#Luxury Wall Clocks for Living Room | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaythes1mp · 7 months ago

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Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH2

14925 words, 84394 characters, 792 sentences, 338 paragraphs, 59.7 pages. Previous chapter -> Next Chapter

As you come back to consciousness, you find yourself nestled comfortably on a luxurious cat bed that feels almost too extravagant to be real. The surroundings are lavish and comfortable, the room itself enormous, with almost too much space to take in all at once.

You're not sure where you are, but one thing you know for certain – is that it is definitely not your apartment.

You push yourself up from the plush bed, your paws sinking into the decadent fabric as you take a moment to survey your surroundings. The room is a mix of modern and traditional, with a hint of something distinctly Wayne Manor-esque. The furnishings are plush and expensive, and the entire room is immaculate, every surface spotlessly clean.

You can see a large window at the far end of the room, offering a view of Gotham City’s skyline.

You take another moment to look around, taking everything in as you process your new surroundings. It seems you're in a large living room of sorts, furnished with rich, high-end furniture and expensive-looking decor. Tall bookshelves line the walls, filled with all manner of books and trinkets. The most striking feature, however, is the excessive number of cat trees and wall climbers scattered throughout the room.

Confusion overtakes you for a moment, your mind still fuzzy from sleep as you try to figure out what the hell happened to lead you here.

As you shift up, adjusting your position on the plush bed, a small, bell-like sound rings through the air. In that moment, the memories flood back to you all at once. Nightwing, Robin, the strange collar.

The sudden, restrictive feeling around your neck is a stark reminder of your current predicament.

As the memories come flooding back to you, you instinctively try to raise a paw to rub at the collar around your neck, only to find that it's fastened on tight, the hooks holding it in place digging into your fur. Your movements are still a little sluggish from your previous unconscious state, making you feel more vulnerable than usual, trapped, in a place you don’t recognise.

As your gaze drifts downwards, you suddenly notice the subtle aching in your leg and near the base of your spine. Upon a more thorough inspection, you realise that there are small, almost imperceptible stitches in your fur, between the muscles on your left thigh. Panic rises within you, the realisation that something has been done to your body sending a wave of nausea through you, making you feel sick to your very core.

The fear washes over you in full force as you register the sight of the stitches on your body. It's not just the knowledge that someone has tampered with your body, but the thought that you were unconscious and vulnerable when it happened. Your heart races with a sickening anxiety, the fear coursing through you making your senses hyper-aware.

You quickly scramble up from the cat bed, your body a whirlwind of motion, you leap off the plush fabric, landing on the soft, carpeted floor with a thump. Your body is tense, nerves on edge, as you instinctively try to take in your surroundings. Your pupils have narrowed into slits, tail whipping around wildly, betraying your anxiety.

You start moving across the room, treading softly on the plush carpet beneath your paws, every muscle in your body tense and poised, ready to flee or fight at a moment's notice. Prepared for any surprise.

As you move through the room with tentative, calculated steps, your mind is on high-alert, taking in every single detail. From the placement of the furniture, to the large window at the far end, to the faint sound of a clock ticking on the wall, everything registers in your heightened senses.

There's a strange sense of being both trapped and exposed, in this grand space that is simultaneously familiar and foreign. The uncertainty of what might come next hangs over you like a dark cloud.

You go completely still, your fur standing on end, your ears perking up and shifting in the direction of the hallway. Your entire body tenses in anticipation as you listen to the loud, precise footsteps approaching you.

Every instinct in you screams danger, so you quickly ready yourself to either flee or fight.

A tall, slender butler emerges from the hallway, his pale blue eyes scanning the room before his gaze lands on your bristled, tense form. A single grey eyebrow raises slightly in surprise as he continues to look at you.

"You're up earlier than planned, young master," he remarks, his voice calm and even. A hint of curiosity laced within his tone.

The butler's casual demeanour is a stark contrast to the tenseness of your own body. His eyes linger on you with a sort of cool curiosity, taking in your fluffed up form. He looks unfazed by your reaction, his calm composure making it feel like this is a completely normal, everyday occurrence.

Your heart races as the words sink in, your mind racing with confused fear. What the fuck. Why is he calling me 'young master'? Where the hell am I, and what the hell is happening.

The situation feels entirely surreal, and more than a little bit terrifying. You just want to go back to the safety and familiarity of your own home, but instead you're here, trapped in this lavish living room, with a strange butler calling you by some title you've never even dreamed of being addressed by before.

The butler watches you closely, his cool blue eyes scanning over every little detail of your tense form, noting your bristled fur, your tail that's whipping around wildly, and the panicked look in your wide, dilated eyes. A hint of intrigue flashes through his expression as he takes in your state.

Then, he speaks again, his calm and steady voice betraying his thoughts.

"It seems the sedative is wearing off a little faster than expected," he says, taking a few steps closer to you. His voice sends a new wave of unease through you.

The calm, casual vibe the butler is giving off, coupled with the little almost-smile on his face, makes your already overdriven senses go into a frenzy. Every fibre of your being is screaming danger, and you instinctively take a step back, hackles raised further, your body tensed and ready to bolt.

