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flowersforbucky · 4 days ago

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either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

#klloveuary2025 #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan #logan x you #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett one shot #worst!logan #worst!logan x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3

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prettyboykatsuki · 19 days ago

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do you see anyone other than me? (baby please) | rafayel (lnds)

✮ tags ; rafayel x fem+ afab!reader, established relationships, dom!reader, sub!rafayel, gentle femdom, oral (m!recieving + some f!recieving), anal (m!recieving), praise kink (so much), dirty talk (SO much),pegging / topping, top!reader, bottom!rafayel dry orgasms 18+

✮ wc ; 6.9k (come on man)

✮ a/n ; reader and mc do not share a personality in this. reader is intentionally meant to have like... a more serious personality. so they are mc but not at the same time if that makes sense sdkjskj.

also i know this guy but only a little bit. i was planning on binging the main story after caleb got released but got ?? caught up writing this?? this has happened twice im so scared

✮ synopsis ; making sure rafayel actually forgives you is at the top of your priorities.

When you come home from the office, take your shoes off, and turn the corner into the living room—you know without looking that Rafayel is in a mood.

Not a good one.

It’s something in the air, a lingering tension that makes all movement stiff as you attempt to navigate through the unease. You find Rafayel on the couch. Soft, deep lavender waves tussled like he’s been tossing and turning - pressed into the side of the couch. All curled up small.

Somehow, you just know what sort of attitude you’ll be met with. You know your lover well enough to know that he’ll be moody but you’ve less confidence in regards to what that mood may be.

Taking a deep breath, you step into the wide expanse of Rafayel’s living room and studio. His head turns, bangs falling in his face as you slide your work bag off from your shoulder to set aside. Your keys, noisy as you set them down, even gently—trying to leave the air undisturbed. He’s looking at you from over his shoulder but realizes he can’t completely see you that way. Instead of standing to his feet to come greet you, he drops his head back on the arm of the couch to stare at you upside down in a tense silence.

You give him a look. His mood is sour. Maybe more than you thought. He smiles first, then frowns unhappily before turning his attention back to what he was doing. You hear small scratching noises—he’s sketching. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there doing that, since he usually just prefers to paint without thinking too hard.

After that, he doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t greet you, either.

“I’m home.” You say evenly. You think about being placating from the jump, but without knowing his exact reason - you worry you’ll only worsen the state of affairs.

Rafayel hums. “Welcome home.”

Your brain wracks through every possibility on what could be the source of this level of moodiness. Sometimes, his moody behavior is for kicks but it’s not this time. If it was, he’d lay it on thickly. Act theatrically towards you, get in your face about it.

But he’s tense, forceful—every scratch of his pencil is too harsh like it’s rife with irritation. You tread carefully.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Why are you asking? Don’t you live here too? Just because I bought the couches with my money doesn’t mean—“

“Rafayel.” You say, interrupting him. He scowls at you. “Can I?”

As if more bothered by you being level, he huffs. It’s followed with a business smile over his shoulder. “Sure. Do whatever you want.”

You choose to sit on the empty end of the couch where Rafayel does his sketching - fitting yourself in the gap of his space near his feet. You slide yourself in then gently lift his legs into your lap. Rafayel gives you a look when you do this, clearly debating on whether or not he should reject your act of goodwill. Ultimately he stays.

Notably, while his pencil is still scratching on paper - you think by this point he’s not really sketching anything at all.

“I got off of work late,” You explain. You rest your hands on his calf gently. “There was an incident near the station but it was a false alarm so I ended up being cleared.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Warm, you think. You nod.

“There’s been a lot of Metaflux increases in the residential districts close to our headquarters. It’s odd.” You explain. Rafayel is quiet, looking at his nails disinterested. You go on, not taking offense. “Strange as it is, there’s been no active threats. Still, given the location, it needs a lot of man power to be investigated.”

Rafayel sits quietly, unreadable. You continue on. “So it’s been busy. I think we’ve cleared the level of threat, so another team will probably take over soon.”

“Hm.” Rafayel says, a petulant edge to his voice. Warmer. “So that’s why you’ve been so late this week. I guess it’s good that nothing happened. It must’ve been difficult, so difficult if you could barely spend time with your one and only lover. But I guess it’s fine, it’s not like there’s anything you can do in that circumstances. Well, you could’ve done a lot but if it didn’t occur to you there’s nothing to be said, then again—why would it—“

Hot. “Rafayel.”

“What.”

“I’m sorry for being late,” You say.

A beat. His frown deepens.

“And?”

You pause before answering, smiling apologetically. “For not keeping in contact with you more.”

Some of the life returns to him. You’ve deduced the source of his bad mood, which means the only thing left is to alleviate it. You don’t like seeing him upset. He’s quick to forgive you, always optimistic and trying to keep your relationship lighthearted.

But there is an underlying desire in him that makes you more conscious about any minor infringements. Despite himself, Rafayel is more concerned about you liking him than he’ll ever let on in his life. Even when he’s upset, he’ll forgive you - but the feelings linger until they explode. When he gets like that, it’s much harder to comfort him.

It’ll fester if you don’t apologize properly. You know him well enough to know that and you love him well enough to not want to see when disaster strikes.

(Plus, there’s something about the way he’s still pouting. He’s trying to relax, but it’s there. It’s cute to you. It makes you want to kiss it better.)

“I’m sorry,” You offer. You reach for the hand resting in his lap and he lets you take it, though it’s limp. You press a kiss to the back of it, eyes full of affection. “I’m not used to having someone wait for me,”

Rafayel makes another face at you, unreadable. “Not just anyone.”

You laugh lightly. “That’s true.”

Squeezing his hand tighter, you kiss it one more time. “Can I make it up to you…?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“I’d like to,” You offer, another kiss - just higher on back of his hand. Closer towards his wrist. “Whatever you wanted.”

“Whatever I want is a tempting offer, Miss Bodyguard. What a talent for bargaining you have, indeed. Maybe you should try bidding a one of my auctions, just to see.”

“I’d bid too high off the bat. I’d go bankrupt,” You tease back, a sweet lilt to your voice that makes Rafayel’s eyes shimmer, fond of your wit. “Would you be willing to keep me if I gave it all up that way, I wonder?”

“Since it was for me, I could consider being merciful.”

You give him sincere but small smile and Rafayel seems to warm up seeing it. He can be coy, even playful about his affection but there’s something about him today that feels more shy then it does anything else.

“If I can ask for whatever I want,” Rafayel starts. “Maybe we could start with paying back your dues. After all you owe me your full undivided attention after your week of neglect.”

“That’s easy.” You say, charming. Rafayel makes a face at you that makes you want to laugh. “I wanted to give you that anyway. Is that all?”

“Are you telling me to be more demanding? You think that’s a wise choice?”

“If it makes you happy, I’ll play the fool.”

It’s corny, deliberately not something you’d say to anyone else or at any other time. Something that Rafayel might say to you in a different circumstance, so in a way you’ve simply beat him to the punch. He goes through several feelings, each passing over his expression. Amusement to disbelief to embarrassment even he can’t cover up too easily.

Great risk comes with great reward. Yours is a smiling Rafayel, boyish and amused. Color returned to him, a playful air of mischief about him.

“Well if you’re that desperate to make it up to me, then I guess I could try to forgive you. Gosh, you must be so desperate if you’re willing to act this way. You’ve totally fallen for me, haven’t you?”

Yes, you think. Too much of that at once and he’ll get shy again. You’ll have plenty of coaxing to do later so you keep the thought to yourself. You smile at him instead. “So, you’ve anymore demands for me, my liege?”

Rafayel hums before breaking out into a grin. “Hmm. For now, just one.” He offers you his hand. “Take me upstairs.”

Rafayel has a way about him, with you and only you, that makes you especially weak to his advances.

Whatever those advances are, however taxing on you they may be—there’s so rarely a time where you can tell him no. He likes having that much influence over you, no matter what his particular mood is. If he’s feeling the desire to keep you under his thumb or be at your mercy. Whats central to him in each instance is that he has the full breadth of your attention, your desire, and most importantly—your lacking will to resist.

You like it all because you like Rafayel. Like how it feels trying to hold onto him as he slips between your fingers.

If someone asked you what you like most, though - it’d be this.

Not quite at your mercy but expectant of your devotion. Crystalline eyes and long, straight lashes blinking up at you with unwitting demand, crowding around you mercilessly. A gaze that weakens you, disarms you, demands your propriety.

“What are you thinking about?”

His words come out more annoyed than he wants them to. Your eyes come back into focus to Rafayel on top of you, in your lap as you lean against the headboard. His weight settled like he’s something that fits there perfectly and he does. Your hand reaches for his lower back, eyes tracing down the damp skin. Button shirt opened just loose enough to catch glimpse of his collarbones, with only boxers underneath. Your hands run down his sides, smooth down his bare thighs - mesmerized by cream colored skin that begs for blemishes.

His expression bewitches you even when your mind had prepared you for it. You smile almost lazily, drawing him just a little closer to you until your noses touch. “Of you.”

He scoffs at you. “Is that so? Not that you have no reason to think about your perfect, darling lover—it’s just that it seems like he’s the last thing on your mind these days, so you know,-“

You kiss him. It’s only partially to shut him up. It’s mostly because him talking makes you look at the shape of his mouth, the curve of his lips—the way he’s pouting at you. It’s almost too much. You part after a minute, careful not to deepen the kiss.

He has something to say after the fact, dazed - hands on your shoulders trying to give himself the room to speak before you kiss him again.

But you don’t relent. You kiss him harder, a hand around the back of his neck - slipping your tongue against his lips in the way you like. He doesn’t concede. You’re not really expecting him to. He kisses back even harder like he’s trying to prove a point - teeth digging into your lower lip. A little too sharp for human, but perfect for him.

You pull away breathless. A hand still on the nape of his neck, sliding around enough to feel his pulse under your thumb. Thump, thump, thump—rabbit quick. You smile at him suggestively, proving him displeased.

“Don’t interrupt me. Trying to kiss me when I’m airing out my complaints is unprofessional and rude, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Your lips brush his jawbone. “It’s hard to think about talking when you’re half-naked on top of me.”

“You can be so vulgar. It’s shocking. You’re usually all serious and about work and then sometimes you look like a dog waiting to be told it can have the treat on it’s nose,” Rafayel says airily. Fake haughty, voice colored with coyness. You look up at him. “Does it really count as making it up to me if all you’re doing is lusting after me?”

You don’t deny him at face value. “You set the standard. You tell me. Do you feel like I’m still making it up to you or should I work a little harder?”

There’s something between you. A spark of electricity that fizzles and pops, tension deepening. Rafayel likes playing tug of war with you. Even though he’s expecting to be pampered - there’s nothing easy about letting him. But it works when you keep yourself even. Eager. Having your desire and lust for him out in the open gives him the power again and he likes that, even when it’s mostly pretend.

“Work harder. You have to earn your paycheck Miss Bodyguard.” He says. You laugh a little, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yes boss,” You reply. You lean forward, pulling his weight down as your hands slide underneath the loose, flowy button up. Your hands find his waist, holding his sides before gliding them up on the planes of his back. He’s got lean muscle, a swimmers build that feels tight to the touch.

You kiss him on the lips again, tongue sweeping against his lower lip. Rafayel playfully rejects it when you do. You pull away one hand to cup the back of his neck and force the kiss deeper, tongue pressing the closed seam of his lips until he yield and lets you. He melts at the gesture rather unwittingly, the softest little whimper sounding as you feel your tongues touch. It’s a wet, hot kiss. Mouth sticky with spit and saliva.

“I’m working hard so you shouldn’t be too hard on me,” You say playfully. Rafayel rolls his hips, makes a noise for you as he huffs. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You’re—“

You interrupt him again. Not with a kiss on his mouth this time, but a chaste one to the very corner of of it - trailing down the soft curve of his jawline. You make the pressure on his neck featherlight. Thin skin prone to being sensitive, he melts at the soft touch. Cranes his neck up subconsciously to give you access to it. In the spirit of pampering him, you bite at the skin with a genuine hunger. Marking each bruise with a kiss first, you sink your teeth into him without remorse. Incisors scraping the delicate area before you suck hard, broken capillaries throbbing underneath your tongue when you lick them after the fact.

Deep, deep shades of red and purple bloom all over the column of his throat. It doesn’t feel like enough to you still.

“My neck hurts from all your biting.” His voice comes out in wet pants, betraying the sentiment. You laugh warmly at his attempt to diverge.

“Does it? Should I be gentler, then?” You offer. After you feel like you’ve marked his neck enough, you press another feather-light kiss right where his adams apple sits. Another on his clavicle. When it gets to his collarbone - you don’t do anything more than brush your lips.

Rafayel whines. It’s a throaty sound that makes your whole body break out into a shiver. Such a pleasant sound on the ears that your mind pictures instantly what other sounds he might make if you just had your way with him. It uncovers a selfish part of you. You could flip him over on your bed and take him if you wanted. Fuck him until he sings as punishment maybe for being tempting like a siren drawing a lone sailor into deep waters.

You keep the thoughts to yourself, and keep your composure. You ask again instead. “Come on. Tell me. Do you want me to touch you more gently?”

He fusses in your lap. You grin. “What’s the point in being gentle now if you’re being so rough to begin with? The change would be just weird, you know.”

“I guess it would,” You let yourself lick the same places you just kissed. You bite then hard enough to leave a mark and Rafayel arches himself into it. “It’s better like this then, right? If I leave marks all over you, then maybe you’ll feel less lonely when I get busy again.”

“I should get to leave them on you too. Your memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. A physical reminder might do you some good, yes.”

His voice is trembling, despite himself. You pull away to look up at him, and catch sight of a fragility you sometimes forget he’s capable of. Brows drawn into a furrow, lips pulled into a pout. Like a wound reopened inside of him that he’s so desperate to cauterize but can’t. You want to kiss the lines between his brows and get on your knees for it. A proof of your affection.

“I’m sorry for being careless,” You say, sincere. Rafayel looks ready to quiet you, concerned about the mood but you proceed anyhow. You lift his shirt up and hold it to his mouth, and he bites without your instruction. Bare chest exposed to him, you flit your gaze to his face. “I can’t do anything but try to beg your forgiveness. Still,”

You kiss his sternum, your hands on his waist. You fingers trail down his sides, hands sliding back up to chest. His nipples are hard, damp skin cool to the touch. Your warm him with your fingers, rolling over the sensitive tips. Rafayel makes a muffled noise, his cock twitching responsively.

“All I ever really think about is you,” You say. Rafayel gives you a long, unreadable look as you toy with his chest. “I’m not the type to half-ass things so my thoughts always revolve around you. Finishing work to come home to you. If you’ve eaten or if you locked yourself in the studio to paint all day. If we should go somewhere together on my day off.”

You lean forward and stick your tongue out, taking his nipples into your mouth. You roll the other one with your hand to increase the pleasure - content as you watch his face begin to flush. He watches you so closely, the tips of his ears burning a bright red. You suck hard, wetting them with saliva before you take them gently between your teeth and tugging.

“I’m not good at balancing work with play. I’m also not very friendly so you’re the only person I’ve ever spent so much time dating” You hum, nuzzling his skin. “I’m sure down the line it’ll be harder. But, if it helps, it’s true that my heads always filled with you.”

Your hands grip his waist, pushing his hips forward slightly as you suck and bite his chest again. A line of saliva connects you both as you pull away - teethmark indentations in their place.

“I want to make you feel good,” You maneuver Rafayel until he’s underneath you. His expression reads as overwhelmed but the faint blush blooming all over his skin and the hazy look in his eyes makes you confident he’s feeling more than just uncertainty. More like restlessness. A desire to be touched as he lays on his back with you looming over him. “And to touch you everywhere.”

You lean into him, trailing kisses down the his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you touch him, spreading his legs as you put your thumb inside the waistband of his boxers.

Like this, he looks especially enchanting. The sleeves of his shirt pulled over his palms, button-up bunched up underneath his chin, and tight gray boxer briefs snug around his hips. Your bedroom, dimly lit, casting shadow on the sinewy muscle. His chest heaves with anticipation, stomach tense as your lips trace a path down from chest to navel. Excitement wracks through his body.

You put a hand on his stomach and look up at him. “I want to leave my mark on all of it. I want your body to remember I felt this deep inside of you and shiver. You’ll be able to think of me half as much as I think of you.”

Rafayel heaves, eyes glossed over. “Shit, you’re so unfair. It’s like you have two personalities or something. Are you tricking me? Is it actually you in there?”

You smile a little, pleased by his reply.

You follow your instinct, sliding his boxers off and tossing them somewhere. Rafayel is hard. So hard it looks like it hurts. The tip of his cock is ruddy, wet with pre-cum and swollen. His dick is long. Stands up with a straight curve. You breathe on it, making Rafayel flinch with anticipation. Your eyes flicker up to his face, terrible pout betraying his feigned moodiness..

“Don’t tease me,” He voices. Arousal strikes through you like hot iron at the whine of his voice. Almost pitiful.

“Not today,” You promise.

You making yourself comfortable between Rafayel’s legs, sticking your tongue out to taste him. He smells like soap and skin, but the scent is still so arousing. Your head is heavy with it, senses suffocating, hands stabilizing themselves by grabbing hold of his thighs. Rafayel looks near overwhelmed from even the slightest touch. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet. Almost meek. He must be aching for you more than he lets on.

You let his cock rest against your face, nuzzling it with your cheek. His cock responds sweetly to the lewd act. He lets out a sigh about, subtly trying to shimmy away from the touch. Unable to win against your grip, he sinks back into the bed and takes a long breath.

“Keep your eyes on me,”

In the business of spoiling him, you leave your teasing to a minimum. You gather spit in your mouth and spit it onto his cock with force - relishing the his breath hitches. How his eyes widen just slightly. You stroke his shaft with a tight grip, bringing your head down suck lightly below the shaft of his cock. His head falls back again, mouth open in a silent plea.

Rafayel keens for you when you work him with the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You use your hands to fondle him while you shift your attention to his length. Your lips placing hot kisses up until they stop at the slit - tongue dipping into and tasting precum. Salty and warm. You wet your lips again and brush them against his cock - watching the way his expression shifts at the sensation, lightly sucking as you build yourself up having him in your mouth.

He pitches his hips with desperation that spurs you to give him more pleasure. You open wide to take his cock into your mouth. The weight of it feels good. Arousal clouds your mind as you hollows your cheeks and stick your tongue out over your lip. He’s throbbing so hard it makes you lightheaded.

A minute passes as you just hold him in your mouth, getting your jaw used to the sensation before you put in work in making him feel good. Like steel over your velvet, you use your tongue to lap at the sensitive skin while spitting and drooling. You’re making a mess. The room echoes with the filthy noise of you swallowing and choking on Rafayel’s cock.

“Oh, fuck.”

Your eyes flicker up to Rafayel, trying not to crack a smile at the state of disarray he’s in. His expression is so twisted from pleasure. All of his features reflective of it. His blush seems to creep down even further the longer you go. Your body gradually heats up, core throbbing as you take him down. Take him slowly into the narrow canal of your throat, eyes watering.

You ease yourself down the very base - nose pressed against his navel, tongue over your lip. Rafayel’s fingers curl into the sheets underneath you trying not to buck his hips.

“Get off of me, I’ll cum.” He says, almost panicked. “Your throat feels so good. Y-your mouth is so hot and it’s making me feel so good, can’t—I can’t. You gotta get off or—”

His words of protest fall on deaf ears as you spread his legs even further. Wanting to make him feel better, you part them.

You’re greeted by pretty pink hole - already wet for you. A stream of spit follows as you pull off him.

Rafayel heaves in relief.

“You got yourself ready,” You say, less than ask. Rafayel rolls his eyes.

“So what if I did?”

“I wanted to do it for you.” You reply, pretending to sulk. “Told you I wanted to spoil you.”

He blushes further. “Don’t you have any sensibility? You’re doing more than enough. Being excessive, even.”

“I don’t believe in being excessive when it comes to you,” You hum. Sitting up, you reach over the bedside table for a bottle of lube. You pour it in excess on your two fingers before coming back down between his legs. The bed creaks under your weight.

Lube drips from your two fingers onto Rafayel’s hole, thick as you push the excess with two fingers. Both go in so smoothly it makes you smirk. He’s soft inside. It’s so easy for you to put both fingers inside of him, even easier to find his prostate - swollen from arousal. He must’ve fucked himself open like this on three fingers given how easily yours follow.

“It’s so wet inside. You must’ve really wanted me to fuck you.”

“So what if I—aah—did?”

“Well, I wanted to take you apart nice and slow.” You say, slowly rubbing your fingers against his prostate, pleased by the little oh noises he makes when you. Cum spills from the tip immediately. He’s so sensitive. You divulge your plans to him as you stretch him. “First with my mouth once or twice. I was going to save fucking you for the end but—“ You push your fingers deeper. To the knuckle. His eyes shoot wide open before his voice breaks into a moan. “Since I’m making it up to you you, I was wondering if I should just cut the chase and make you cum on my cock over and over and over. Maybe you’d prefer that.”

