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drytacomeat · 2 months ago

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𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐨 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞/𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥? 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐛𝐡), 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝐢𝐝𝐜 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐭) , 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

reblogs appreciated!!

(not super proofread sorry)

3.9k words

Enjoy!

“Alright, Ed. I need your opinion,” you sigh as you and Eddie walked into your room. He threw his book bag onto your bed and gently took yours from your shoulders.

“Why, you know I am always most delighted to offer my opinions! It is what I’m known for after all,” he dramatized.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you smiled widely at him.

Eddie couldn’t help but blush a bit. Your plush cheeks and pretty smile were seemingly the light of his life. He had to stare at your face every chance he got, taking all of you in like it was his first time meeting you all over again.

“Eddie?” you spoke breaking him out of his trance.

“Yep?” he responded, trying to feign casualty before clearing his throat.

“Alright, so I wore this lingerie set today. You’re a guy, so tell me if you think it’s sexy or not. I thought it was, but this guy I’m supposed to be hooking up with didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the bra strap,” you pouted as you tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Eddie’s fist clenched at the mention of this “guy.” Of course he knew who the guy was. It was some guy on the basketball team. Eddie hadn’t known his name, but he knew that he was in Jason’s douchebag entourage. He knew those types of dudes would never appreciate you, or any woman for that matter, because their heads were either up their own ass or in “laundry baskets.”

In his opinion, nobody deserved you except for him, and he, himself, may be pushing it.

Nevertheless, Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded at your request. He figured you’d have just showed him your bra strap or a small sliver of the thing. Surely you would just keep it modest. You guys were best friends, and Eddie shouldn’t even began to think of you as anything less.

Poor boy was in complete shock when you began taking your shirt off.

His eyes grew comically wide as your bare, plush stomach and fat tits covered in dark green lace came into view.

His jaw dropped and his mouth ran dry as you had completely removed the shirt and began adjusting your tits in the bra.

Pinch him because Eddie swore he must’ve already died and been in heaven.

You continued to observe yourself in the mirror, waiting for Eddie’s response, but it never came.

The silence caused you to grow nervous. You were quite confident in yourself, but the lack of praise or taunt was starting to irk you.

“Okay, so is it…sexy?” you smiled nervously, your confidence withering a bit.

Eddie had to squeeze his eyes shut and think about the most gnarly situations possible for his dick not to get hard. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. He opened his eyes and looked at your timid stance. God, you were beautiful.

He nodded rapidly, albeit a little late.

“Yes! Uhm…so sexy indeed. Yep, I don’t think I have ever seen anything sexier,” he rambled as his curls bounced with the rapid nods of his head, hands waving to and fro.

Your nerves calmed down immediately as you visibly loosened. Your smile grew wider again, and you began posing in a silly manner, now feeling better about yourself. Eddie always had that effect on you. It really sucked that he would never feel anything romantic towards you or any girl really.

“Right! I guess my hookup was just an idiot,” you shrugged and turned away from Eddie but towards your mirror.

Eddie’s throat was incredibly dry, so he grabbed a water bottle from your bedside table, quickly downing it.

“Yeah, well, I may be a two time senior year repeater, but those athlete characters are the real idiots at that school,” he complained and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. These things are uncomfortable anyway. No point in me dressing up for that dick,” you rambled as you began unfastening it, “I mean, they’re cute, but they provide like no support.”

Eddie finally moved his line of sight back to you just as you dropped your bra completely, bare chest completely on display through the mirror. Eddie whimpered and began to choke on his water.

You turned around startled.

You quickly moved over to Eddie to grab the water bottle from his hand and began to pat his back soothingly.

“You okay, Eds? How did you even manage to choke on water?” you joked.

Eddie was now having a coughing fit from the proximity of your tits to his face. He could feel his dick growing rapidly inside his tight ripped jeans. He was sure he was leaking, and if you got any closer, he would possibly cream his pants.

“Yep, nope. I’m fine! Just peachy!” he chirped and gave a big, fake smile.

You stood back up, looking down at his face for assurance. Once you figured he was in fact alright, you sauntered back over to the mirror.

“Sorry, Eddie, can you hand me my bra? It’s like right beside you under the covers. It’s so much more comfortable than the lingerie,” you reasoned.

He swallowed trying to compose himself. He was panicking because if he stood up, his hard cock would be on full display, and it was definitely noticeable. He was a bit of a grower after all.

“Yeah, I’ll hand your royal highness thy brassiere,” he tried to joke but it came out stiffly. He reached for the bra, subconsciously fingering the material in his hands, imagining he was the one taking this off of you. Instead of getting up, he leaned forward awkwardly to hand you the bra.

You turned around with a smile, your tits bouncing with the movement, and took the bra from his hands.

As you were putting it on, you murmured, “You’re just sweet as pie, Eddie. Sucks that you’re gay.”

Eddie made a face of confusion.

“What?”

You turned to him and made your way over to the bed to slip your shoes off.

“I said that it sucks that you’re gay. I mean you’re so sweet to me, so I think you’d be a great boyfriend. Quite the lady’s man,” you explained as you went to get comfortable in your bed, pulling out a magazine. “But I suppose you’d be a good boyfriend to a man too.”

“Excuse me?” he spoke in shock, cutting you off, “Y/n…I’m not gay?”

You put your magazine down quickly.

“What? You’re not?” you asked a bit confused.

“No? I- why would you think so? I never told you I was gay!” he continued.

“But-I mean…everyone called you a, y’know, queer,” you reasoned, “for about as long as I can remember. You’ve sucked guy’s dicks?”

“Oh, Jesus! I have not! Out of all people, I wouldn’t have expected you to believe that bullshit!” he said frantically, sounding hurt.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I knew I shouldn’t have believed that shit. I guess I just didn’t want to judge,” you whispered. You felt shame overtake you.

“I know I’m quite the dramatic, but c’mon…gay? Really? Well suppose I’ve never led you to believe anything else, have I?”

Eddie did consider he never talked about girls in a romantic way, and he did talk about the boys who gave him a hard time more than one would deem normal. That was justified though! He just hated them so much. If he didn’t talk about it almost 24/7, he would surely explode.

“Not really! And I have…been so provocative with you. Hell, I just put my tits in your face! That’s borderline sexual harassment. I mean I guess it would still be if you were actually gay, but I just figured since there’s no way in a billion years that you would be attracted to me-,” you rambled on before Eddie quickly cut you off with a rushed kiss.

Eddie was not sure at all you were into him beyond just being friends, but here he was, laying all his cards on the table and taking a chance. He cradled your chubby cheeks in his hands, savoring the warmth of them.

His lips were plush and a bit dry, but they were nice. So, so nice. He was a gentle kisser, taking his time, and clearly outdoing your endeavors. You assume he must’ve had a good deal of experience.

You pushed him away, despite not wanting to break the kiss, but you needed an explanation and a breath of air.

“What was that?” you asked as your chest rapidly moved with your heavy breathing.

“Look, you said I could never be attracted to you in a million years, just wanted to show you that that was most certainly was not the case, my liege,” he smiled. “And it physically pained me to watch you date all those dipshit men who didn’t appreciate you. You don’t know how much I’ve thought about just kicking their asses. However, if anything, I thought you would never be into me. Now, I know it’s just because you thought I was gay?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and you had to cover your face out of embarrassment.

“I’m a shitty friend,” you groaned from behind your hands.

He moved your hands away from your face, placing a peck onto your lips. “None of that!”

You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were intertwined, moving liquidly.

This kiss grew heated quickly, tongues hastily bullying each other into submission and when you inevitably had to pull away for breaths of air, Eddie trailed kisses down your neck.

“Smell so good, always wanted to smell here. You have no fucking idea.”

You let out a bit of a whiny moan at that.

Eddie trailed his hands up and down your back, gripping your waist and pulling at the hem of your shirt.

“This okay?” he huffed as his forehead met yours and looked into your eyes.

“Eddie, I was just half naked in front of you. Take it all off. I literally do not care.”

Eddie wasted no time in pulling your shirt over your head and unfastening your bra with quickness and ease.

As soon as your bra dropped off your shoulders, Eddie paused. He had saw them earlier, but he didn’t let him self really look. Now he was completely taking you in, eyes fixated on your chest.

Eddie bit his lip before he bent down to kiss and suckle at your breasts.

“Pretty, fat fucking titties. Always wanted to feel them in my hands, on my tongue,” he huffed before he dived in to take your nipple into his mouth, massaging the other.

You were left breathless.

Eddie was so entranced with your breasts. He took his time licking and nibbling. He spit onto your right tit and watched it dribble down before licking it up from the areola and suckling harshly onto the nipple.

“So fucking good at that, Eddie,” you moaned. You could feel the vibrations of the whimper Eddie let out at the praise.

Of course the town freak had a thing for praise.

“I need more, Eddie,” you sighed, growing restless at the minuscule teasing at your nipples.

“More?” Eddie sprung up, “Oh I can definitely do that. Might need to get more naked for that though.”

He had a smug smile plastered onto his face as he shrugged. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Shimmying off your pants was no problem considering you had exposed your large tummy that came with a few gag gifts of rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite with no hesitation. So yeah, showing a little leg was nothing.

Eddie didn’t seem to find any problem with them either. He gripped your meaty thighs, rings indenting on them. He was obsessed with them. He adored every part of your body and getting you this close and bare was surreal to him.

He took his place back buried into you, kissing roughly over your cheeks, neck, and chest, you mewling in response.

His hands slowly made their way down to your stomach, and much to your satisfaction, they didn’t linger there longer than they did on any other part of your body.

With past hook ups, it was seemingly all they would care about, gripping the fat there excessively, resulting in you feeling uncomfortable. You knew it was likely a fetish thing, or just shitty curiosity. It hurt, but you had excepted it, expected it. With Eddie, it was different.

Eddie treated every part of you with the same care and respect. You admired him so much.

He settled one hand at the small of your back and allowed the other to trail it’s way down to the waistband of your underwear, deep green and thick cotton sitting warm atop his fingertips. The bra and panties were not a matching lace set because you didn’t enjoy the itchy lace against your pussy, so you opted for the same color. You leaned back, and Eddie signaled for you to lay your leg atop of his lap so that you would be more spread out.

“Can I?” he asked as he breathed heavily down your neck. You gulped and nodded, head dropping down to look at the hand in your panties.

He trailed lower, marveling at the feeling of the thick tuft of hair over your warm, wet pussy.

Eddie was straining in his boxers, sweat beading on his forehead. Now he’s fingered girls plenty, ate pussy galore, but he’s never gotten to second…third? base. Eddie was still a raging virgin, and on top of all that, this was you he was involved with now.

He wanted to impress and make you feel like you’re getting the best fuck of your life. It just wasn’t helping that he felt like this was his first ever wet dream, or he’d finally became conscious and touched his dick for the first time.

Nevertheless, he lowered his fingers, feeling the wetness sticking to the skin and hair there.

You bit your lip, eagerness coursing through your veins. Eddie circled your clit with his middle and ring finger, eliciting a shuddering moan from you.

He continued to rub tight circles around it as you squirmed in your spot, until he suddenly pulled his hand away.

You looked at him in confusion until he brought the two fingers up to his mouth, sucking your wetness right off of his fingers.

You stared at him in awe, chest heaving. He maintained direct eye contact with you as his plump lips suckled onto the fingers before he pulled them out with a juicy pop, winking teasingly afterwards.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his shamelessness.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, honey,” he smiled. Your face ran hot at that. You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face, so you pulled him into another deep, passionate kiss, tangling your fingers into his hair and gripping his chin harshly.

You could pick up on his impatience as he nipped your lip too hard one too many times and began to squirm. You yanked him back by his curls and looked deeply into his shiny, chocolatey eyes. He stared up at you with his mouth open, caught off guard. Your entire demeanor changed.

“So pretty, Eddie,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” he huffed, “I uh, I want to put my fingers in you, if that’s alright with you? I mean, I’m pretty good at what I do, but everybody’s different. You might not prefer that.”

He was rambling, but you were so unarmored by it. It was so special how considerate he was.

“Want your hands on me everywhere, Ed. Especially in me.”

His smiled widened.

“Well then, take these off for me will ya?” he instructed, pulling the waistband of your panties from your hips and back onto your skin.

You moved your leg from his lap and slowly pulled your panties off.

Eddie eyed you with hunger. The girl of his dreams was right in front of him, all in your naked glory. He could die happy now, and he would die with the image of your naked body on his mind.

“Perfect,” he murmured and beckoned you back to the bed.

You leaned back onto your arms for support as Eddie moved in closer to you, placing your right leg over his lap and having you prop your left leg up onto the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke.

“Perfect face,” he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Perfect smell,” he continued, words being muffled by your neck as he peppered kisses there.

He reached up to your tits again to tease your nipples. “Perfect tits.”

He pressed kisses to them as he moved his other hand back down towards your now soaking and throbbing pussy.

You were a bit self conscious at how hairy your pussy was now that you were really seeing it. You’d never cared before in all honesty as you were confident in every aspect of yourself, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Eddie liked it or not.

“So perfect down here,” he couldn’t help the smile showing on his face as he bent down to get a good look at where his hand played with your stiff clit.

Your tummy rolls made if hard for you to see yourself, but you could see his hands moving, and that was hot enough.

His skilled fingers gathered slick drooling from your hole and traced your entire cunt with it.

“Can I go inside, honey?” he asked, looking into your eyes with his own deep, chocolate ones. “You’d make my fingers oh so warm and cozy.”

You nodded with your mouth open in a gasp. Eddie looked at you, enchanted. A small smirk came to his face, and he was reminded just of how hard he was in his tight jeans.

He pulled his lip between his teeth in concentration as he slid his slick middle finger down to your hole.

“You ever played down here?” he panted as he circled your hole, becoming more confident.

“Y-yeah, you know that, Eds,” you managed to joke.

“Yeah, I did know that, but did you ever make yourself cum so hard that you saw stars?”

Now, that question left you speechless.

You could only shake your head “no” in response.

Eddie clicked his tongue and smiled at that, “Thought so.”

He began to circle your pussy hole.

“Bet those dumbass laundry tossers never made you cum either, hm?” he taunted. It was hot, and goofy, but you were impatient!

“Eddie, honestly, if you don’t get your fingers in me right now!”

Eddie smirked and slid his finger down to the knuckle inside you.

“Aw, fuck,” you gasped.

Eddie smiled widely, “So bossy. I love it when you boss me around baby, but you already know that.”

He began gently thrusting his finger in and out of you.

“You’re so wet. Wettest, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“More, Eds,” you gasped.

With that, he sped up the thrusts of his finger.

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you more, sweet thing,” he swiftly slid his one finger out and reentered you with two.

Your back arched up more and Eddie placed his other hand on the small of your back to support you.

He was in complete awe of you, hands moving on pure instinct inside you because he could not mentally think of anything else besides you.

“Mm,” you let out as he curled his fingers in you.

Eddie began to place kisses onto your plush neck, speeding up the movement of his fingers inside you.

By now, you were so turned on. Eddie was so fucking talented with his fingers. You figured it was either from other hookups or the fact that he was a guitar god.

The slickness of your pussy, and the speed of his fingers created a delicious squelching sound.

“Your pussy’s speaking to me, honey,” Eddie teased, “Oh, I love when she talks dirty to me.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie’s big, brown, round eyes roamed your body, taking you in.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” he smiled and went to twist at your nipple.