Your fear and panic have heightened every one of your senses, and you're on edge, ready to react to any sudden movement or sound. You're poised to run, or if need be, fight. You try to keep your breathing steady, but the anxiety is bubbling up inside of you, making it difficult to stay still.

The butler's observant gaze is on you, studying your every move as you take a step back, your body tense in a flight-ready stance. He notices the panic etched into your form, and for a moment, he doesn't approach. Instead, he stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his form composed and relaxed.

After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice soft and apologetic.

"I apologise for the state you woke up in," he says, that almost imperceptible smile still playing on his lips.

The man’s apology catches you off guard, a tiny flicker of surprise in your wide, dilated eyes. The politeness of his tone combined with that smile makes him seem almost eerily calm, given the situation you're currently in. Even though his words are apologetic, there's a subtle undercurrent of something else in his tone that you can't quite place.

The older man continues to watch you, his cool, observant gaze tracking every little movement you make, from the twitching of your whiskers to the rise and fall of your fluffy chest as your anxiety makes your breaths a little more laboured.

He takes a few steps closer toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. He's treating you like a wild beast, trying not to startle you further.

"It was necessary for the procedure to ensure your safe arrival, young master," he continues, his voice still soft but firm. It's as if he's trying to reassure you, despite the fact that his words do nothing but the opposite.

You shiver as the butler moves closer to you, your body tensing even further as you try to assess the potential threat he may pose. The apology and the explanation for your current state do little to ease the fear and confusion swirling within you. The dubbed name young master is foreign and bizarre and does nothing to help the situation.

You're on edge, your muscles coiled tight like a spring, ready to dart away the moment you sense any danger. But the butler isn't making any sudden moves, his calm demeanour and soft, even tone sending a confusing message.

The butler's eyes are observant, taking in every single twitch and jerk of your tensed body. He seems to recognise your anxiety, your coiled form ready to dart away given the opportunity. Yet he isn't visibly phased, his composed demeanour and soft, almost soothing voice unfazed by your obvious distress.

He takes another slow step toward you, his movements deliberate and careful.

"I understand your fear and confusion," he repeats, as if he was trying to reason with a frightened animal. Which in this case, wouldn’t be entirely wrong. However, beneath the soft, reassuring tone of his voice, there's still something else present, something you can't quite identify. “But you have nothing to be afraid of here.”

You swear that you could hear a hint of warning in his carefully crafted speech.

He's close enough now to reach out a pale hand toward you, his fingers outstretched. From this angle, the butler seems considerably taller, more imposing, and more dangerous than he appeared before, his gaze calm and calculating.

The tension in the room is palpable, and the clock on the wall seems to be the only other source of sound, beating in tune with your fast, panicked heart. He is entirely calm, his gaze cool and calculating, studying you carefully, like a hunter watching its prey.

"Come here, young master." He says in that soft, smooth, insistent tone.

You feel frozen in place, your mind racing with panic and despair. The options before you seem limited, the need to flee battling against the growing realisation that escape might not be a feasible option, especially with the butler's hand inching closer. Your body trembles slightly, your wide, alarmed eyes fixated on his approaching hand, the subtle threat underlying his words making it clear that the consequences of running away might be dire.

His voice, though soft and controlled, leaves no room for debate or refusal. The command in his words is clear.

He expects you to come to him.

You feel as if time stands still, your fear and tension making everything around you seem heightened, as if every fibre of your body was hyper-aware. The butler's hand is still gently moving closer, as if he was simply going to reach out and scoop you up, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Your mind is swirling with fear and confusion, your thoughts chaotic and jumbled. You can't think clearly, and yet the old man exudes an air that somehow compels your trembling little paws to move forward, into his extended hand. Your every instinct is screaming at you that this man is dangerous, that getting any closer is a bad idea, but the mixture of fear, feeling of dizziness, and the authoritative atmosphere around him seems to overpower your logic. You don’t want to find out what would happen if you went against him.

A subtle victorious smile plays on the corner of the butler's lips as you begin to move forward, stepping into the range of his hand. He can practically feel your internal conflict and fear, and yet he shows no visible sign of it bothering him. His eyes remain steadfast, his expression and demeanour calm and composed.

"That's it," he murmurs, a hint of satisfaction in his tone, his hand closing around your small form, carefully but firmly holding you in his grasp, just tight enough to keep you from bolting.

You find yourself held against the butler's chest as he carefully lifts you off the ground, cradling you against him, his hold on you surprisingly gentle yet unyielding. The warmth of his body against your small form is an odd, almost confusing contrast to the fear and confusion you're currently feeling.

He begins walking across the living room, carrying you as if he was holding a fine piece of art. Every one of your senses is on high-alert, and you can feel the steady, calm beat of the butler's heart against your small form.

His steps are sure and controlled, his pace steady. He says nothing, his eyes looking ahead as he carries you through the lavish living room. Every step he takes seems to bring more and more confusion, the whole scene seeming like some sort of surreal fever dream.