Rafayel’s eyes go wide. You feel a sense of accomplishment knowing without him telling you. He clears his throat, strangely sheepish.

“It’s not like the other stuff feels bad or anything—“

You make eye contact with him, sitting up on your knees. Your other hand cups the back of his neck as you press a third finger inside - fucking it in slowly. Rafayel moans unabashedly as you do. His skin is feverish as you press your forehead to his, noses brushing. The wet sound of you stretching him open makes you dizzy, shared breaths between you filling worsening your appetite for him.

“It’s not what you want though, is it? Not today anyway.” You say, leaning close enough to kiss. You don’t follow through, your voice low on a whisper. “Tell me how you were picturing me fucking you in the shower. I’ll give you whatever you want today,”

Rafayel seems to let go of the last threads of fight in him as you approach like this. You’re in the thick of your wanting for him. Your body and your mind hunger to make it feel so good it looks like carnage to everyone else. To be pleasured so ruthlessly he can barely move

He’s rarely too shy but right now he’s in the depths of his desires. He moans sweetly like this. It’s not a sound you can coax out of him easily. It sounds so perfect still. Mouth fallen open, his hands finding purchase in the back of your shirt.

“Want you to fuck me deeply,” He pants, like it’s straining to even thinking about it. “N-not too fast, but not too slow either. Want you, hngh,” Shivering, he tries to speak coherently as your eyes meet - lips barely touching but almost. “To p-praise me and—“

You grin. “You want to pampered while I fuck this pretty little hole, right?”

You push your fingers in harder. He whimpers. It’s loud and broken and makes grip on you tighter. He just nods. “Please. Fuck, please - need it now. In me, please.”

It’s exactly the words you’re interested in hearing. You kiss him on the lips deeply. He sinks completely into the touch, malleable under your fingertips.

“Shh, I know.” You hum, soothingly. Rafayel whines from the loss of contact as you pull your hand away.“You earned it. Just a little more.”

You stand up again on your knee, stripping yourself of the remaining garments left on your body from the work day. You unhook your bra and take it off along with your tank top in one go, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

Next come your slacks, tight from the way you’ve tucked silicone cock up against your stomach to be ready to fuck. You put it on earlier while he bathed - tucking it in your pants to keep it out of the way. Seeing you unzip your work slacks and have a heavy silicone cock fall from them evokes a reaction in Rafayel that endears you endlessly. A bitten lip while a shiver wracks through him.

Deciding your pants will get in the way, you make quick work of wriggling out of them completely before returning between Rafayel’s legs. You spit in your hand and stroke yourself with it, wetting your cock before letting it rest against Rafayel’s own.

“How do you want it?” You ask.

“Like this,” He says, unmoving. He seems certain on that end but he’s hesitating. “But I want you to…”

He looks away. You try not to grin but fail.

“You were being so bold a second ago,”

He rolls his eyes. “Well a second ago someone was trying to rearrange my insides so I didn’t have to think very hard,”

“So, should I do it again, then? I think we’ll get better results that way.”

“You’re so noisy. I don’t pay you for this,” He pauses. “I want you to hug me while we… like be close to me.”

You pause before smiling gently. You’re so charmed by the innocence of it. It’s so unlike him. Being away from you must’ve bothered him more than he cared to admit. Softening, instantly - you lean forward and press your lips to his forehead.

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Ugh. Not for now. But it’s annoying. I should be running you into the ground by now but here you are,”

“Making good on my promise?,” You finish. Rafayel doesn’t refute you. You kiss his shoulder blade. “Anything you want today. I’m yours.”

“Say it again,”

“All yours.”

He wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you down. “…Hurry up and fuck me then.”

Complying with his wishes, you sit back on your knees as you line your cock up with Rafayel’s entrance and push. He gasps as you slide the fat head of your cock in, a wicked smile on your face as you watch his hole stretch out and around you. Three fingers is more than enough prep. It makes filling him so easy.

Still, the stretch - the feeling of being full is nothing like just fingers. You watch as Rafayel’s body adjusts to it. Inch by inch, you rock your hips forward gently until he’s swallowed your cock up half-way. He’s trembling as you lean forward. Waiting for you to bottom out before he pulls you forward for as much skin to skin as he can have. Your chest squishes against him.

When his hips roll for you to go deeper, you take it as a sign. With all of your strength, you hold onto his waist bury yourself inside of him in another single thrust. His nails dig into your shoulder, his voice next to your ear as you. Tightening his grip, he cries out at the sudden movement

You can feel him shake underneath you, cock clenching hard while you hold him.

“Fuuck,” He goes stone stiff underneath you before starting to tremor more violently. “Fuck, oh fuck.”

Realization dawns on you a few seconds later. “Did—did you cum just from putting it in?”

He opens his eyes and frowns at you.

“Shut up. I didn’t get to cum earlier.”

You laugh. “You’ll kill me being this cute. I don’t know what to do.”

“I could give you an idea if you’re going to just sit there,”

His impatience amuses you.

“Sorry. I’ve got you. Cum as much as you want.”

You anchor yourself, pulling out slowly and internally groaning at the resistance as you do. How his hole grips onto you so tight it feels nearly hard to move despite know how stretched he is. A phantom sensation fills your waist as you feel his stomach shift as you thrust.

Heeding earlier requests, you use your hips to set a pace to fuck Rafayel the way he wants. The ins and outs of his body come naturally to you now. Finding the right pace, the right motion, the right angle - all come easier to you than you even remember. On muscle memory, you hike Rafayel’s legs up and begin to fuck him deep. Not too fast, not too slow - but consistent in grinding against that sweet spot. Deliberately thrusting your hips up, you try to direct all the remaining focus into fucking him as good as you can.

You know you’ve hit the right places when his grip on you gets tighter. His legs locked around your back, Rafayel is a mess underneath you even when you’ve barely begun. Like he can’t stop cumming, his body helplessly wound as your hips clap his ass.

The moans that come out of him, broken and sweet. More angelic then pornographic but lewd enough to make you dizzy with the urge to pin him up and fuck him harder. Groaning when you fuck him just right. You can feel his cock against your stomach with how close your bodies are as you grind - twitching. Pre-cum leaking in long spurts and wetting your skin.

You coo at him feeling it start to be easier to fuck him.

“It’s just like a pussy, huh? You take me so good inside of you. It feels like you were made for it,” You press kisses wherever your lips can find the skin. On his face, his mouth, on his shoulders. You can barely make sense of your own filth, your mind moving on it’s own as your body chases its own arousal. Your clit is grinding against the base of your strap-on so well like this, you could easily chase the high and find your own orgasm with seconds. You’re too busy paying attention to make well on it. “I like when you act cute like this. Usually you’d put up a fight about it but you’re asking without fuss. It’s precious seeing you fall apart on my cock.”

He moans your name like an incantation, another dribble of cum spilling. He can’t stop cumming. Just shuddering beneath you, his face in your shoulder and panting like he can’t find the words.

“All mine, yeah? Everything, all of you. It’s all mine to tend to, so you can be as selfish as you want.” You hum, encouraged by the whimpering repetition of please in his voice. He’s being so pliant, so good. You can’t help yourself. “Take when you need. Cum when it feels good for you. I want you to feel good. Want to make you feel so good you can’t stand it. Think you can do that? Come on,”

Rafayel moans brokenly into your neck. “I’m g-gonna cum so hard, fuck—feels like I can’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me,”

“Shh it’s okay. I wont stop until you tell me.” You tuck yourself against his neck, kissing it before biting his ear lobe. He gasps. “Don’t think about anything other than cumming for me.”

“Fuck,” His nails dig into your biceps, coiling you around as you get close. “Fuck me. P-please—I’m cumming, I’m cu -“

Rafayels whole body stiffens under the weight of your body. You fuck him steady, pinning him down as he cums. His cock pushes hard against your stomach, twitching helplessly as his cum spills in streams. His back curls up, gripping onto you tightly as he moans loud and unabashed, euphoria splintering through his muscles. You fuck him through it until he rides out his high - his body loosening up as soon as it passes.

The sound of cum unsticking from your skin as you part from Rafayel makes you grin. You pull back out of slowly and get on your knees. You use your hand to wipe the cum off of your stomach and smear it against Rafayel’s hole.

“You made a mess,” You say brightly. Rafayel pants, looking up at you. Before you can ask, his voice trembles. He weakly reaches for your hand.

“Let me make you finish,” He says, abrupt. You blink at him owlishly. “Please.”

“Isn’t this about you?”

He frowns, looking at you seriously.

“It is. And I’m telling you I want you sit on my face and cum on it. Please.”

You give him a look before breaking out into a laugh. You stand onto your knees and undo the buckles of your harness - shimmying out of them. “I can’t refuse you if you ask like that but I don’t think it’ll be long.”

“It’ll just be once for now,”

“For now?”

He nods matter-of-factly. “You still owe me after the crimes of neglect you’ve committed against me.”

“Right.”

“And I’ve decided I want to exercise my rights to eat pussy until sunrise.”

“I see,” You say bemused. “And this is… revenge I take it? And not perhaps, an act of goodwill towards me.”

“I have no reason to show you good will, do I?”

You break out into more laughter.

“Right. We’ll be even after today then, at least.”

“Hurry,” Rafayel says again, after settling it. Same puppy dog look in his eyes as before, back in instant. You can’t help but be charmed by how quickly he reverts back into desiring your attention.

Rafayel lays down as you take your strap-on off and crawl over towards him. Deciding you’re not done with him for the day - you stand on your knees just over his chest and spread your pussy apart for him to see. He’s not expecting it, evidenced by the way his eyes go wide at the sight.

“Even without cumming, making you feel good turned me on this much. Is that what you were hoping to know?”

Rafayel goes flush again. “I never said that.”

“So difficult,” You hum. “Come on. Can I sit?”

Rafayel barely masks his enthusiasm as he nods. You crawl over him further before carefully setting yourself above his face. You try to avoid letting the full weight rest on him, but Rafayels hands are on you in an instant. With the same desperate grip he had while you were fucking him, he pulls your thighs down until your pussy is in his mouth - tongue out and lapping up wetness instantly. You shiver at the desperate movement of his tongue.

It gets your body hot all over again. Your fingers thread through the purple strands of hair for anchor as you push yourself against his willing mouth like you’re fucking his face. Your own desires hadn’t crossed your mind until now, but now that you’re aware of it - that familiar restless lust returns to you tenfold You shiver as the familiar flames of arousal stoke back up inside of you.

Your gut honeyed, sticky lust making your limbs feel thick. You use your other hand to tweak your nipples as you rock your hips back and forth. Rafayel lies underneath you obediently, eagerly - his hands helping you move at the pace you want without complaint. He always manages to surprise you. His willingness to give to you making you feel weak in the knees.

Already so worked up, it takes you hardly any time to reach your climax. You feel it in your waist, body going slack as the knot inside of your stomach uncoils. You let out a short cry, hands tightening in Rafayel’s hair as you cum all over his face - swearing as you do. You feel Rafayel moan against you, reverberating through you as you ride out your high and finish.

You pull away from his sated, pulling back to see him wiping his chin before licking his fingers. The look in his eyes sends an amused sort of arousal through you.

“You look like you’re going to eat me.” You say. Rafayel nods.

“I mean… I’m certainly trying.”

You laugh tiredly, swiping your thumb against his cheek with a smile.

“After we clean up and have dinner,” You say. “I have some mandatory time off so I won’t be called in.”

“I won’t let you sleep,” He says, clingy again - face pressed against your thigh. You grin. His many moods make you so weak to him.

You bend down to kiss his forehead.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

✮ a/n ; rafayel fans . let me know if this was okay im lacking confidence but i had writing him. i want to keep like a spoiled housecat maybe.

#rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads x reader #lads smut #writing tag

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 months ago

Text

My Love

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Pregnancy has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and the end goal is nearly here. However, you still have a few more bumps to get over. It’s a good thing you have Spencer to hold your hand through it all.

Square Filled: jennifer jareau for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

Luck has always been on your side even since you understood the meaning of the word You have a loving family, a supportive sister, a degree in psychology, and a wonderful boyfriend turned husband. When JJ heard of your engagement to Spencer, she had the entire office celebrate with you two.

She’s been your biggest supporter since you could walk. She’s older, so she’s always been there one step ahead of you, warning you of bumps and bruises along the path. Spencer has been a big supporter as well but there’s nothing like the love that comes from a sibling. She’s known you for your whole life. She knows you better than anyone.

She got married before you so she was able to offer advice, stuff that she had to suffer through. She bought a house first with her husband, so she was able to give you a list of things to look out for when you and Spencer were ready to put a down payment on a house. She had a kid before you, so you were able to be prepared when you found out you were pregnant.

The day you told her that you were pregnant, she burst with happiness. Michael finally has someone to grow up with. Sure, he has Henry but he’s older. Michael was just born so he’ll have a built-in best friend with your child. You’re not sure if you’re having a girl or a boy because you and Spencer want to be surprised.

However, pregnancy is not for the weak. At first, it was morning sickness, then it was being uncomfortable in just about anything you wore, then you got swollen feet and back pains, and now you just want the kid out. You’re nearing the end of your pregnancy where the cravings get just as bad as the back pain which is why you’re up at two in the morning. Spencer is lying in bed next to you sound asleep, and you’re trying really hard not to cry.

You’re starving but there is only one thing you’re craving. You could go up and make it yourself but your feet hurt so bad from walking all day yesterday trying to get this baby to come out. If only Spencer was up to get you some food, but you refuse to wake him up. He barely gets enough sleep as it is, and you won’t be the reason he’s so tired.

He’s a very light sleeper because of that, so he wakes up when he hears you sniffling.

“What’s wrong?” He leans over and turns the dim lamp on. “Is the baby okay?”

“The baby is fine,” you whisper.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m… craving something but I can’t go get it because my feet ache and I didn’t want to wake you because you’re tired and now you’re awake and I’m sorry,” you cry harder.

Spencer sits up and pulls you in for a comforting hug. “Baby, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle.

“Of course. What are you craving?”

“Chocolate covered strawberries with pickles but the pickles have to be cut into spears.”

Spencer nods and kisses you. “I’ll be right back.”

It hurts to see how tired he is even though he does what you ask of him. Still, the urge for the craving is a tad bit stronger than the urge to not wake Spencer. Ten minutes later, he walks back into the bedroom holding a plate of strawberries and pickles, and you smile widely when you smell it.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Anything for you, my love.” He grabs a strawberry and holds it out for you. “Now open up.” You do and he feeds you the sweet treat. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” you say with your mouth full.

He pecks your lips and slides back underneath the covers. “Then so am I, but I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” you say and take a bite of the pickles with the strawberries, a smile on your face.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff

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joonberriess · 2 years ago

Text

⊹₊ ⋆ “that dick make my soul smile,”

TAGS — creampie, fingering, slight degradation, dirty talk (LOTS), jk’s a sleazy mess at first, oc is done, mamas is stressed out, rough sex, jk rocks her shit 💀, some praise here n there, jk’s affectionate tonight, sex tapes r mentioned again, shower sex(?) not rlly, possessive!jk, breeding kink, never ending saga of jk saying “mama” or “ma”

WORD COUNT — 2.6 k

“Trash, trash, trash,” you mumble to yourself while you sort out the mail in your hands, “oh definitely trash.” You sigh and shake your head. You’re knocked out of your thoughts when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your middle and pull you back, “What the hell–” You hiss in surprise.

“Hey mama.” Jungkook’s stupid voice comes from behind, you already know he’s sporting a stupid grin on his fucking face. You shove his arms off and turn around to look at him with an annoyed glare, “Oh c’mon don’t be like that, aren’t you happy to see me? You weren’t mad at me like this yesterday when you had my head between your–” You quickly reach up to cover his mouth and look around the empty hall.

“Are you insane? There’s people around, Jesus, you don’t have any shame do you?” You side eye him, “First off,” you shake your head, “what are you doing here? I didn’t text you and Jiho didn’t ask, so why are you here?” You give him a look, “And if you’re looking for Jiho you’d know he’s on a camping trip with his cousins.”

Jungkook raises his hands in surrender, “Can’t a man come see his baby mama anymore? Shit you suck the fun out of trying to surprise you baby,” he shakes his head but you know, Jeon Jungkook isn’t fooling anyone and certainly not you.

“You forgot, didn't you.” You scoff, “Of course you did, what else did I expect? This camping trip is all Jiho talked about last week and yet you still manage to forget that because you’re thinking with your other head.” You roll your eyes and turn to unlock the front door, “Sometimes I wonder what Jiho even fucking sees in you, you’re a deadbeat Jungkook, a deadbeat.”

Jungkook chuckles, “To be fair my other head is the reason you get a good night’s sleep.” He says with a smirk on his lips as he stands there admiring the way your ass looks in that tight pencil skirt you’re wearing. You turn around to shoot him a glare but say nothing else and simply step into your apartment. Jungkook leans against the doorframe with both arms raised, “So, you gonna let me in sweetheart?” He licks his lips, poking his tongue out to push at his lip ring.

You look into his eyes and then down at his lips, “Well?” You shrug your coat and slip your heels off, “You gonna stand there all night or what?” He chuckles quietly and slips into your apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“This is new.” Jungkook comments, “Don’t remember you ever smoking.” He inspects the ashtray with a noncommittal hum.

“It’s not just for me.” You say uncharacteristically calm, “I bought it for you, figured you needed one since you love leaving a mess on my patio.” You don’t miss the way he smiles fondly at you, “Don’t get too excited dipshit, I smoke too, don't forget that.” You scoff and disappear down the hall.

Jungkook whistles under his breath and follows after you, “I didn’t say anything ma,” he kicks your bedroom door closed and settles himself over your bed, “what’s up with you? You’re not being your usual angry self.” He watches you go around your room putting things away and picking out your clothes.

“I’m tired Jungkook, I had two meetings back to back and all I wanna do is come home to shower and sleep. Can’t do that because you decided to come bother me at this fuckin’ hour.” You mumble and then throw a pair of panties at him full speed, “Don’t think I didn’t see the shit you posted either, you’re not funny.”

Jungkook throws his head back with a laugh, “Really? Cause I thought it was hilarious, I think it perfectly describes us.” He cheekily grins at you with that dumb lovestruck look of his.

You stop to give him an exasperated look, “Jungkook,” sigh, “telling people you’re always fucking your baby mama regardless is not funny, neither is saying ‘I fuck her when she mad at me.’ You’re a child.” You shake your head. You throw more clothes onto the bed and grab your robe and towel, “Don’t make a mess in my house Jungkook, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Jungkook watches you with a pleased smile, “I won’t.” He reaches for your tv remote, “I’ll be rightttt here, sitting like a good boy for you ma.” He winks, “You just go ‘head and shower.” You eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds, he kept smiling goofily so you ended up walking away with no words.

You know he was up to something with the way he kept smiling so stupid. You grumble under your breath and hope he just doesn’t cause you to have a fucking aneurysm or something. You swear this man was going to send you to an early grave at this point.

Everything sounded pretty quiet out there, you heard Jungkook get up at some point but you figured he was going to smoke or get something. He even left the TV on, which you were grateful for because you didn’t do too well with silence. “What are you doing..” You mutter with closed eyes, just enjoying the hot water running down your exhausted body.

You were in the middle of reaching for your loofah when you heard the glass door open and Jungkook step in after you. “Pass me that bottle over there.” You softly hum.

Jungkook whistles softly and tugs you back into him, “Relax baby, let me do all the work.” He says in your ear, “I got you..” He gently pries the loofah out of your hands, “Worked so hard this entire week, baby deserves to rest.” He squirts some of your body wash onto the loofah. You don’t correct him because that’s true, hell you deserved this princess treatment for putting up with his ass too.

He gently ran his hand over your body, lathering your body up in the soap suds leaving you smelling like strawberries. He doesn’t try any funny business surprisingly, when he finishes he puts his hands on your shoulders and begins massaging gently. A quiet moan escapes your lips as relief rushes through you, “Damn you’re stiff as shit here.” Jungkook comments.

You lean your head back on his chest with a closed eye smile, “You’re finally being useful for once.” You chuckle.

“What are you talking about? I fuck you plenty baby, far as I know this dick makes you fall asleep faster than the fucking melatonin you take.” He laughs, making you laugh a little too. Jungkook lets your shoulders go and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you backwards so your back is to his front. “Got you something special.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

“Did you now?” you huff in amusement and gently stroke his arm, “What did you get hm?”

“Nothing much, figured you needed a night in so I ordered some fried chicken and soju.” He lays gentle kisses over your shoulder and buries his face in your neck, “I set up a movie to watch too.”

You turn your head to face him, looking into his eyes before smiling softly and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “Thank you. Guess you’re not a dipshit afterall.” He laughs at your words and you ignore him, opting to press your lips against his once more. Jungkook welcomes you, his fingers dance across your tummy and inch downwards causing your breath to hitch in excitement.