“Eddie, fuck. How are you so good at this?” you huffed between moans. Eddie used his forearm to force you back closer to his chest.

“Dunno, just talented like that I guess,” he kissed your cheek, “You sayin’ I’m good?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, preparing to make a snarky remark.

Eddie pressed his thumb to your clit, quickly circling it.

“Aw fuck!”

The roughness of his thumb sweetly colliding with your hard clit felt utterly delicious.

“Yeah,” he taunted, “What was all that talk, huh?”

You mewled in response, unable to form words. Your cunt smell filling the air of the room.

“Smell so good, wanna eat that pussy. You’d let me? Let me lick that fat pussy? Fuck you with my tongue?” he breathed into your neck.

“Yes! Fuck! Anything!” you squeaked and ground down onto his fingers. He was nibbling at your earlobes.

“Yeah, so good. Just take what you need baby,” he growled and began to hump against the seam of his tight jeans, needing some type of friction.

“Eddie, I’m gonna!”

He quickly fucked his fingers into you, trying his best to keep that and the rhythm on your clit in tact.

“Yeah, baby, let it all out okay? Want your cum,” he gritted, “Just give me that cum. Only me, yeah?”

He slammed against your g spot harshly, pressing down onto your clit.

“Yes! Fuck, only you, Eddie! My pussy is yours!” you rambled in the horny daze.

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly feeling your body heat rise, and your pussy began to clench down tightly onto the boy’s fingers.

You felt your climax unravel, completely taken by it.

“Fuck!” you screamed, squirt leaving your cunt and soaking Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie watched your pussy in awe. He’d never made a girl squirt before, and this knocked him on over the edge. He spilled into his boxers, groaning lowly into your ear, but he never slowed down or lost the rhythm of his fingers inside you.

You had a dopey smile on your face from the intensity or your orgasm, all sound, and majority of sight gone momentarily.

Eddie eased you through your orgasm, slowing the movement of his fingers gradually when he figured you were mostly done cumming before removing them completely. He slapped your cunt softly after, making you flinch and whine.

Eddie placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Never seen that before,” he smiled. You blinked longly before looking back at him confused.

He looked down at your bedsheets, you followed his eyes. Oh! It was…wet.

“Oh, I didn’t know I could do that,” you said genuinely surprised.

Eddie shrugged.

“Didn’t know I could make a girl to that,” he shrugged and popped his ring and middle finger into his mouth once again, sucking them is if they were a cock. *Was he sure that he’s never sucked dick before?*

“Eddie,” you groaned, “You’re nasty!”

“Eh, I don’t think so. You taste pretty good,” he shrugged sucking the tips of the fingers.

You shook your head and leaned in for a small, kiss before pulling away.

“So…want me to return the favor?” you smiled at the boy.

Eddie’s face reddened quickly, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“I kinda came in my pants watching you,” he chuckled nervously.

“Oh!” you smiled widely at that before your own face ran hot. “Okay then.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room as you continued catching your breath, Eddie mindlessly stroking your arm.

“So you were never gay?”

#plus size reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #poc reader #chubby reader #eddie munson smut #sub eddie munson #dom fem reader #sub male character #fem dom reader #male dom character

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in-class-daydreams · 2 months ago

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Imagine ex-husband Geto watching the new assistant the school hired being completely awestruck by you.

Naturally, before this meeting, Suguru had to disclose to the new assistant that you two were once a married couple. The details of your divorce, Suguru chose not to get into. Unfortunately, this information, considering how much the newbie admired him, only served to make you even more fascinating. After all, who could possibly be worthy enough to marry - and eventually separate from - Suguru Geto?

"--or so the Inspector General says." Suguru catches the tail end of your explanation regarding an unusual amount of cursed spirits in a concentrated area. He may or may not have spaced out for the last minute of you talking, but at least the assistant, though lacking subtlety, has been taking diligent notes.

The assistant, a young man a few years younger than you and Suguru, somewhere in his mid-twenties, looks up at you in awe.

"The Inspector General speaks to you directly?" he asks. "You must be amazing at your job."

The Jujutsu Inspector General. The high commander of all jujutsu society, the highest of the higher ups. Yes, he spoke with you often.

Suguru fights the urge to roll his eyes when you preen. You're no stranger to praise whatsoever, but you did love basking in everyone's admiration.

"Flatterer," you respond.

"No, I mean it!" the assistant insists. "The report you sent us was so detailed! It was flawless! You're really talented."

"Aw, thank you! Was my report up to your standards, Suguru?" You turn to your ex-husband.

"Sure," Suguru scoffs.

The meeting continues on without much more incident. You've only just given them the supplemental documents when you check the time.

"Looks like that's all the time I have for now. Feel free to contact me if you need anything else." You stand and incline your head to them both, a gesture they return.

"Nice to meet you," you tell the newbie. To your ex-husband, you say, "Bye, Suguru!" and blow him a kiss. Suguru makes a gesture like he's swatting away a mosquito.

As they leave, the assistant nearly runs into the door frame in his eagerness to keep fawning over you, and Suguru feels like his soul's trying to climb out of his body.

Then again, that is the effect you tended to have on people. There were times when you were married when the both of you went to an event, your lethal face cards alone could get people to drop their drinks.

You smile and the assistant blushes. "Someday, we'll all meet for a nice lunch. I wish I could today, but I have a meeting with my father," you tell them with a wave, wiggling your fingers and the poor thing looks like he's about to devote himself to your every desire.

Suguru, however, has been there, done that. "Let's go." He grabs the assistant by the collar and tries to drag him out as fast as possible. If he could teleport out of here like Satoru, he would.

"Geto, sir," the assistant says, eyes never leaving your office door. "You were married to that woman? Isn't she just stunning? She's incredible! How could you ever have let her go?"

To each statement: Yes. Yes. I know. You'd be surprised.

"It's much more complicated than that," Suguru grumbles.

Suguru throws open the door to the hallway just to run into two men in suits. Behind them is their employer whom Suguru knows all too well, and behind him, another set of bodyguards.

"Suguru," the man greets lowly.

"Inspector General, sir." Suguru bows respectfully while the assistant nearly bashes his head on the floor in his haste.

"If you'll excuse me, I have business with my daughter," the Inspector General says. The two move right out of the way and watch as the entourage heads into your office.

It takes the assistant a moment to compute, but by the choked sound he eventually makes, it's clear that he's begun to comprehend just how complicated your marriage was.

I promise I haven't abandoned Sen and his family! I just wanted a little break/practice in Geto x Nepo Baby!MC and the much pettier divorce where I have free reign for them to be more problematic towards each other without having to worry about how horrible it would be for their child to have to witness it

[Masterlist] | Tag for this AU is #geto's nepo ex

#geto's nepo ex #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru

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diejager · 9 months ago

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omegaverse anon here, could you do the cod group with a beta reader? Like, they stay really out of the way, not really used to getting any attention from alphas or omegas

Unusual Attraction Cw: omegaverse, awkward!reader, ell me if I missed any.

You were an oddity of a beta, your stronger nose made interacting with people harder than other betas, it made you stand out from your peers, they deemed you a beta stronger than the usual beta and that made you feel isolated and alone. You were used to alphas ordering you around and moving you from team to team for your nose and clear mind, you were a asset to have on certain teams where they needed a buffer that wasn’t an heat-prone omega. And despite your constant entourage of omegas and alphas, you never stopped flinching or wincing when someone’s scent became too strong, the musk burning your nose in an enclosed area like the mess hall, the training areas, or even public spaces.

You preferred keeping to yourself, to alleviate the growing headache pounding at your head, to find a calmer corner of the base you were permanently moved to. You knew the people you worked with from prior assignments, a few times on month long covert operation and others on week long clandestine missions offshore, but you liked your silence when you could afford to find it. Even outside, their scents clung to your clothes, the strong smell of Price’s smoke and Ghost’s bourbon, the distinct notes of strength and dominance that screamed Alpha, Soap’s sweeter and softer citrus that you could pick up despite the scent blockers and Gaz’s gentle vanilla, a soothing calmness that reminded you that you weren’t the only buffer to the team, that you were the only beta.

“Found ye, Hound!” You liked the way Soap said your callsign, his accent coming into play to make it sound different —special.

He swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side, your nose twitching from how close you were to his scent glands. You felt like he did it with intention, always finding a way to have you smelling like him and filling your mind with his scent, it was near addictive —so much so that you would’ve succumbed to it if you were an alpha, mind shutting off and body acting on it’s own volition. You wouldn’t blame anyone for it, Soap smelled so good, a sinful delight that people were deprived of, and when he wasn’t using the patches, it numbed your mind, made you slow and sloppy with your thoughts and acts. He knew the effect he had on you and he loved it from his constant hazing, flashing his gland in your face and drowning you in it whenever he could. Perhaps it was his claim on you, you never truly understood the whole dynamic, you were a buffer with a better nose, nothing more and nothing less.

“We were lookin’ fer ye,” he walked back in, still holding you in his grasp, “We’re going tae the pub. Thought ah’d come and get ye.”

They, on multiple occasions, had invited you to go drink with them, extending that olive branch your way with smiles and encouraging nods. You were tempted to accept, but you didn’t do well in enclosed and crowed spaces, so you declined over and over, but they never stopped asking you. It got to a point where you were waiting for them to stop asking, to tire themselves of befriended you, and yet, they never did, going so far as to pull you along despite your grumbling and exhaustion, promising a night of rest and relaxation at the pub.

And fortunately, their words rang true, it was a blessing to your nose that the owners burned an overpowering but gentle incense that blocked all types of scents, a relief you rarely got. The only thing you could smell was the comforting scents of your new pack, the oil-packed burgers and fries, and the strong burn of alcohol, all thing that you didn’t mind as long as it came in moderation to your nose. After your first drunken and giggling visit to the pub with them, basking in their attention, Soap throwing himself over Ghost’s lap and grinning at you cheekily, Gaz leaning against your side, nuzzling the crook of your shoulder, Ghost’s big and warm hand grasping your thigh and Price looking on with so much pride.

“The occasion?” You followed him blindly, blinking lazily at him.

“Yer third month with us,” he smiled widely, something carnal and wild, befitting more an alpha than the omega he was. Maybe that’s why he could easily pass as an alpha, with all his bravado and broadness, either way, he was a dangerous man alone, but as a Task Force, they were a menace.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

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sillysiluriforme · 6 months ago

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I'm using the translator for this because I don't speak English, but I was just going to say that I like your AU too much!!! seriously too much like obsessively too much.

I take this opportunity to ask, what things change regarding Marinette in your au? something like how she has a lot of traumas she becomes like....batman?

Besides some light design alterations (we took away her scary blue eyes, you can all thank me later lol) marinette is fairly similar to her show counterpart we just accentuated some of her character traits

I find marinette's leader characteristics really compelling, so when we started brainstorming ideas in the group chat, I really wanted her role as the head of the group to be a crucial part of her character development.

Ladybug is the only one who understands the responsibilities of being a miraculous holder from the get-go, and it's a lot of weight to put on someone this young. Her friend's occasional fuck-ups (they all take a while to process that it's not just playing dress up and saying cool lines), the stress of hiding things from her loved ones, the sleep deprivation, the weird magical side effects and the guilt all push her into closing in on herself. She doesn't trust her teammates to take this seriously, so she becomes more and more authoritarian. POWER OF FRIENDSHIP, THOUGH. She gets better, even if it takes a lot of work and a lot of support !

To marinette's entourage, she just, like, ...became a bitch this year for no reason

(and thank you !!! i hope the language barrier isn't too annoying ? i have,,, so much coming up man)

#silu responds #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #mlb la terreur au #silu's mouse drawing adventures

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thesightstoshowyou · 7 months ago

Text

Makin’ Friends

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A truck stop bathroom is about to see more action than it has in years.

Warnings: Nonconsensual touching, brat taming, use of “Daddy,” slapping, excessive dirty talk, descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of drug effects, dubious consent, degradation, biting, facial

Fat drops of crimson drip and splatter onto broken tile and dingy, cracked porcelain. Trembling fingers rifle through supplies, bottle caps and ammo clacking as they are shoved aside. Gritted teeth grip hold of gauze wrapping and tear.

Smashing the dressing over your oozing gut forces a grunt up and out of your throat. The bullet in your belly burns where it sits nestled between innards. Your leg burns too—a graze—but it will have to wait. Vitals first.

You spit out a curse and frantically upend your bag. Provisions and supplies tumble into the sink and crash to the ground, but your concern is elsewhere. Against your palm, the dressing grows warm and sticky faster than you can replace it. If you don’t find this fucking Stimpak soon you’re gonna pass out. You can almost hear the Radroaches excitedly clicking their disgusting mandibles in anticipation of their next meal.

A pane of glass from the broken bathroom mirror smashes onto the worn countertop and you jolt, your frayed nerves making you skittish as a cottontail. Your gaze momentarily raises to your haggard reflection. Sweat beads along your brow and sticks your hair to your skin. Chapped lips press into a thin, anxious line when you see how much color has drained out of your face, the effects of blood loss startlingly visible.

Where in the fuck is that god damned—

Movement in the mirror, behind you. Breath sticking in your throat, you whirl around, boots slipping in the gore that has pooled at your feet. Your free hand grips the countertop to keep you upright as your eyes meet the gnarled, grinning face of the last thing you want to see in your current state.

Where’s your gun—your eyes flick to the right—shit, you set it on the back of that busted toilet—

“The fuck are you doing here, ghoul?” Your question drips with condescension, bravado your only available weapon.

The Ghoul shoulders the doorframe as one gloves hand comes to rest against the bandolier across his chest. “Shoulda known it was you making all that racket back in town. Did ya’ bite off a bit more than ya’ could chew, darlin’?”

You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so lightheaded. “Bounty had some unexpected friends,” you comment. It would be nonchalant if not for the white-knuckled grip you have on the countertop.

A wry chuckle, then, “Friends, huh? Now that’s somethin’ you’re painfully short on, ain’t it?” The toe of his boot playfully taps at some debris on the floor. “Think it’s cuz of that winnin’ personality a’ yours?”

Your knees shake, your shoulder aching from keeping you upright. “You’re one to talk. I don’t see your entourage anywh—

Your words die on your tongue when you finally focus on what the Ghoul rolls under the heel of his boot. What you thought was a chunk of tile is actually the thing for which you’ve been searching so feverishly: The fucking Stimpak.

The Ghoul’s brows raise in feigned surprise when he spots you staring at the floor. “Oh, this what ya’ been lookin’ for?” Keeping his gaze on yours, he leisurely crouches and retrieves the coveted little vial before standing to his full height once more.

Your stomach plummets. You can’t stop the way your chest heaves, your body desperate to pump oxygen into your slowly dwindling blood supply. Agony pulses in nauseating waves through your belly, your jaw clenching to keep your weakness hidden. But who are you kidding?

You’re not stupid. You know this Ghoul has no qualms about splattering your brains all over the broken mirror behind you. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it already. No, he must be here for something else.

“What do you want?” you mutter, the words shaking as they leave your lips. Yellow teeth peek from between tattered lips as the Ghoul smirks. He pushes away from the door and steps toward you, boots crunching on shattered tile and glass and refuse with each unhurried step.

You stumble back, his advance pressuring you against the counter behind you, but he doesn’t stop until he’s mere inches away, until the scents of ozone and gunpowder and worn leather sting your nose. Instinct takes over and you lash out, fingers intent on his eyes, but he catches your weak jab with embarrassing ease. The Ghoul snatches your other limb for good measure and gathers up both of your wrists in one, gloved hand.