The living room is large and open, with high ceilings and several plush couches and armchairs arranged around a grand, stone fireplace. The rich decor, the tall bookshelves, and the numerous cat trees and climbing structures give the room a distinct 'manor' vibe.

Everything in the room seems to scream 'wealth' and 'luxury', the opulence of Wayne Manor perfectly represented in this single, large room.

Despite the grandeur of the room, the butler's attention seems to be solely on you, his eyes focused on your small form he's cradling.

He speaks up, his tone is matter-of-fact and business-like, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Master Dick has requested your immediate presence.” He speaks softly, as if his words would clear everything up. You don't know who this Master Dick is, but the urgency in the butler's voice tells you that it's probably someone important.

His words linger in your mind like a heavy weight. You have no idea who they are, but the way the butler addresses them and the air that surrounds him leaves no room for doubt that the person is someone important, someone powerful.

He walks out of the living room, and a wave of cold, stark realisation washes over you, a sense of hopelessness that comes with the knowledge that you have absolutely no say in this. You are at these people’s mercy.

The halls of the manor that you find yourself in are long and wide, the floor carpeted and the walls lined with expensive and elaborate paintings and decorations. The place itself is beautiful, but you're unable to appreciate any of it, your mind racing and your heart beating rapidly. A fuzzy feeling basked over the back of your mind.

The butler carries you down the halls, his steps long and unhurried, making you acutely aware of how small and helpless you are in this unknown, vast, and intimidating place.

As you're brought through the seemingly endless halls, your mind is bombarded with a barrage of thoughts, all of them chaotic and confused. You try to look for a way to escape, but everything here is unknown and unfamiliar, and you have no idea which doors might lead outside, or if there are any windows you might be able to jump out of.

Your small form cradled almost carefully against his chest, his grip strong and unyielding. There's a sense of detachment with which he carries you, handling you like an object, a thing to be used and given.

The halls continue to pass by in a blur of rich colours and patterns, the only sounds being the steady thud of the butler's footsteps and your ragged, stressed breathing.

After what feels like an eternity, the man stops his movements. You find yourself standing before a large, grand-looking door, it's dark wood carved with elaborate designs and patterns. It looks like it’s been freshly cleaned, as if it used to home someone and they’ve only now started using it again. The door radiates a sense of importance, and you feel the pit of your stomach clench in fear.

He adjusts his grip on you, positioning you to be more presentable as he reaches with one hand to knock three times on the door. He looks down at you, a slight flicker of something in his eyes, and then he waits.

Your ears involuntarily fold back upon hearing the heavy, fast footsteps approaching. The door is practically wrenched open with a thud, and a tall male stands in the doorway. He’s grinning widely, his eyes almost shimmering in the light, and his gaze immediately settles on you.

The man’s presence is imposing, and you feel yourself involuntarily shrinking back against the butler, not knowing what to expect. He looks at you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, his grin widening as he takes in your small form.

The man who stands before you is tall, and broad-shouldered. He's dressed in casual wear, a light, well-fitted hoodie stretched over his wide chest tucked into dark jeans. His face holds an almost boyish charm, framed by dark, wild hair that tumbles over his forehead.

His eyes are a bright, intense blue, and right now they're fixed directly on you. There's a hint of both curiosity and amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

His demeanour changes almost instantly at the sight of you, his intense gaze softens as he takes you from the older man’s grasp by the scruff. He holds you up in the air, and you don't even have time to react before he's speaking.

"There's our baby." He coos, and there's a hint of something affectionate in his tone. The nickname baby is weird and confusing, but the man acts as if it's something perfectly normal. You’re not sure how to act. Everything’s happening too fast and you’re barely able to think, mind still hazed with sleep.

He doesn’t hold you forcefully, his grip not harsh but not soft either. You can almost feel the possessiveness in the touch, the way he looks at you, the sense of almost casual possessiveness. It’s like he believes that he has every right to be touching you, holding you, like you belonged to him. As if you were something he owned.

"Look at you…" he murmurs, his eyes taking in your form as he holds you up. "So pretty in person…"

There's a sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you're better than what he had expected, and he's pleased by what he sees.

You can’t stop yourself from the deep, guttering hiss that escapes you as the man speaks, a mixture of fear, irritation and helplessness rolling through you. You hate how vulnerable you feel in his grasp, being held up in the air by this stranger, unable to break free.

The man chuckles, the sound loud and booming to your sensitive ears.

"Aww…" he coos. "I’m sorry, am I frightening you, little one?”

He holds you up to his eye-level, observing you with an amused yet soft grin, his eyes dancing with both curiosity and something else.

Your tail instinctively lashes around, thrashing in the air, trying to find a way to defend yourself, to break free of the strangers grip. But your body is slacking, the instinct to go limp when a predator has your scruff almost overpowering.

The position you’re in is uncomfortable and vulnerable and you’ve never been handled like this before. You’re finding it hard to move your limbs, breathing fast and overwhelmingly stressed. The helplessness of being carried like this is overwhelming. You want to scream and cry and run as far and fast as possible.

But you don’t. You forcibly stop yourself from letting the helplessness get to you. You refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared, of seeing you so exposed.