Jungkook’s lips wetly smack against yours, muffled grunt leaving him as he holds you tighter against him. The kiss initially started off slow and more controlled, now it’s wet and messy with sloppy noises filling the space between you two. You pant into his mouth and your eyes flutter open to look at him pleadingly.

Jungkook grins softly as he pushes you towards the glass, “There you go baby, let loose for me, I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” He has you pressed right up against the glass, tits smushed and hands on either side of you. You bite your lip and push your ass back against his thick cock, it’s hot and throbbing against your cheek making you all the more eager to get it inside of you.

“Look at you, pussy’s drooling all over my cock,” he bites his lip and swipes his cockhead through your dewy slick folds, “hear that? ‘s your pussy callin’ out to me baby.” He pushes in slightly, letting the tip pop in with a lewd squelch.

Your lips part in a breathy moan and you push back for more but he stops you with a gentle hand on your hip. “Not here baby, relax for me.” He says as he lets his cock slip out, “Gonna fuck your pussy with my fingers first, get you nice and stretched out before I fuck you with my cock.” He cups your pussy in his hand and lets his fingers slip through the mess dripping from your folds.

Jungkook takes his time opening you up, slipping his middle and then his ring finger into you until they’re knuckle deep. Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, this is exactly what you needed after those long hours in the office this entire week. Jungkook does not disappoint when he begins pumping them in and out slowly, making sure he hits every nook and cranny inside of you.

“There we go,” Jungkook whispers and begins kissing down your neck, “doing so good for me mama,” he sucks a hickey into your skin, “let go for me.” He nibbles on your earlobe and uses his other hand to wrap around your throat, not choking–simply holding it.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean your head back on his shoulder, “Oh fuck yes,” you sigh in bliss, “right there.” You circle your hips, gasping when his fingers brush against your g-spot.

Jungkook pulls you back in and kisses up your neck slowly, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty baby, look at you, dripping all over my fingers like a little cock hungry slut. Bet you missed this dick baby, need me to come fuck it in your needy little pussy, have you all spread on the bed for me begging for more,” he whispers as he kisses the side of your face, “you gonna be a good girl and take it?” He jabs his fingers into your g-spot causing a burst of pleasure to hit you.

“Yeah,” you pant softly, “want it deep inside,” you bite your lip and spread your thighs a bit wider, “need it so bad.” You whimper quietly and push back on his fingers.

Jungkook chuckles breathily, “Yeah..” He moves his fingers faster, jostling you as your back arches, “Make it messy for me sweetheart, go ‘head and cum,” he has you locked in place, keeping you from moving anywhere. His fingers piston in and out of you rapidly, loud squelching noises resonating as bits of slick drip down your inner thighs.

“Oh fuck..!” You gasp and clench down, “C-Coming..” You hump his fingers desperately, “K-Keep going, right there, right there,” you whimper out and feel your orgasm come crashing down on you, hitting harder as all the stress lifts itself from your body.

Jungkook slows down until you’re whining in overstimulation, “Clean ‘em.” He slips his wet messy fingers into your mouth, “Fuck.” He groans, “C’mere baby.” He turns you around and lifts you up in his arms, “Need you on my cock.”

“Wait, the water!” You reach behind blindly to turn the knob, groaning when he begins sucking on your soft tits.

“Fuck..!” You throw your head back on the pillow with gritted teeth. He’s fucking you so fast and hard you’re honestly no sure what to focus on anymore..him? The skin slapping? The bed creaking? He’s not making it so easy either with the way he’s groaning and panting right by your ear.

Jungkook has you folded under him, his hands grip the back of your thighs and hold them up while he plows your swollen dripping pussy with his fat cock. The room feels stuffy, sheets are strewn about messily and you’re both laid bare in the open without a single care. Jungkook isn’t faring much better, his moans are choked up and every so often you feel him throb inside you.

“You like that baby?” He pants breathlessly against your lips, “Got you clenching so tight around my cock, practically drooling all over me.” He rolls his hips against yours smoothly, pelvis pressing down and rubbing along your clit stimulating it. His balls press against your taint with soft palping noises every time he grinds into you.

You shakily claw at his shoulders and moan needily, the angle certainly has your legs feeling like jelly and your poor cunt throbbing from the pounding he’s giving you. “Love it,” you turn your face to slot your lips against his messily, “fills me up so good baby.” You cup his face in your hands and hold him in place while he works his cock in and out of you.

Jungkook lets out a muffled moan as he starts picking up the pace, hips smacking into yours over and over again with deafening slaps. He lets your thighs go in favor of planting them on either side of you on the bed, “Hear that sloppy little pussy? Got it creaming all over my cock and makin’ a mess. Who’s fuckin’ you baby? C’mon tell me.”

“You are.” You whimper out, “Shit–right there,” you mewl.

“That’s right sweetheart, no one else can give it to you the way I can. You can fucking try but at the end of the day this pussy is mine to fuck,” slap, “mine to use,” slap, “mine to breed.” He growls in your ear lowly, “Gonna ruin you for anyone else, so next the time you plan on letting someone else have it you’ll be remembering the way I fucked you so good.” He hisses softly and sits up, landing a set of punishing thrusts on you, making your body bounce a bit off the mattress.

Your head rolls back and you let out a series of staccato moans, crying out for more and scrambling to grip the bed sheets, the pillows, the blankets–anything. He’s fucking you within an inch of your life and you feel like you’re about to pass out from the sweet pleasure mixed with a tiny hint of pain from the way his hips smack into your ass. “Jungkook..!” You sob out.

Jungkook grits his teeth and reaches down to pinch your clit cruelly, relishing in the way your back arches off the bed. “Go on, cum for me little mama.”

With perfectly aimed thrusts and the combination of his fingers on your sensitive bud, you cum for a second time on his cock. He leaves you trembling on the bed, whimpering and whining. Jungkook follows up shortly with a low moan and your name escaping his lips, “Fucking hell.” He whispers breathlessly.

You let your jelly-like legs fall on the bed, “I’m not getting up.” You mutter, “Put the chicken away, ‘m going to sleep..” You turn on your side and curl up, shivering when his cock slips out of your battered pussy.

Jungkook hums, “The things I do for you baby,” he sighs softly as he strokes your thigh up and down, “lucky I love and appreciate you mama so much.” He rolls out of bed and slips his loose sweats on.

“You love me.” You sleepily mumble, “ ‘n you love my pussy.. I love your dick too.” You smile in your sleep, a bit delirious from the fucking and the strong orgasm he had given you.

Jungkook eyes you with a grin, “Damn right I do.”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

Text

Danny & Constantine, Orange, Butterscotch Ripple

@imbreonix Prompt fill set #4

It started out as a joke that turned into an actual event: Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It sounded absurd, of course it did. The Justice League was hardly work and certainly not a social club, but once it had been said people started to actually think about it. More and more of the heroes were taking on mentorship rolls for the next generation. While the heroes, of course, tried their best to provide what their mentees needed, they were still grown, experienced heroes and their sidekicks were kids.

Kids who lived a life that most could never understand.

Eventually it have been talked about enough in passing and over rushed meals and before meetings that it ended up on the agenda.

“Robin believes it would be beneficial for the younger heroes to know others in the same positions as themselves,” Batman had explained, as if that answered anything. The Big Bat wouldn’t even clarify who Robin was.

But there they were, Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It actually was a pretty nice event with snacks, drinks, and several enthusiastic sidekicks. It turned out Robin was Batman’s sidekick.

“Partner,” Robin insisted boldly, whenever the term sidekick was used within his hear range (which was disturbingly good).

The kid was the very opposite of Batman: bright, personable, and always in motion. Flash was more than a little concerned how quickly Robin and Kid Flash seemed hit it off. “They’re plotting something.”

“Hn,” was Batman’s reply, though he was watching the two whispering sidekicks too.

All in all it was a cheerful success.

It made John’s skin crawl. He jiggled the unlit cigarette in his fingers. He didn’t do social events, not outside of bars, and he really, really didn’t want to be here.

“We can just go back to the House,” a small, nervous voice suggested hopefully from behind John.

That was the thing, though, he wasn’t here for his own sake.

“No, we can’t,” John said with a sigh.

“We really can, though. We haven’t even talked to anyone. I bet they haven’t even noticed we’re here—”

“John! I did not think you would be attending,” Wonder Woman said as she approached, a smile in place. A good chunk of the founding members trailed after her.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a little shrug. He didn’t admonish the kid for cussing, he didn’t have a leg to stand on there, but by Superman’s puzzled face the Big Blue had clearly heard it. “Figured I had better bring the kid.”

“The kid?” Hal repeated incredulously.

John reminded himself he really shouldn’t punch his teammates.

“Yeah, the kid,” John said. He stepped aside to reveal Danny who had been hiding behind him. “Geist, Justice League, Justice League, Poltergeist.”

“Um, who, Constantine?” Flash asked, sounding nervous.

John looked to his right, which for all appearances, was an empty spot of air. “Seriously, kid?”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered.

“It’s okay, kid,” John said, holding back a sigh. The kid was sensitive to that sort of thing, so John had been trying. (He still messed up plenty, but he was trying.) John looked back the Justice Leaguers and shrugged. “Ghost. Visibility is like that sometimes.”

“Ah,” Diana said with a sage nod. John admired the woman for how nothing seemed to phase her. She simply looked to where John had been looking and smiled. “Hello, Poltergeist. Welcome to Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day.”

“Partner!” a kid dressed like a damn traffic light called from across the room where he was talking to who was clearly a mini Flash.

“Oh,” Danny said. (It was clearly weirding out some of the heroes to hear Danny but not see him.) “I’m not… John doesn’t let me help that much? I don’t know if I count as a sidekick.”

“That’s because last time you tagged along you went intangible and fell through a bridge, kid,” John grumbled and then immediately felt bad. “You know we’re working on it.”

“Yeah,” Danny mumbled.

John couldn’t see Danny, not any more than the others, but he could picture the way the kid would be scuffing his toe on the floor, head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

John sighed. “Ain’t your fault kid, powers take time to master.”

“Robin,” Batman called.

Immediately the tiny traffic light was literately bounding across the space to stand next to Batman. The kid smiled up at the Big Bat like the man had hung the moon.

“Yes, B?”

“This,” Batman said, nodding to the empty space, “is Poltergeist. He came with Constantine.”

“Oh,” Robin said. He spun to face the spot of air and held out his hand without hesitation. “Come, Kid Flash and I are— um,” Robin shot Batman a look, “talking. You can join us! I bet you will be really useful!”

Flash mouthed the word ‘useful’ with a terrified look on his face, but no one actually said anything while Robin just stood there, smiling, with his hand out. And then Robin’s grin impossibly widened, his hand closed around nothing, and he took off across the room.

“…anyone else worried about that?” John asked after a moment.

“So worried,” Flash said.

“Hn,” Batman added.

“Right then. I need a glass of shitty punch to spike,” John said and abandoned his teammates to find the refreshments. Thank the gods, the fuckers, for hip flasks.

“I live with a ghost now, Bats, you’ve got to up your skills if you want to sneak up on me anymore,” John said before taking another sip of his much improved punch.

Batman stepped up into the corner of John’s vision, which felt like such a Bat thing to do, so John felt the placement was very purposeful. John wouldn’t complain, it let him watch Batman without taking his his eyes off where Danny was sitting with Robin, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Danny was pretty see through, but he was slowly becoming more visible the longer he spent in the company of the other teen heroes.

“How long have you had him?” Batman asked.

John snorted. “That’s what you go with? Not how it works to fuck a ghost?”

Hal and Aquaman weren’t as quiet as they thought they were, but maybe that was on purpose. Maybe they had wanted John to hear. He just hoped the kids hadn’t. He might not have a clean mouth, but even he had limits.

“He doesn’t have to be your blood to be your son,” Batman said in that certain way of his.

It had John finally glancing over at Batman. It was a lot to admit and John hated to be on uneven grounds. “How long have you had yours?”

No one would ever believe him, but John could swear that Batman almost smiled.

“Nearly five years.”

John hummed and took another sip of the punch. “Only six months, not even. And he’s not my son. Kid deserves better than me as a da.”

“They always deserve better,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble that John swore he could feel in his battered bones. “We just have to try to be better.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a bitter chuckle. “I’m not you, Bats, I don’t think I have better in me.”

“Yes you do, you’re here, after all,” Batman pointed out.

John swallowed and looked back the kid, his kid. Danny was almost solid now. His white hair floated as he threw back his head in laughter at something Robin had said.

“Yeah… yeah I am.”

---

AN: So. So. This has gotten away from me. I blame Moku. So much blame. I can't promise I'll continue it but there is... there is a good bit of plotting TO continue it. It would be after I get done with City Pigeons Bleed Green though, as that's my current family feels fic.

If it gets continued we have a John/Bruce tired dads with issues slow burn fuck buddies to lovers, Danny and Dick being friends (and family), canon divergence, Tim joins the Bat family early, Bats with magic (and the world should fear them), and Alfred's judgemental eyebrow.

#dp x dc #dadentine #John Constantine & Danny Fenton #Geist #prompalomp #tired dads AU

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yolli-es · 3 months ago

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I love jinx she’s my everything and my comfort character so I’m really insecure not even in normal insecurity like I’m on an deep level and I have a really bad eating disorder was wondering how would yandere! Jinx handle that I’m insecure about everything about me and i hide all my body I can’t eat or look in mirrors if I did I’ll break them (you don’t have to do this request I think it’s absolutely ridiculous also I’m okay I’m in therapy now)

Is it my fault? 🧊

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, mention of blood, theme of uncertainty.

Well, I was gone for quite a while, lol, but I was able to fight off the teachers and come back 💪🏻 I hope you are glad to see me again, and I also have to say that I wrote about this from my point of view, and I am sorry if I did not understand your state of mind. This topic is not so close to me, and I really tried 🙏🏻

Jinx knew from the start that something was wrong. You were always too shy, closed off, and scared. You never exposed your body. The world saw nothing but your palms and head. Is this your style? No, you always look embarrassed when your clothes suddenly ride up and just a little bit more is visible. She thought that society, all those people around you, were to blame for everything. They must have just rammed their shit into you and are enjoying themselves. Jinx won't let them trample you that easily! But nothing changes even when you become a couple and Jinx becomes your rock and protection from any unwanted contact. No, she cut you off from the world. Seeing your insecurities seemed right to her. Jinx just makes your life easier, doesn't she? You didn't change.

It seemed to only get worse.

Mirrors. It took Jinx a moment to realize you were doing this. Everything in Zaun was broken, even the people. And yet there was something strange about the mirrors in your house. She resisted for a long time and attributed everything to her new quirks. Then she counted the number of cracks on all the mirrors you could reach. And she knew. Her stomach twisted, her pupils dilated, and she wanted to pass out. No, she was going to do it right now. You were breaking mirrors. Everywhere you could reach. How could she not notice? There's blood in the cracks that can't be washed away. Damn, did you do that with your bare hand? No, no, no.

"It's my fault."

It took all her strength not to lose the last fragments of her sanity. She honestly didn't understand why. You weren't threatened, you didn't talk to anyone, and you were always under Jinx's supervision. Unless....no. She would never have affected you like that. Jinx held back then and didn't tell you anything. No matter how much Mylo screamed, Claggor was right. This would scare you; she had to act rationally now. She needs to give you time and herself time too. Jinx needs to know the real reason for your behavior. Now she will be even more attentive.

Jinx had no idea then that the broken mirrors were just the tip of a deeper problem.

You rarely dine together, usually having to eat on the run or while working. But today is a special day—your anniversary. You've been together for a year.

Jinx bites her lip, Her nails make an audible sound as they scratch the tray with the rich cake on it. She baked it herself. But right now she's not thinking about the cake or even the anniversary. Jinx can't sleep, can't work, and even explosions don't bring pleasure. What else are you hiding? She's been watching you for weeks now after she found out about your horrible habit, but Jinx still hasn't found out anything new. But there's something else going on with you, something she doesn't know about. She feels it. Mylo chuckled. Jinx hissed. She smiled tensely before starting the conversation.

"We've been together for a long time, haven't we?" She forced herself to smile, but it came out ragged and menacing. "I mean, we're like family now. Do you consider me your family?"

Jinx, trying not to make it too obvious, leaned forward. It looked menacing. You certainly noticed it. She's just trying to keep herself together, not to give away the pressure that's built up inside her.

"Hmm, yes, Jinx, I've told you that many times! You mean a lot to me." You smiled, sincerely as always.

But Jinx doesn't believe you now. No, she just can't. Anxiety, fear, and misunderstanding are eating her up from the inside.

"Good," Jinx sat down on the chair, creaking it closer to the table. "Then let's eat."

But Jinx doesn't even try to start eating, just looking at you. A new thought flashed through her mind. Strangely, despite her obsession with your existence, she's never watched you eat.

"Are you okay? You're looking at me like that," you swallowed nervously. The atmosphere was definitely not friendly.

"Oh, sorry," she didn't even try to put on a happy face this time, "start without me."

You hesitated, looking down at the plate. Jinx carefully cut a small piece of cake and placed it right in front of you. It was fluffy, with lots of cream, and covered in food coloring. It looked beautiful and delicious. You picked up a fork and began to break it into pieces.

"So.. how's your work?" You looked up, suddenly more confident and clearly in high spirits. This confused Jinx. She responded without really thinking. Her gaze was glued to you and your hands. You didn't like it and began to distract her in various ways. This had been going on for ten minutes now, and you still hadn't put a bite in your mouth.

Jinx's eyes, which had been looking at you emotionlessly until now, suddenly narrowed in concern. And you realized. Your seat suddenly became uncomfortable, and the room was hot.

"You don't like it?" Jinx asked quietly, cautiously, almost scared. Shyness, hiding your body behind baggy clothes, breaking mirrors, and not wanting to eat your once favorite cake. Was it ever your favorite? It seemed like the puzzle was coming together in her head.

"What? Oh, no! I'm just not hungry." You were caught off guard. Is this the end? Has she figured it out, and is she going to leave you? Will she be angry or cry? You couldn't stop thinking, going over all the possible reactions Jinx might have. Unfortunately, your girlfriend wasn't stupid. She noticed it was evident on her face. The trick that worked on everyone else had no effect on her.

You can't eat. Every time you eat something like this, your conscience gnaws at you. You want to spit out everything you ate.

"I'm so sorry," was the first thing Jinx said. "I'm sorry; I should have noticed. Are you... is this because of me?" Jinx spoke softly, but there was no hint of tears on her face. There was no emotion at all. You were hurt by what was happening. Any reaction she might give would hurt you.

Jinx is about to explode with emotion. She's trying so hard to be "normal" right now so you can rely on her to open up. It's heartbreaking, but it's having the desired effect, and you're plucking up your courage.

You took a breath. This is going to be hard.

Of course Jinx thought she was just taking shitty care of you, cruelly ignoring your problems and leaving you to suffer alone.

But that's not true. You never shifted responsibility to others, realizing that you were simply insecure in yourself. You certainly met shitty people—more than you wanted. But who in Zaun pays attention to them? You just suffered from constant comparisons to others and couldn't do anything about it. You honestly fought with yourself, your shyness, and other shit that was dragging you down. Jinx only helped you along the way, without realizing it. Every time she proudly held your hand walking along the busy streets, every time she unashamedly said, "Yes, this is my future wife," and every time she ignored the advances of a conventionally beautiful girl.

Your silence and her speculations brought you here.

And yet you came to understand Jinx. How could it be otherwise? She will never let you go.

But you will never want to leave.

"Oh, I'm always here," Jinx hugged you, and you did the same in return. It was a pleasant ending after several hours of relentless altercations. You were silent, whispering, screaming, crying, and didn't understand each other. But now everything became clear.

Jinx, on her yandere side, is not ready to leave everything just like that. Now in your house there is only one whole mirror, specially stolen from Piltover. You often eat together, and Jinx tries to make each meal as relaxed for you as possible so that you simply forget about the food itself. She will definitely not let you go, love you less, judge you, or make the situation better by force. Not with this problem. She will do everything you ask to make you feel better.

Jinx loves you.

In her strange way.

That's all! I hope you haven't forgotten about me 😅 This work is quite short, but I hope I was able to convey the main points and mood.

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane jinx #arcane jinx x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #yandere jinx

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smystermy · 26 days ago

Text

𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐬

tags: geto suguru x you; gojo satoru x you; set before the star plasma vessel incident; senpai x kouhai; first meetings; “koi no yokan” (literally, 'premonition of love'); you've been childhood friends with gojo and utahime.

warnings: Love Triangle. she/her pronouns have been used for the reader.

word count: 1922.

oneshot, loosely related to 'peel your heart like a pomegranate'.

The first time Geto Suguru meets you in person, it’s on a quiet, cloudy afternoon at the edge of a cursed village.

He’s seen you before, yes, though only in passing—fleeting moments that didn’t really give him the chance to form an impression. There was that one time you trailed behind Gojo with a lazy smile, hands tucked casually in your pockets, letting him do all the talking. Another, when he saw you quickly swept away by Utahime, who muttered something about not having time for your “backtalk today.”