Your lips pull back over your teeth in a snarl, but it’s useless. You’re caught, caged in by his body and the sink digging into your ass. And now, with no pressure over the wound in your gut, blood freely leaks down your front to soak the both of you.

The Ghoul hums thoughtfully. “Kitty’s been declawed.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out, but it sounds more like a whine than an insult. Darkness pulls at the edges of your vision. You’re about to black out—

“Ah, now, is that how you ask nice for somethin’?” He brings the Stimpak into your line of site and dangles it there, taunting you. You give him the nastiest glare you can muster, but your anger seeps out of you with your blood. Animal panic takes its place.

He must see the desperation in your eyes because he leans down, his face so close to yours you feel the heat of his breath as he murmurs, “Go on now. What’s the magic word?”

Tremulous breaths spill from your nose as you clamp your mouth shut. Pride is going to be the death of you. Would you really rather die than give him whatever the hell it is he wants?

Thickly, you swallow and whisper, “…please.”

The Ghoul tilts his head, “What was that, sweetheart? Couldn’t make it out—

“PLEASE-“ you bite your tongue, suck in a breath, “Please, I…help me.” A low chortle greets your words, then stabbing pain as a needle plunges into your abdomen. You grunt and hiss as the drugs burn their way through tissue to jumpstart the healing process. Pain killers douse the anguish like water over a fire and you slump in relief, forehead dropping to a sturdy shoulder.

The empty syringe clatters when it’s tossed onto the counter. Gloved fingers find your hair and grip hard to tip your head back. You wince and blink in an effort to come back to yourself, opiates and stimulants and steroids and whatever else was in that vial at war with your consciousness as they repair your shredded guts.

“There now. All better. I believe a ‘Thank you,’ is in order,” the Ghoul drawls. You’re still so weak, desperately in need of rest and hydration, but the drugs have rekindled the embers of rage.

“I’m not telling you a god damned—

WHAP

Blinding pain collides with your cheek and suddenly you’re staring at the torn ad for Cram plastered to the wall: Now with 50% more Cram! Wetness, thick and tangy like iron, drips into your mouth. Your nose…it’s bleeding. Your cheek throbs in time with your pounding heart.

He’d fucking backhanded you….

Your head is yanked back by the hand in your hair until your face is inches from the Ghoul’s once again. “If you’re gonna be an ungrateful little shit, I can just put another hole in your belly and be on my way.”

You clench your eyes shut as your teeth grind together in barely contained ire. Curses that would make a sailor blush sit at the back of your throat like bile. It’s so tempting to just spit in his face and suffer the consequences. You’re not gonna fucking saying it, you can’t….

“…thank you.”

“That’s a good girl. I knew there were some manners in there somewhere.” Pressure between your legs makes your eyes fly open, a startled yelp slipping from your mouth.

Gloved fingers rub gentle circles at the apex of your thighs. Pleasure blooms in their wake, little pulses that arc through your core and zing up your spine. You open your mouth to hurl outraged insults, but, to your horror, a little mewl escapes instead.

Your cheeks burn and you splutter, “W-What-what are you—

“Looks like them drugs are workin’, huh?” The deep purr of the Ghoul’s voice rumbles against your chest and you squeak, goosebumps raising across your flesh. Fruitlessly, you tug against his iron grip on your wrists, but even just that consistent pressure makes you shiver.

You have got to be kidding….

The fingers massaging your cunt through your pants push right where you want them most and your lips part in a sharp gasp. It’s like your hips have a mind of your own as they tilt to increase the friction. The muscles of your thighs quiver in an effort to keep you from completely humping his hand.

Angry tears—anger? Is that what you’re feeling?—prick at the corners of your eyes as you look up into the Ghoul’s face. He smirks down at you, his eyes alight with mirth and hunger. Just that simple look he gives you makes your throat go dry.

“Feels good, huh?” You suck in an irritated breath through your teeth when he pulls his hand away. Yellowing teeth catch a fingertip of his glove, his bare fingers sliding free. “Good girls get to feel good. Simple as that. Now open up.”

Digits press insistently at your lips. Against your ribs, your heart pounds, the needy pulse between your legs matching its rhythm. It’s infuriating how badly you want him to touch you again….

A defeated groan sounds in the back of your throat when your mouth pops open. Fingertips tease your front teeth as the Ghoul murmurs, his words dark and deliberate, “I think ya’ know what’ll happen if ya’ bite me.”

You shoot him a withering look that says, ‘You must think I’m an idiot.’ He raises a brow in response. ‘I ain’t taking any chances with you.’ You let your tongue unfurl from your mouth for good measure.

Two fingers slide past your teeth and plunge deep into your mouth to test your gag reflex. “Suck,” the Ghoul orders. You only hesitate a moment before you close your lips around his digits and hollow out your cheeks. Still, that disobedient part of you can’t help but tease your teeth against his nails when he pulls the wetted fingers from your mouth.

“Seems like you’re wantin’ another slap,” he grumbles before shoving his hand down the front of your pants. Whatever clever quip you had prepared morphs into garbled nonsense when he locates your aching clit and strokes it with calloused fingertips.

You don’t realize the extent of your desire until he dips into the remarkable slickness of your folds. “Appears we didn’t need your mouth,” the Ghoul jokes. You would respond with something scathing if you could think of anything to say, but the mind-numbing shocks of pleasure rippling through your belly are making it difficult to speak.

“Turned ya’ into Daddy’s little brain dead whore in no time, didn’t I?” Your cheeks blaze and you choke on an indignant sound.

“I-I-you can’t just—fuck—

“S’alright. You can say it. Ain’t nobody else here to see you debasing yourself.” You whimper and shake your head, but your traitorous body rolls your hips into his stupid hand despite yourself.

Hot breath ghosts across your ear. “Say it and I’ll fuck that wet little hole. Just four simple words is all: ‘Please fuck me, Daddy.’”

“N-Not, I’m not—

“You know as well as I do that needy cunt’s beggin’ to be filled.” As he speaks, fingers circle your entrance for emphasis. You feel your resolve crumbling away beneath your curled toes.

But—christ—a ghoul? And a mean sonofabitch ghoul with the filthiest fucking mouth at that…. A ghoul that has you leaking like a broken pipe….

“…p-please—god dammit—please fuck me…Daddy.” Your face has to be on fire.

No sooner do the words leave your lips than you are twirled around. The room whirls like a top, your palms slipping in the blood still dripping off the countertop when you try to steady yourself. Only the hand in your hair keeps you from smashing your chin on ancient porcelain.

The Ghoul ruts against your ass while his free hand works his pants open. Your mouth snaps shut, your teeth clacking together to stop the groan when you feel his hard length dragging against your clothed flesh. Your skin tingles, your cunt soaking through your underwear in anticipation.

Dizzy from the drugs surging through your thin blood and the maddening want, you watch in the broken mirror as the Ghoul grasps the waistband of your pants to shove them down to your knees. Hot, gnarled skin slides along your slit, teasing, until you whine and wiggle your hips.

He meets your hazy gaze in the mirror, a smug sneer tugging at the corners of his lips. You huff and open your mouth to lash out, but the thick head of his cock breeches your entrance and turns the retort into a slurred, “Ffffuck!”

Hips surge forward to bury all that rough girth into slippery muscles that haven’t been used in god knows how long. Your eyes grow wide as saucers, your jaw locked in a silent scream, the air forced from of your lungs by the intrusion. Your walls spasm and clench in an effort to accommodate the stretch.

Behind you, a strained groan, long and low. “Tighter than I thought you’d be.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’d say it if you could figure out how to do anything other than moan.

The Ghoul’s scarred fingers dig into your locks, adjusting his grip so he can pull you back into his sharp thrust. The wanton noise you make has you wishing you’d bled out, but it’s not long before complex thought is wiped from your brain to be replaced with a mantra of ‘more, more, more.’

Wet slapping, the jingling of a belt buckle, rustling of a shredded duster, harsh grunts, and high, girlish cries fill the dilapidated bathroom as the Ghoul pummels you into the countertop. Your guts now ache for a different reason, assaulted from pleasure so taut and intense it borders on agony. You feel each frenzied stroke in the top of your skull all the way to the tips of your toes.

Warmth envelops your back as the Ghoul leans over you, the pistoning of his hips never faltering. Again, his lips find your ear, that voice like smooth bourbon filling your fuzzy head when he asks, “Is that pretty pussy about to cum on my cock?”

Resistance leaves you in a breathy keen. All the fight has been fucked out of you. Submission comes as an eager nod and a tiny, pathetic, “Please, Daddy.”

He gives a low growl in response, one you feel vibrating against your back. Fingers hook in the collar of your shirt and wrench it to the side. Bared teeth find the place where your neck meets your shoulder and sink into smooth flesh so hard you’re sure they’ll come away red.

You cum with a strangled scream, that pressurized ball of need rapidly unraveling in your belly. Slick walls squeeze, clinging tight to the girth battering them. Your eyes roll back, your shriek of euphoria reverberating off the low ceiling. Against your shoulder is a muffled rumble, then the absence of heat at your back.

Your head spins when you’re flipped around and shoved to the floor. A pained cry leaves your lips when your knees crack on filthy tile. Your head is jerked back, neck tendons popping with the force, while Ghoul’s other hand furiously pumps his drenched cock.

Your brain catches up with the situation just as he utters a pinched, “Fuck!” Eyelids snap shut a second before sticky warmth splatters across your face. The dose of radiation you’ll receive if any of that drips into your mouth…. You clench your jaw, lips pressed tight together.

Panting, trembling, skin buzzing like a thousand bees, you hastily wipe your face on your sleeve. Timidly, you peek up at the Ghoul looming over you. One hand still holds your hair, the other already readjusting his belt.

“That’s a good look for you, sweetheart.” All you can manage is an irritated nose scrunch. You’re too exhausted to bite, weariness settling deep in sore muscles. Rest and water are now your priority; that, and getting rid of the fingers still digging into your scalp.

Your stomach flips when he chuckles. “That’s cute.”

“What now?” you snap, the harshness of your tone lessened when your voice cracks.

“You think you’re done, dontcha?” Your breath catches in your dry throat. He can’t be serious.

“Hey, no, c’mon—

Your hands fly to his wrist when the Ghoul tugs you to your feet by your hair. You curse and stagger like you’ve forgotten how to walk, your knees seconds away from buckling.

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Night’s still young.”

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #thesightstoshowyou #fallout 2024 #fallout #go on now and reblog it #i know you want to

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pomefioredove · 7 months ago

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Hi hi! I have a request

Could I ask for romantic headcanons of dorm leaders(expect melleus) with a so whos melleus's younger sibling and when their on a date all they see is the disamona gang is spying on their date

AHHH help this is such a fun request!! diasomnia stakeout that lasts 5 minutes because sebek starts yelling the second he sees you holding hands with someone

summary: malleus' younger sibling type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

so we all agree that Riddle is probably the best choice? right?

as in, the least likely to get in trouble with the Diasomnia fam

Riddle, as a partner, is a perfect gentleman. won't even hold hands with you until a certain point in the relationship

(I mean, we're talking about Victorian England-level courting here)

out of everyone, he's the least likely to raise concern

...and yet.

it's probably Lilia that gets everyone worried

Riddle is a little... uptight for his tastes, after all, and Lils doesn't want you squandering your youth on rules and expectations

and so, he leads the great date stake-out

...for a completely inconspicuous mid-afternoon walk through the Heartslabyul rose gardens

you, of course, find all of them peeking at you from over a hedge almost right away

and just barely manage to shoo them off before Riddle sees and dies of embarrassment

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

GOOD LUCK

it's honestly a miracle that there even is a Leona Kingcholar left to date, rather than a pile of ashes on the ground

(Malleus is a terribly overprotective older brother)

...and he's quite convinced that Leona is dragging you around just to annoy him, specifically

so, what's he gonna do? not spy on you with the whole entourage?

he just needs to make sure you're okay, that's all

you, of course, knew that he didn't like the arrangement from the start, so you've already got an eye out on your dates

by the second or third, both you and Leona can tell you're being followed

...much to his annoyance

it takes a lot of "family meetings" with Lilia mediating before Malleus makes his peace with it

for now, anyway

so help him, if that oversized house cat hurts you...

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

everyone is... a little concerned that this is some kind of power play on Azul's behalf

Silver is probably the most worried, being in the same grade as him and knowing how tricky he can be

the original plan was to sit you down and express his concerns to you, and somehow that got turned into Lilia convincing everyone to wear fake mustaches and fedoras and spy on one of your dates in the lounge

(Malleus agrees because he thinks it's funny. Sebek agrees because Malleus does. poor Silver is powerless to stop it)

of course, you notice them right away

that's like... a given

besides the terrible disguises, Lilia and Malleus keep laughing and Sebek is white-knuckling the menu while trying to stay quiet

after that, you have a nice sit-down with everyone to discuss your personal boundaries

Silver gets his talk, after all :)

𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐥-𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐦

Lilia's failed attempts at convincing everyone that Kalim is a totally great boyfriend (wingman of the year, everyone) obviously don't work well

listen, Kalim is great. it could be a lot worse!

but also, uh...

his life tends to be a little hectic

the last thing the Diasomnia fam needs is for you to get poisoned

...or assassinated in some other grotesque fashion

so, of course, they tag along to a few parties, some dinners here and there...

they get caught pretty quickly, but lucky for them, Kalim is a great host, and so he invites them to just. join the dates

(much to your horror)

Sebek and Silver argue about who's going to taste your food for poison first

which Lilia ends up doing, anyway

(even if it is poisoned, it won't have any effect on him. he might even like it more)

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

Vil is probably the second safest option on this list

...and, of course, he gets scoped out for the same reason number one does

Lilia considers him just... too strict. I mean, he's young! you're young! you shouldn't be acting like grown-ups, you should be frolicking

or whatever it is kids these days are doing

when the four follow you on one of your way-too-nice dates, Vil is the first to notice

he's definitely annoyed at first, but comes to find the situation really funny

it's like paparazzi, but if the paparazzi were your extremely strange found-family, who are also wearing fake mustaches and pretending to be tourists at the table behind you

he'll let it slide, just this once

...but maybe you'll have more indoors dates for a while

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝

Idia has already taken the necessary preventative measures

i.e., never actually going out for dates

if you want to eat something together, you can just come to his room for ramen and anime. what's so great about cafes and restaurants, anyway?

if you need some new scenery, he'll design a VR room for the two of you

it's pretty hard to spy on Idia- he's got a hell of a custom-coded security system on all of his devices

and besides that, Lilia was the one who set you two up in the first place. why would he be worried?

...okay, maybe the rest of the Diasomnia fam is a little concerned that you're dating someone who hasn't seen the sun in years

but you can handle yourself!

(he may still be receiving hundreds of very strongly worded and untitled emails from Sebek, though)

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader

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coefore · 9 months ago

Text

I did it! This is an IDW AU born while watching The Green Knight (2021), specifically from one movie shot that I'd like to redraw. I was torn on whether or not to draw them all as robots or humans, so I started making designs for their human counterparts first - mostly because it is more fun to come up with clothes and accessories. I will eventually tackle a robot version. This is a long post, btw!

Indeed, this is a completely separate version from the Lion King AU I had come up with a couple of years ago, I just borrowed the crowns because I really liked those designs lol.