I’m better than that, you tell yourself. Better than them. You’re stronger than that. You might be small right now, but you’re also stubborn as hell, and you’ll be damned if they get the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

He studies you intently, his eyes taking in every little detail of your form, from the twitching of your ears to the frantic movement of your tail. He’s still holding you up, his hold on your scruff not slacking in the slightest. His gaze fond and amused.

He lets out another small, amused chuckle at your reaction, his lips tugged into a small smile. “Don’t worry, kitten. You’re safe with me..”

His attention shifts back to the other man for a moment, giving him a nod of thanks. “Thanks, Alfred.”

The older man, Alfred apparently, gives him a small nod, his gaze is still set on you. "Of course, sir.” A slight frown on his face as he looks at the man holding you, Master Dick apparently, a mix of concern and knowing in his eyes. “Be careful. The sedative is still in their system.” The man gives a small hum in response, seemingly not bothered by the warning.

Alfred lingers there for a moment, looking at you, then looking at the man, a silent exchange between the two of them. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

And then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing back down the hallway.

"Alfred is a worrier," The man mutters as he watches the butler walk away. He gives you a small, almost sheepish smile. "Sorry ‘bout that."

He turns back to you and continues scanning your form, his gaze thoughtful and curious. He speaks to you like one might speak to a child. Softly and reassuringly.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" he says, voice low and quiet. "Such a pretty little thing..”

He looks over you with an almost adoring look in his eyes, his thumb gently stroking the fur on the top of your head. You want to recoil from his touch, but you’re unable to do anything but stay paralysed in his grasp.

He seems to find your lack of reaction amusing.

"Not very talkative, huh?" he murmurs, tilting his head slightly to the side, watching your expression closely. "That’s alright. You don’t have to be."

He continues caressing your small form with his free hand, the stroking gentle and almost caring. His eyes flicker down to your ears and he grins. “You’re just a ball of attitude, aren’t you?�� he notes, amusement in his tone. “The way your ears fold back every time I talk. So defensive.. Seems my youngest siblings are similar in that respect” He grins softly, pressing a kiss to your fluffy coat.

You freeze up, caught off guard by the unexpected and strange gesture. For a moment you’re too surprised to react, your body going limp before stiffening quickly again.

Your mind is reeling, trying to process this unexpected level of intimacy, from a complete stranger, no less. What the hell is up with this guy? He’s acting like I’m a pet. The thought is both angering and demeaning, you watch him with a mix of confusion and wariness in your eyes.

He brings you close to his chest, cradling your small form against him. His fingers run through your soft fur in a way that almost tickles, the feeling making your skin crawl a bit. The doors close behind him with an audible snap, the sound a little too loud to your sensitive ears.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the ridiculous amounts of cat-related objects that are placed everywhere. Drawers filled with little outfits, toys littered around, cat cushions, scratch pads, catnip balls stuck to the walls, and more. You almost grimace at the sight.

The room is a cat’s dream, filled to the brim with cat toys and decorations. A large, king-size bed dominates the centre of the room, covered with different patterns of soft blankets, a pile of various pillows and cushions scattered around it. It’s like a cat paradise, and an absolute nightmare for you.

The man carries you further in, taking a seat on the bed and making himself comfortable. He continues to hold you close, rubbing the nape of your neck, his touch too soft. Like he was silently apologising for handling your scruff so roughly.

He plops down on the bed unceremoniously, the springs creaking under his weight. He adjusts his hold on you to make you more comfortable, his grip a bit more lax now, but still firm enough to keep you pressed against him.

His eyes run over your form, looking you up and down, like he’s mentally checking you over. He’s studying me. He takes in every little detail. Every twitch of your ear, every lash of your tail, the way you instinctively hunch in on yourself. “... Damian’s not going to be happy with the state of your fur, little one..”

He reaches out to pet you, not expecting the swift response as you quickly smack his hand away, your claws drawing lines of bright red across the back of his hand.

He jerks backwards, yowling softly, his expression going momentarily shocked as he looks at the deep thin red lines across his skin.

He stares at you for a moment, surprised and probably pained, but also...almost impressed?

"That hurt you know..” he grumbles, more amused than mad.

"...But that’s okay. Siblings fight all the time." He mutters, still looking at his hand, the long red lines standing out against his tan skin. He sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to you.

His gaze then moves to look at you, and his expression is mildly entertained. He gives you a small teasing smile.

"Just wait until the others find out how feral you are. They'll have a field day with you.." The way he speaks is as if he’s joking, but his words make your fur stand on edge. He’s calling any person's natural reaction to getting kidnapped feral.

As you replay his words in your head you freeze. Others? You repeat in your mind, a sickening feeling settling in your gut. Just how many of them are there?

He seems to notice your reaction to his words, noticing your stiffened form and the look of dread on your face. He gives a small hum, his fingers running through your fur gently, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his tone almost patronising. He keeps his voice gentle, like a big brother speaking to his smaller child sibling.

"Did the mention of our siblings scare you?"