Those moments had been brief, however, no more than glimpses of who you were. This, though—this is different. This is the first time he’s going to meet you properly.

Although, Gojo has made it impossible for you to be anything but familiar already.

“She’s insane, Suguru,” Gojo had said once, sprawled on the steps of the school’s courtyard, his arms flung dramatically over his head. “I mean, precision doesn’t even begin to describe her. She’s like... like someone who’s been fighting curses for decades, not someone who’s just fifteen. No hesitation, no wasted movement—it’s kind of beautiful to watch.”

Geto had snorted, tilting his head at the exaggerated praise. “Beautiful? You sound smitten.”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” Gojo sat up quickly, a rare flush creeping up the back of his neck. “I just mean... well, okay, yeah, she’s beautiful too. But not in that obvious, in-your-face way. It’s more like... you notice her once, and then you can’t stop noticing her. Every time you look, it’s like she’s just... prettier somehow. And it’s not fair, because she doesn’t even have to try.” He waved a hand helplessly, as if the words were stuck on the tip of his tongue. “It’s like... everything about her just fits. Like it was always supposed to be that way.”

Geto had raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “So now you’re a poet?”

“Shut up, Suguru. I’m just saying, she’s... something else, okay?” Gojo’s voice had turned soft near the end, the kind of softness he rarely let anyone hear.

It was then that Geto knew: Gojo was a goner, even if he didn’t realize it himself.

Utahime, for her part, had offered her own take, though hers was more grounded.

“She’s blunt as hell,” she’d said one evening while grading papers, her tone filled with fond exasperation. “The kind of girl who’ll tell you exactly what she thinks, whether you’re ready to hear it or not. It’s refreshing at first, but after the third or fourth time, you start to wonder if she’s ever heard of tact.” She paused, tapping her pen against the table. “Still, she’s got this weird way of making up for it. Like, she’ll say something sharp and then do something thoughtful, like making tea or apologizing in the most awkward way possible.”

Geto had smiled at that. “Sounds like she keeps you on your toes.”

“She does,” Utahime had admitted with a small laugh. “But honestly? It’s hard not to like her. She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s got heart. She reminds me of an annoying little sister—the kind you complain about but would still fight for without question.”

Between Gojo’s glowing admiration and Utahime’s begrudging fondness, Geto had formed a picture of you in his mind. A sharp, confident girl with no patience for pretense, someone who could command a room without even realizing it. But standing here now, watching you from a distance, he realizes that picture doesn’t quite capture you.

You’re leaning against a crumbling torii gate, arms loosely crossed as Haibara recounts a story, gesturing animatedly. Nanami stands nearby, his expression unreadable as usual, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture that suggests he’s listening.

“You’re calling me too critical now?” you say, your tone sharp but edged with playful defiance. “I’m just saying, you wouldn’t have ended up on your face if you’d dodged faster. It’s not that hard.”

Haibara groans, but his grin stays firmly in place. “Easy for you to say! You didn’t have a cursed spirit throwing rocks at you!”

“Because I was busy dealing with the other three,” you retort, shrugging one shoulder. “What, you want me to do everything for you?”

Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least warned him about the second curse.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” you reply matter-of-factly. Then, with a crooked smile that softens the bluntness of your words, you add, “Besides, he survived. Didn’t you, Haibara?”

Haibara laughs, and even Nanami exhales a quiet breath that might almost be a chuckle.

Geto lingers for a moment, observing.

You look younger than he had imagined, yet there’s an unpolished ease to the way you carry yourself—a confidence that feels entirely genuine. You’re sharp, just as Gojo and Utahime had described, but there’s an undeniable warmth that follows you, slipping through in the curve of your smile or the quick wit of your jokes.

Finally, he steps forward, making his presence known. “Looks like everyone’s warmed up,” he says, his voice cutting cleanly through the conversation.

All three of you turn to look at him, but it’s your reaction that draws his attention.

Your eyes meet his, and for a brief moment, your expression freezes—a fleeting pause, like something inside you has stirred, but you can’t quite pinpoint what. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but Geto notices: the slight softening of your sharp gaze, the way your stance shifts, almost imperceptibly, as though you’re recalibrating yourself.

“Geto Suguru,” he says, his voice calm but commanding as he offers a polite smile. “I’ll be leading this mission.”

“Oh,” you reply, almost under your breath, a touch of surprise in your voice. It’s as if you weren’t expecting him to look the way he does or sound as he does. For just a second, you seem caught off guard—like something about him doesn’t align with your expectations.

But then, just as quickly, you regain your usual composure. “Right. Good to meet you, Geto-senpai.”

Your voice is steadier now, but something in it has changed—softer, maybe, though not in an overly obvious way. It’s the kind of change that lingers just beneath the surface.

Geto notices the way your eyes brush over him, subtly studying the way his sleeves shift as he folds his arms, the ease in his stance as he surveys the group. You don’t seem aware of it, but there’s an undeniable attention in the way your gaze lingers—faint, persistent, like a shadow that follows his every move.

The mission begins shortly after, and if Geto had any doubts about your abilities, they’re quickly put to rest.

From the moment the first cursed spirit appears, you’re in motion—sharp, precise, as if the battlefield is an extension of you. Every strike lands with pinpoint accuracy, every technique executed with the kind of fluidity that comes only from years of practice. There’s no hesitation, no wasted effort. Gojo’s words echo in his mind: "She’s incredible. You should see her fight."

And Geto finds himself in full agreement. You move like it’s second nature, almost instinctual, and he watches in quiet admiration. Gojo wasn’t lying about that, not for a second.

But what surprises him more, what makes him lean in even closer to the scene, is the way you carry yourself during the battle. You’re fierce, no doubt—but you’re not reckless. No impulsive moves, no brashness. It’s as if you’re constantly measuring your energy, reserving your focus for the most critical moments. Your blunt personality is evident in your style: no unnecessary flourishes, no grand gestures. Every motion is deliberate, calculated—a perfect blend of raw skill and careful control. It’s not flashy—it’s effective. And Geto can’t help but respect that.

What catches his attention, though, is the subtle, almost imperceptible way you keep glancing at him in between moments of combat.

It’s not often, but it’s there—when you’re taking a breath, when you’re regrouping after a fight. Your eyes flick in his direction, lingering for a fraction of a second too long. At first, Geto wonders if it’s just a coincidence, but as the mission wears on, he realizes it’s deliberate.

It’s not the wary, calculating gaze of someone sizing up a threat. Nor is it the casual curiosity of a teammate just checking in. No, it’s something else—something deeper. Your gaze holds a kind of quiet intensity, as if you’re trying to understand something about him, something you can’t quite put into words yet. Geto can’t place it, but there’s a pull in it, an awareness of him that feels... different. And it catches him off guard each time.

The mission concludes soon after, and with it, the weight of the battle begins to lift from the air, even though its remnants still linger.

Nanami is discussing the finer details of the exorcism with precision, analyzing what went well and what could have been sharper, his tone professional. Haibara, on the other hand, is cracking jokes—his laughter a welcome contrast to the grim task they just finished. His voice is easy, his energy infectious, and for a moment, the tension of the mission seems a distant memory.

You, however, stand a little off to the side, slightly closer to Geto than to the others. It doesn’t seem to be a deliberate distance, though; more like a quiet choice on your part, as if giving the moment time to settle inside you. You don’t seem upset, just... reflective.

Your usual sharpness is tempered, and Geto notices the subtle tension in the way you adjust your gloves, the way your fingers fiddle with the fabric—something that feels unlike you. Normally so direct, you seem quieter now, your focus turned inward, as if trying to channel the lingering energy of the fight into something more.

He wonders, though, if your mind is still locked in battle mode, processing what just happened, or if something else is at play—something that hasn’t quite settled for you. He watches for a beat longer, noticing the way your eyes flick to him before quickly darting away—

“You did well today,” Geto says, his voice low but purposeful, drawing your attention. He glances down at you, a rare softness in his tone, which he quickly masks with his usual calm demeanor.

You look up at him, blinking as though his words caught you by surprise, as if you hadn’t been expecting him to speak directly to you, or maybe... something else.

For a brief moment, there’s a flicker in your eyes—a shift that only lasts a second—but it’s enough for Geto to notice. Then, just as quickly, you shake it off, nodding in response with a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Senpai. You too.”

He chuckles softly, amused by the sincerity in your voice, your straightforwardness that never seems to waver, even when it’s softened by something else. It’s not a display of emotion—just simple acknowledgment, honest and to the point. There’s no pretense, no artifice, and it’s one of the things Geto appreciates about you. It feels real, grounded in something genuine.

As the team prepares to head back, though, something about you continues to linger in Geto’s mind. It’s a feeling he can’t quite name, something that tugs at the edge of his thoughts. Quiet, subtle, like a whisper he can’t quite catch, but it’s there…

As you walk ahead with Haibara and Nanami, laughing at something one of them said, Geto finds himself watching you more intently than he expects—all the while wondering why.

general masterlist || geto suguru masterlist || gojo satoru masterlist

#dividers by @saradika-graphics #geto x you #geto x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk x reader #[my posts: gojo satoru]#[my posts: geto suguru]

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anakinstwinklebunny · 2 months ago

Note

Hey I love your works and I was wondering if you could write a fluffy head cannon about dad Sam monroe with it being Sam's first Christmas as a dad for bunnycember. If this is possible then thank you and if not then I don't really mind. Thank you.

Author's note: anything for you nonnie

SAM MONROE who made a rocking horse for his little boy;

“Sammie,” you murmured, drawing your knees up to your chest as you inched closer to your boyfriend, watching him wrestle with the instruction manual. “We can just buy one, you know. You don’t have to do this yourself.”

Sam glanced at you, irritation flashing in his blue eyes as he flipped the booklet around like it would suddenly make sense. “No way. I’m not gonna be that kind of dad. This thing says it’s easy to put together, and I’ll be damned if I can’t handle it. Although…” He squinted at the pages again, his jaw tightening. “I’m convinced the idiot who wrote this wasn’t speaking human.”

You bit back a smile, watching as his frustration turned into sheer stubborn determination. “But,” you started hesitantly, trying to find the right words, “are you sure he even wanted this? I mean, he’s barely speaking yet…”

Sam turned to you, dropping the manual to the floor with a dramatic sigh. “Y/n,” he said, dead serious, though his lips twitched into a small, cocky smirk. “I saw it in his eyes, okay? He practically begged me for this damn rocking horse.” His voice softened, pride lacing every word as he added, “And what my little man wants, he gets. End of story.”

SAM MONROE who insists he’s 'not into Christmas', but the way he gently wraps the lights around the tree while explaining to his son why the star goes on top says otherwise.

SAM MONROE who you find in the nursery. He’s got the baby cradled in one arm, a book of Christmas stories in the other. His voice is low and soft as he reads “The Night Before Christmas,” pausing every so often to kiss your baby’s head and whisper, “I’m going to make every Christmas better for you, little guy.” but lets be honest, I think Sam would pass some parts from the book(s) cause for him it'd be too cringy and he'd just add something that isn't in the book but he came up with

SAM MONROE who gets stressed about finding the perfect gift for your son, even though he’s too young to remember it. He drags you to a dozen toy stores, debating the merits of a stuffed animal versus a set of wooden blocks. “It has to be something meaningful,” he mutters. In the end, he settles on a plush bunny

SAM MONROE who complained that it’s “embarrassing,” after you picked out an adorable reindeer onesie for your son yet you catch sam taking about a million photos of the baby wearing it. He even changes his phone wallpaper to one of those pictures, though he’ll deny it if you call him out.

SAM MONROE who woke up earlier than you’ve ever seen him, eager to see your son’s reaction to the gifts under the tree. The baby is more interested in the wrapping paper than the toys, but Sam doesn’t care. He sits on the floor in his flannel pajamas, helping your son tear the paper while grinning like a kid himself.

SAM MONROE who surprisingly insists on starting a new family tradition—baking cookies together on Christmas Day. You both end up covered in flour while the baby bangs a spoon against the counter. The cookies are misshapen and slightly burnt, but Sam calls them “perfect” and he sneaks one into his son’s tiny hand, ignoring your protests of the late hour

SAM MONROE who has his little son on his lap during decorating of cookies - he'll so gently hold the boy's puffy hand, aiming it so the frosting wouldn't go somewhere else than on the cookie. He ends up putting some icing in the his and the boy's mouth to 'make sure it tastes good'

SAM MONROE who helps his little son build his first snowman - and even takes hundred of pics from different angles but if you'd (or anyone) catch him, he didn't do them. He'd also lift his boy so he could stick a carrot to the snowman's head

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in

#bunny's replies ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა #BUNNYCEMBER <33 #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #life as a house #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe x you #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #christensen hayden #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x female reader #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen fanfiction #sam monroe fluff

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seabirdtxt · 2 years ago

Text

Glitch in Irminsul

The creator descends to Teyvat, but the information they know VS the information that Irminsul retains causes the tree of knowledge to glitch out and ‘branches’ the current known state of Teyvat, and the information that was erased blooms into existence once more [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU, Reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. there ARE shenanigans of a different kind though. No romantic relationships in this one despite aforementioned shenanigans

WC. 3.8k

----- ⚘ -----

“You’re just mad because I’m the Creator’s babygirl, and you’re not.”

You’ve never heard such an absurd sentence in your life, but the hands on his hips and smug expression on the Wanderer’s face is unmistakable. Across from him, just barely restrained by Lord Rukkhadevata hooking her arms under his shoulders, is an apoplectic Scaramouche.

Nobody is entirely sure what happened to Irminsul, yet, but the Tree of Wisdom continues to cheerfully cast its divine light on the scene below without a single care for the chaos it has caused.

“Now now, let’s all settle down for a moment,” Nahida grasps at Wanderer’s sleeves, trying to pull him back from the increasingly tense situation. You can’t help but think of two dogs pulling at the end of their leashes to bark at each other. “I’m sure there is a perfectly logical reason why this is happening.”

You think it might be because of you, considering this all happened when you made your inopportune arrival in Teyvat and accidentally cut your hand on the stem of a Leyline flower, your blood glittering strangely as it was sucked into the plant.

“There’s no way you’re the Creator’s favourite,” Scaramouche sneers, ignoring Nahida in his effort to escape from Rukkhadevata’s grasp. “You’re just a glorified errand-boy for your betters. I have the power of a Fatui Harbinger at my fingertips! Countless soldiers, ready to live and die by my whims!”

“Ha!” Wanderer brushes off Nahida’s attempts to restrain him. He moves her to the side, far more gently than you expected him to, and strides up to where Lord Rukkhadevata is holding Scaramouche. He pokes the Balladeer’s cheek and smirks when he nearly gets his fingertip bit off. “And what has that gotten you so far? You still haven’t gotten to be a true god. On the other hand, I’m on the Creator’s main exploration team, along with the Traveler and other equally powerful Vision wielders. At least I have proof that I’m favoured.”

The light from Irminsul glints off the polished metal of Wanderer’s anemo Vision, and Scaramouche’s frown deepens.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone and their mothers can get a Vision these days.” He waves his hand dismissively as best as he can. “Need I remind you of the Vision Hunt Decree project that I—oh, sorry, I mean you—spearheaded? Those things come a mora a dozen.”

“I think you’re both wrong, clearly the Creator likes me the best!”

The two incarnations turn toward the new voice so quickly you’re nearly afraid their heads might snap off. Picture this: you, sitting sideways across Kabukimono's lap with your arms around his neck in a hug as he rocks the two of you back and forth. You wonder if Kabukimono is aware of the effect his words have on his other selves, but judging by his ‘cat that caught the canary’ expression he most definitely is.

The look Wanderer gives you is nearly scandalized, and you can only shrug at him with a helpless smile.

“Sorry guys… but look at him! Isn’t he just the sweetest thing?” you bring a hand up and pinch Kabukimono’s cheek, causing him to giggle and kick his legs in surprise, nearly dislodging you from your spot.

“He’s kinda pathetic, really.” Scaramouche deadpans, finally having stopped struggling in Rukkhadevata’s hold, and attempts to cross his arms.

“He’s you. You don’t have to like him, but at least be polite.” the Greater Lord scolds, making him yelp by shaking him like a sack of rocks. She then changes to a more matter-of-fact tone as she shakes her hair out of her face, and adds: “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“I agree, let’s talk this over like grown-ups, and get to the bottom of this mystery so we can send you all back home to your correct timelines!” Nahida claps her hands together, interrupting any argument that might break out at Rukkhadevata’s statement. Her smile is starting to look a little strained at the edges and you can’t help but feel a little bad for the tiny god.

“This might be the only correct timeline,” the Traveler mutters, chin resting in their hand where they sit propped up against one of Irminsul’s invisible walls.

“That’s right!” Paimon nods and shakes her finger at Nahida. “We assumed only the Descenders’ memories would remain intact when someone erases themself from Irminsul, but clearly the Creator’s memories still exist too!”

Lord Rukkhadevata drops Scaramouche at last, letting him land on the ground with an annoyed oof, and turns to you consideringly. The taller god glances between you and Irminsul, worrying her bottom lip as she thinks.

“If that were wholly true, then wouldn’t I have reappeared in my last known state, diminished to the form of a child due to having depleted my power?” she wonders. “And for that matter, why have two versions of the Wanderer appeared, when the previous erased timeline only contained the Balladeer?”

The Traveler hums as they begin to think out loud, and your attention shifts to them when they address you. “When we found you, your Grace, you were recently injured by a Leyline blossom, correct?”

You nod in agreement, not bothering to speak as you settle more comfortably into Kabukimono’s arms, the long sleeves of his kimono wrapping over you like a blanket. Whatever mechanism is inside him causes his entire chest to vibrate against the side of your head, as if he’s purring.

“And you did mention that your blood was absorbed into the flower, which we know is an extension of the Tree of Wisdom…”

“I think I can see where you’re going with this, Traveler,” Nahida interrupts. Using her power, she draws two green puzzle pieces in the air and slowly pushes them together until one of them overlaps with the other. “If the Creator’s memories are intact, then it stands to reason that, should their memories somehow be introduced into Irminsul, then the information with the greater priority will overwrite the previous existing information.”

“That still doesn’t explain why there’s three of me.” Wanderer crosses his arms and kicks Scaramouche, who has yet to get up. The Balladeer crosses his own arms, pointedly ignoring his newer incarnation.

“I believe I can answer that, now.” Lord Rukkhadevata jerks her thumb toward the Tree of Wisdom. “Having known Irminsul my entire existence, I can sense that there have been deviations in its growth. Where normally the trunk and branches originate from a single organism, there are now several branches that seem to be… grafted, for lack of a better term, onto the main plant. Likely a result of the Creator’s mishap.”

“So instead of overwriting or restoring knowledge into the correct branches, it just got added on to the side?” Paimon asks, floating closer to the tree before the Traveler grabs her by the back of her cloak and pulls her back before she can accidentally touch any of the sprouts.

Nahida claps excitedly. “Correct! All available information is now running concurrently, meaning that all states of being have been altered to allow the five of us to exist at the same time!”

“Oh!” you exclaim, startling Kabukimono out of his contented state. “Like a glitch in the matrix!”

Seven pairs of eyes turn directly toward you, varying degrees of bemusement on each of their faces. You chuckle a bit and sink further into Kabukimono’s lap out of embarrassment. He dutifully wraps his arms tighter around you, obscuring you with his long sleeves.

“So we’re just going to let you not elaborate on that at all?” Scaramouche drawls, throwing a hand in your direction. “By all means, keep us in suspense. It’s not like we need to know what our situation is or anything.”

“It’s really not that helpful, I promise!” you tell them, muffled by the kimono’s fabric. “It’s just… a figure of speech, I guess? It’s just something we say when something unexplainable happens. It’s based off this story where, like, the world is fake-”

At this, Scaramouche and the Wanderer share a brief glance, unnoticed by the rest.

“- and everything is programmed to be a certain way. So when something unexplainable happens, like if you see a black cat walking past you and then a minute later the exact same cat walks past you again! It’s an error, or a glitch, in the programming of the world.”

Nahida and Rukkhadevata head over to investigate the new growths on Irminsul, discussing what you’ve told them in hushed voices, leaving the Traveler to mitigate the situation with the three puppets. Kabukimono clings to you as Scaramouche attempts to pull you out of his lap, the two of them making you wince as you’re forced to withstand their tug of war.

“No! The Creator is my friend now!” Kabukimono protests. “Stop pulling, you’ll hurt them!”

“Then let go and it won’t hurt them anymore, stupid!”

“Niwa told me you have to be nice to people if you want them to do things for you.”

“I know for a fact your precious Niwa also said I’m allowed to take whatever the hell I want, so give!”

“I really don’t think that’s what he meant by that,” Wanderer interjects, coming between the two of them and forcing them apart. “Besides, does the creator call you guys babygirl? No? Didn’t think so, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Taking advantage of their surprise, Wanderer scoops you up and launches into the air, anemo power whirring behind him, putting you both out of reach. You shriek at the sudden movement, holding onto the front of Wanderer’s outfit for dear life.