But let's set the stage under the cut. You can listen to the playlist on spotify dedicated to it: I've placed the songs in sequence so that they can create a certain vibe for the scenes I had in mind. You can read the plot part while listening.

Some character traits

This royalty au supposes a parliamentary monarchy (like the UK, Spain or Japan). This work is an in-between of later Roman/early Medieval aesthetics and some Futuristic Stuff. The Autobot brand is the royal family crest, while the Decepticon brand can be used to signal the Protector and their entourage, but only in formal settings outside the nation. Usually, the Protector can show elements of the Decepticon colours (red) in their attires.

Optimus Prime

Optimus is prideful and domineering: he knows he has the power to do real damage to people. After all, he was born into royalty and has known no other life. He has anger outbursts, but that's a side effect of his paranoia. At the start of the story, he is not the prime yet. He's around 23-24, already suffering from a mental affliction much like schizophrenia, but, just as in ye old days, the court and his father (Zeta) are not really concerned about his odd behaviours. "He is just volatile", you know. He is also dramatic, making big scenes when his emotions are too cooped up. Optimus, though, is not intentionally cruel - this isn't a Shattered Glass au where he wants some kind of bloodlust sated. He has a deep inner mind, feeling much more like a philosopher and a writer than a brute. This makes him a little naive, too, having people in court (like Prowl) taking advantage of him - and sometimes even Megatron uses his influence on Optimus to stir him where he wants to. He reads a lot, is curious, and is deeply in love with Megatron - sometimes becoming a little cringy about it. He can be a bit of a goofball, telling jokes and being rather affectionate with his family. Sadly, he's a Pisces.

Megatron

Megatron is a diligent engineer who just so happens to pick the Prime's son's interest at some point while assisting his father (Terminus, a strict, distant man) in a job at court. Optimus and Megatron are the same age. He is aloof, quiet and a very good listener. That means he often allows people to speak over him or for him - that doesn't mean, however, that he isn't going to correct them or speak his mind. He is just a careful man. Coming from a rather cold family environment, he has a hard time expressing his emotions, both verbally and physically: he kisses and hugs, sure, but that doesn't come naturally to him. After becoming protector, he has a hard time getting used to the court lifestyle since he is quite bothered by the intricacies of royal "rituals", may they be clothing, hairstyles or make-up choices. Or Starscream fussing over him about that all day. He also often stands up against abuse of power, especially from Optimus. They fight quite a lot. He enjoys drawing (buildings, like architecture) and reading novels, but he's not particularly cultured. He is also, sadly, an Aquarius. (And transgender, but this has no political or social bearing in the story besides being Rodimus' biological carrier).

Prowl

Prowl is about fifteen years older than Optimus, becoming his advisor once Zeta Prime passes in "a tragic accident". He is ambitious, cunning and... Deceptive. His ultimate goal is to push Optimus to insanity, convince the parliament he is unfit to rule and become reagent in his stead. This would allow him to create an oligarchy with other senators. His words always support Optimus' delusions, abusing the Prime's naivety for his scheming. Prowl thinks of Optimus as an idiot lucky enough to be born in a high position in the social pyramid. He has attempted various times to "warn" Megatron, one of the few people who is extremely suspicious of Prowl. And by warn, I mean having him pushed down the stairs, giving him a nice broken leg. He also acts suspiciously around Rodimus.

Zeta Prime

Zeta Prime was a balanced, careful ruler. He held concerns about his son's future, as he thought Optimus wasn't fit for a leading role. He was a stern man and often frustrated by Optimus' antics. However, their relationship was on good terms. He was "found" dead by Prowl during a political meeting abroad, as he was standing in for Alpha Trion (Zeta's advisor), prompting Optimus' coronation. Zeta wasn't sick, but all primes in this AU suffer from haemophilia (a hereditary illness that makes it harder for the body to stop bleeding).

Rodimus

Rodimus was born three years into Optimus' primacy. He was brought up in a restrictive environment, as Megatron grew more suspicious of Prowl, fearing for Rodimus' safety. That translated into Rodimus feeling anxious when Megatron's not around (for too long, at least) and becoming a little jealous of him, even if it's Optimus taking Megatron's attention. Rodimus uses "dad" for Megatron and "Father" for Optimus. He doesn't like Optimus too much, usually bearing his presence and ignoring him whenever he can, but deep down he worries about his father, too. He is a very knowledgeable child with a vast vocabulary, as he enjoys books of every kind and, just like his dad, he is a good listener, learning a lot from the "adult conversations" around him. Rodimus is often seen together with Starscream (his nanny, in a way lol), who he is fond of but has difficulties showing it. He becomes Prime-to-be at the age of 16, like all Primes.

Starscream

Starscream was the royal alchemist, an inspired researcher and a man of science. He is loyal and has strong opinions on many subjects, especially on morals and ethics. That is also why, during Zeta's late reign, he was demoted to servant with the accusation of insubordination. He is still a high-grade servant, usually dealing with bureaucracy... Until a new Protector shows up, that is. As soon as Megatron becomes a Protector-to-be, he is assigned the role of first maid in assisting him, a task he takes very seriously. Although Megatron's distance and lack of interactions with him drive him quite mad at first, he slowly realises they're quite compatible. Their relationship evolves into confidants and then friends, as Megatron often takes Starscream's side. Also, Starscream has been suspicious of Prowl since day one. He enjoys Rodimus until he starts being a little opinionated pest-- but he's fond of the child, even as he grows older and more anxious. His hobby is sneaking into the court laboratories and fixing whatever annotations made by other alchemists he deems wrong.

Skywarp & Thundercracker

They are part of the Protector's entourage (and Starscream's brothers). Skywarp is a little airheaded, a bit clumsy, and usually focuses on entertainment, mostly writing poems and songs. He is the only one who knows all the intricate inner passages of the court's buildings by heart, meaning he never gets lost. Thundercracker, on the other hand, is a bit more cocky. He is built like a brick, so he helps with manual tasks and is a decent leader, usually picking up the ranks when Starscream is busy. Both of them were not demoted like their brother, they just started working at the court as high-grade servants. They are very loyal to Megatron, although they treat him more like a royal than a friend.

The Plot (generally speaking)

Optimus is interested in this one engineer working at the court he has seen a couple of times in the last few months. He is gorgeous, and it sounds like a fun time to fill in his afternoons, maybe even getting some sex out of it. That's a thing he hasn't lacked in his life, like most royals he was used to having sex workers available at whim. However, Megatron doesn't seem too affected by the Prime-to-be's attention. He is very deadpan and interested in him as a person; he finds Optimus interesting and funny, so, in a matter of weeks, they kind of hit it off, Optimus falling madly in love with this man, spending most of the time daydreaming and absolutely useless at his duties, much to Zeta's dismay.

As this love story progresses over the next couple of years, Prowl's machination starts rolling out: being a young overachiever, he patiently waits for the chance to get rid of Zeta in a way that doesn't point directly to him. After all, Prowl is trusted and seen as loyal and caring for the Primes he serves; he is an incredibly talented actor, having the support of a few Autobot senators, too. On an out-of-country political trip, he lets Zeta bleed to death, coming back home in a hurry to announce the Prime's death and rushing Optimus' coronation. At this point, Optimus is not mentally ready to hold that position; he is quickly pushed to marry Megatron, making him his Protector. In a matter of a year and a half, Optimus' mental state quickly deteriorates, allowing Prowl to take hold of the neo-Prime's decisions.

Optimus' mental illness worsens, which stresses Megatron into stirring his husband away from Prowl. Rodimus is born in that worried, paranoid environment. Although mostly wanted by Optimus as one of his fixations (and also discouraged by Prowl himself), Rodimus brings more stability to the court. Megatron finally takes hold of Optimus' volatile behaviour as Rodimus grows older, making the Prime doubt his advisor's suggestions more than once. Prowl, thus, "warns" Megatron to lay low, having him pushed down the stairs. The goal wasn't to kill Megatron but to show him Prowl could. As Rodimus turns seven, Megatron becomes more anxious and paranoid, rubbing that over to his son. Optimus doesn't allow them to go around the court or outside without being accompanied.

Prowl's hold on Optimus slowly slips away. At the time of Rodimus' coronation as a Prime-to-be, during a medical examination for his haemophilia, the court physician (Ratchet) tells him he needs to be careful, as that illness was Zeta's cause of death. That was a known thing, of course, but it made Optimus think over the mechanics of his father's death in a way only an obsession-driven man can. He confides with Megatron over his suspicion of Prowl killing his father, and finally, they seem to be on the same page on this...

This is somehow the story up to now. I don't know if I'll update it further. I just enjoy the idea of whatever can happen in this setting. I hope you enjoyed reading this wall of text.

#transformers #shattered glass #maccadam #starscream #megop #megatron #optimus prime #rodimus #megaop #prowl #alternate universe #skywarp #thundercracker #humanformers #fanart #erinni #Spotify #a morte

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arc-misadventures · 4 months ago

Text

The Sorcerer’s Dark Magic

Bruised, battered, and bloody.

This was the sorry state of, Cinder Fall.

A member of, Salem’s inner circle had been identified whilst she was in, Vale. Beacon sent several of its highly trained, Hunter’s, and Atlas had also sent in members of its elite team of, Specialists to bring her in.

They had found her, and her cronies in the midst of a pack of, White Fang members lead by the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus.

The fight had been long, and bloody, costing the lives of several Hunters, Specialist, and many members of, Cinder’s entourage, along with scores of members of the, White Fang. Even the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus’s life was taken in the fight.

But, they won, and they had taken, Cinder Fall in alive. And, now it was time for her interrogation to begin.

An event that would scar many who whiteness the horrors about to be unleashed.

~~~

The door opened to reveal a trio standing before a one way mirror, they all turned, and nodded their greetings at the duo as they entered the room. Within the room there was the headmaster of, Beacon Academy, Ozpin. The deputy headmistress, Glynda Goodwitch. And, lastly there was a seasoned huntsman, and a drunkard named, Qrow Branwen.

Entering the room was, Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and General of the Atlas Military, James Ironwood, followed closely by his aide, Specialist, Winter Schnee. They joined the trio at the mirror to stare at the bloody, and bruised body of, Cinder Fall.

Ironwood: So, what’s the plan?

Ozpin; Hello to you too, James. Right now the plan is to wait.

Ironwood: Wait, wait for what?

Qrow: The Sorcerer is finishing up his treatment of the wounded.

Ironwood: The Sorcerer? You have a magic user; why didn’t you notify me that you found a maiden?

Ozpin shook his head as he watched, Cinder pull at her aura suppressing restrains that binded her hands in a vain attempt to escape.

Ozpin: I would have if we did, but no. The Sorcerer is just a nickname he picked up.

Ironwood: He? So it’s a male. Hmmm… Who is this, Sorcerer you’re talking about?

Glynda: His name is, Jaune Arc; He is an experienced, Hunter who is a teacher here at, Beacon Academy, and he doubles as an assistant school nurse when the need arises.

Glynda’s brief rundown gave, Ironwood a simple understanding of who he was, and considering how normal he sounded, he understood why, Ozpin never brought him up before. But, why would he need someone so plain to interrogate her?

Winter: Arc…? Does he have blond hair, and blue eyes?

Glynda: Yes.

Winter: I believe I met him. He seems like a kind, and caring individual who cares deeply for the wellbeing of his students. Why are you having him interrogate the prisoner?

Ozpin: We need her to talk; We need to know what, Salem’s plans are, and who is working with her. If we try doing so ourselves we will get nowhere. But, if we let, Mr. Arc do it himself, we will get all the answers, and more that we are looking for.

Ironwood: Are you sure about this, Ozpin?

Ozpin: Honestly, James if I was being ‘interrogated’ by, Mr. Arc. I’m not sure what secrets I wouldn’t spill to get him to stop.

Ozpin shuddered as he remember the last time he sat on, Jaune interrogating someone. It was effective, but disturbing.

Qrow: Wait, you made that sound like he wasn’t going to talk with her, but more like he’s going to ‘talk’ with her.

Ozpin: …

Ozpin: It must be done…

Qrow: Seriously?! You’re gonna make, Tai 2.0 go in there, and torture her?

Ironwood: What?!

James looked to, Ozpin as he held his head in defeat. He had no other options left. And, considering what, Cinder, and her associates were planning, and how they barely caught it, and just managed to stop it. They needed her to talk to prevent anything else from coming.

Ironwood: You can’t possibly have forced him to do this?!

Glynda: Jaune agreed to do it! He lost several of his friends in the raid to get her, this is his own way of avenging them. And, you know how effect his methods are, we both have seen what he can, and will do to someone.

Qrow looked away before taking another drink from his flask. He knew what, Jaune could do, he knew exactly what he could do. That didn’t mean he liked what he saw.

Qrow: Fuck…

Qrow took a swig from his flask as he turned back to look at the girl in cuffs. Ironwood gave the drunk one fleeting glance before turning to face his friend.

Ironwood: How will this, Arc fellow make her talk?

Ozpin: He will no doubt try, and talk to her at first. But, when that inevitably fails, he will use his semblance instead.

Ironwood: And, what is his semblance?

Ozpin: It’s… Oh, he’s here.

~~~

The door opened, and closed with a heavy click of steel. A blond haired man entered the room. Cinder eyes him warningly as he walked over to the table, and took the seat across from her. He put down a notebook, and a pen, before brushing some unseen dust from the desk before he turned to face her.

: Hello, Ms. Cinder Fall. My name is, Jaune Arc. May I call you, Cinder?

Cinder said nothing, and just stared him down. They stared each other down for a while before, Jaune shrugged his shoulders, and opened his notebook to start taking notes.

Jaune: Not much of a talker, eh? No matter, we’ll get you talking soon enough.

Jaune: Now then, Ms. Fall, let’s summarize the past days events: A team of, Beacon students stumbled upon your little operation going on in, Mount Glenn. A team of veteran, Hunters from, Vale, as well as a team of, Atlasian Specialists came in to prevent you from colliding a train into the old train house in downtown, Vale thus releasing a horde of, Grimm into the city. Did I make a mistake in any of that, Ms. Fall?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Still not talking, eh? No matter, I’ll get you talking sooner, or later. So, pray tell what were you planning to do?

Cinder glared daggers at the man who radiated golden retriever energy, but said nothing.

Jaune: Twas a rhetorical question, since you won’t answer me after all. So, let us speculate then shall we?

Jaune: Hmm… you wanted to launch a horde of, Grimm into the city… but, why?

Jaune: Since the White Fang were involved was it to act as a protest against the mistreatment of faunas?

Cinder: …

Jaune: I expect that was the, White Fang’s plan, at least what they thought the plan was. So logically they would do this to kill people, both human, and faunas as a means of retribution for past, and future wrongs.

Cinder continued to glare at him, but within those burning eyes, Jaune could see her asking him a simple question.

Jaune: What the hell am I talking about? That’s what you’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes. But, well, extremists all ways take the simplest things, that often have the simplest solutions to the extreme. Hence the name: extremists. But, what’s your angle in all of this?

Jaune leaned closer, and stared, Cinder down. Their eyes locked on one another in a staring contest that made, Cinder’s blood burn. And, yet this feeling in her blood wasn’t from rage.

Jaune: We asked your associates what you game in all of this was… And, what were their names again…?

Jaune flipped through his notebook, before pulling out two photos, attached to slips of paper.

Jaune: Ahh yes… Mercury Black, and… Emerald Sustrai, that’s their names. The didn’t snitch on you, they never would. But, as they say… ‘Dead man tells no tale~!’