He continues to run his fingers through your fur as he talks, his tone still soft. "I'm sure you'll come to love them.. They're a bit rough around the edges, but they're good kids. Once they warm up to you, that is. And you, lovely, are already in their good graces.” He’s doing it again, speaking to you like you’re a dimwitted animal, something cute and small and incapable of understanding him. It’s demeaning and agitating. It makes me feel pathetic.

Tim's sitting on the kitchen chair, his feet propped up on the marble counter, leaning back casually. His attention was focused on the tablet in his hand. Or at least it was, too occupied with secretly watching as Damian meticulously rearranged the fridge, his brother moving items around to ‘make it look perfect’ for his older sibling’s new arrival.

Tim lets out a soft sigh. Of course. His little brother is almost as obsessive about organisation as Batman himself. He’s not surprised, more amused.

Damian looks over in Tim’s direction for a moment, his eyes catching the sight of Tim’s feet on the table. He rolls his eyes, a small scoff of displeasure escaping him.

"Feet off the table, Drake." Damian says dryly, his focus returning to the fridge and its contents.

"Oh relax, Dames. The table's clean." Tim counters, his tone almost mocking. He knows it annoys Damian to no end, calling him by the childish nickname.

He props his chin up on his hand, watching as his younger brother systematically re-arranges everything in the fridge, his movements quick and precise.

He hums softly, his gaze shifting downward for a moment, before he raises a brow. “Looks like the kitty’s awake.”

His eyes flick over to the live feed on the tablet, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as he sees you. You look uncomfortable and wary, bristled and defensive. The sight causes him to let out a small amused huff of air.

Damian pauses mid-action, a container of fluffy cooked rice held in his hands. He turns to face Tim, a curious look in his green eyes. "Give me the tablet," he demands, holding out his hand expectantly.

Tim raises an eyebrow sceptically, "Why? You wanna spy on em?" He teases.

Damian huffs, crossing his arms in irritation, "I don't spy. I observe." He scoffs.

Tim just rolls his eyes, but relents, handing over the tablet. "Fine. But don't do anything stupid, Demon."

Damian glares at the nickname, but grabs the tablet from Tim's hands without comment. Looking down at the screen, watching the feed intently, his expression contemplative as he observes you. His gaze is sharp and calculating. Scanning over every detail, noticing the way you look around the room, the way you hunch nervously, your ears pinned back and swivelling as you listen for movement.

He tilts his head slightly, studying your form with intense concentration, taking in every little detail. "How long have they been awake?" he asks, not looking away from the screen.

Tim leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table again and folding his arms across his chest. He glances at his watch, thinking for a moment.

"Five, ten minutes, I think." Tim responds, leaning back against the chair. He watches as Damian's expression shifts thoughtfully as he studies the screen. Drake can't help but feel a pang of curiosity as well, but he keeps it in check.

There's a beat of silence as Damian continues to watch you, his expression thoughtful. Tim can practically see the wheels turning in his younger brother’s head.

"Hasn’t tried to bolt yet..” Damian notes, his voice quiet as he watches you, studying your movements. “That's... interesting.”

Tim lets out a hum, watching as Damian's expression becomes almost intrigued, like he's analysing your every move.

Silence settles over the room again, only the sound of the open fridges soft buzzing filling the air. Tim notices the way Damian's expression darkens a bit. "They look scared." He mutters, almost disappointed by the observation.

Tim raises an eyebrow at Damian’s observation, watching as the younger Robin frowns a bit.

"They’re probably terrified, to be fair. Would you not be scared, if someone kidnapped you?” Tim points out, his tone a bit sarcastic.

Damian scowls, a small pout forming on his face, the expression making him seem childish.

“I’d be angry, first and foremost.” He counters, his hands clenching slightly. “Not scared.”

He turns back to the fridge, placing the container in its rightful spot. He steps back, taking a moment to observe his work with a critical eye, before glancing back at Tim over his shoulder.

“And we haven’t kidnapped them. We’ve simply brought our little kitten home." He corrects, his tone matter of fact. Like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

Tim just groans exasperatedly, dropping his head forward against the table. He shakes his head in disbelief, rubbing his hand down his face.

"You say it like it's the most normal thing in the world." He mumbles into the table top, his voice slightly muffled.

Damian rolls his eyes, like Tim’s comment is beyond unnecessary and ridiculous.

"It is normal." He says, like he’s explaining something obvious to an idiot.

Tim lifts his head from the table, giving Damian a withering glare. "Abducting people is not normal, Dames." He sighs.

Damian huffs, returning Tim's glare with an equally intense one. "It is to us." He counters, his voice hard and unsympathetic.

Tim just stares at him for a moment. "And that doesn't strike you as concerning at all? The fact that kidnapping is so normal to us?"

Damian’s entire expression hardens, his features going from annoyed to cold and stoic in a matter of seconds. He pivots back to face Tim, his gaze steely and icy.

“Are you implying,” he begins, his voice low and dangerous, “that we return our sibling to the filth they were wallowing in?”

Tim's expression drops, a scowl pulling at his features. "I would never joke about that." He says firmly, his voice taking on a dark edge. "They're ours."