“What, this again? I’m not sure if you want me to be jealous of you, or pity you.” Scaramouche scowls up at where you two are hovering. He tries to look unaffected but you can see him clenching his fists at his side.

“I still don’t actually know what that’s supposed to mean…” Kabukimono wrings his hands and looks between you and the Traveler, who supplies an explanation for you.

“It’s just a term of endearment from the Creator’s world,” they say. “You wouldn’t believe how often I had to hear it when they were possessing me-”

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

Everyone turns to look at where you and Wanderer are. The puppet is trying not to drop you while also batting away your attempts at removing the outer layer of his outfit.

“Hold still!” you grumble. “I’m just trying to figure out if you can purr, too, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of your anemo ability.”

“What are you talking about?! I don’t purr!”

“I do!”

The four of you turn to Kabukimono as he demonstrates the ability, the mechanisms in him working overtime to produce a loud rumble from his chest. The Traveler and Paimon are particularly impressed, and Kabukimono preens under their attention.

“Cut that out, idiot,” Scaramouche smacks the back of Kabukimono’s head, successfully cutting off the noise. “You’re just going to overheat, and then we’ll be stuck carrying around your powered-down body until you start up again.”

“You know how he does that? Does that mean you can do it too?” Paimon asks, her face scrunched up at the idea of the Balladeer doing anything that could be seen as endearing.

“Absolutely not.”

“We can all do that,” Wanderer says at the same time, earning a betrayed look from Scaramouche. “It’s not purring though. You all remember that we’re puppets, right?”

“Yeah….?” The Traveler nods along with Paimon.

“Well, the prototype machinery inside us is what makes that noise.” Wanderer explains. “We can control the speed and make it as slow or as fast as we want, so making it run extra fast makes it louder. However, it also makes the machinery heat up, and if it gets too hot then the failsafe kicks in and shuts off the entire system.”

“Does that mean the Raiden Shogun can purr, too?” The Traveler wonders out loud, successfully distracting Paimon with the absurdity of that mental image.

“What happens to you if it overheats?” You ask, wondering if you should feel bad for enjoying it when Kabukimono purred.

“It’s like fainting for humans,” Scaramouche adds. “Which is why we don’t do that. Nobody likes having to carry around a useless burden.”

“But it’s not dangerous, is it?”

“No, it’s just a lot of trouble. Same as for humans, but no. No lasting damage.” Wanderer then sighs and makes a face even as he pulls you into a semblance of a hug. “Here, I’ll allow it this time, because it’s you...”

Your eyes widen as Wanderer begins to purr as well, audible even over the sound of his anemo power. With a delighted gasp, you throw your arms around him and listen happily, unaware of the glares Wanderer is receiving from below. The Traveler rolls their eyes when Wanderer points at your back and mouths ‘favourite’ at Scaramouche.

“Wanderer, if you’re done being jealous could you please bring the Creator back down?” Nahida calls, and you peek down to see that she and Lord Rukkhadevata have finished their discussion. They wait below, where Scaramouche and Kabukimono were earlier. The two puppets are now a little bit further away, bickering while the Traveler supervises them.

“I’m jealous?” Wanderer scoffs, hoisting you up so you can rest on his hip as he holds you with one hand, the other used to gesture down at Nahida rudely. “You even dare to imply-”

“Please bring the Creator down.” Rukkhadevata repeats, hands on her hips. “Don’t make me come up there and get you.”

You have to stifle a laugh as Wanderer slowly brings the two of you back down, making sure your feet are firmly on the ground before letting you go. You don’t bother to mention how you notice that Wanderer’s body actually is noticeably warmer after purring. You smooth the wrinkles of your clothes and turn to the two Dendro Archons with a smile.

“You guys give off such mom energy,” you tell them. “So, what’s up? Did you figure out anything else?”

“You forget that I was a queen before I was a god,” Rukkhadevata points out. “I know what it’s like to stymie conflict before it becomes a problem. Diplomatically, of course.”

Nahida nods in agreement. “Of course. And yes, Your Grace, we did come to some conclusions! Though, not all of them are final, mostly regarding Wanderer and his counterparts. There are some hypotheses we will need to investigate before we can say for sure…”

“Still kinda wish you wouldn’t call me that,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck. The lofty title is uncomfortable to hear, when you still feel like any ordinary person. “But let’s hear it then. What did you guys come up with?”

“For the most part, exactly the same conclusion that we came to earlier.” Nahida says, drawing in the air with glowing green lines. She draws a tree, and then draws some branches in a different shade. “Your arrival in Teyvat brought a ‘backup’ of knowledge which, when reintroduced to the Leylines, conflicted with the current state of things and instead created additional information that now exists at the same time as the current timeline.”

“That being said,” Rukkhadevata adds her own glowing lines to Nahida’s drawing, in a deeper and more intense green. She circles one branch, and says: “I believe that this timeline’s Dendro Archon remains Lesser Lord Kusanali. Irminsul seems to have resolved this conflict by making it so that my sacrifice to eradicate Forbidden Knowledge was not my life, but rather my godhood.”

“What does that mean for you?” You ask.

“It means that I am now happily retired!” Rukkhadevata exclaims, smiling brightly. “And from what I’ve seen of the information recorded in Irminsul, I have an old friend in Liyue who also recently finds himself with a wealth of spare time. It’s been a few centuries since I last saw him, perhaps I should pay him a visit.”

“Wow, congratulations! I’m sure Zhongli would be glad for the company.” You hug her excitedly, and she returns the gesture with a bright laugh.

“Is that the name he’s going by, now? It would certainly help to have a less recognisable name, I suppose…” Rukkhadevata ponders, and you can hear her humming as she thinks. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll just use my old name. From now on, please call me Aranyani!”

Nahida joins in on your hug, practically bouncing with excitement, and you pick up the tiny god so she can see you both. “I’m so glad for you, Aranyani! I’ve always wanted to meet you,” she exclaims with a shy smile. “I have so many things I want to ask!”

“And you are always free to share in my knowledge, little sapling,” Aranyani coos, patting Nahida’s head affectionately before you all release each other, letting Nahida back down gently.

“So what are we going to do about those two clowns?” Wanderer says and you jump a little in surprise, forgetting he was still there.

You turn to where the rest of the group is. Kabukimono seems to have finally had enough and is tousling on the floor with Scaramouche. The Traveler is attempting to haul the Balladeer away, while Paimon grabs onto the back of Kabukimono’s veil and is yanking him in the other direction. To a very small degree of effectiveness.

“Both of you, please stop!” Nahida rushes forward, and the two puppets spring apart like the other is on fire.

“He started it!” Kabukimono points at Scaramouche accusingly and the Balladeer moves to grab him again, but is easily stopped by the Traveler pulling him back by grabbing his wrists.

“It doesn’t matter who started it,” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. You put on a stern face and your best ‘disappointed parent’ voice. “I sort of expected more from you two…”

Kabukimono’s devastated expression is enough for you to drop the pretense. You sigh and open your arms and beckon, and Kabukimono happily throws himself into your hug.

“Fine, fine!” You grumble, patting the top of Kabukimono’s head. “As long as you guys aren’t, like, maiming or seriously injuring each other, I guess it’s okay.”

“Yay!”

That’s about as far as you get before Nahida takes Kabukimono’s hand and leads him away, and begins informing him of the history of the world and catching him up to speed on the current timeline. Wanderer and the Traveler chime in every so often, adding in some details that the archon might have missed. Aranyani seems to have already taken her leave, leaving only you and Scaramouche behind.

You pretend not to notice as the disgruntled ex-Harbinger shuffles closer to you, until he bumps his shoulder against yours.

“Hey,” he begins, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but all these annoying idiots kept interrupting me…”

You wait for a minute, until it’s clear he isn’t going to continue until you say something. “Yes? What’s the matter?”

He exhales through his nose and refuses to make eye contact with you. At the edges of your vision, you can see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” he finally spits out. “I mean, clearly I don’t quite fit in with the rest of these happy-go-lucky morons. I can’t imagine you intended for someone like me to show up.”

“Why not?” You blurt out, more out of surprise than anything else. “I like having you here.” It’s clearly the wrong thing to say, as Scaramouche begins to close off again.

“Don't bother lying to me,” he snaps, facing you with the full brunt of his annoyance. He crosses his arms and sneers at you, looking at you down the bridge of his nose. “I’m not some sad, weak little puppet who needs to be coddled by the likes of you. So save your meaningless placations for someone who would actually feel better after hearing them. You’re only wasting your time, and mine.”

“Okay, no lies then,” you nod, and watch as he braces himself for whatever you’ll say next. “I’m glad you’re here, in a world where every part of you can exist at the same time. And I’m glad I can be here with you to remind you that you’re the sum of all your parts, good and bad, and that I do want you to be here, in all your entirety.”

Scaramouche’s face is carefully blank, and you wonder for a second if he somehow shut down without you noticing. You wave a hand in front of his face, watching as his eyes track your palm. You’re about to say something else when you feel a hand come down on your shoulder heavily.

“Simp.” Wanderer states, patting you with a teasing look on his face.

“What?!” You jump away from him with an indignant squawk. “I am not-”

“Absolutely down bad.” The Traveler adds, and you reach clumsily to slap at the two of them. You miss both by miles.

“I can’t believe I taught you guys words from my world and this is how you repay me!”

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace!” Nahida looks properly apologetic at the treatment you’re receiving. “We were just discussing what to do with all of the new people. The Traveler has kindly offered to introduce you to their friendly teapot adeptus in order to have a realm created for you, and Wanderer’s incarnations can stay with you in the new realm!”

“That’s perfect!” you say quickly, eager to escape any more teasing from your team. You avoid Scaramouche’s probing gaze and turn your heated face away from him to look at Nahida and the Traveler. “When can we go? Can we go right now?”

The Traveler nods and holds out a thin tab of wood that you recognize as their realm dispatch. It’s strange to see it in person, for some reason you expected it to be bigger than it actually is. The entire thing can fit in the palm of one hand, like a credit card. “We can go as soon as you’re authorized, Your Grace!”

You’re giddy as you take the dispatch into your hands, rubbing the engraved surface with reverence. You feel a strange sensation, like pins and needles, as the magic in the dispatch settles over you. “This is so cool, you guys. I can’t wait to meet Tubby! Do you think she’ll make me a teapot, too, or something else?”

In your excitement you grab onto both the Traveler and Wanderer, silently begging them to come with you. Just as the three of you touch the surface of the teapot, Wanderer turns to Scaramouche with a pointed look and grins.

“Favourite.” He says smugly as he vanishes.

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin self aware au #genshin isekai #self aware genshin #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau scaramouche #sagau wanderer #sagau kabukimono #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #< all currently platonic tho #seabird.txt #glitch in irminsul AU

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joelalorian · 1 month ago

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Under False Pretenses - Chapter 1

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 1700 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Overall rating will be Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap but I imagine a lil' baby one of about 5 to 8 years. This chapter is a wee lil mellow one and sets the scene, but future ones will include soft, yet sexy and intense Dave; several twists - basically, it will have it all: action, angst, deception, fluff, humor, a puppy(!), and SMUT! No use of y/n. Dave will give reader a nickname based on his perception of her.

AN: I got too excited and decided to post the first chapter. Posting schedule will be somewhere are weekly, give or take a few days. Hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1:

“Sure, honey. You can come stay for a while,” your mom assured you. She sounded excited even though it wasn’t a call you wanted to make, not at this point in your life, but what other options did you have? “You can see the house and meet your new stepdad!”

Dead air.

The soft glow of you bedside lamp cast long shadows on the room, making the clutter of half-packed boxes look like ominous towers. Your knuckles whitened as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to process her words.

“My new WHAT?” your voice rose toward the end in utter confusion. You didn’t even know your mom was dating anyone, let alone someone serious enough to fucking marry!

“Oh, honey, his name is Dave and you’re just gonna love him,” she replied with a lovesick simper.

You’d never heard her voice do that. She must be really into the guy.

Enough to marry him without even inviting you to the god damn wedding?

She’s still chatting away, explaining how they met – at work – and how it was such a whirlwind romance that they got carried away on a work trip to Vegas and decided to just tie the knot without telling anyone.

Okay. That, actually, didn’t surprise you. Your mom was super smart but could be a total a flake sometimes, leaving you to wonder who the adult was on more than one occasion while growing up. She had you really young and never quite matured.

“That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to meet him,” you finally replied after twenty minutes of listening to her gush over this Dave guy. “But I’m not calling him Dad.”

She laughed. “Of course not, honey. He’s too young to really be your dad anyway.”

That piqued your interest.

“Oh, oh, oh, you robbin’ the cradle, mama?” you teased. “You’re really living your cougar era, huh?”

“Stop it, you,” she giggled in return. “So, when do you think you’ll get here?”

Conversation went back and forth a little longer as your mom gave you the new address – for fuck’s sake, they moved clear across the state from where you grew up, to a very swanky area at the shore, you noted – and you made a rough itinerary. In reality, you would have loved to just drop everything and get the fuck out of dodge right that minute, but logistics and all that.

“Ok, honey. Be careful and I’ll see you next week. Call if you need anything.” Before she ended the call, your mom added, “I’ll text you Dave’s number as well, so you have it in case of emergencies.

“Sounds good, mama. Love you.”

“Love you more, honey.”

You went back to packing up the remnants of your life, readying yourself for the cross-country journey ahead.

You did not have ‘moving back home at almost 30’ on your bingo card this year, but there you were, pulling into the half-moon driveway of a large colonial home in an upscale neighborhood, one much nicer than where your mom used to live. The house loomed under the late morning sun, its pristine white siding and black shutters stark against the cloudless blue sky. Perfectly trimmed hedges flanked the curved driveway, and somewhere nearby, the faint crash of waves carried on the salty breeze. This Dave guy had a lot of money, it appeared. Parking your little sedan to the far side in front of the 3-car garage, you turned the car off and lingered in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

Normally, you didn’t mind change, but… man, the past month threw some whammies at you. You lost a boyfriend, job, and your loyal goldfish in quick succession. Each loss hit worse than the last. And now, your safe space, the place you needed to return to so you could lick your wounds… also changed. Big time.

The soft tap of a manicured nail on the window startled you, head snapping to the side to see your mom standing in the driveway beaming at you. She bounced on her feet, anxiously waiting for you to get out of the car.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you!” You barely had time to fully stand up before she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That was another thing about your mom – she was strong. She had lithe muscles packed into her small figure from being a total gym addict.

Too bad that addiction wasn’t hereditary. You hated the gym.

“Hi mama! Marriage looks good on you!” you praised her once you stepped back and took in her glowing, sun-kissed skin, vibrant blonde locks, and the large rock on her hand.

“You look good, too, honey. You losing weight?”

And of course, she honed right in on that. You weren’t even in front of her for five minutes, and she brought up your weight. Story of your life. Your body shape the exact opposite of your, mother’s, she hadn’t let up on nagging you about your weight since you were twelve years old. You were always a bit… thick in places.

“Uh, maybe, I dunno. Come on, show me your new digs.” You quickly changed the subject.

Your mom gives you the grand tour, proudly showing off all the lovely features of the house, focusing heavily on the ones the home you grew up in didn’t have like the huge kitchen, fireplace, pool, and enormous master suite, though she led you away before you could fully explore all that the suite offered. The two other bedrooms were already decorated for little girls, and you quirked a curious eyebrow at your mom.

“Didn’t I mention that Dave has two young daughters?”

No. No, she definitely did not mention that. You rolled your eyes, understanding now why your mom was so eager for you to come home. She wanted a built-in caretaker. You mentally counted down, knowing exactly what she was about to say in three, two, one…

“Actually, now that you’ll be living here, it would be great if you could look after the girls when we have to travel for work or want to go out, help with the school runs during the week.”

It wasn’t a question, you noted. Not that you expected her to ask first or even mention that being a nanny would be part of the deal. Nothing with your mom ever came without a cost. You learned that lesson long ago.

You loved your mom, you really did. Sometimes, she just didn’t make it easy to do so.

“Right. About that… where am I supposed to be staying if all the bedrooms are taken?”

She led you down the stairs to a door off the family room, where another stairway awaited you. “You’re locking me away in the basement?” you joked. “Please tell me it’s at least finished.”

“Just wait until you see it, honey,” your mom promised, and you reluctantly followed her down the steps.

When the lights flicked on, the sight took your breath away. It was like an entire apartment down there. It even had its own private entrance leading to the garage allowing you to come and go as you pleased. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Told ya.” She flashed you a twitchy wink. “You’ll have this whole space to yourself… well, except for that room over there.” She pointed to a closed door equipped with a sturdy lock.

“What’s in there?” you questioned, already curious about the reasoning for such a lock on the door.

“That’s Dave’s office. It’s off limits to everyone but him, so don’t go snooping. Got it?” She pointed a finger at you like you were an errant child, and you raised your hands in surrender.

“Heard you loud and clear, mama. I have no interest in whatever creepy ass skeletons Dave is keeping in his locked office.” Total lie, of course, but your mom didn’t need to know that.

“Good. Get settled in and help yourself to whatever you need. I must head to the office for a bit. Dave should be home at some point, he just had a meeting in town. I’ll pick up the girls from school on my way home if you want to take care of dinner.”

And there it was. You knew there’d be a bigger price to pay for this arrangement, more than occasionally taking care of your new stepsisters. Without a job or any other responsibilities, your mom was going to treat you like free labor. You saw that coming.

You followed your mom upstairs and through the front door as she headed to her car in the garage, and you went for yours. Might as well get unpacked, not like you brought much anyway. It was early still, and you could make a trip to the store for anything you needed before having to worry about dinner.

A few hours later, you stepped back to admire your new living space with a sense of pride. You did everything you could to make it your own, within reason.

With the basement suite basically being a blank slate, you chose a variety of decorative pillows, wall hangings, and chotchkes to give it your own stylistic flair. The furnishings unused and rather plain, you wanted to spice them up with splashes of color. You did everything short of paint the damn walls – and you would have done that too if given the option.

Grateful for a firm mattress with a plush pillowtop, you sprang for the softest satiny sheets you could find in a pale green hue and paired it with a patterned comforter with clean lines. A couple of coastal-themed lamps on the nightstands rounded out the small bedroom.

The bathroom was already decorated with a shower curtain and accessories in soft gray hues, and you wondered if that was Dave’s touch or your mother’s. Probably Dave. Your mom never veered toward subtle furnishings, much preferring patterns and styles that you found garish.

Glancing around at the neat space one last time, you headed upstairs to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. You wanted to make something special for the first time meeting your stepdad and his daughters.

tbc

Chapter Two

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69

#stepdad!dave york x f!reader #dave york equalizer 2 #soft yet intense dave #dave york fluff #dave york angst #dave york smut #pedrostories

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 10 months ago

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We Must Know, How Did it End?

“It was tricky, really. Writing songs that come from a place of pain isn’t usually my thing,” Sirius says, plastering a polite smile onto his face. “It’s difficult to describe a feeling that’s so… overwhelming.”

Peter smiles back, and Sirius can see the empathy etched across his face.

“Okay, I think we have time for some audience questions,” Pete says, turning to the audience. Sirius follows his gaze to a crew member handing a mic over to a young woman.

“Hi, uh, hi. I was just wondering if your album is based on your recent breakup? With Remus?”

His name alone makes the blood freeze in Sirius’ veins. The fan isn’t wrong, his album is essentially all about Remus. It doesn’t stop his heart from stuttering at the mention of Remus. It brings memories that he’s been trying to write out of his system back to the front of his mind. They bring a lump into his throat, and he has to blink harshly to fight back any semblance of a visceral reaction.

Thankfully, Peter steps in.

“You know what? Let’s move on. Anyone else?”

In spite of a few grumblings, the microphone travels further, landing with another fan.

“Hey. I was just wondering if you ever think that Remus dated you for the fame? I mean, his follower count has doubled since you two-”

“No, I don’t think that,” Sirius cuts in sharply. Apparently, his need to defend Remus is stronger than his hurt at their breakup. Peter is opening his mouth to speak, probably to move on again, but Sirius isn’t ready to move on. “Of course I don’t think that. Remus’ talent speaks for itself. He doesn’t need me to be his way to break out in the dance world. We might not be together anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is still one of the most genuine people I have ever met. Honestly, his kindness is indescribable. Everything I said while we were together was true. That relationship was the realest thing I’ve ever had, okay? Us breaking up doesn’t diminish that.”

The whole studio has lapsed into silence, and Sirius is really regretting the way he went about that now. Even Peter’s watching him in shock. Eventually, he seems to remember his own job, clearing his throat and breaking out into a smile.

“Okay! It’s about time for us to move on…”

Sirius is pretty sure that he’s been in a trance for the past hour. He doesn’t even remember the trip back to his house. All he knows is that he’s been scrolling through his tagged posts as his manager, Benjy, shouts at him over the phone.