Jaune could see her eyes flash wider for the briefest of moments. She seemed to not care about her associates, at least, she seemingly didn’t care that much.

Jaune: But, your pal, Roman Torchwik. He sung like a song bird, and told me all of your dastardly deeds, after receiving some proper… motivation~!

~~~

Ironwood watched carefully as he listened to, Mr. Arc as he interrogate the prisoner.

Ironwood: Did you also ‘interrogate’ this, Torchwik fellow?

Ozpin: There was no need to, we offered him a plea deal for all the information he had on her, and he was rather forthcoming coming. Although his information as to what, Ms. Fall’s plans are, were rather limited.

Ironwood: I see, hopefully this, Arc fellow can make use of it. Now, I don’t mean to sound… disturbed. But, when is this supposed… ‘interrogation’ meant to begin.

Glynda: It already begun. As soon as, Jaune entered the room the ‘interrogation’ started.

Winter: How can you be sure of that? All they’ve done is talk, nothing that hints towards torture has started.

Glynda: She’s sweating…

Everyone looked over to see a bead if sweat drip down, Cinder’s forehead as cold air escaped her lips.

Ironwood: What? That rooms kept cold to stop her from using her fire semblance, why is she sweating?

Ozpin: Good question…

~~~

Jaune: Now… Roman told us all about your evil plans. Well… that of which he was privy to that is…

Jaune put on a show, Cinder could tell he was trying to put her off guard, and it wasn’t working. The sweat falling down her head was getting on her nerves though, the room was freezing cold, and yet she was sweating. She could help, but wonder why.

Jaune: You hired him to steal large quantities of, Dust. Though he says you threatened him. Now, I am curious as to why you needed that much, Dust? You weren’t selling it, and you did make several bombs on that train, but the quantity of, Dust that was used in those bombs is no where near the amount that was stolen. Are you trying to artificially inflate the price of, Dust?

Cinder glared daggers at the man, hoping to burn a hole through this golden retriever of a human being. But, still refused to answer.

Jaune: That would mean you’re working for, Jacques Schnee! I knew you were a heartless bitch, but I couldn’t believe you were that heartless to work with that Grimm spawn bastard son of a bitch!

Cinder: I don’t work for that, Dust whore… Ahh?!

Jaune relished the sound of her little outburst as a vicious grin crept from the corner of his mouth as he stared down the prisoner as she pulled back from him.

Jaune: You spoke~! Ah-hahahaaa~!

~~~

Winter: Calling my sperm donour a, ‘Dust whore;’ I best remember that.

Qrow: Oh, you’re not upset that people are making fun of daddy?

Winter: The majority of the people of, Atlas, and Mantle despise my father, I among the top three individuals that despise the man. I’ve been using photos of the mans face for target practice for the new recruits.

Ozpin: Really now? And, how is that going, Specialist Schnee?

Winter: Better than I expected; Atlas’s military personnel’s average accuracy when handling firearms has gone up by 27%, and is still climbing.

Ironwood: Oh really? I was wondering how that increased happened. Well done, Specialist Schnee. Start implementing that in, Atlas Academy, I’m curious to see how the students will improve if we implement such a… policy.

Winter: I will see it done, Sir.

Ozpin: Should we implement such a policy here as well, Glynda?

Glynda: We shall discuss that later, Ozpin. The Sorcerer is at work.

~~~

Jaune: So tell me… what was your plan…?

Jaune’s smile sent shivers down, Cinder’s; it was a calculated smile, its intent was to unnerve, and put one’s foe on the backfoot.

Cinder: …

Jaune: …

Cinder: …

Jaune: Hmm?

Jaune: Still no talky?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Okay then… So you don’t work for that dust whore. You obviously don’t work with the, White Fang, you’re obviously not a faunas. Unless…?

Jaune was giving her the once over, as if to find some hidden faunas trait that was hidden behind her clothes.

Cinder: I am not a faunas…

Jaune: No…?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I would have guessed you were some sort of snake faunas; Hidden fangs in your mouth, elongated tongue those kind of things. Nothing?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: Well, then you’re obviously working for some sort of hidden secret organization that’s bent on the total, and complete destruction of the world!

Cinder: …

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Hmm… you’re quite good at hiding your emotions, but your eyes keep giving things away.

Cinder’s eyes flashed for a moment before she looked away. She cursed herself for letting her emotions escape her harsh grasp. She had done plenty of research on the staff at, Beacon Academy, but, Jaune Arc was one she couldn’t find much information on. At most it was common knowledge that if you asked anyone anything about him they would tell you the same thing. Jaune tended to keep his personal life like that, personal. At most it was know that he was single, and the only son if his family.

Well, as secretive as he may be, it was no where near as…?!

Jaune: Why does the witch want to destroy the world?

~~~

Ironwood: Wait, what?! Ozpin, how does he know about, Salem?

Ozpin: One of, Mr. Arc’s greatest skills is his observational awareness. I thought I was being subtle with any information retaining to, Salem, but he picked up on my… unsaid words. And, forced me to talk…

Ironwood: Forced? Did he use his semblance on you?

Ozpin: Possibly…? I am not sure.

Ironwood: Can’t you tell when he’s using his semblance?

Glynda: It depends on how, Jaune’s using it. It can be very subtle, subtle enough that you don’t even realize he’s using it. Subtle enough that even he doesn’t realize he’s using it at times.

Ozpin: But, when it’s obvious he’s using his semblance you become painfully aware that he’s using it. To say it’s blood curdling in its usage is an understatement of the extreme of extremes.

Qrow: Ughh… I remember when I saw him use it to its fullest extent; Can’t say the guy didn’t have it coming, but throwing up my lunch wasn’t what I had in mind that day…

Ironwood: …?

Winter: What the hell is his semblance?

~~~

Cinder: What witch?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Oh come on now… I know all about, Salem, and Ozpin’s stupid little shadow war going on behind the scenes. So if you plan on playing dumb well…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Let’s just say it won’t work well for you.

Cinder could feel sweat dripping down her head in a freezing cold room, his words caused dread to slowly build up in her heart.

Cinder knew that playing dumb wouldn’t work any longer. At best she could deflect, and feed him bread crumps to cause him to look away from her true objective.

Cinder: I was trying to… trying to cause a, Grimm stampede in the hopes of destroying, Vale.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: Spread the seeds of chaos, and show, Ozpin, and his allies that his precious little cities are not as safe as they think they are.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: I just told you; To destroy, Vale.

Jaune: Don’t play dumb with me my dear, I’m not an idiot like, Ozpin, or General Ironwood. They would take you words at face value, but I can tell you’re hiding something…

Cinder: What is there to hide; you already know everything I planned to do, you’re just trying to confirm what happened for you reports, aren’t you?

Jaune: Well…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: You could say that… but, your goal wasn’t to destroy, Vale… No, no, no. Your goal may be quite well thought out, but you don’t care if, Vale fell. No, no, I recon your plan wasn’t to destroy, Vale… A definitive bonus if your plan succeed, but no. Your true goal was to distract, Ozpin… but, to distract him from what tis the question…

Cinder’s heart was beating erratically as this interrogation continued on. She had read, Mercury’s, and Emerald’s reports on the man; they read of a kind, and caring man who would lay his life down for his students without a moment’s hesitation. But, the man currently before her, was not that man.

He exuded an aura of cold, calculating indifference, and a predatory smile that sent shivers down her spine, the exact same smile he was giving her right now. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he came to a simple conclusion; the an answer to a riddle that answers everything he wanted to know, and more.

Jaune: You’re after the, Fall Maiden, aren’t you…?

~~~

Ozpin: The Fall Maiden…?

The answer to a question unasked escaped, Ozpin’s throat in a ragged whisper. It made sense, too much sense that this was, Cinder’s goal, she was after the, Maiden’s powers, and she was willing to destroy, Vale to get it.

Qrow: So it was her, and her cronies that attacked, Amber! Why didn’t I see that…?

Ironwood: She never did finish off, Amber because, Qrow came to the rescue, this is all an elaborate plot to get the, Fall Maiden’s power… I amazed that, Mr. Arc was able to come to such a conclusion.

Glynda: But, to go to such extents to acquire the, Fall Maidens powers seems a bit over the top.

Winter: Couldn’t she have just killed her when she first had the chance, and acquired her powers that way? Why did she plan to destroy, Vale in the process?

~~~

Jaune: Oh? Now isn’t that an interesting reaction!

An involuntary, sharp gasp escaped, Cinder’s lips as he effortlessly hit the nail on the head. Arc, knew about the, Maiden’s, in the case what else did he know! She looked away from him, daring to hope he would not find anymore clues in her broken mask.

Jaune: Excuse me, we’re talking; tis quite rude to look away from someone while we’re talking.

Cinder couldn’t look at this man, there was something off about him…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Excuse me, don’t turn awaywe’re still talking here.

Something that could make the skin crawl…

Jaune: Oi, look at me.

Something that was deemed unnatural…

Jaune: We’re not done speaking, Cinder.

Something that was indescribable to the senses…

Jaune: Cinder… Look at me.

But, it was something completely explainable.

Jaune: Haaa…

Something so obvious, and simple, that it was often overlooked as an item of irrelevance.

Jaune: I said…

A semblance.

Jaune: Look at me.

Cinder could feel her entire body being wrenched forward, her muscles screaming in pain as they were forced to move in what felt like an unnatural, but completely natural manner. Her body was set straight in her chair, her head forced to stare at, Jaune face, making her stare into those calm, uncaring cerulean eyes of his. She tried to turn her body, to squirm in defiance as he stared her down, but she could not move her body by a hairs breath.

Jaune: Now, shall we continue our discussion?

Cinder: A-A semblance…

Jaune: Hmm…?

Cinder: A semblance! Y-You’ve been using your semblance on me this whole time! From the moment you entered this room, you’ve been using a semblance on me to make me talk, haven’t you!

Jaune: CorrrrecT!

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, telekinesis!

Winter: He’s a telepath? That would most certainly explain how he was able to get, Miss Fall to talk.

Qrow: Nope.

Ironwood: What?

Qrow: The kids not telepathic.

Ironwood: He isn’t?

Winter: But, the way he forced her body to move, that’s clearly a telekinesis based semblance.

Qrow: It may look that way, but his semblance is nothing like that. If it was, I would be better at holding my stomachs contents when he decides to… let loose.

Glynda: I’d doubt that.

Qrow: Well… it wouldn’t be as bad… hopefully?

Ironwood: Then what is it?

Ozpin: It would be best to let, Mr. Arc explain it…

~~~

Cinder: Y-You’ve been using your semblance to extract information from me! Haven’t you!

Jaune: Mmmm… In a manner of speaking… I’ve mostly been connecting dots, and what not from what clues you’ve given me. That, and reading your facial expressions, any little bodily ticks you are showing off. I’ve mostly been using my semblance to make you feel a sense of unease. It’s been quite effective if I do say so.

Cinder: What is it; Telekinesis?! Are you some sort of psychic?! What is your semblance?

Jaune: Oh, nothing so… civilized as those…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Nothing like that…

Cinder: That tapping! You’ve been doing that ever since you came here… why?!

Jaune: As I said, ‘To make you feel unease.’

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I take it that it has been working.

Cinder: How does tapping your fingers make me feel unease?! Do you have some sort of telekinesis based semblance?! I demand to know!

Jaune: As I said: It may seem liked that, but no. I don’t have a physic, telekinesis, and sort of moving stuff with my mind based semblance.

Cinder: THEN WHAT THE HELL IS IT!!!

Jaune calmly stared at, Cinder as her rugged gasps of breath slowly tapered out. Before he calmly responded to her question.

Jaune: I’ll answer your question: How is that I am making you feel unease, why the tapping, how I forced your body to turn to face me. I’ll explain it all. But, in exchange you have to answer something for me.

Cinder: And, what is that?!

Jaune: What does, Salem want with the keys to the vault, and what does she intend to do with its contents when they are emptied?

Cinder: W-What…? H-How did you figure it out…?

Cinder’s rage, the blazing inferno that burned within her body was suddenly snuffed out as if it was a match struck in the midst of a typhoon. What was replaced was stunned fear. She hadn’t mentioned a single thing, no clues, no hints, but this freak had managed to put together every piece of her plan, and managed to figure out what her true goal really was!

And, all he did was calmly look at her with a cocky smirk forming from the bottom of his lip.

Jaune: Oh I just managed to connect the dots that others leave unseen. Four kingdoms. Four Academies. Four Maidens, and lastly, Four Relics. My educated guess tells me that one of the four relics is hidden in one of the four kingdoms academies. And, that they are kept behind in a secret, hidden vault that requires a key to unlock them. And, that key, is a maiden. Am, I wrong?

Cinder: …

Cinder: You’re correct…

Jaune: Am I know~?

~~~

The group all stood back as, Jaune turned to give them a dark smile as he managed to make, Cinder spill all her information on why she was going to attack, Beacon Academy.

And, it had only been ten minutes.

Glynda: Salem’s after the, Relics? I can only imagine the destruction she could wrought across, Remnant if she had even one of those…

Ironwood: We need to tighten security back in, Atlas. And, in all the other academies at that! In all the kingdoms! We cannot allow her to gain access to any, Relics!

Qrow: What is she even planning to do with those things? They aren’t all that dangerous no are they?

Ozpin: She not after any one, Relic for its individual capabilities… she wants all four of them.

Ironwood: What is the difference is she has one, Relic, or all of them? The destruction she could wreak across, Remnant could be unimaginable!