He then turns his attention back to the tablet, watching the screen intently. "I'm simply stating the fact that abduction isn't exactly the most common practice, not that I would ever dream of letting them go."

Damian hums in agreement, his expression still stoic, but his eyes flicker with a possessive light. He watches the tablet as well, the look in his eyes almost wild.

Tim notices the look in the younger boy’s eyes, and he lets out a small huff. "Calm down, Dames." He mutters, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Damian simply rolls his eyes, "I am calm." He says dryly, but his eyes never leave the screen, his gaze fixed on your form. He raises a brow as Alfred approaches you over the cams.

Tim just rolls his eyes at Damian's response, not fully believing him.

As the elderly butler steps closer, the tension in your form becomes almost visibly apparent. You stiffen, your body going rigid, ears pinned back against your head, tail bristling like a pincushion.

Damian watches intently, his gaze fixed on the live feed, eyebrows pinching together in something close to disappointment.

“Look at them. They’re terrified by Pennyworth.” He says, his voice low and frustrated.

Tim glances over at Damian, seeing the disapproving look on his face, and smirks a bit. “Of course they are. They don’t know that he’s harmless.”

Damian huffs, his irritation growing. "It’s not about being harmless or not. They should just know that they don’t have anything to fear here."

He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen, his expression one of annoyance and annoyance at your clear fear of the elderly butler, the way you’re bristling like a porcupine. His brows pinching even further at the state of your fur. A disapproving scowl crossing his features.

“Not everyone is like us, Dames.” Tim points out, his tone a mixture of amused and sarcastic. “Not everyone is damaged.”

Damian glares at him, “I am not damaged.” He mutters, his voice a mixture of irritation and defensiveness.

Tim just rolls his eyes. “Of course you are, you’re a Wayne.” He says dryly.

Damian bristles a little bit, his irritation growing a bit more, but he doesn’t take the bait. He continues watching the live feed, watching as Alfred reaches out to grab you, your tense and wary form flinching away as he scoops you up.

He lets out a small sigh of annoyance, his expression still irritated and frustrated. “This is ridiculous.” He mutters, his voice quiet, but clearly annoyed.

“Relax, Dames.” Tim says, a note of amusement in his voice. “You can’t expect them to stop being afraid immediately. They need time to adjust, to get used to us.”

Damian lets out an exasperated huff, his tone sharp. “They shouldn’t have to adjust to us.” He snaps, still glaring at the screen, watching as Alfred holds you carefully, in a way where you can’t hurt him while also like you're a fragile and precious thing.

Tim raises an eyebrow, looking at Damian with a mix of curiosity and understanding. “You want them to just...accept us? Just like that?”

Damian's expression darkens, his expression almost pained for a moment, his eyes never leaving the screen as he watches the way Alfred’s handling you.

“Yes, exactly like that.” He says, his tone firm and underlyingly desperate.

Tim's expression softens a bit, realising how much Damian truly wants you to accept them, that you don’t fear them. His expression becomes almost sympathetic as he watches Damian’s reaction.

"Dames…" he says gently, his voice soft, but firm. “It doesn’t work like that, bud. It’s gonna take time for them to actually warm up to us. They’ve been on the streets for far too long, they’ve been alone for a while.”

His gaze shifts down for a moment. “For now we’ll just have to result to the sedatives to keep them docile.”

Damian's expression pinches, his features shifting into a mix of agitation and discontent. While he loathes the thought of drugging you, he knows that the rest of the family has already made up their minds.

He lets out a quiet sigh, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Closing the fridge door with more force than necessary, his jaw clenching.

Tim notices the look on his brother's face, seeing the clear irritation and disapproval, and rolls his eyes a bit. “I don’t like this.” The youngest Wayne mutters, his tone tight and disapproving.

“It’s necessary.” Tim counters, his tone matter of fact, though there’s a hint of discomfort in his voice.

Damian shoots him a glare, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. He crosses his arms, his expression hardening, his eyes filled with a mixture of irritation and reluctance.

“Is it really necessary?” He snaps, his voice taking an almost bitter edge.

Tim’s expression hardens a bit, not appreciating the attitude. He takes a step forward, his eyes meeting Damian’s in a steady glare. “Yes, it is.” He says firmly. “It’s the most practical solution. We need to keep ‘em under control. You know the others won’t be happy if we let the kitty run wild. Or god forbid they throw a tantrum and hurt one of us. We can handle it, but can Alfred?”

His jaw clenches, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides. He knows Tim’s right, but he doesn’t enjoy that fact. He lets out a frustrated huff, his voice tight and strained.

“I know.” He snaps back. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Tim sighs, his expression softening a notch. He understands Damian’s reluctance, sharing a bit of the same sentiment. But he’s also pragmatic, and right now their needs are priority, not yours.

“I’m not saying you have to like it, Dames. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.” He says, his tone is gentle compared to before. “It’s just what needs to be done. It’s what’s practical. Effective."