“This is, without a doubt, the most irresponsible thing you’ve ever done!”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Sirius grumbles under his breath. Unfortunately, Benjy has the ears of a fucking hawk.

“If you weren’t a public figure, and I wasn’t your fucking PR Manager, I would think it was sweet, Sirius! However, calling your relationship with Remus the realest thing you’ve ever had?! That gives tabloids every opportunity under the sun to call you obsessive!”

“Yeah, well, it needed to be said,” Sirius says decisively. He’s not wrong. In what world could anyone ever see Remus as anything less than kind? Yeah, they haven’t seen the way Remus would hold Sirius through his panic attacks, say the dumbest things just to watch him smile, or the dance. The one Remus dedicated to him. The one Sirius really should delete from his camera roll.

“God, Sirius, you’re so lucky that I actually like you.” Benjy interrupts his train of thought, thankfully, letting out a groan as Sirius refreshes Instagram for the fifteenth time. “However, now you need to lay low until people forget that this happened.”

“What? That I defended him? Just because he’s my ex doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to say anything nice about him!”

“Yes it does. You can’t say anything too bad, or anything too nice. You have to be neutral. Peter was about to gloss past the question, anyway!” Sirius rolls his eyes, grateful that Benjy can’t see him as he goes scrolling again. He’s being called obsessive in countless different ways by news outlets, people who hate him, and people who have decided that his and Remus’ breakup means that it’s time to take sides. As he looks through them, he’s barely even pausing.

Until he reaches a post with Remus’ face at the front of it.

As much as he knows that he shouldn’t, he wants to watch it. He’s spent a lot of time watching the videos he promised James that he’d deleted and crying, but those were videos Sirius had filmed himself. They were personal. He hasn’t interacted with anything that Remus has posted publicly. He doesn’t actually want to be a stalker.

This feels… different. Mostly because this one has his name on it.

‘REMUS LUPIN BREAKS SILENCE ABOUT EX BOYFRIEND SIRIUS BLACK:’

“Yeah, okay, Benjy, I’ll stay silent,” Sirius says quickly, zoning out.

“Oh, really? Thanks. That was easy-”

“Okay, bye.” He hangs up before Benjy can say anything else, immediately playing the video.

It’s from one of Remus’ livestreams. His face is flushed a slight red, like it usually is after rehearsal, sitting on the floor in his studio. Sirius hates how endearing he finds it. He’s just talking, comments rolling in and the radio playing, when Sirius catches the message. It’s just another one calling him a stalker, but it stops Remus in his tracks.

“Right, you all need to leave Sirius alone,” Remus says decisively. The way his name sits in Sirius’ mouth brings a lump into his throat all over again. He really needs to stop crying over Remus, it’s getting a little sad. Maybe he is obsessive. “He isn’t stalking me. I actually haven’t spoken to him at all. Listen, the- the breakup was amicable, okay? We don’t hate each other, and we really don’t need people taking sides. All he did was defend me, which he didn’t have to do. It was nice of him, yeah, but it doesn’t make him obsessive. He’s just being a good person, he can’t help that.” Sirius smiles to himself, face warming at the compliment.

Okay, he is obsessed.

Still, it’s so unbelievably Remus to be so willing to defend him. To immediately assume the best about Sirius.

Just when Sirius expects the clip to end, a different song starts playing. He recognises it straight away. It’s one from his new album.

‘ I told the moon about you… ’

Remus’ eyes widen at the words. At Sirius ’ words. He never has been any good at hiding the first thought that flits across his face.

“Sorry, I’m, er… I’ve got to go. Thanks for- for watching, yeah,” Remus says hurriedly.

That’s when the clip ends.

For what feels like the thousandth time, Sirius wants to be in the same room as Remus, to have the privilege of finding out exactly what is going on in his head. He wants to press his thumb against the furrow in Remus’ brow and watch his face relax. Christ, he just wants to touch him, really. His forehead, his hand, his shoulders, his waist, anywhere . With a groan, he drops his head into his hands. He’s actually pathetic. James is the only one who’s allowed to hear about this, and Sirius is pretty sure he needs a stern talking to from him right about now.

There’s a knock at his front door, which Sirius assumes is James. It’s like the man can read his mind. The knocking is a little… frantic, but James is bouncy, it’s not exactly out of the ordinary.

He walks slowly over to the door, reaching out and pulling it open.

The moment he catches a glimpse of the familiar amber eyes, every muscle in Sirius’ body freezes.

Remus.

He hasn’t seen him in three months. Not since he left Sirius’ house, got on a plane, and didn’t come back. Sirius has spent a countless number of minutes trying to recall every single detail about Remus, looking at photos of the two of them, wishing that he had spent more time etching every line, every freckle, into his brain. He thought he had, really, but he was right in his interview. Remus is indescribable.

For a moment, they just look at each other, Remus’ mouth slightly ajar as though he hadn’t expected Sirius to open the door. He almost seems like he doesn’t know how he got there.

Well, until Sirius speaks.

“M- Remus? What- what are you…?” He trails off, watching the way Remus’ features set to something much more sure.

“Sirius, I love you,” he says suddenly. They’re words Sirius never expected to hear coming from Remus again. “I’m still in love with you, and I’m tired of pretending that I haven’t regretted every single step that I’ve taken since I left here. I- God, Sirius, I think we made a mistake. I- I know what we said, what we agreed on. It was too difficult with our schedules, we were both being too distant, fighting over little things,” he lists everything like it’s pointless, as Sirius tries to get his brain to fucking wake up and work. “And I get it, Sirius. I really do get it, I understand, but I’d take thousands of fights over- over dishes, or hogging blankets, instead of having to do these months all over again. This is going to sound really sad, and really bloody pathetic, but I’ve watched the videos of you writing songs in my flat more time than I can fucking count since we broke up! You told the moon about me? I know that line. I’d know it anywhere. It’s the one right before I turned the camera off and kissed you. It just made me- I don’t know, I didn’t think hearing it like that would hurt so much.” He seems to be hit with a completely different emotion, some sense of regret, and it’s probably Sirius’ fault, since he doesn’t seem to be able to get his voice to work. He can sing night after night, go on countless talk shows, but apparently this is what it takes to render Sirius speechless. “I know I’m probably overstepping a boundary, and this is really fucking stupid of me, but I- I want to try again.”

Yeah, the words really aren’t going to come out. He’s going to have to find some other way to tell Remus exactly how he feels.

“If I didn’t say something I just know that I’d regret it for the rest of my life. So tell me to leave and I will. I’ll turn around and- and I’ll move country. You’ll never have to see me again-”

He can’t say anything else, because Sirius is kissing him.

He isn’t even sure when he made the decision to do it. It’s almost like a reflex, the first thing to come naturally to him.

There’s not a second of regret that comes with it, though.

Before he can even figure out where he got the idea to do that, Remus’ arms are around Sirius’ waist, pulling him closer and holding him secure, warm, safe . His lips are soft, so familiar that Sirius wants to cry.

Actually, he is crying.

Tears start rolling down his face as he pulls away to look at Remus. Thankfully, Remus is crying himself, and somehow also grinning like an idiot, which Sirius can genuinely say is the most beautiful sight he has ever had the privilege to behold.

“Oh, my god, I love you, Remus. Moony, I love you so much,” he says quickly, hands reaching to cup Remus’ face.

“So- you- do you want-?”

“To start again? Pick up from where we left off? Anything, darling. Anything. I’ll take whatever you can give me, if it means I don’t have to try to move on. You’re not someone I can get over. I’ve tried, and I’m convinced that it’s fucking impossible,” Sirius says, making Remus laugh breathlessly and drag him back into a kiss. Not that Sirius is complaining. He would let Remus drag him anywhere. Remus is his everything. His world.

Oh, my darling, how could I ever have let you go?

#it's been a WHILE since i've written a oneshot #and I'm also not sure what this is #but I lowkey love it #they're so silly #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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yexthiccxa · 2 months ago

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Secrets of the Second Shift - (Part 5)

summary: Choso wakes up and sees that you've left his place in the middle of the night (part 4). He gives you the cold shoulder but when you sort out a misunderstanding, the week goes from tough ...to rough ;)

wordcount: 4.4k words

full fic c/w: choso smut, choso/fem!reader, choso/oc, modern!au, some plot, plot what plot, porn with plot, gentleman!choso, soft!choso, praise kink, blindfold sex, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms

a/n: let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this!

Tumblr Master List | Read this chapter on AO3!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

The sky is still dark. You wake up in a room that is illuminated by the glow of the moonlight coming from the floor-to-ceiling windows, a room that isn’t yours. Right. Turning your head, you see Choso lying next to you in a deep sleep. Even in the dead of night, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

The clock on the bedside table reads 1:03 a.m. “Fuck,” you mutter.

You shift carefully, mindful not to disturb him, and glance around the room. The chaos of earlier is gone. Your clothes have been folded neatly on a nearby chair, and the abandoned dishes from dinner are nowhere in sight. Did he really make the extra effort to clean all this up? How sweet. You think.

The thought sends a warm but unsettling jolt through you. Part of you wants to lay back down, bury yourself in the comfort of the bed, and settle into the arms of the beautiful man sleeping next to you.

But then there’s that other part of you—the louder, nagging voice that reminds you staying means more than just a night. It’s not just sharing a bed; it’s sharing something more, something you’re not ready for.

Your decision feels bittersweet, but it’s for the best. Carefully, you slip out from under the sheets, get dressed, and find the rest of your belongings. You slip out the front door quietly in hopes of not waking him. When you make it out, you head to the lobby and call yourself an Uber.

Your ride arrives faster than you expect, and within minutes you’re home. The familiarity of your space doesn’t bring the comfort you thought it would. Instead, your mind is restless. You pace for a few minutes before sitting on the edge of your bed, phone in hand.

You can’t just leave without saying anything, you tell yourself.

Your internal panic causes you to scroll through your recent calls. When you press the contact on your phone, you bring it straight to your ear and hope to the heavens he’s a deep enough sleeper to have the call go to voicemail. As it rings, you find yourself resting your head in the palm of your hand.

“The person you are trying to dial is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone.”

Thank god.

“Hey. I figured it would be easier to call you instead," you start, words catching in your throat for a second. "Today was honestly so great and I’m so thankful for everything you did today. You’re so sweet and I love that about you.”

You pause, unsure of what else to say, but finally gather up the courage to let it out. “But if I’m being real, I’m just not used to this… yet. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone like that. I hate to admit it, I guess I’m just scared of things becoming complicated.”

Your chest tightens, like you’ve stuck a dagger through your own heart. “Anyways, it’s late and I think we should probably just talk about this more in person. But I just wanted to call and let you know that I’m home safe and to say…. thanks, I guess.”

You let out one last breath. “I’ll see you at work.”

The silence hangs heavy before you end the call abruptly. You set the phone down and lay back on your own bed just to stare at the ceiling. You can’t stop your mind from wondering what he’ll think when he hears it.

✦✧✸✧✦

“I’m only saying this because I love you, but you look like shit” Yuki begins as she settles into her desk, unpacking her laptop. She studies you critically. “...and you never look like shit.”

You blink, trying to ground yourself after a night of tossing and turning. “Huh? Oh—yeah, I just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Yuki’s eyes narrow, sharp with suspicion. “Damn. Late night?” She leans in closer to you, lowering her voice. “Wait… with Choso?”

“No, no, no—” Lie. You scramble for something convincing. “I don’t think I’m gonna go for him.” Another lie. “I’ve just been thinking about it more…” Not a lie. “...and I think it’s probably best to just keep things professional.” Half-lie.

“Fine.” She sighs dramatically, sitting back in her chair. “Just know, I’m still rooting for you two.” Her grin returns as she looks past you. “Oh, speak of the devil…”

You glance up and instinctively call out to him. “Hey, Choso!”

Choso meets your eyes briefly, but his gaze flicks away almost instantly as he strides toward the break room without a word. The abruptness stings, even if it’s what you expected.

Yuki whistles low under her breath. “Oof. Ice cold.”

You get up to follow him, but before you can catch him, Naoya cuts in front of you. He has a stack of papers in hand and an unsettling smugness radiating from him. “Good morning. Here are the notes from last week’s focus group. I’ll need you to analyze these and add your findings to the kickoff presentation that’s happening later this month.”

You frown, flipping through the papers. “What presentation?”

“I sent an email yesterday,” he says with exaggerated patience. “We’re meeting with stakeholders from a potential lead to discuss the feasibility of our new product. Try to finish early so Choso has time to review the deck before he presents.”

Your jaw tightens. “Excuse me? Choso? Is there a reason he’s doing the presentation for my research?”

Naoya’s smirk deepens. “Let’s just say he knows what the audience is looking for.”

“What the fu—” You stop short, forcing yourself to take a deep breath before HR gets involved. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Naoya says slowly, “analyze your findings, finish the presentation, and send it to Choso. You’re lucky I’m giving you a head start.”

He spins on his heel and walks off, leaving your irritation simmering.

You don’t waste time. Marching to the break room, you find Choso by the coffee machine. “Choso,” you say, voice firm.

He glances up, expression unreadable. “Morning.”

“Can we talk?” you ask, trying to get his attention.

His focus is still glued to the coffee machine. “If you’d like to schedule some time later,” he says flatly, “feel free to book any available slot on my calendar.”

Your jaw drops. The audacity.

He lifts his gaze slightly, just enough to meet yours. For a fleeting moment, there’s something almost soft in his expression—a tiny flicker of warmth that you might’ve imagined.

“By the way, did Naoya tell you about the presentation?” he asks, voice even.

And just like that, the warmth vanishes, replaced by the same guarded professionalism you didn’t know you could hate.

“Yes,” you answer, matching his curt tone.

“Great.” He nods, grabbing his mug. As he moves past you, he adds, “Looking forward to seeing your findings,” the words clipped and distant as he steps out of the room.

Well he certainly put the pro in professional. You can’t fault him for staying true to the boundaries, but what the hell was that?

The rest of the week is no better. Choso avoids you when he can, and when he can’t, his interactions are painfully brief and impersonal. You hoped that every new day would be a fresh start, but every interaction was filled with short hellos, no goodbyes, or ten second comments about the weather. It was like Choso was a shell of the man—not the man who once held you so gently.

You have no reason to be mad. After all, you’re the one who set the playing field. He’s just following the rules. You try not to think too much of it, but the distance gnaws at you with each passing day. The romantic part of you (or what’s left of it) feels like this is torture, while the logical part reassures you this is for the best. Unfortunately, neither side has any idea how to make it through the week.

By the time Friday rolls around, you’re surprised you’re still sane. Every day has been an exhausting blend of tension, awkward exchanges, and overthinking. You hope that today is the day you can finally settle things with Choso, but it’s 3pm and you haven’t seen him all day.

You’re at your desk working on the deck for the kickoff presentation, when you see one of the guys from Choso’s team.

“Hey, Yuji,” you call, swiveling your chair toward him. “Have you seen Choso today?”

Yuji pauses, scratching the back of his head. “Saw him this morning, but I think he’s out for the rest of the day. Something about schmoozing a potential lead.”

Is this the same lead for the presentation this month? You try not to let your frustration show, but your tone gets the better of you. “Got it. Thanks.”

Yuji pauses, trying to redirect the conversation to lighten the mood. “Are you coming to Happy Hour tonight?” he asks, grinning.

“Not this time,” you say with a polite shake of your head. “Maybe the next one.”

“It’ll be fun!” He leans in. “I told Choso to go. If he shows up, maybe you two can talk there!”

“It’s okay,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Thanks for letting me know, though. I’ll just catch up with him next week.”

Yuji shrugs and walks away, leaving you alone with the sinking realization that you won’t even get to see Choso for the second shift. You find yourself crushed under disappointment, but you try not to let it show.

When the clock finally hits five, you grab your things and head to Blinded Bliss. When you walk through the platinum doors, you make a beeline for the bar, ignoring everything—including Satoru’s smug grin as waves at you.

“Two tequilas,” you tell the bartender, tapping your nails impatiently on the counter. “Heavy pour.”

“Whoa there, love,” Satoru’s voice cuts in from behind, startling you. “Tough week?”

“You could say that,” you reply flatly. “But it’s really no one’s fault except my own. I made my bed, now I have to lay in it.”

Satoru doesn’t pry, but instead tries to make light of the situation. “Well, hopefully that bed makes you some big bucks. A few high rollers are back tonight, you know what that means.”

“Great,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Look how well that worked out for me last time.”

Satoru chuckles, leaning against the bar. “Stop being a Debbie Downer. I’ve got a good feeling about tonight.”

“Whatever, Satoru,” you say, waving him off.

“Oh, by the way,” he says casually, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Sorry I never called you back earlier this week. It was late, and I had an early morning. Totally slipped my mind.”

You pick your head up, confused. “Huh?” You blink, the words not quite landing. “What call?”

“Monday or Tuesday maybe?” he replies, pulling out his phone. “You left me a voicemail. Didn’t actually get to listen to it though. You know me—busy bee.”

Your stomach tightens. “Satoru. What voicemail?”

He shrugs, tapping a few times on his phone before holding it out. A recording plays, and your own voice filters through the bar’s noise like a ghost from the past:

“Hey. I figured it would be easier to call you instead… Today was honestly so great, and I’m so thankful…”

Your heart pounds as you frantically grab your phone, scrolling to your recent calls. You hold your breath, dreading what you’re about to see.

Monday’s call didn’t go to Choso.

It went to Satoru Gojo.

Your stomach plummets. “Oh fuck,” you whisper, the realization dawning like a storm cloud.

✦✧✸✧✦

“It’s not even that bad,” Satoru says, leaning back against the wall with an easy shrug, his tone too nonchalant for your spiraling thoughts.

“Satoru, he probably thinks I’m an asshole!” you hiss. “What kind of decent person leaves without any context?”

“Well,” he says, smirking, “you did say you were trying to keep it casual.”

“I meant friends with benefits casual, not one-night stand casual!” you snap, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Splitting hairs now, aren’t we?”

You groan, pressing your palms against your temples. The memory of Choso—his soft touch, the tenderness in his eyes, the careful way he’d folded your clothes—flashes through your mind. Guilt claws at your chest. You’re trapped in the endless loop of replaying that moment you slipped out the door, convincing yourself you made the right call while feeling the crushing weight of regret.

Satoru snaps to bring you back to reality. “Hey! Listen, I am happy to let you vent all night if that’s what you need, but right now? I need you to snap out of it.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Fine.”

“Good. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’ll forget all about what happened.” He gives you a self assured wink. “Have you ever had a bad time in this room?”

You sigh, reluctantly admitting, “...No.”

“Exactly,” he says, grabbing the black fabric blindfold from the bed. “Now, let’s get this on you so we can begin.”

The soft material brushes against your skin as he ties it securely over your eyes. The darkness heightens every sound—the creak of the door, the muffled voices, the footsteps of those entering. The bids start like any other night, with Satoru rejecting men one after the other. Their polished words fall flat, their presence failing to meet his standards.

After what feels like an eternity (and far more candidates than usual) your shoulders begin to sag. Your mind is filled with frustration and mingling with hopelessness. You’ve lost count of how many people you’ve gone through, but each rejection stings more than the last.

Just as you’re about to resign yourself to disappointment, the door opens again. This time, a heaviness fills the room. No words are spoken, but the weight of the silence speaks volumes.

You can hear Satoru’s measured footsteps as he circles the room, assessing. “Hmm…I was beginning to think the well would run dry,” he muses, his tone intrigued.

The silence stretches. You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue, wondering why this time feels different.

“Ready to give him a taste, love?” he finally asks.

The question catches you off guard. What is going on? Satoru never moves to the second phase without a single word exchanged, so you’re left to wonder what’s different this time around. Before you can dwell on it, a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

“With all due respect, Satoru—I have been waiting all week for this. I’d rather taste her all by myself.”

Your heart stutters, the blood rushing to your ears. You know that voice.

“Very well,” Satoru replies smoothly, you can sense the amusement in his tone. “Enjoy, Choso.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone with the man who’s haunted your thoughts all week.

Choso’s footsteps approach, deliberate and slow. He reaches out, his fingers grazing the edge of the blindfold before slipping it off. The dim light floods your vision, but it’s nothing compared to the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re here,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “...But aren’t you supposed to be with everyone else right now?”

He closes the distance between you, his palm cupping your cheek with a tenderness that stops your words. His touch is warm, grounding you, but his eyes burn with something unspoken.

“The only person I have any interest in being with right now is you,” he says, his voice soft but unwavering.

“Choso, I’m so sorry. I tried calling, but—”

He doesn’t let you finish. His hands frame your face, pulling you closer. The proximity is electrifying. “If you want things clean, we can keep it clean,” he says, his tone low and deliberate. “If you want no pressure, no attachments, no strings, you’ve got it.”

Your breath catches as his words sink in, leaving you speechless.

“All I know,” he continues, his voice thick with restrained longing, “is that I’ve spent this entire week fighting every urge to put my hands all over you every time I see you. I want you… badly. So if this is what I need to do to have you, I’ll do it all.”