Ozpin: Not if those two came back…

Ironwood: What?

~~~

Jaune: Excellent! Now that we have all the speculation as to why you are doing this out of the way. Now I must ask who your other accomplices are, and what they are doing, and we can finish everything up once, and for all. Alright?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: No…?

Cinder: You said you would tell me what your semblance was… I answered your question… But, unless you tell me the truth… I won’t tell you anything! It doesn’t matter if you torture me… I will never talk!

Jaune: No, that’s fair… You answered my question, tis only fair that I answer yours in kind. Tell me… I assume you’ve done your research on all of the staff at, Beacon, myself included. So, I can assume you heard about my nickname?

Cinder: Yes… The staff here call you, ‘The Sorcerer.’ But, none of the students know why.

Jaune: That’s because, ‘The Sorcerer,’ isn’t really what my nickname is all about. And, I can assure you, a few students know what the story behind my nickname is, and my semblance is as a result of that. And, the reason why no one knows that start is simply because they just don’t like talking about it.

Jaune: You see… I can use magic…

Cinder: Impossible… Only five people in the world can use magic, and they all happen to be female… which you clearly are not.

Jaune: True… I just like to referring my semblance as magic, helps others… comprehend my semblance, and its abilities.

Cinder: Then what is your semblance…?

Cinder leaned in and scowled at, Jaune as he returned her scowl with a devious and, all knowing smirk as he softly replied.

Jaune: Blood Magic~!

Cinder: What…?

Jaune: Blood Magic! That’s what my semblance is! I can freely manipulate the blood of any living being! Making them my puppet…

Cinder could feel her eyes darting to the right, and lefr, then back to, Jaune, and yet she had no intention in her mind to move her eyes.

Cinder: M-M-My eyes?! You’re moving my eyes?!

Jaune: I can also regulate your heart beat! Why do you think I kept on tapping my finger?

(Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…)

Cinder focused on her body, slowly she started to feel the controlled beating of her heart as, Jaune tapped his finger to a steady beat.

Cinder: You made my heart race at an unnatural beat… causing my body to go into shock because of my blood wasn’t flowing properly, causing me to…

Jaune: Panic. Yes, tis a very effective way at making people nervous. I have to tap the beat though… I could hold out my hand, and flex my fingers inward, like so…

Jaune held his hand before, Cinder, and simply made a closed fist that lasted, but a hairs breath. However…

Cinder: AHHHHHHH?!!?!

It caused, Cinder to collapse in pain as her breath came in hard, and laboured gasps like a drowning man struggling for air as water filled their lunga. Her eyes widened in horror at the stunning realization of what he had just done to her.

Cinder: You… Y-You… haaahaha… you were crushing my heart?!

Jaune: Correct… My semblance is no doubt among the most powerful there is. I can tell precisely where a person is based upon feeling a persons circulatory systems. I can even tell people apart to some extent.

Jaune turned behind him to look at the one way mirror, and pointed at it.

Jaune: Right there is, Qrow Branwen. I can feel the alcohol in his veins, don’t ask me how, I can’t explain it. Next to, Qrow right there should be, Glynda Goodwitch. I can tell it’s her because the blood flows differently in woman than it does in men.

Jaune: I can also tell it’s her because I can sense more blood in the… front.

Jaune turned back to look at, Cinder; his face etched into a look filled with self loathing, and disscontempt.

Jaune: There are many things I despise about my semblance.

He shook his head in disgust as he pointed back at the mirror.

Jaune: Ahem… right next to her is, Ozpin; I can tell because I can feel his body posture that indicates he is resting on a cane, and that he is holding a bug in his hand. And, all the caffeine in his veins. Guy seriously needs to cut back on the joe…

Jaune: Next to, Ozpin is another woman. I have no idea who she is, but I know she’s there.

Jaune: And, right there is, General James Ironwood. I can only sense half a man partly floating in the air… such a perverse feeling… I can feel the blood flowing to his toes on one leg, but on the other it stops when it reaches his hip. The same on his arms; I can feel it reach his finger tips one one hand, and yet on the other I feel it stop at the shoulder joint… Such a ghastly feeling…

~~~

Winter: B-Blood magic?! That’s his semblance: Blood Magic?!

Ozpin: It is as he says… he can sense, and manipulate the blood in a persons body. To say it’s ghastly is a understatement of a lifetime.

Qrow: He can tell it’s me based on my blood alcohol levels? I better cut back a bit…

Glynda: He knew it was me because of my bust…?

Winter: At least he takes no pleasure in knowing that.

Glynda: Haaa… A gentleman to the end…

Ozpin: James? Are you alright?

James Ironwood gaze was dead stead at staring at his right hand, his robotic hand. It was a terrifying thought, that, Mr. Arc could feel precisely where his body ended, and where his cybernetics began without even touching at him. He understood the pains wrought upon his body in ways no others could, not even the victim of such mutilations could feel.

Ironwood: I can… speculate why I haven’t seen, Mr. Arc until now… Such a semblance must bare heavily on its user…

Ozpin: Jaune tends to keep to himself out of necessity, rather than a desire to be left alone. To many people around is like listening to a thousand voices all at once. Simply put; it’s overwhelming to the senses.

Ironwood: I take it then that, Mr. Arc is done with the interrogations? At least…using his semblance?

Ozpin stared at, Cinder as she managed to regain her breathing, and steadied her heart beat as she stared defiantly at, Jaune. Ozpin shook his head at the notion.

Ozpin: I’m afraid, James… the worse is about to begin…

~~~

Cinder: Haa haaa… Hahahaha!

Jaune: What’s so funny?

Cinder: You told me what your semblance is… I now know what you can do with that semblance of yours… it doesn’t matter what you do now! It doesn’t matter what! I will not tell you anything! You’ll crush my heart before I let anything spill! Come on, Arc! Do your worst!

Jaune: Pfff! Haha… hahaha… Aaaahahahahahaha!

Terror filled, Cinder veins as, Jaune let loose a laugh that found everything, down to most minute of details, in, Cinder’s attempt to show her bravado, her arrogant pride absolutely, unequivocally hilarious.

Jaune: Haha-ha-haaaa…

Jaune: My worst? You think me grasping your heart is the worst I can do…? My dear sweet summers child… I can do so much worser things than that, that honestly; I’m not sure what my worst is!

Jaune: I can bend every bone in your body till it shatters, then put them back together! I can stop your heart, kill you, and then bring you back to life! I can cause a brain aneurysm, and kill you on the spot! Cure you, and again I could bring you back to life! I could crush your entire body, turn every muscle in your body in on yourself until your body is nothing more than a meat cube! And, I know I can do this, because I’ve already done it before, and I will do it again!

Jaune: So tell me, Cinder Fall… Do you want to just tell me who else you are working with, and what are your other plans. Or, shall I torment you with pain unimaginable that I may break your mind from the pain?

Cinder could understand that he was just saying this to scare her, that he wouldn’t got that far to break her. But, she knew deep in her heart, that he could do it. But, she knew he couldn’t kill her, he needed her alive, otherwise all her secrets would go with her to her grave. She resolved her, and she would grin, and bare what was to come.

Cinder: Do your worst asshole! Hak-sptoo!

And, with that she spat on, Jaune’s who merely rubbed it off, and shook his head in disappointment.

Jaune: Haa… very well… I did warn you…

Jaune leaned back in his chair, and held his hand up, before he turned to gaze at, Cinder one last time.

Jaune: You know… They say there are different ways one gains their semblance; Personality, or circumstances… I believe the later one is applicable for me. Cause you see… everyone thinks I’m an only child. When in reality, I’m the only son in my family, when I actually have seven sisters. So, I think I developed my semblance, just to shut them up, because I swear…

Jaune leaned forward, and gave, Cinder one more predatory smile.

Jaune: That seemed to happen at least once a week!

Cinder pondered for a moment what he meant by, ‘once a week.’ Until it dawned on her, and a terrifying thought appeared across her mind. If he knew how to deal with that, then he knew how it was cause, and if he knew how it was cause…?!

“Snap~!”

Cinder:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Then she would know what true pain felt like.

~~~

Haaa…

To think I went through all of that just for that last bit…

#rwby #jaune arc #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #mercury black #rwby roman torchwick #winter schnee #james ironwood #qrow branwen #glynda goodwitch #rwby ozpin #rwby salem #rwby amber

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perkqularkreashions · 10 months ago

Text

Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle.

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?”

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood.

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view.

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent.

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said.

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion.

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke.

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again.

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you.

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of.

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike.

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont. The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him.

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him. Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door.

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed.

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?”

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him.

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled.

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?”

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control.

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice.

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence.

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor.

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples.

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib.

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son.

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you.

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her.

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically.

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her.

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed.

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!”

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat.

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso.

Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under. She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption.

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own.

Goodbye Peach Sallinger.

#imagines #imagine #request #requested #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg #peach salinger #you imagine

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ohnococo · 11 months ago

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Fight Night | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

“You know why you’re here. You can take it or leave it.” His hand pushes its way higher up between your thighs until his fingers meet your panties, rubbing against your pussy as he squeezes your flesh. His smile at having confirmed you were just as wet as he knew you were is absolutely wicked and your pussy is practically fluttering with the way he looks at you. He dips his head even lower to graze his teeth along your neck, hot breath followed by an even hotter tongue licking a playful path. “You seem like you can take it, though.”

You weren't familiar with Infamous MMA Fighter Ryomen 'The King' Sukuna when he entered the club, but he certainly wants to become familiar with you.

Warnings: public sex, slight exhibitionism, size difference bordering on size kink, Sukuna has a monster hog that's pierced, fingering, creampie, rough sex, reader doesn't realize there's a voyeur present.

Notes: Based off of the AU in this post.

Only an hour and a half into your night and things had already gotten interesting.

You’re among the many heads stretched and straining to see what the hell the commotion was about, or rather who it’s about. The staff cutting back and forth through the crowd had only been noticed by a few. The dozen people walking in at once had garnered a bit more attention. Then, the absolutely massive guy that followed them, moving into the centre of the entourage, gathered even more attention. You don’t even know who he is, but the most annoying guys in your immediate vicinity all seem like they’ve just seen God himself enter the club, shouting to each other about him winning something big, followed by drunken recountings of what was apparently a fight. He’s flanked by a sizeable group of men and if he weren’t fucking huge you’d assume most of the entourage were bodyguards from the way they part the crowd to allow him through unhindered. With the way people nearest to them were pointing and smiling he was apparently recognizable to enough people here. You weren’t among those people, but your interest was piqued nonetheless.

You can hardly see him at this distance, but you reckon he must be over 6’5” with the way he’s head and shoulders above everyone. You can’t quite discern his features but he looks like he’s scanning the crowd, only pausing for a moment to lean down before he makes his way to his own area, accompanied by his own small crowd. The glass balustrades allow you to watch him as he goes past the bouncer unquestioned and up the stairs to the VIP section. Even when he’s out of view the feel of the room has shifted entirely, mark effectively left on the place.

Your eyes had been so intent on him you hadn’t noticed the person who’d broken off from his entourage until they’re in front of you and waving a hand at you before leaning in to shout and be heard over the music.

“Do you party?”

What the fuck did they think you were doing? Dress held onto your body by a hope and a prayer, eyes glassy, pupils blown, and this stranger was being coy? Maybe you would be too.

“Maybe. Who’s asking?” They were too young for you, having that awkward ‘are they 19 or 30’ appearance. They were too small too, but you’d seen them trailing along behind the big guy with their fuck ass bob and knew exactly who it really was asking from the way they were looking at you like another errand.

They point up to the balcony, speaking with a reverence coated in the assumption that you’d be impressed, “The King.”

“Who?”

“You’re joking?” They look offended, like they might rescind the offer that hadn’t yet been made, but you knew it wasn’t their choice to come over here, it was this King’s.

You shrug. “I don’t watch boxing.”

“He’s not a boxer.” They spit out the word, boxer, like it had been an insult. “He’s the reigning heavyweight champion of JFC.”

Your laugh at the name has them dumbfounded, explaining even though you couldn’t look more unphased by his apparent celebrity.

“Jujutsu Fighting Championship?” They say it like it explains everything. Like it meant anything more than anyone else’s accolade’s in terms of you having a good night.

“Does this King have a real name? Or just a pretend one?”

“Ryomen Sukuna, and he’d like to invite you up to the VIP lounge. Do you want to go or not?”

You did. You knew you didn’t get up there without spending an exorbitant amount on bottle service, and having the additional funds to beat out anyone else looking to enjoy its amenities. Besides, you knew you weren’t going to turn down free drinks and maybe a story for tomorrow. So you put on a coy smile, indicating that you’d play nice for the opportunity.

“Sure.”

The way they take off, cutting through the crowd at a brisk pace, keeps you on your toes as you try to follow along, pushing against people as you do - some dancing, some looking up at the balcony above and hoping for another peek at the man you were just about to meet.

Once you’re in front of the bouncer at the bottom of the stairs, your temporary escort is annoyed at having to give their name, huffing out a curt “Uraume.” as the man slowly looks through his clipboard, stepping aside once satisfied.

You’re just as quick to keep up when going up the stairs too, trying to look casual as you finally enter the VIP lounge, scanning the room as though your attention wouldn’t automatically be brought to the giant man seated near the wall. Uraume gives a nod to the man, and you’re surprised to see he returns it with a friendly smile, though any trace of warmth is soon gone as they then settle into a corner and The King turns his attention to you as you approach.

Looking at him up close it’s obvious he’s a fighter, you don’t know how you hadn’t immediately guessed it even from seeing him across the club even before people around you started mentioning fights and belts and such. Besides him being built, he has dyed hair that’s a faded colour usually seen among those showy men you meet around Vegas, uniquely employed enough to opt for bolder styles yet dedicated enough to training to let it fade ever so slightly. Nevermind the prominent tattoos on his face, neck, and disappearing down beneath his shirt. Eccentric appearance and fucking huge typically meant one thing around here: fighter. Or wannabe fighter, usually, but with the handles of liquor and nervous energy of the staff that had been rushing around since he’d arrived you knew for sure he wasn’t just some wannabe. From the look of his entourage he might not be just a fighter either.

Well, at least he was handsome.

The only seat available is right next to the man himself. He’s cross legged with his arm draped over the back of the leather couch - over the space you were presumably going to be sitting in. You imagine him instructing his goons to leave it free and feel slightly flattered, not too flattered though as you’re sure it’s a regular occurrence given his apparent popularity.

“Aw, no one wanted to sit next to you?” You give him a teasing pout and he laughs, loud and booming and rich, and you feel everyone around you relax collectively. He liked you up close too, and the feeling was mutual as he pats his lap.

“You can sit here if you prefer.”

Cheeky, you want to get a feel for him first though, so you sit next to him instead. “Buy me a drink first.”

He gestures to the table in front of you, littered with bottles. You look over them, considering your choice carefully. When he puts a hand on your upper thigh and leans into you, brushing his nose against your neck and bypassing any pretence of what he’d invited you up here for, you decide your tastes are a little more expensive. At least when it comes to playing with him.

“No Dom Perignon?”

The way his hand squeezes your thigh has you wondering if he was mad that you were taking advantage. The hungry look he flashes when he leans back to look you up and down lets you know he didn’t care as long as you both got something out of tonight. He glances over to a man who had been standing in wait for his every word, and he skitters off to make it happen.

You feign having only a passing interest in him while you wait, looking at him with brows raised, appraising him as he must have done to you when he’d entered the club. “So you’re supposed to be famous, right?”

Famous, you say it with a slight dry singsong that indicates as dazzling of an occurrence as meeting a celebrity might be, you weren’t quite so dazzled. He raises a brow in amusement, still rubbing at your thigh in a heavy reminder that you both knew why he’d called you up.

“Not famous enough, apparently.” He doesn’t seem nearly as perturbed by your ignorance of him as his small companion had. In fact, it doesn’t seem to phase him at all.

“So are you good at fighting?”

He makes no attempt to stop his cocky grin, and a predatory look flashes in his eyes as he seems to reflect on his own skill. “Yes.”

The staff sent off earlier returns with a bottle and glass, making a show of presenting it to you before opening it. As he does, Ryomen puts a finger on your chin, turning your attention back to him.

“I fought tonight, actually.”

“Oh?” As soon as his hand is off your face and back on your thigh, you turn back to the man pouring your drink, reaching out to accept the glass before he rests the bottle in a bucket of ice and returns to his spot near enough to be at Sukuna’s call.

“I put a man in the hospital.”

You sit back, taking a sip of the champagne as he puts his heavy arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer into him. You take in his expression carefully. Wasn’t that the point of fighting? You deduce that maybe he’d gone a bit further than was typical from the way he looks at you though. There was a sense of pride in the way he’d said it, a sense of satisfaction, even as the smallest flash of his narrowing eyes hinted at it being a warning.

“Does that scare you?” He looks as though he might just love it if the answer were yes.

You cross one leg over the other, trapping his large hand between your thighs, as you finish your drink in one long sip. Maybe it was a waste, but it wasn’t your money. “Should it?”