Damian’s shoulders sag slightly, his expression shifting into one of reluctant acceptance. He knows that Tim’s right, that practicality should be their primary concern. But it doesn’t sit right with him, treating you like some sort of prisoner. You’re family.

He lets out a soft sigh, his hands uncurling from their tight fists. “Fine.” He mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim notices the shift in Damian’s demeanour, the reluctant acceptance showing in his expression. He gives his brother a sympathetic look, knowing how hard this is for him. They’re all used to dealing with criminals, dealing with bad people, but using these methods on you feels wrong. Unnatural.

He nods in acknowledgment, giving Damian a small, relieved smile. “It’ll be alright, Dames.” He says genuinely. “You know it’s for the best.”

Damian nods, his features a mixture of reluctance and resignation. He knows that Tim’s right, that this is the best course of action for the situation. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Yes, I know.” He says, his voice quiet, but resigned. “It’s for the safety of the rest of us. For their safety.” He adds, his tone taking on a bitter edge again, as if the words taste rancid on his tongue. “But I still don’t agree with it. I hate that you agree with it.”

Tim lets out a slow, drawn-out sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He takes a deep breath before looking back at Damian. “I’m the one who concluded that we needed to sedate them. It’s the safest solution.” He admits quietly, his voice taking on a note of resignation. “It may not be the best option, but it’s the practical one.” His voice started to take on a more tired note. He hates having to repeat himself.

Damian’s expression darkens again, his irritation flaring up once more as he glares at Tim. “You suggested this?” He snaps, his voice tense.

Tim tosses his tablet down onto the counter at Damian's outburst, his expression becoming more guarded. "Yes, I did." He says, his tone firm and unapologetic. "And if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it." His voice takes on a challenge, a daring note as he glares back at Damian.

The younger Wayne grows irritated at Tim's challenging tone, his eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth, about to shoot back at Tim, the argument on the tip of his tongue. But then he notices the hint of exhaustion in his brother’s eyes, the weary lines etched into his expression. He catches the frustration in Tim's tone, the tiredness seeping through. He closes his mouth, the argument dying on his tongue. He’s painfully aware of the older boy's self destructive habits.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sag, and he drops his gaze to the floor. “No. I don’t.” He mutters bitterly.

Their attention is immediately snapped and drawn to the kitchen’s entrance as Alfred appears, a questioning eyebrow raised as he glances between them, seeming to take note of their tense exchange.

Tim’s expression shifts into one of slight relief, glad for the distraction from the argument and the heavy atmosphere of the kitchen.

Damian’s jaw clenches, his features shifting into a tight frown. He glances over at Alfred, his expression impatient and expectant.

“Where are they?” He snaps, his voice taking on a firm, demanding edge.

The butler glances between the two, his eyes lingering on Damian and his irritated expression. “The young master has been taken to Master Dick.” He says calmly, an air of mild reproach in his tone.

Damian’s scowl deepens as he processes Alfred’s words. The thought of you being alone with Dick makes his stomach twist with unease. He knows how overbearing and excessive his eldest brother can be, and he’s not exactly confident in Dick’s ability to handle the situation without causing some sort of incident. Plus, he wanted to be the first person you saw once you had woken up.

Tim, on the other hand, only looks only mildly concerned. He has a bit more faith in Dick’s ability to keep the situation under control, but he’s also not blind to his brother’s tendency to smother and overwhelm. But he has the cameras to watch over just in case the situation turns sour. So he’s not worried.

Damian’s face twists in irritation, and he’s about to demand to know where exactly Dick took you, but Alfred clears his throat before he can speak.

“I’m certain the young master is in safe hands, Master Damian.” Alfred says, his voice calm and gentle, a silent plea for him to hold his tongue.

Damian’s jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tensing further. He hesitates for a moment, wrestling with the urge to argue, but ultimately he swallows the words and just gives a tense nod.

Tim watches the silent interaction between Damian and Alfred, his expression still mostly neutral. He’s silently amused by Damian’s irritation, knowing how the youngest Wayne has very little patience with these kinds of things. But he knows that arguing with Alfred is usually pointless, the old butler’s word usually final.

So he just watches quietly, his gaze drifting towards the live feed fed from the cameras.

You’re curled up under Dick’s bed, body coiled into a small, tense ball. Your fur is bristled and your ears are pinned back, pressed flat against your skull. You’re tense and on edge, waiting silently for any sound from above, listening keenly to the movements of the man sitting on the bed above you who can’t stop giggling.

Grayson is sitting on the edge of his bed, a wide smile on his face as he looks down at the space under his bed. He’s trying to keep his voice relatively quiet, not wanting to startle you further, but he’s too amused to keep his voice completely level. He keeps chuckling to himself, he can’t help it. You were just so adorable. Even when you were angry, all fluffed up and hissing.

“Come on out, little thing.” He coos, his tone gentle and sweet. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He reaches a hand down, his fingers gently patting the carpet beneath the bed, coaxing you out from your meagre hiding place.

Your tail lashes out, thwacking against the underside of the bed. You roll your eyes at his coaxing, annoyed at the way he’s trying to get you out. As if you’re going to give him the satisfaction of coming out just because he keeps saying he won’t hurt you. How stupid does he think I am?