You try to find the words to explain everything, but the words can’t seem to form. Instead, you let out a faint whisper to repeat yourself. “I—I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” he says, a hint of a smile ghosting across his lips before he kisses you.

Whenever Choso has his lips on you, it feels like he can never get enough, but this time it feels controlled. His rhythm is sensual and slow, like every kiss is meant to savor every last bit he’s missed throughout the week.

Before you get lost in his touch, he manages to pull back. He looks at you with sincerity before his gaze darkens into lustful desire. “But if you still want to make it up to me…” he starts. “...Be a good girl and open up for me.”

The drop in Choso’s voice has your insides trembling with arousal. You notice how his demeanor has completely shifted. This is different from any other version of him that’s been between your legs. It’s dark, rough, and the type of Choso that commands your presence without even lifting a finger. You don't know what’s coming next, but you’re more than willing to step into the storm he’s offering.

“Yes, sir.”

Your words trigger Choso’s desire to be close to you. Within seconds, you feel the weight of his body pinning you to the bed.

When you look into his eyes, the soft flames turn into a deep fiery abyss. His lips find yours with a possessive force that electrifies your core. Choso doesn’t just want you, he needs to have you and nothing will stop him.

As you kiss, you feel him slide your wrists above your head. “You know, in thinking about this a bit more, maybe a few creative consequences might be a bit more fun.” His words come out as a smoldering whisper as he motions to the restraints attached to the headboard. “You up for it?”

The thought of Choso strapping you down and having his way with you does more to your filthy mind than expected. “Mhmm,” you hum, the rush from your core begins to drip out of you.

He pauses. “Excuse me?” he teases as he locks his eyes onto yours. This is a man who is ready to dominate you from the inside out.

You give him a playfully challenging look. “Sorry—yes, sir,” you reply.

His mouth curls into a devilish grin. “Better.” Choso wraps the cuffs around your wrists, leaving yourself vulnerable to anything he could possibly do to you. “If you want to get out of these, you’ll have to earn it. How ‘bout it beautiful, ready to play?”

You watch him undress, paying attention to every muscle that’s revealed. When he finally slips on a condom, you spread your legs wide open and purr, “Always ready for you.”

Choso sets his bare body against yours and brings his hand to your folds. He inserts his fingers into you like it’s second nature.

The motion causes you to take in a sharp inhale. God, you’ve missed how full his fingers feel inside you. “Oh yes Cho—”

“Look how wet you’re getting for me, I can’t wait to be inside that tight fucking pussy.”

The way he speaks to you fills your mind with sinful thoughts. You want him to not only fuck your tight pussy, but absolutely destroy it.

Maybe Choso is a mind reader because your wish is his command.

Without taking his hand off your clit, Choso moves himself between your thighs and directs his length into your entrance. He presses into you in one solid motion and your mind gets an instant hit of bliss.

“Fuck—” you cry, soaking all of him in.

“You’ve got it, babe.” He praises as he continues to thrust into you. “Show me how well you can take this dick.”

You want to wrap your arms around him, but the restraints serve their purpose and keep you in place. You’d think your inability to take control would frustrate you, but instead it unleashes a part of you that drives you to the brink of sensual madness. Your attraction to Choso and the way he takes charge is through the roof. You could come right here and now if you wanted to, but you know he has a lot more in store for you.

When you’ve properly adjusted to him and your wetness coats his entire shaft, his pace begins to pick up. He takes his hands and grips the outside of your thighs, the pads of his fingers burn into your skin as he raises your legs to your shoulders.

When he dips down deep inside of you, all you can hear are your needy moans filling the room.

“Good job, babe. No one’s ever taken my cock as good as you,” Choso growls. His voice is rough and labored, but unmistakably laced with passion and desire.

As he pounds himself inside of you, you can feel how much he craves the connection between you two. Being the sole source of his pleasure makes you crazy and you know that you both want the same thing: more.

“Fuck yes, Choso—harder” you plead.

To your dismay, he actually slows down—but the look on his face tells you he’s nowhere near stopping. “I’ll give you harder, princess. Flip over for me.”

“Yes, sir,” you purr. The restraints give you just enough slack to cross them over so you can set yourself on all fours. You rest your head into your elbows and arch your back to angle your ass upwards for Choso.

He palms your ass and gives it a firm slap before drilling himself back in. The thunderous sound of his hand against your skin echoes throughout the room.

The delicious stinging sensation on your flesh causes you to throw your head back with pleasure. But before you can return back to your position, you feel Choso grab a handful of your hair. He firmly tugs you back until he can whisper in your ear. “How’s that for harder, beautiful?”

He continues to drive into you, each thrust more irresistible than the last. Tears begin to fall down your cheek, but you can’t help but get drunk off of the intoxicating pain. “So…f—fucking…good,” you try to say between each breath.

Being manhandled by Choso is downright addictive. He commands you in a way that doesn’t need to be spoken. Everytime he grabs your waist, his grip says you’re mine. When he spanks your ass, his touch says you’re mine. Even when he pulls you closer to kiss your neck, his lips say you’re mine. You don't fight back because you happily oblige.

The sound of skin slapping against each other paired with a melody of grunts and moans tears through the whole room. There’s no signs of stopping until you feel the tightness in your center dance on the edge, ready to burst.

Time seems to slow when Choso is inside you, but that doesn’t stop how quickly your orgasm creeps up. You try to speak but your words come out as incoherent moans. “Choso, I’m so close—”

Choso quickly replies, “Nope—consequences, remember?” He may be god’s gift to earth, but right now he’s playing the devil. “You’re going to have to hold it in until I say you can come.” You can hear the menacing grin through his voice.

Somehow that demand turns you on even more. “Cho—” you whine.

“If you want it so badly, beg for it.” His voice is rough as he penetrates deeper into you.

You can’t help the moans that come out when he slams into your cervix. “Please Choso, let me come on your cock.”

“Good girl,” he muses. “Just like that.”

You try to hold back but you’re almost at your peak. “Please Cho—I can’t…” you pant.

“Just a little more, baby.” His pace remains unrelenting. “Breathe. You can take it.”

You try to hold yourself back as much as you can, but every second gets harder than the last. All you want to do is have your pussy throb around his dick. The way he’s making you feel is too good.

Finally, he pulls your hair to bring you up one last time and it’s like you’ve reached salvation. Choso moves his hand to cup the edges of your neck and whispers, “Come with me.”

Immediately, you shatter. And Choso is right there with you.

The gentle grip of his hands around your neck intensifies your orgasm. It makes you feel so light you could practically ascend to heaven. Your only hope right now is that Choso feels the same way too.

You can hear the groans of him coming undone, it’s like music to your ears. When he lightens his hold, his chest falls to your back. It’s soothing how well he fits around you, part of you wants to stay like this forever.

But alas, all good things come to an end. Fortunately for you, something even better waits for you at the end of the tunnel. Choso untangles you from the restraints and releases the cuffs around your wrist. When you’re on your back, he brings himself closer and wraps his arms securely around you.

Choso plants a kiss onto your lips before giving you an admiring look. “You’ve earned your way out this time, but let’s see how well you fare next Friday.”

Your smirk is paired with a playful tone. "Remind me to have Satoru update the schedule so we can do this every day."

He chuckles. "Sure, but that’ll have to wait.” His gaze turns into something deep and darker. “...I’m not even finished with you yet."

You lean in closer, your voice breathless but daring. "Give me everything you’ve got…I can take it."

Once again, he’s on top of you in the blink of an eye. "That’s my girl."

taglist: @jud3thedude @makingtimemine @chosslut @liiiacke @trishiepo0 @celestialforce

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso x reader #choso x you #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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sixosix · 2 years ago

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indebted | mikage reo

( ? ) reo spends money on someone who refuses to be indebted to anyone, FLUFF I SWEAR

( A/N ) why are my bllk fics literally about meeting again i think i have some strange obsession with this trope. ANW THIS FIC IS SOOO CLICHE but i think reo is cheesy like that

the sky is a pretty shade of blue, birds are chirping sweet songs from where they’re perched on branches, and cherry blossom leaves are floating along the wind; some are even pooling around his feet. love is in the air, one could say. pluck out every element you could see in a high school-inspired love song music video, and you’ll get precisely what reo is experiencing.

but none of those are what reo is looking at right now.

no, not when you’re standing before him, and his pulse is unsteady.

“i like you,” you say. “i want to go out with you.”

reo’s eyes go round, spluttering syllables that are strung together hastily. he settles with a: “w-whuuu…”

the small group of students who decided to tag along with reo all gasped and ooh?. reo doesn’t know why he’s the one feeling mortified, heat crawling up across his cheeks.

you’re staring at him with a fierce expression, refusing to back down and shy away despite the crowd. it’s like you don’t care what they think or say so long as you get your words across. he honestly respects it.

reo scratches the back of his neck, guilty for some unfamiliar reason. he’s gently rejected countless others before, so he’s unsure why he’s so reluctant this time. maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you know what you want, and it’s making him feel flustered in a way he hasn’t felt before.

“don’t just stand there, reo!” someone butts in, as if it’s his business. as if he’s confessing or being confessed to.

you and reo turn to glare venom at the guy, who shrinks under both your gazes.

reo’s gaze finds yours once again, trying for a comforting smile.

“i’m sorry. i can’t accept your confession,” he murmurs and winces at the feigned cries of the people around him. his heart pangs painfully in his chest when he sees your crestfallen expression. “i really am sorry!” and he is. “i bet you’re nice—“

you hold up a hand, a universal sign to shut the hell up, you’re making it worse, idiot. “it’s fine. you don’t have to say anything else aside from a ‘no’, reo-san.” the smile you give him is pretty painful. or is it painfully pretty? “thank you for your time.”

reo blinks when you swivel around. he feels incredibly horrible, to be frank.

reo watches you leave until you’re out of sight, only snapping out of it when nagi shoulders him to tune back into the laughter of his classmates, teasing him relentlessly about the confession.

“man, are you always this nice to your fans?” one of them snickers. “you’re sick for leading the l/n y/n on.”

reo frowns. “i’m not leading them on, i’m just trying not to be an ass to people who admire me, unlike some people.”

“oooh…”

reo sighs, leaning against nagi’s terrifyingly solid figure. “y/n, huh?” he mumbles.

the hallways are unusually empty today. reo is usually swarmed by students from his class or even others, especially during the hour of lunch break.

there seems to be an influx of students crowding downstairs, though, judging by the faint cheers he can hear all the way from the fourth floor.

someone passes him, brushing his forearm, and reo almost ignores it.

“oh, hi, reo-san!” the voice says, and it snaps him right out of his wondering.

reo blinks, doing a double take. “ah, y/n.”

you skid to a halt, facing him over your shoulder with a pleasantly surprised expression. “you know my name already?”

reo feels caught, somehow. he doesn’t know what to say, so he nods and smoothly switches subjects. “where are you runnin’ off to?”

you don’t move from where you’ve stopped, and reo feels the need to catch up, so he jogs like an obedient dog. the nearly terrifying grin you shoot him does little to cover your amusement. “you’ve been spacing out during class, top of the class? there’s a parade going on right now for the school festival, i’m heading down to watch.”

oh. so that’s where everyone went.

in reo’s defense, he went to the bathroom minutes before break—most likely when the teacher announced anything regarding a parade. and nagi is nowhere to be seen to inform him about it. knowing nagi, he’s hiding away on some random floor’s stairs to play games on his phones quietly.

reo nudges you with an elbow and realizes halfway through that he never asked if you’re even okay with him doing that. he clears his throat, “let me come with you, then.”

“c’mon, pretty boy.” you pick up the pace, and he could’ve tripped on air hearing that. “don’t make me miss out on the fun waiting for a snail like you.”

reo makes a show of scoffing, but he can’t hide the smile in his voice.

you both make your way downstairs, chatting idly all the while. it’s small talk—mindless, almost, but reo finds himself relaxing quickly in your presence like he didn’t just meet you yesterday. like you didn’t just ask him out, and he rejected you yesterday.

“ahh, the stalls are up already?” you frown, scanning the area and onto the line of students swarming the field. “i thought they wouldn’t be serving anything this early.”

“if it’s what you’re worried about, it’ll be my treat,” reo finds himself offering without thinking.

“will it, now?”

minutes later, you two find yourselves walking out of the line of stalls with bags of snacks and street foods (even trinkets you weren’t planning to buy but reo wanted you to have). it was all a blur. reo didn’t know he could start from roaming the hallways to having a nearly empty wallet with you by his side.

blinking incredulously at the heap of bags slung over your forearms, you say, “i’ll pay next time.”

reo shrugs, pleased with himself but trying so hard not to show it. “it’s fine.”

“what? no, it’s not fine. i’ll pay you back,” you say, stern. there is no room for dispute.

“it’s really no big deal…” and it’s not. he gets enough money to fill up his wallet easily once more. upon seeing your glare, he concedes. “fine, do what you want.”

your bright smile at that response makes him realize something about you.

reo is ashamed to say it, but ever since yesterday, he’s been noticing you more and more often.

it’s embarrassing to admit that he hasn’t paid attention before, but it’s even more embarrassing to realize that he keeps finding you everywhere—it’s almost incredulous to think that he has never met you earlier.

what’s worse is that reo is excited when he does catch sight of you.

images of your moment with him come to him in a flash, and he almost fucks it all up by approaching you out of nowhere—he could, but he doesn’t know what you still think of him after that. he, for one, would feel as if he’s being pitied when the person he confessed his feelings to starts coming up to him without any good reason.

that’s the thing: reo can’t think of a good reason.

“stop overthinking,” is all nagi says to reo’s mindless rambling of his current crisis (read: above). “you shouldn’t look too deep into it, idiot. if y/n can confess to you just because, then y/n can tell you to screw off if you make things weird.”

that is surprisingly a piece of very reasonable and thought-provoking advice.

“okay,” reo says. it makes sense.

he doesn’t have to do anything, though, because nagi looks up from his phone, sees something, and tells him reo can just text him what happens because he’s heading straight home.

“what? what? where are you going, nagi?”

“reo-san—” reo jumps in surprise, “—sorry, did i scare you? haha, that was cute!” he turns and sees you grinning up at him, impudent like you hear precisely what is going in his head.

“y/n,” he says, horrified to feel sudden warmth crawling up his cheeks. how do you keep doing that? “when did you…”

“are you free? i still have to pay you back, don’t i?”

he wants to say that if you feel like you owe something, you don’t, and reo doesn’t care about the money he spent on you, seeing how much fun you had yesterday. yet the excitement evident in your voice kills off the rebuttal on the tip of his tongue.

reo finds himself laughing, mostly out of disbelief. “alright.”

you beam, his expression softens, and the sunset is beautiful this afternoon.

“come on, i know this really good place,” you tell him, reaching for his hand like it’s natural. reo’s eye catches on the charm dangling on your bag. his heart does something weird when he realizes it’s what he picked out for you. “you mentioned you like ichibo steak yesterday, right? you’re in luck.”

reo should really get checked up. he’s been feeling incredibly warm lately.

you two decide to ride a taxi. reo texts nagi that he is out on a platonic—emphasized platonic, in bold, italic, and even underlined—date with you, as friends, and all because you felt guilty. the sticker nagi sends in return says he does not care.

along the way, you two fall into easy conversation once again. reo feels so relaxed that he doesn’t realize until later how wide his grin is. and when he does, it’s when he starts to notice everything else, too.

“it’s weird! i just passed them, and they gave me weird looks. i wanted to square up and ask, what? you wanna fight? i would beat them, no doubt,” you say, huffing. reo chuckles a little. at the sound, you pout. “what’re you laughing at? you don’t believe me?”

“of course i believe you.”

you grin. “that’s right.”

the car stops, and you pay for the ride before reo could even blink and lead him outside. your enthusiasm is endearing, reo has to admit. it feels like you actually like him and like being with him.

the gentle hold you have on him, the way your fingers are absentmindedly rubbing circles on his skin, the way his brain is melting out of his ears—when did he get so soft like this? it’s insane.

it probably means he is happy to have you as a friend, right?

in a seat for four people, reo pointedly decides to sit next to you because sitting across would make it look weird—it will feel like an actual date, and reo is not sure how he can handle the thought of that.

you don’t question it, and reo feels embarrassed to think you probably think he’s so strange that you don’t blink at it. instead, you tug him closer by the sleeve, pointing at his favorite food with sparkling eyes. it’s adorable. you’re so damn excited that it’s rubbing off on him.

reo’s mouth again runs off before his brain can catch up. “are you alright with us hanging out like this? after…”

you understand immediately. reo can’t quite see your expression properly because you’re leaning down to study the menu; however, your answer seems unfazed: “i don’t mind. i like you, don’t i? you already knew that, so that’s a silly question.”

you turn to him, smiling. “of course i’d like being with you, too.”

“ah.” reo’s face is on fire. “so… why did you even like me?”

“hm.” you make a motion of rubbing your index finger and thumb together. “money.”

reo eyes you with a scrunched nose, speechless.

you laugh brightly. “kidding! kidding! kind of.” reo nudges your knee with his as a warning. “okay, okay. i thought you’re cute, alright?”

“really?”

“really.”

it’s almost enough to make him forget how your face fell when he rejected you. almost.

is it normal to think about that so much?

(no. the answer is no, obviously. but reo doesn’t want to think about the reason why it’s a no.)

reo slouches against the seat, his arm brushing against your side. “oh.”

“that was so good,” reo groans. he burps inelegantly afterward, laughing along with you. “fuck, you were right. i’m coming back here again.”

you snort, waving your fork around. “i told you! i’m never wrong, don’t doubt me about anything ever again.” there’s sauce on the side of your mouth; reo brushes it off with his thumb without thinking, as if in a trance.

you pause, going still. you’re staring at him wide-eyed, flustered, and reo finds himself thinking that he likes that look on you.

he snaps out of it the second after, blushing profusely. “sorry, i don’t—” to save himself from explaining, he calls for the waiter for the bill instead. real smooth, reo. did it like a real rich kid.

“hey, wait, why are you paying?” you ask, frowning.

“you already paid for the ride earlier, remember? you don’t owe me anything right now, so let me pay.”

“reo—”

the waiter comes, reo scans the receipt quickly, and slips money in. he also tells them to keep the change, to which the waiter starts bowing and thanking him for, which probably means he paid them more than he’s supposed to.

you slump, bottom lip jutted out. “now i’m indebted to you again.”

reo grins. “i know.”

you become something else to him entirely. more than friends, though not quite lovers. tip-toeing lines, ready to risk it all, but never crossing over.

reo laments this to nagi, who he realizes suddenly becomes an expert.

“for someone who didn’t hesitate to reject y/n, you’re quick to regret it every day,” nagi remarks. “don’t be stupid, reo. the answer is right there— oh, i lost.” nagi is sad now, not that reo can see it because he’s having a crisis.

by the time reo realizes that what he feels for you is more than a simple crush, it’s far too late. he’s on the bus, your last message with him is a goodbye, and his life is flipped upside down.

TIMESKIP

reo sits alone on a bench in the middle of a public park, holding a popsicle and checking his watch occasionally. his knee bounces, impatient, but his last text will stay as: i’ll wait for you no matter how long.

he sighs, his head slowly tilting up to face the sky.

it’s as beautiful as he remembers it—the day he regrets more than anything. all that’s left is for birds to chirp and leaves to dance around his feet.

he had to reject his friends’ offer to go out, as it’s not often blue lock members are given off days. however, it’s a small price to pay if he gets to see you again.

“i’m here!”

reo nearly jolts in surprise, his whole body instinctively preening at the familiar melody of your voice. he turns, and his heart bursts.

it’s been so long. too long. yet every detail about you is still the same as he daydreams about when it gets a little too lonely: from your smile to the way you’re looking at him with overwhelming fondness. there’s no mistaking it—the happiness tickling his chest says more than words could.

he is so fucking in love.

you stand there, a little nervous and hesitant like you’re ready to run with one wrong move.

so reo won’t fuck this up. not anymore or ever.

“y/n,” he breathes, tugging you by the arm to pull you closer. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too,” you say, melting in his grasp. “i didn’t think you’d— i didn’t expect you to still want to see me after high school.”

“don’t be stupid,” he chides, gently flicking your forehead. “of course i’d want to see you.” your gaze shifts to the plastic he’s holding in his other hand, and he almost smacks his face for forgetting. “right, here. i bought you ice cream because it’s a bit hot today. thought you’d like it.”

“so thoughtful,” you coo, poking his cheek before gratefully taking the popsicle from him.

he pats the vacant spot next to him. it took all his willpower and rationality to not gesture his lap.

“um,” you fidget, tongue darting out quickly to lick on the icy treat. reo is not getting distracted, he’s not. “what was the question you said you wanted to ask? that text almost made me want to chuck my phone across the room, you know? we haven’t talked for months, and that’s the first thing you send me.”

“sorry,” reo can’t help but chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “i just want to do this before i regret anything again.”