He dips his head low until your faces are close, and the size difference is enough that it’s as if he’s closing you off from the room as he does it, giving you a false sense of privacy as his lips meet yours. You’re surprised at the pacing of his kiss. It’s far from gentle, but slow, languid, and even if you weren’t ready for it to deepen you’d have had no chance of denying his tongue entry as he pushes it into your mouth. Happily, you match his intensity, opening yourself to him as he explores your mouth. His teeth catch at your bottom lip, nipping hard enough to keep you from getting too lost in the feel of his lips on yours, even as the tinge of pain has your pussy clenching.

When the arm draped around your shoulders slides further round so he can shove his hand into your top you arch into him, thighs squeezing his right hand tighter as he slides the heavy fingers of his left across your nipple playfully. You’re snapped back to reality only slightly when you feel the empty glass being pulled from your hand, glancing to the side even as you keep kissing him to see one of his entourage setting it down on the table in front of you before taking a place standing against the wall, staring out and over the balcony at the crowd below as if there were truly nothing to see here.

Sukuna rolls your nipple between two of his thick fingers, pulling your full attention back onto him. You bring your now freed hand to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you tilt your head back and lean further into his touch. Between the tightness of the fabric across your chest and the sheer size of his hands, he’s quickly tired of being so restricted in touching you, pulling his hand out and tugging the top of your dress down to free your breasts as he resumes his teasing. You pull back, having to turn your head away entirely to stop the chase of his lips as you pull your dress back up.

“Whoa-“ you haven’t even moved your hand from your chest before his much larger hand is covering yours, squeezing tightly but not moving to expose you again. There’s a slight warning in his touch, even if he’s smiling at you, bemused by your sudden modesty even as he broadcast to you clear as day that this was precisely what he’d had you brought up here for.

“You’re cute.” The way he says it doesn’t quite feel like a compliment, it feels more like he’s calling you a brat with a bow on it. The fact that it only makes you wetter isn’t lost on you though. “Don’t play with me too much, though.”

He’s moving the ball into your court, making sure you know that you weren’t up here just to get drunk and look pretty. He watches as you consider how much you want to do in front of these people, how much you want to show, and sighs, growing bored already. You asserted a boundary, so he’d assert his in no uncertain terms. Whether that was acceptable was up to you.

The shiver that runs through you as he uncrosses your legs with one hand and pulls your panties to the side with his thumb has him chuckling against your neck while he begins sucking marks into the sensitive skin. His fingers are as rough as you’d guessed as he slides them through your wetness and your eyes shut as you melt into his touch. He’s skilled, teasing you enough to have you angling your hips up for more, pushing one of his thick fingers in just before you’re lost in the sensation enough to whine for it. Once you clench around it he wastes no time, adding a second before digging deep and sliding calloused fingertips over the spot that has you tugging at his hair.

Suddenly, his fingers withdraw, and he pulls your legs open wide, laying one over his lap to give him better access to you. Your eyes snap open as the momentary loss of contact brings you back to your senses enough to remember you were surrounded by a dozen strangers. You tense and snap your legs back shut, and Sukuna sighs again.

“They don’t care what we do.”

Still, having your pussy spread wide in the direct line of sight of strangers was just crossing the line tonight, so you pull away from him slightly and glance around the room to reaffirm your boundary.

He looks you up and down, and for a moment you think he might actually send you away to finish the night with the masses, wetness still smeared along your thighs. It was clear he could have someone more willing up here in a heartbeat. Instead, his lips curl into a smile, and it both unsettles you and makes your pussy clench.

“Go dance.” His eyes hadn’t left yours as he said it, but it was clear it was an order to everyone but you despite the fact that he hadn’t said it to anyone in particular. The crowd in the room moves at once - getting up, grabbing drinks as they go, and leaving the two of you alone. Your eyes are still locked on his, held captive by the intensity of his gaze, heart beating faster and faster as people filter past and down the stairs.

“Better?”

In lieu of an answer you slide your panties partially off, leaving them bunched around one ankle as you climb onto his lap, straddling him. He slides his hands up your thighs and cups your ass, letting his fingers sink into your flesh before deciding he’d have your tits out just as he’d wanted earlier. He tugs your dress down enough to give him the view he’d wanted, then pushes your dress up from the bottom as well to give him better access and you let him do as he pleases at both ends, wrapping your arms around his thick neck and kissing along his tattooed jaw. You settle yourself down onto his lap, starting to grind against him to get an idea of just how big his cock is, but he’s insistent on having his hand between the two of you, sliding his fingers back inside for you to ride them instead.

His thick knuckles catch at your entrance in a way that has your wetness leaking all the faster as the fucks them up into you, and once you’re grinding down to meet his movements he moves his other hand to the back of your head, keeping your lips pressed firmly against his. When his thumb starts stroking at your clit and you moan into his mouth he takes it as his cue to push a third finger into you, pace picking up as his fingers curl just right to add to the sensations he was pulling from you. They’re pushing so deep and fast that it almost distracts from the stretch as he spreads them each time he’s as deep as he can get. As the coil in you tightens, you try to break your endless kiss to warn him you’re close but find you’re held firmly in place. Not that it mattered how much of a mess you made of his lap at this point.

You’re so wet you know his pants must already be absolutely ruined, and as his tongue tangles with yours you realise that you still haven’t gotten a chance to sneak a feel at his cock, thanks to his hand between the two of you. You want to see it, feel it before you cum on it, taste it even, as you become keenly aware of how desperate you are to have it in your mouth. It’s as if his attitude had made you want to match his cockiness, it had made you competitive, and you want to knock him down a peg with your tongue, your mouth, your throat.

As you try again to pull away you have to dig your nails into his shoulders to stop him from kissing you, he was large enough, and hungry enough, that you couldn’t evade him otherwise. When you lock eyes he looks annoyed, tired of any further delays.

“Get your cock out.”

Your words have his eyes sparkling, and he flashes you another wicked grin that only makes you absolutely desperate to feel him in your throat.

He pulls his fingers from you and slides you down just enough to sit atop his knees as he makes quick work of both button and zip with one hand as the other hand stays tightly gripping your ass to hold you in place. He pulls his cock out from where it rests hard and heavy across his hip within his pants, stroking it with an iron grip as he looks into your eyes, gaze nearly as intimidating as the thing in front of you as he revels in your reaction at seeing its size.

It is, to your awe and slight horror, perfectly proportional to the rest of his massive frame. Thick, heavy, with a fat head almost flushed red and veins rippling along the girthy shaft. The steel beads of the piercings trailing down underneath his length glimmer in the dim lighting of the room and add an extra amount of flair and fright to the honest to god mean appearance of such an intimidating cock. He squeezes at the base and when he releases it it flops back against his stomach, unable to stand with all of its weight. As much as your mouth is watering, you know your limits. Gone are your hopes of taking it to the base, watching him marvel at disappearing into your throat - and sucking on the head while you jerk him off wasn’t exactly what you’d pictured.

“Too much for you?”

The words, filled with mockery, pull your gaze back up to his, and he looks so very smug when you let out a less-than-confident, “No.”

“Well?” He wasn’t going to let that weak answer stand, pressing at you and enjoying the falter in your face from just how greedily you’d asked him to get it out just a moment ago.

“I just don’t know if I can suck that.”

Your honesty delights him, and his cock jumps slightly as he tenses from laughter. “I’m not asking you to. I didn’t stretch that cunt open for nothing.”

He pulls you closer with the hand gripping your ass, and slides three fingers back inside you unceremoniously. They had indeed gone in with much more ease than they had several minutes ago, and he begins pumping them inside you again. With the way he was stirring you up you know the noises would have been absolutely obscene if not for the music, not that you would have cared what people hear at this point.

You really had wanted to show off for him, slurping, gagging, taking him to the base and looking up at him with tear streaked eyes. But he was a fucking monster and you’d just have to accept that loss, something relatively easy to do as his fingers are right back to stirring you up. Those thoughts of knocking him down a peg with your head game are long gone as you rock into his fingers, meeting his palm for some needed friction, and just when you get it he pulls his fingers out and rubs your slick along his shaft.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if you were some servant, pulling your attention from his cock alone to his face as he gives you an order with a bemused expression. “Sit on it.”

With your pussy desperate to be full again, you’re in no position to delay the inevitable any longer, bracing yourself for your cunt to take what you weren’t sure your mouth could. He takes you licking your lips and rising higher onto your knees as accepting his order and spits on his hand, rubbing it over his cock to join the wetness that was already coating it. A few minutes ago you’d have questioned if that was necessary with how wet he’d gotten you. At this point you’d take what you can get, not that anything could stop you now.

He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you forward and up until he can line the head of his cock up with your entrance. The thick head swirling through your wetness for only a moment is the last warning before he’s sinking you down onto him. He turns his attention to your chest as he does, sucking a nipple between his lips, latching onto as much of your breast as he can suck into his large mouth. He stops only once, half way, pumping up and into you a few times, helping coax your wetness down his shaft, before he’s pulling you down onto him completely, groaning once you’ve taken it all.

He releases your breast, tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he does, and that pain almost eclipses the absolute stretch of having him in your guts. It’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, and you let out a few gasps as you try to clench and adjust to him. He chuckles, and the feel of his cock throbbing inside of you as he does has your thighs jumping, fingers digging into his pecs as you rock your hips slowly. His hand falls between the two of you, palm pressing at your abdomen, thumb swiping at your clit, coaxing you back into yourself.

“C'mon, where's all that fire now?”

’Just a second,’ you think, ’just give me one fucking second.’ You don’t say that, though, you can’t. Instead you let out the tiniest little stutter, a noise you’d have been mortified at if your brain weren’t so focused on the feel of being so completely stuffed full.

“Aw,” you open your eyes at this and see Sukuna donning a pout not unlike the one you’d given him upon entering meeting him, “didn’t think I’d break you before I’d even fucked you properly.”

Between his words and his thumb swiping insistently at your clit, something clicks and you bring your knees up, planting your heels on the couch for purchase as you start slowly moving up his length before seating yourself back down. You clench around him as you rise, letting out moans once you settle back on him and he wraps a hand around your jaw, pulling your face close to kiss you as you ride him.

“Mmm, there you go,” he nips at your lower lip before releasing your face to lean back, fully relaxed against the couch below as his thumb continues to lazily swipe at your clit.

He watches you moan, and tense, and struggle to ride to the very tip of his length before coming back down and rocking your hips. You feel him making his cock twitch inside of you when you stop riding, baring his teeth in a wicked smile at the moan it elicits from you. It’s not easy work to ride him, and he knows it. Even just being on his lap, he’s too big to ride with your knees comfortable on the couch. Nevermind adding the considerable length you have to work your way up without coming down too fast or hard.

Still, you give it your all, thighs shaking both exertion and the intensity of having him so deep. Your hands dig into his pecs as you watch him taking you in, eyes burning, biting at his own lip in what you think might be an attempt to stifle his own deep moans as you find your footing and begin riding him in earnest. His eyes flick down to your tits, watching them bounce, pushed together by the positioning of your arms and he begins rocking his hips up every so often. It’s just enough to have your tits bouncing harder, just enough to throw you off too - pussy quaking every time his hips snap up into yours with no warning. He watches your face again, laughing as frustration builds at him throwing off your pace even as he helps to build the pressure in your core.

You let loose a groan between your huffs and sighs of pleasure and dig your nails into his pecs, earning a thrust from below hard enough to send you toppling forward into his grasp. He holds you firmly in place, biting and sucking at the tits now in his face before he’s releasing them in lieu of pulling your mouth down onto his by the back of your neck. He matches the pace you’d set earlier, letting you rock your hips into his movements and think, just for a moment, that you still had some semblance of control.

“Cute…” he almost growls it into your mouth, and his lips curling into a smile against yours is the closest you get to a warning as he thrusts up into you at a pace too punishing for you to even begin to match.

You feel like a rag doll as he holds you chest to chest with him, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you down and onto him. He’s fucking you hard enough you swear you can feel him in your chest, and his heavy balls slap at your ass with the speed and strength of his hips snapping against yours.

“Fuck…” it’s the most intelligible thing you can say at this point, and that has his cock throbbing inside of you as he bares his teeth at you in another of those wicked grins that have your stomach and pussy tightening in unison. All you can do is hold on to him, hands clutching to fistfuls of the fabric of his shirt as he uses your body, the fast approach of your orgasm seemingly incidental as he chases his own high.

He lets loose a noise just short of a roar as he fucks you so hard you begin to understand why he’d asked if you were scared of him earlier. Your brain feels like it’s threatening to break with the feel of him and the way the girth of him presses and slides against every inch of your pussy is the only thing anchoring you to your body. As he begins pumping you full of cum the slowing of his thrusts gives your cunt something to cling to once the pressure within you reaches a fever pitch and you cum, tensing, clawing at his chest as you resume riding him weakly for a just a moment through the rest of your orgasm.

He gives you a moment, as he takes his, enjoying fucking his cum up into you until you’re squirming. When you push at him he lifts you off of him, sliding you back onto the couch, and you’re far too spent to even worry about the cum dripping out of you and onto the likely expensive leather below. You catch your breath, body buzzing and barely aware of the man next to you idly waving his hand at the corner of the room as he tucks his cock back into his pants.

As someone emerges from the dark of the corner of the room you snap your legs shut and pull your dress in place, realising in horror that not everyone had been dismissed earlier. The very person who had annoyedly guided you here earlier then heads to the stairs, presumably to retrieve the rest of the entourage.

Sukuna leans forward, pulling the previously forgotten champagne from its resting place, filling your glass before bringing the bottle to his lips as he settles back into his seat. While you’re processing what the other person in the room had seen, sheepishly pulling your panties back up, he’s already past it, ready to continue his night as people filter back in, equally unphased.

“Drink up, the night’s still young.”

Through the embarrassment of having cum leaking out of you in a room full of strangers is a small excitement building, and you’re more pleased than you’d like to admit that you were apparently invited along to whatever this man had in mind for tonight.

CHAPTER 2

#minors will be blocked #my writing #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #reader insert

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claudemblems · 1 year ago

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A Kiss to End All Doubt | Albert Moriarty

Summary: When you agreed to tag along with the Moriarty brothers to a grand ball, the last thing you expected was to receive a noble's offer of marriage. Thankfully, Albert plays the part of your lover well, perhaps a little too well for his affectionate words to be fake...

Content: SFW. Fem!Reader. 3,723 words. Pining. Soooo much romantic tension. Albert is a flirt and no one is surprised.

Notes: I have been writing this fic for what feels like forever BUT IT'S FINALLY FINISHED :3 I'm so excited to finally give this to you. I hope you enjoy it 💖 I may also add an epilogue if there's an interest for one...🤭

Did Albert Moriarty, one of the many faces of the Lord of Crime, truly not have the slightest idea of the effect he had on you?

It was silly to even fathom that a man of his stature could be so oblivious, but you couldn’t help but start to wonder once he started giving your flushed cheeks and wide eyes a quizzical look.

That, or he was playing coy with you, which wouldn’t be all that surprising coming from him. He’d long since mastered the art of making noble ladies go weak in the knees.

But that was a skill he’d acquired out of pure necessity. If he had things his way, he’d refuse to give the stuck up women of the nobility the time of day. Unfortunately, he had a role to play in all of his brother’s plans, and so he continued flirting with the noble ladies just long enough to leave them wanting more.

You, on the other hand, were no noble. In fact, you had no good fortune, distinguished education, or marriageable prospects to speak of. Truly, you were nothing but a mere face hidden amongst the shadows, which was perfect for an assistant to the Lord of Crime.

