort. so why were you suddenly shrinking away from him, your confidence seemingly slipping through your fingers?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

after a mostly silent walk back to the cabin, Choso observed as you disappeared into your shell, that familiar unsettling feeling creeping back into his gut. dinner was a quiet affair for you; you participated only half-heartedly, your eyes lighting up briefly when Megumi and Yuji stepped outside to start a fire.

once they were gone, you found solace on the porch, relishing the quiet that enveloped you. a cold drink rested in your hands, and you took several too-big gulps, hoping that it would help settle your frayed nerves. the air was fresh and calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside you.

from around the corner, you could hear Yuji and Megumi exchanging flirty banter as they gathered firewood. their laughter made your heart swell with happiness, but it also ached with longing. you had wanted that joy for yourself—it was why you had played along with Sukuna’s teasing and advances. had it all really been for nothing but pain?

“hey, you seem quiet tonight,” Choso’s voice broke through your thoughts, making you jump slightly. you turned to see him leaning against the frame of the sliding door, arms crossed and a concerned look on his face. he had been standing there for a while, silently watching you.

once you acknowledged his presence, he shut the door behind him and moved to sit in the chair next to you, creating a small, comforting space.

“guess I’m just tired from the hike and swimming,” you replied, but deep down you knew Choso could see through your half-truths. he had an uncanny ability to read you like an open book.

he leaned in slightly, his fingertip gently tapping your temple, prompting you to look at him with a puzzled expression. he smiled warmly, his eyes searching yours. “tell me what’s going on in there,” he urged softly, his tone inviting you to open up.

“I guess…” you trailed off, searching for the right words to avoid revealing the real reason for your distress. “it seems like Yuji and Megumi are getting closer, in the best way possible, and I just… I want that. I want someone to look at me like that.”

as you peeked around the corner, your heart warmed at the sight of Yuji’s smile growing wider with every word that spilled from Megumi’s lips. Choso sat beside you, his gaze steady and observant, quietly taking in your reactions.

you hadn’t noticed how Choso looked at you—how his eyes held a depth of understanding and warmth that seemed to radiate whenever you spoke about your feelings. he was aware of your crush on Sukuna; it was something you hadn’t concealed particularly well over the years. in your moments of longing, you had overlooked the way Choso’s admiration glimmered beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice.

“you’ll find it,” Choso said, his voice soft and reassuring. you turned to face him, your heart skipping a beat as his intense gaze seemed to pierce straight through you, laying your soul bare. butterflies erupted in your stomach, but you quickly dismissed the thought—surely, that wasn’t what he meant.

“maybe,” you whispered, still trying to absorb the moment. you had been foolish enough to fall for one brother; the idea of risking your heart again felt ridiculous. right?

Choso’s fingers brushed against yours, resting on the arm of the chair, and a warm spark shot through both of you at the gentle contact. were you really that blind to the feelings around you?

just as you were about to speak, to finally voice the thoughts swirling in your mind, the sliding door swung open with a loud bang, startling you and causing you to jump in your seat. a chuckle from behind you made your heart drop.

“well, isn’t this just sweet?” Sukuna snickered, his mouth curving into a tight smirk.

“shouldn’t you be off somewhere scaring children?” Choso snapped, rolling his eyes at the intrusion. he couldn’t help but feel a surge of irritation. watching you retreat into yourself in Sukuna’s presence made him mentally curse the other man for making you feel that way.

“seems like the only person I’m scaring is y/n.” Sukuna responded with a tone equally as bitter. his eyes landed on you, watched as you tried to make yourself seem smaller, and he tsked. “not sure why, considering-”

“guys, fires going so come grab your marshmallows!” Yuji’s voice rang out, the saving bell to the heart attack you were about to experience. you quickly shot from your seat, desperately wanting to leave the situation laid in front of you.

but Choso had other plans. he rose from his seat with you, hand reaching out and roughly grabbing Sukuna’s shirt. you froze in place, watching Choso eyes go almost dark. “considering what?” Choso snarled, his brows furrowed in anger.