“you have regrets with me?” you frown, hurt.

reo nods, and fuck it, reaches out to cup your chin. there’s a smidge of melted ice cream; he swipes it away with a thumb. “the day we met,” he says distractedly.

there’s a moment where you can only look at him incredulously, a little offended. but understanding dawns on your face soon after. “that was the day i confessed.”

he nods, proud. “you’re still indebted to me, aren’t you?”

“yes? you made sure you were the last one to pay for anything when you won me that plushie at the arcade a week before you left,” you recall fondly.

“alright, then.” reo takes your free hand to pull you closer to him, stunning you to silence. the popsicle starts melting at the sides—it could be from the heat or from how intense reo is staring at you. “pay me back by going out with me. as your boyfriend.”

THIS IS SO RUSHED I KNOWWW but take it and appreciate it please i dont even kno where the reo brainworms came from

#606:BLLK #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage x you #x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo imagines #mikage reo fluff #bllk fanfic #blue lock fluff

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solar4seekstron · 3 months ago

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Chapter 3: Traitor!

Transformers One x Reader: Awakening Chapter Three

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!reader

Introduction Movie Masterlist

TW/tags: B being adorable, death (deer robot and primes flashback), tried to add reader in the best I can without changing too much, D loses his shit near the end, 3rd pov, that should be all

(Alright gang it’s time for chapter 3! It was a bit hard for me to add much moments for Y/N and B in this bit because most of the time it didn’t feel right to change certain parts and moments except for the part where the gang is walking. As always I try to add accurate dialogue as I imagine that it’s what the characters would say. Hopefully you all enjoy this and enjoy the reader as you see their character grow and more of their personality and so on. Enjoy.)

Elita starts punching the giant rock next to her.

“Ok so uh this is us. And if we follow the path to-“

“Now you listen to me Mr. Zero seconds since my last accident. I’ll go on your little quest ‘cause I don't have a choice! But I carry the map. I navigate. And if this leads to nothing! Then I’m dragging you and those two idiot GoBots back to Iacon city and into the first supervisor depo we see at which point you will explain everything that has happened using words that reflect me in a very positive light! Got it!!”

“Yeah ok deal all right all right.”

“Lets go!”

B would then follow Elita after look at Orion. Orion looking terrified. As the four walk forward following Elita. Orion was waiting for D first to catch up then starts walking. D admiring their surroundings both curious and confused. Y/N was next to Orion as the two walked forward. Orion would look over at Y/N.

“This is going well. Sorry for bringing you into this. Didn’t plan you two joining.”

”It’s fate at least someone other then D joins you. More then one it seems.”

”Yeah B we just met when Darkwing brought is to one of the sub levels to keep us hidden. B helped us escape and thought of the train once we found the map.”

”Well. He seems pretty nice….Enough.” The two would then start walking once D caught up

”She- She’s joining us? Fantastic! Hi there, uh Elita right? Am I saying that right? Wanted to formally introduce myself. Uh, I’m B-127. You kneed me in the face earlier back there. Uh you-you can call me B or! Badassatron. It’s a nickname sort of what the guys gave me I don’t know. I didn’t give it to myself or anything, it's just-…actually it’s pronounced “Badassatron!!”…In case you were wondering. “Badassatron!!” You like that right?….”Badass-“

“I’m going to need you to talk less.”

“Sure oh yeah no problem. What am I stalking less about? My nickname? That’s fine with me.” Y/N started to walk forward a bit. Giving the two some privacy as they smoke and continues to look at their surroundings. Then joining Elita and B.

“Hey. You’re thinking about what you’ll say when you hand the Matrix to Sentinel aren't you?”

“I can’t help it.”

“D! We’re really doing this.”

“So glad I’m out here with you. This was a great idea.”

The five will continue their journey for what seems like a few hours.

“I’m just having a good time. How much further is the matrix on the map? Make an educated guess that- This is the coolest thing that's ever happened to anyone anywhere I’m telling you! One not two not three, not four but five. Five best friends who are walking through the door- there’s no doors we’re outside.”

Y/N would chuckle finding his humor funny other then the others. They were walking next to B as the others were a bit further.

”B-127 you certainly know how to sing”

”Oh well thank you. You know I just got that talent I guys.”

The two would laugh as Elita rolls her eyes as Orion and D groan until he notices plants from the planet showing again

“Hey look there’s more of it over here.”

Orion would touch the planet life coming out of the ground.

“What is it?”

“It’s not metal.”

“Like some kind of uhh weird nature. It’s weird.”

“So are they.” Soon seeing robot deers

They all then hear a loud noise

“What was that?”

“Uhm I think this is not right, we should go.” Orion seeing dust past him and the deers running the direction they were headed

“Yeah, good idea. “ The five start running getting to what seems like an abandoned town

“Run!”

“What are we running from?”

“What is that!?”

A ship will show itself

“Oh no. It’s a Quintesson ship!”

“What!”

“Oh that ain’t right!!!”

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Shh. Quiet.”

Soon the five have their backs against a wall. Orion, D, Y/N, B, And Elita all looking up at the sky confused and scared. The five would then see one of the deers running and soon the poor deer was hit with something that caused it to explode. Elita was the one to grab Y/N’s hand after they tripped for a second and kept running

“It’s scanning for lifeforms. Move! Move!”

They soon start running

“Go go go.”

D, Y/N and Elita are able to make to a spot where the structure over them of the town can block the scanners above them.

“Come on! They’re not gonna make it!” Y/N trys to step forward wanting to help them but D and Elita would put their hand on Y/Ns shoulder and chest stopping them as the three watched.

Orion then grabs B by just stopping him as they stay under something that keeps the scanners from detecting them. B soon falling on his knees once they pass. Soon the ship will leave

“What- what were they searching for?”

“Someone to hug B. How should I know?” Y/N hits Ds arm with your fist

“I’m not waiting around to find out.”

“This way we’re close.”

“Quintessons haven’t been for 50 cycles.”

“It doesn’t make sense! There’s nothing out here.”

”What ever they’re looking for can’t be up here!…I hope.”

They soon make it to a cave. Climbing to an unpleasant entrance.

“A cave with teeth. Nothing scary about that.”

They start walking forward. B staying close to Y/N as the two look at the eachother scared and unsure

“Knives coming out of the ceiling. Everyone, do we have to go- ok yep we’re going in. Why shouldn’t we? Just walking into the scariest place I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Not ridiculous.”

They continue to walk until they see a sight that causes them to have to stop for a moment

“I don't believe it…”

“The Primes…”

“We’re here.”

”It’s…..really them..”

The five then start walking deeper in the cave. Elita looking at the body of Solus Prime. D. Walking to the head of Megatronus Prime. Kneeling down as he puts his hand on it. Soon looking angry. Orion looks at Zeta Primes body soon kneeling down before him. Y/N walks to Vector Primes body. Taking a knee and bowing their head to him

“Megatronus Prime…..”

“Zeta Prime….The Matrix?…It’s gone.”

“Lets keep looking.”

“Hey guys!”

Soon the five find rocks pilled together making something that was big and after removing them it’s revealed to be Alpha Trion

“It’s Alpha Trion.”

“He’s powered down, but his spark is still lit.”

B would then give Orion a small cube. Orion puts it in Tyrion’s mouth. He soon awakens and the five step back scared

“Message before!”

“Whoah whoah it’s ok! It’s ok. You’re safe now. The war is over.”

Trion would then stand up and make his way to Zetas body as he held his chest.

“I’ve failed you. Old friend. You deserved so much better than this end.”

“No you didn’t fail. We heard your message. We’ve come to find the Martrix-“

“Your transformation cogs- what happened to you? Who are you?”

“We’re cogless miners. From Iacon.”

“Miners? Why?”

“Well we’d have to drill for energon ever since it stopped flowing.”

“Impossible.”

“That’s why we came to fix things. If we find the Matrix of Leadership and get it to Sentinal Prime he sai-“

“Sentinel Is No Prime!”

“WHAT!?”

“He’s broken. Frantastic.” D and Y/N say looking at eachother thinking the same thing as they look back at Trion.

“What are you talking about? Why would you say that?”

“Sentinel Prime is our protector. He’s been saving us from the Quintessons ever since the-“

“You have not been saved. You’ve been living a lie. I saw the truth with my own eyes. Come. I will show you.”

“For thousands of cycles the war with the Quintessons have been a brutal conflict. Until sentinel, the principled aid to the primes. Intercepted an enemy transmission. There was going to be a secret gathering of Quintesson commanders. Their intermission would end the war. It was a mission so important. We primes took it on ourselves. We agreed to meet sentinel for his sensitive intel. In Secret. Here in this Cave. But we were Not Alone.”

The five would watch as the vision of the primes from the sands move around them

“We were outnumbered but stood as One. Our Victory was Near!” The primes continue to fight until one of them, was stabbed from behind

“Until we were Betrayed.”

It then shows sentinel stabbing one of the primes through the back and soon makes his way to the other primes. Shooting Solus Prime. Decapitating Megatronus head. Then shooting Zeta Prime causing him to fly back. Making the four scared and prepare for impact as he appears to fall on them and slides back a bit.

“Sentinel….why…”

“For all the power of Cybertron.”

“But sentinel never understood the true power of what he desired. The Matrix of Leadership can only be wielded by one that Primus himself deems worthy. And sentinel most certainly was not.”

Orion and D watched. Orion with fear and D with anger. Orion would fall on his knees

“Wai- ho- hold on. Yo-you’re saying that the Matrix of Leadership just vanished?”

“No. No no no no. That is impossible. I don’t believe it.”

“Why would sentinel do that?”

“To make a bargain.”

“A bargain? With who?”

“With the new rulers of Cybertron.”

“Quintessons..”

“There are so many.”

The five would see many ships and then one over them as it heads to an open area. The biggest taking center stage. Y/N would kneel between Elita and B as they all watched to see what’ll happen

“He’s here! Sentinel prime is here!”

Sentinel and the other guard are seen flying and soon land in front of the ships. Transforming. The Quintessons solders soon start marching out of the ship getting in line on both sides before their leader

“Keep your eyes open.”

“They always are.”

The master and one of the leaders floats out. Soon sentinel is seen kneeling as the others behind him do the same. The four gasp quietly from what they just saw. He would then look back and nod. The boxes in the trainsf float and then open.

“I load those crates. Those are filled with contaminated metal.”

“I don't understand. What do the Quintessons want with toxic waste?”

“Our energon!”

“Traitor!’’

“D no.”

“I know what I promised you. But our mines. They’re running out. There’s barely enough energon for us.”

“I swear I will get you the rest.”

“Triple time every mining shift. No miner gets a break until I get my energon. All of it! Lets go!”

From there the Quintessons leave and so does sentinel and the other guards. B let out a sigh and looked down showing to be pretty scared as Elita goes to leave. Y/N noticed this and puts their hand over Bs hand. Comforting him and giving a gentle smile. B would then look down with a bit of a frown and follow Elita after. Orion would then leave back into the cave with the others while D stayed for a bit longer still processing what he just witnessed. Y/N stay down a bit as the three would pass them. Seeing D they come next to them, putting their hand in his arm. When he looked at them he saw their expression was anger. They are just as mad as he is looking at the ships then down. Then they look at D as the two stare at each other. Nothing knowing that each other are very, very upset of what they just witnessed.

“Now you have seen the truth.”

“Everyday…every single day of my life has been a lie.”

“My god I knew it! Deep down I always felt something was off!”

“He deceived everyone.”

“Sentinel bought himself power and then put us to work. Paying off his debt.”

“I can’t believe it. Well obviously I can believe it I just saw it. But I still…I can’t believe it.”

“Sentinel..lied…to my face.”

“He lied to all of our faces! To believe we were protected. To believe we had hope and dreams of a future with no worry of the enemy. No! Gone now. Now that the truth is out.” They would then get a big rock close by. But it not creating any pain or anything to them

“It was all a sham. How could we have been so gullible? Oh this. This is going to change everything.”

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You just had to go to the surface. Head into the Iacon 5000. You just had to break protocol.”

“Who cares about protocol?”

“I do! I care! Because nothing ever happens when you stay on protocol!”

“Sentinel prime has been forcing us to work in the mines until our gears strip! And all the while he’s been giving the energon away to our greatest enemies!”

“And what do you think he’s going to do when he finds out that we know?”

“I’m not thinking about what he’s going to do. I’m thinking about what we’re going to do.”

“Well that’s the whole thing! You’re never thinking about anything else! Just yourself! Fantastic! Another Orion Pax master plan! I can’t wait to hear this!”

“Hey don’t you want to stop him?”

“No, I want to kill him! I want to put sentinel in chains and march him through the mines so everyone can see him for the false prime that he is! I want him to suffer then to die in darkness! But we all know that it doesn't matter what I want right Pax? The fact is we’re just cogless bots, right? We had limited options. And now, now we have non.” Y/N would look down. Getting deep in their thoughts as their hands tighten out of anger

“No son or daughter of Cybertron is born without a cog.”

“Oh yeah, I have been with myself since I came online and this slots always been empty!”

“So what are you saying?”

“No, no way. Nobody can be that evil. Not even sentinel.”

“He removed your cogs before you came online.”

“We were born with transformation cogs. But he-..he-“

“He took them from us.”

“OH so he has not only made us work since the moment we wake up. But he is the reason he are fragile and insignificant to the rest of Cybertron!”

Y/N chuckled a bit at first before speaking. Elita looking at them a bit surprised as she put her hand on their chest when they tried to step forward towards Trion. B putting his hand on their arm. Elita never saw Y/N this upset before

“What defines a transformer-hmm..Is not the cog in his chest but the spark that resides in their core. A spark that gives you the will to make your world better. My fellow primes had that spark and I see their strength in you. Take their cogs and access your full potential. Prima. Onyx. Alchemist. Mircronus. Vector. Warriors of noble spirit. Loyalty, Strength, Their uniqueness enhanced by you.”

From there the cogs inside the Primes float out of their chests making their way as the five float and the cogs go into their chests. Transforming them to full Cybertronians

“They were one. You are one. All are one.”

The four would and on their feet and see they have changed

“Wait we- have- you-you gave us-“

“The ability to change your world. How you choose to use that power is up to you.”

Orion would look up at Alpha Trion was hope and joy in his eyes. D doing the same once he looked at Trion as well. Orion turning back to look at B first as B laughs excited. Elita and D looking at each other excited full with pride. Orion soon turning back again to look at the two. Y/n looking at their self as barely has any words. B and Orion look at them with large smiles on their faces excited. Y/N doing the same as they too cheer.But the moment is cut short when the four soon hears a loud rumble.

Hope you all enjoyed and hope to see you for the next chapter!

Next chapter will be released on Friday Nov. 1st

#transformers one #transformers one x reader #orion pax x reader #d 16 x reader #b 127 x reader #elita 1 x reader #transformers

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heavenlyraindrops · 8 months ago

Text

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Nineteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Nineteen Warnings: profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Nineteen]

“I don’t get why we can’t go to her.”

Charlie’s hands curled into rigid fists, eyes glued to the TV as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

“The Vees have her now, Charlie,” Vaggie said. “We can’t just barge over to three of some of the most powerful overlords and demand them to hand over what they probably think is their property now.”

“[name] isnt property,” Charlie seethed, then thrust a hand to Lucifer who was sitting next to her, stiff and eyes trained on the screen just like she was two seconds ago. Completely silent. “And we have me, and Dad. We’re royalty, for fuck’s sake.” She clawed at her hair. “Why can’t we just order them to-“

“We can’t risk making the hotel a target, Char,” Vaggie said tiredly. She pulled her hand away, placing it on her chest as she looked at her girlfriend imploringly. “Believe me, I want to-“ her voice cracked. She looked away. “I want to help her too. She was-“ She kept my secret. She was nice to me- they all saw me as a traitor, she probably did too, but she was still-

“[name]? The angel you guys were talking about from when you went to visit Heaven, right, toots?” Angel Dust slunk over to where the three were crowded, slipping in between Charlie and Lucifer onto the couch. His face fell when he looked at the TV. “…Val has her. Oh.”

“She’s [name],” Lucifer said bitterly. Everyone looked at him. “She’ll be- she’ll be fine.” He looked like he was trying to convince himself, face paler than it usually was.

“Did you know her, Dad?” Charlie didn’t have the patience to sound gentle. The words she threw at him were accusing. “You know her, don’t you?”

“Why would she fall?” Angel Dust asked, ignoring Charlie and Lucifer. “What’d she do?”

“How would you know if she’ll be fine if you don’t know her?” Charlie said, ignoring Angel. “You can’t make that judgement if you don’t-“

“Maybe Heaven found out she supported us?” Vaggie wondered. “Though that’s not really a reason to kick her out.” She chewed her nails. “This doesn’t make sense. The Seraphim loved her.” She looked at Charlie. “You saw it too.”

“All I’m saying is,” Lucifer said, strained, “She’s an angel amongst sinners. Of course she’s ten times more powerful than the rest of Hell, especially the Vees. That’s how all otherworldly beings were created- angels more powerful than sinners, by a long shot.”

“But an angel died-“

“That was an exorcist. She isn’t an exorcist.”

“How would you know?” Charlie challenged, digging into the cracks to see if her father would slip up.

“It’s quite clear she isn’t an exorcist,” he hissed. Charlie’s face fell. He sucked in a deep breath, smoothing back his hair. “I’m sorry, I just- I’m sorry.” Charlie smiled weakly.

“It’s fine if she meant something to you,” she said softly. Everyone looked at Lucifer, who didn’t say anything, just looked back at the news flashing on the screen quickly.

“We could just bust her out,” he murmured, and by the muscle twitching in his jaw anyone looking close enough would have known he was aching too. The simple thought of you in Hell, yet unable to find your way to him- he swallowed and tried to calm his breathing, the way his heart beat in his throat painful.

“About that…” Angel Dust spoke up, then trailed off. Everyone looked at him. He looked sick.

“Angel?” Charlie prompted gently. He took in a shaky breath, then looked away.

“Never mind, I- it’s fine.”

“Valentino would hurt him,” Husk said gruffly. All eyes fell on him as he came over, half-empty bottle clutched in his hand as he took another swig from it. “If he can’t take it out on us, he’ll take it out on him.”

Angel pressed his lips together in a shy yet grateful smile. Husk smiled back at him.

“Angel, maybe we could use you to get [name] back?” Charlie suggested excitedly, but Angel Dust began looking even more sick than before.

“Charlie, no,” Vaggie hissed. Charlie fell back, face guilty.

“Oh, right. I’m- I’m sorry.”

Angel groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, guys. Fuck, I’m useless.” His phone pinged. He pulled it out, expression worsening. “It’s Val. I’m sorry, guys,” he repeated, pocketing the device and waving remorsefully. “If I see or hear anything about [name], I’ll tell you guys when I get back.”

“Thank you, Angel,” Vaggie sighed, giving him a reassuring smile. He didn’t have the heart in it to return the expression, just slipping out the door, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

Charlie stared at the ground, face riddled with guilt. Lucifer looked up. There were tears in her eyes.

“Char?” He asked, scooting over to her and placing both his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Charlie repeated. She looked up. Her eyes were glistening. “What’s wrong? This is what’s wrong!” She flung her hand at the television. “[name]’s in Hell, Dad. And yeah, I barely knew her, but I don’t wish this on her.” She tried to take in a shaky breath, instead failing as a sob racked her shoulders. Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t help thinking- what if I did something while I was in Heaven?” She sank back down and put her head in her hands. “What if I’m the reason she’s down here?”

Lucifer’s throat clenched up. “You’re not,” he whispered. He guided Charlie up, cupping her face in his hands and thumbing away a tear. “You’re not the reason, Charlie.” He smiled weakly, trying not to cry too. “Believe me.”

Charlie looked at him, and some sort of understanding flowed between them because she immediately hugged him, fiercely, afterwards.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Lucifer laughed miserably. “What for?” She didn’t reply, just hugged him tighter.

“We can see what Angel says, then we can wait till morning, a few hours after he comes back, to see if she turns up. If not, we’ll take some action-“

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, dear.”

Vaggie almost leapt a foot into the air. “AAH, FUCK!” She whirled around, fist raised, but once seeing who it was she slowly lowered it, yet didn’t uncurl her palm entirely. “What the fuck, Alastor?”

Alastor ignored her, adjusting his bow tie, then his monocle as he smiled widely. His eyes fixed onto Lucifer, who scowled.

“It seems to be a matter of fact that I met our elusive little angel. In cannibal town, no less. It appears she’s managed to escape the clutches of the Vees.” His lip curled distastefully at the last word, yet his grin never disappeared, his eyes narrowing. “We had quite an… interesting conversation.”

Charlie shot up, and Lucifer had to take all his self-restraint to not grab Alastor by the shoulders and shake every detail out of him.

“You saw her?” Charlie said breathlessly, eyes widening.

“You spoke to her?” Lucifer snapped, eyes narrowing. Alastor’s grin widened beyond what was humane as he tilted his head, eyes glinting.

“Indeed. And you’re all in for quite the surprise.”

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