You’d begun to empathize with Albert’s disdain for these royal functions, mainly the lavish balls he and his brothers had little choice but to attend. It was important for them to keep up appearances as a well-rounded noble family who knew how to mingle with the upper-class, whether they enjoyed doing so or not. While they seemed to have gotten used to it for the most part, it proved to be quite the difficult adjustment for you. Thankfully, Albert had patiently taught you the ins and outs of noble life, giving you lessons on small talk and etiquette whenever time permitted.

However, he hadn’t yet taught you how to handle a nobleman’s advances.

“You must be Lady [Name],” the man greeted, holding out his hand for you to take. You briefly glanced towards Albert, taking his nod as a sign to follow through with the gesture. A kiss was placed onto your hand before the man let go, stepping back to better admire the exquisite sights around him. “It’s quite a splendid ball, isn’t it? There’s so many well-mannered and intelligent guests in our midst, such as you, young Lord Albert.”

“Lord Darnley, you are far too kind,” Albert said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. “I ought to be extending the compliments to you. Your presence here is most welcome, as well as that of your entourage. Would the girl you brought with you happen to be your little sister, Lady Georgina?”

“Ah, I see you’ve made sure to memorize the names of all the guests! Indeed, she insisted on joining me, and no matter what I said, she refused to take no for an answer!” Darnley bellowed in laughter, briefly drawing the attention of the other guests nearby.

“She already seems to be quite the free spirit. I’m sure she has a bright future ahead of her.”

“If you’re so interested in my dear Georgina, I would be more than willing to sit down and discuss a potential marriage between the two of you.”

You swore you saw a flash of disgust appear in Albert’s eyes, but he simply smiled brightly at Darnley, careful that his emotions did not look fake or contrived. “While your offer is certainly generous, I have no plans of marriage at the moment. I’m afraid I’m already plenty busy with my service in the royal army.”

“Ah, what a shame,” Lord Darnley sighed, but his disappointment quickly turned to anticipation when his gaze once again fell on you. Your stomach lurched at the look in his eyes, but you tried to retain your composure, copying Albert’s mannerisms by offering a surface-level smile.

“Lady [Name], I am supposing you are not yet married if you’re attending this function with the Moriartys.”

“That would be correct, my good sir. How astute of you to notice.”

Lord Darnley grinned at the news like a hunter mere moments away from ensnaring this prey. “Well then, my lady, is there anyone that has asked for your hand yet?”

Goosebumps ran down your arms as you swallowed thickly. Anyone with a right mind knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

“I…well…” Should you tell the truth? Should you lie? But then who would you say had expressed a desire in marrying you? “It’s…complicated.”

“So, that would mean no formal question has been posed then, correct?”

“...Correct.”

You heard Albert’s feet shift next to you, on guard for whatever preposterous idea this nobleman could come up with next.

“Well, it’s certainly not good for a lady of your standing to be without a husband. I, myself, am quite the romantic, and I believe a courting period fosters a genuine love between both parties involved. If you have no one currently vying for your hand, perhaps you’d offer me the chance to earn it.”

No. No. On so many levels, no.

But this wasn’t about you—your happiness or married life did not come before the liberation of London. Whatever the brothers asked of you, you would adhere to their words, even if it meant having to be stuck with a man such as…this. Though you knew they’d never even entertain the thought of offering you up to some man who cared only for your beauty and status and nothing for your heart. If you were to refuse Darnley’s advances, at the least, you were confident the Moriartys would respect your decision.

Even so, you didn’t want to cause any more trouble for them. If you couldn’t agree to the idea of marriage, perhaps a date or two would suffice, right?

Just the thought made you feel sick.

“Well, what do you say, my lady? Will you allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

You knew you had to keep up appearances. You couldn’t allow for cracks to show in the perfect and amicable facade the Moriartys had carefully crafted. You knew that well, and yet…

This was a proposal that not even death itself could bring you to accept.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but I must sincerely refuse.”

Lord Darnley stared at you in alarm. “Come again? You didn’t just say no to my advances, did you?”

Your heart rate quickened as his words grew heated, and in that moment you wanted nothing more than to take off and hide somewhere safe and quiet in the manor’s garden, away from other people who might come up with even more ridiculous propositions.

“It’s just as you heard, my lord. I must decline.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Lord Darnley stared straight into your eyes, not blinking for several long moments. Your hands had begun to shake as you feared that you’d just begun tarnishing the reputation of the Moriarty family. Truly, there were fewer things more terrifying than a nobleman who felt he’d been insulted, and the consequences for such an offense would be nothing short of dire.

“Lady [Name], you are in no place to refuse my offer. You said yourself that no other man has even brought up the idea of marriage to you! Are you truly so brazen that you would reject the prospects of a life in union with mine? We all know who makes the decisions around here, and they’re certainly not made by women—!”

“My good sir, I believe you’ve said quite enough.”

A small gasp left your lips as Albert sneaked a hand around your waist, still carefully holding his glass of wine in the other. You searched his face for an answer as to what he was scheming, but he simply smiled—a true one this time—wordlessly reassuring you that all would be well.

“You see, Lady [Name] may not have received an offer of marriage as of yet, but that is only because I have been quite busy protecting our beloved country. I wish to propose when I am able to be at home more often and thus can fulfill my duties as a devoted husband to my wife. So I must politely ask that you rescind your offer, lest you make yourself seem as though you chase after taken women.”

Propose? Husband?

If you were afraid of tainting the Moriarty image, Albert clearly didn’t share your concerns.

“Taken? Why, I—! You’re bluffing, Lord Albert! You’re not planning on marrying this woman!”

“And what has brought you to that incorrect conclusion?”

“If that were the case, you would have brought it up the moment I asked if she were single!”

“To be fair, you asked if she’d received an offer for marriage, not if she was currently available to court.”

You could practically see the steam coming out of Lord Darnley’s ears, his face growing redder with each passing minute. He was still unconvinced, and for good reason, too, but you weren’t about to let Albert’s kindness go to waste.

You placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he redirected his full attention to you. “It’s true, my lord. My affections have been reciprocated by my dear Albert, and I am patiently waiting for him to ask me to marry him. It will be a proposal I shall readily accept.”

Darnley scoffed, a hand placed over his heart in disbelief. “And you had the gall not to tell me when I’d begun to question you? Either you’re a terrible liar, or you’re just hoping to humiliate me in front of all these guests!”

“I would never dream of deceiving or insulting you, my lord. I should have made my relationship status clear to you earlier. Please forgive my carelessness.”

“I still think this is some elaborate hoax the both of you are trying to pull off. If not to tarnish my good name, then to convince every noble here that you’re worth the status bestowed on you at birth.” Lord Darnley swiped a fresh glass of wine off the tray of one of the waiters walking by, the man watching in horror as the lord downed all of the liquid in one gulp. His cheeks had started to take on a flushed hue from the great amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night, and with the way things were going, he was sure to be drunk by the end of it. “Perhaps, Lady [Name],” Darnley continued, a lopsided smirk forming on his face, “you’ve been lying about your social status, and you’re hoping that your marriage to Lord Albert will secure you a place in the upper class.”

Anger surged through you at his utterly ridiculous theory. Darnley had unknowingly gotten one fact right: you were a nobody. When you’d been taken in by the Moriarty family, you had nothing to your name but pen, paper, and the clothes on your back. But you knew one thing for sure: you had worth as a human being, and no one, noble or otherwise, would be able to change that.

And marrying a noble for status? What a laughable suggestion. As if you’d stoop so low just for some so-called “honor” among the elite.

“Well, dear sir,” you began, discreetly hiding a smirk behind your gloved hand, “I had no idea you were so foolish as to even come up with such an inconceivable thought. I once held you in high regard as I’ve heard many within the nobility sing your praises, but your current behavior is quite unbecoming of a person of your stature.”

You heard Albert try, and fail, to stifle a laugh next to you. You quietly breathed out a sigh of relief to see that he’d chosen not to reprimand your strong words. If anything, he seemed eager to encourage them.

As Lord Darnley frantically signaled for a waiter to bring him more wine, Albert took the opportunity to lean down next to your ear, whispering a simple yet heart-pounding question, “[Name], would it be all right with you to play further into these roles of enchanted lovers?”

Your breath caught in your throat, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Of course,” you said. If only you knew how I truly felt, you wouldn’t even need to ask.

He smiled down at you, a sight that only stirred up the butterflies even more, and pulled you closer against him. Meanwhile, his eyes bored into Lord Darnley’s frame, darkening with every passing moment. If there was no one else in that ballroom, you had no doubt Albert would have leapt at the chance to get rid of him.

When Lord Darnley had finished downing another glass of wine, his fiery countenance returned to you and Albert. “You both are frauds,” he spat. “Everyone else here might be too dim-witted to figure it out, but I’ll make them aware that you’re not the upstanding moral characters you believe that you are.”

“It’s a shame to hear such vile thoughts coming from your own mouth, good sir,” Albert sighed. “But if I must be honest, I don’t care what any noble in this room thinks of me or the house in which I rule over.”

“Oh? And why is that, good sir?”

“Because,” Albert answered, turning his body towards yours, his visage noticeably softening when his focus returned to you, “the only person I want to please is the woman I adore. Not one person in the nobility is worthy of praise or merit—no one but her alone.”

Setting aside his glass, Albert gingerly took your hand in his own, meeting your eyes to silently ask for your permission. At your nod of approval, he lifted your fingertips to his lips, placing a gentle and almost reverent kiss against them.

“I love her,” he said, his sweet gaze reaching the very depths of your soul, “and when the time is right, I will make her mine.”

His words were like a match igniting the fire blazing in your heart, the flames fed by your deep affections for him, growing with every beat that thumped in your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came to rest against your cheek, his touch so light yet so dizzying, more intoxicating than any wine you’d had that night.

Albert searched your eyes as all the feelings you’d tried to keep at bay finally came pouring in like waves. You were sure he could see it all: the admiration, the yearning, the love you’d kept locked away. But somehow he’d managed to find the matching key, the truth you’d been hiding for all these years finally at his reach.

His fingers traveled along your cheek and down to your jaw, this thumb tracing patterns against your skin. You were still dazed from his words to Darnley, but you brought yourself to meet Albert’s gaze once more, curious to see what truths you could uncover in his own expression.

And you wished you hadn’t, because when you saw the affection so clearly present in them, you wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until the night turned into day.

Albert wasn’t oblivious, and you knew it. Whatever people thought of him as—a genius, a young prodigy, a man of great knowledge—his ability to read people was beyond the average person’s comprehension. And you knew when he’d finally figured out what the person he’d been surveying was hiding. His lips would quirk upwards ever so slightly, the dimples on his face just beginning to show, and he’d cock his head to the side, pleased with his findings.

And that was exactly how he was looking at you.

You’d placed your heart out in plain view of his observant eyes, and he’d figured you out. But now that he knew of your feelings for him, what was he planning to do with them?

Albert’s thumb drifted from your jaw down your lips, careful not to brush off the lipstick staining them. He stared at them for several moments, deep in thought, before he returned his eyes to yours, a single question hidden within them.

May I?

Already breathless, you squeezed his hand once, closing your eyes as Albert leaned in painstakingly slowly, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation. This was the moment you’d only been able to imagine in dreams, on nights where you sat wordlessly under the stars, silently wishing upon them in vain. They couldn’t grant you your desires. They couldn’t give you everything you ever wanted. You were the only one with the power to seize your opportunity and make your own wish come true.

And as Albert’s lips finally fell on yours, you smiled.

Your greatest wish was being granted right before your very eyes.

His lips tasted faintly of wine, and the subdued scent of his cologne still lingered on his collar. Combined with the warm and comforting touch of his hand cupping your face, your senses were overwhelmed in the most wonderful of ways. It felt as if you’d begun to float, brought into a fairy tale-esque trance where the entire world grew still except for you and Albert.

Time had stalled to allow you this moment of pure, undeniable bliss that not even the corrupt powers of this world could take away from you.

With his lips still on yours, Albert’s hand snaked further around your waist, gently pulling you closer against him. You practically had no room left between the two of you, and so in a moment of boldness, you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, right above his heart. Even through his suit, you could feel it beating wildly.

It only made you wonder: did he truly mean what he’d said earlier? Did he really harbor such affection for you? Did he really intend…to make you his?

Before you could ponder anymore, Albert finally pulled away, cheeks faintly dusted with rose. He appeared somewhat dazed himself, but he kept his composure, still well aware of where the two of you were at the moment.

But this time when he turned to Darnley, he smirked, practically beaming from head to toe with delight as he spoke. “Well, Lord Darnley, do you believe us now?”

If looks could kill, both of you would have succumbed to that man’s rage.

Darnley’s hands gripped his wine glass so tightly that it shattered onto the floor, the remnants of wine staining his once perfectly polished suit. Other nobles stopped their conversations and turned to him upon hearing the commotion, a few of them even pulling out handkerchiefs.

“Sir, let me get you a new glass,” a waiter spoke, holding his hand out to take the broken one from him. But Lord Darnley was already fuming, and he shoved the waiter to the side, smashing the rest of the wine glass against the floor.

“You will pay for this,” he snarled. Sending you one final glare, he turned on his heel, marching out of the ballroom, hopefully never to be seen again (at least for the night).

“Well,” Albert breathed, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”

“You’re right…Thank you, Albert.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, gaze drifting back to yours. “I’ve done nothing to warrant your gratitude.”

You shook your head. “You have, Albert. You didn’t have to step in and save me from Darnley’s advances, but you did, even though doing so could have tarnished your family name. I’m indebted to you.”

Albert frowned ever so slightly, and you cocked your head to the side, confused. After a few moments, his gaze flickered to the people dancing around the room, his cheeks still tinged a beautiful red. “If you thought I was doing all that just to be a gentleman,” he murmured, “then I don’t know what it would take to make the truth clear to you...”

Well, suddenly you were the one left blushing.

“It’s not that. I…I don’t want to assume anything more, not when you’re such a precious person to me. I’m just scared of ruining what we have between us.”

Albert turned his attention back to you, using the hand that was still on your waist to pull you close to him again. Taking your other hand in his, he lifted it up to his lips, your faces now just mere inches apart.

“And what if I were to say that I do want something more?”

You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t all a dream.

But you still felt the press of his lips against yours, took in the smell of his cologne, and memorized the touch of his fingers running along your cheek. It was not a dream. It was even better.

Albert leaned down next to your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. “If one kiss isn’t enough to convey how much my heart yearns for you, then allow me to kiss you until you’re breathless, and no more words of doubt are left on your tongue.”

Albert smiled as your face grew redder, and with the way he bit his lip, you knew he was struggling not to comment on it.

“For a noble, you sure lack any semblance of shame, Master Albert."

Albert shook his head and chuckled to himself, that mischievous glint having once again returned to his eyes. “Keep teasing me and you’ll find out just how shameless I can be, darling.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Do you want to find out?”

Despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing Albert’s hand tighter in yours. “If you want to kiss me so badly, do so in a place that’s actually romantic, will you?”

Taking you by the hand, Albert began to lead you outside of the ballroom and into the rose gardens. “Of course, and I’ll take my time to make sure I kiss you properly.”

You made a mental note to thank William and Louis for letting you tag along to the ball. If all went well, they would end up becoming your own brothers-in-law, after all.

But that could wait until you finally had Albert’s affections all to yourself.

#moriarty the patriot #moriarty the patriot x reader #albert moriarty #albert moriarty x reader #kat writes #IT'S FINALLY HERE #Honestly I'm so happy with this one :3

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