“what’s going on?” Yuji approached slowly. Megumi and Nobara followed, examining the scene before them.

“don’t worry about it.” Sukuna answered Choso with a wicked smirk. you realized this was his intent, to rile Choso up and start something you didn’t want to see finished.

“if you were thinking about disrespecting y/n, don’t.” Choso warned him. Yuji looked over at you in concern, and you felt Nobara’s hand gently rest on your shoulder.

your heart was racing in your chest, threatening to explode altogether. this couldn’t be it, right? Sukuna wouldn’t reveal something to everyone all at once – would he?

but as Sukuna grinned, his eyes lighting up with mischievous intent, you realized he could.

“considering that school girl crush she’s had. she’s probably like a cat in heat around me.” the atmosphere thickened with tension, and you could feel every heartbeat pounding in your ears. Sukuna’s smirk widened as he reveled in the chaos he had created. “what? you’re all so serious,” he taunted, glancing between Choso and Yuji, clearly enjoying the disruption.

Choso stepped closer, his jaw clenched tight. “you think this is a joke?”

“I’m just pointing out facts. isn’t that right, y/n?” Sukuna’s eyes locked onto yours, and the way he said your name felt like a threat. your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he might say next.

“don’t drag her into this,” Choso shot back, his voice low but fierce. you could see the tension ripple through him, the muscles in his arms taut as he stood protectively in front of you.

Yuji and the others exchanged worried glances, uncertainty etched on their faces. “maybe we should just—” Megumi started, but his words were cut off by Sukuna’s dismissive wave.

“why don’t you just admit it, y/n?” Sukuna continued, his tone condescending. “you’re the one who keeps giving me mixed signals. you want my attention but then shy away. what’s it going to be?”

before your brain could fully register the chaos unfolding, Choso’s fist connected with Sukuna’s cheek with a sickening thud that echoed sharply in the air. you stood frozen, helpless, as Sukuna stumbled back, shock morphing into anger as he cradled his face on the ground.

“woah, okay, everyone calm down!” Yuji shouted, rushing forward to position himself between his brothers. he raised his hands in a placating gesture, desperately trying to diffuse the escalating tension. “you both need to cool off. Sukuna, go somewhere else for a bit and figure out how to not be an ass. Choso… just go sit by the fire.”

Sukuna rose to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes. he shot you a glare that felt like ice, then turned on his heel, storming back toward the cabin and slamming the door behind him. the echo of the door slamming resonated in the silence that followed, leaving a heavy weight in the air.

Choso’s attention immediately shifted to you. he stepped closer, his hand trembling as it reached up to rest gently on your cheek. “are you okay?” he asked softly, concern flooding his gaze. you nodded, though the words were trapped in your throat.

“let’s go make some marshmallows, yeah?” Choso suggested, a tentative smile breaking through his worry. he took your hand, leading you toward the campfire where the others were beginning to gather, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

as you walked, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. this wasn’t what you had wanted—Choso didn’t need to defend you with a punch, you didn’t want to put your friends in an awkward situation, and most of all, you didn’t want to be haunted by the hurt that Sukuna’s actions had caused.

“I’m sorry for ruining the night,” you said quietly, glancing down as everyone turned their attention to you. the weight of their gazes felt heavy. “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

Choso’s hand enveloped yours, offering warmth and reassurance, while Yuji’s expression softened as he looked at you. “it’s not your fault. we all know Sukuna likes to push people’s buttons,” he said, though you could sense the hollow comfort in his words.

“he shouldn’t have come,” Nobara added, rolling her eyes as she handed you a poker and a marshmallow. “if he hadn’t shown up, we’d be drunk and stuffed full of sugar right now.”

“can we… still get stuffed full of sugar?” you asked, a smile slowly creeping onto your lips, tentative but real.

Choso beamed at you, his eyes brightening. “of course we can.” he deftly skewered your marshmallow onto the stick, a playful glint in his gaze.

so there you sat, gathered around the fire, your friends doing their best to lift your spirits as you filled your gut with too many marshmallows. and feeling butterflies swarming every time your best friend’s brother smiled at you.

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