Dick huffs a quiet, exasperated laugh, clearly amused by your stubbornness. He continues to gently pat the carpet, his voice still gentle and coaxing. “Come on, come out, baby. I just want to talk to you.”

He shifts a bit, trying to get a better view of you under the bed, but he can only see a glimpse of your fluffy rump and tail.

You shift away from his hand, pressing yourself closer to the wall, your eyes locked on his fingers as they continue to pat the carpet. Yeah, right. You think bitterly, your tail whipping around irritably. Like I’m going to fall for that. A guttural hiss leaves your throat. As if I’d come out just because he ‘asked nicely.’ No fucking chance.

Dick can tell that you’re not budging anytime soon. He lets out an amused huff, still smiling down at the space under his bed. “Alright then.” He says with a small laugh, clearly not too bothered by your stubbornness.

“I’m not going to force you out. I can just sit here all day, sweetheart. All day and all night.” He says sweetly, his tone taking on a singsong edge.

Your ears go back, flattening against your head at the mention of him sitting there all day. You shoot a withering glare at his fingers. No way you’re going to let him get the better of you. You’ve dealt with humans trying to coax you out from hiding by pretending to be nice before. Never once has it worked. Not once.

My mother taught me better than that.

Dick watches your ears flatten against your head, his smile growing slightly at your defiant glare. He can practically feel the resistance radiating off of you. He knows that he’ll have to use a different tactic to make you come out. He’ll make sure to remember to get rid of the bed’s legs so you can’t hide under it again.

“Come on, little spitfire, you can’t stay under there forever.” He tries, his tone slightly softer. “I bet it’s cramped and uncomfortable under there. You gotta be getting tired.”

Your ears prick up slightly at his words, but you quickly ignore them. He’s right of course, it is cramped and uncomfortable under here. But you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. You keep your gaze locked on his hand. It may be a little claustrophobic, but the carpet laid under your little belly and small paws is softer than any material you’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling before. It’s more comfortable than the worn-out stained mattress you use as a bed. Everything here is, really. So you can deal with a little claustrophobia.

Dick can see the way your ears prick up at his words, and he can see the way your eyes drift around the carpet under the bed, taking in the soft material.

He can tell how much more comfortable this is compared to how you usually live. But he keeps that observation to himself.

He just continues quietly coaxing you, his voice never losing its sweetness.

“Yeah, I bet you’re cramped and uncomfortable, baby. It's awfully warm under there...” He coos, his hand continuing to pat the carpet lightly. “And you must be hungry by now, right?” He asks softly, his voice taking on a more sympathetic edge.

Your ears twitch a bit at his words, the mention of food making your stomach rumble quietly. He’s right, you are hungry. Famished, even. It’s been a few days since your last full meal.

You try to push down the ache of hunger in your stomach, your tail flicking irritably. You’re not going to give in just because he mentioned food. Even if a part of you is tempted, you’re not that desperate.

Dick’s lips twitch as he notices the way your ears flick, and he hears your stomach give an almost painful-sounding grumble. He’s silently satisfied that he’s at least getting some sort of reaction; a sure sign that he’s wearing you down.

“Aww…” he coos sympathetically, his voice sickenly sympathetic. “Are you hungry? Your tummy’s all grumbly.. I can hear it from here, kitten.” He leans forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. The position gives him a clearer view of you.

Your ears twitch again, but that’s the only reaction you give. On the inside, your stomach is practically clawing at itself, begging for some sort of meal. Your body is silently aching from how starved you are, the feeling only getting worse with each passing moment. Why the fuck did he have to say something? You hadn’t even noticed a few seconds ago.

But you keep your glare firmly fixed on his hand, refusing to acknowledge the pain. You’re determined to show him that you’re not going to give in that easily.

Dick hums thoughtfully, his gaze gliding over to the hidden camera in the corner of the room, his eyes locking on it knowingly. He casts the device a glance, his expression speaking volumes. He’s letting Tim know that he’s got this situation under control, but still mouths for him to send food.

He glances back down at the space under his bed, addressing you again, his tone still gentle and coaxing. “Come on out, baby…”

A soft growl rumbles in your chest, your mind still stubbornly set on refusing to budge. His soft tone and gentle way of speaking isn’t going to get the better of you.

You dig your claws into the carpet, a low, grumpy snarl working its way out of your throat. No. You think irritably, your tail twitching from behind, thumping against the wall in silent protest.

Dick hears the growl that rumbles out of your chest, and he can tell that you’re still holding out. You’re a stubborn little thing, he’ll give you that. It makes him almost proud. He’s proud to be your brother.

“Come on, kitty. Why don’t you come out from under there and let me see you?”

Your fur sticks up more at his words, your tail lashing even more furiously. He’s getting awfully demanding, which only serves to anger you more. You flatten your ears back against your head, letting out another low growl. Your glare locks intensely on his fingers, which are still lightly patting the carpet. Does this idiot honestly think I’d come out just because he’s saying please?

Dick tries to keep his calm demeanour, despite your visible irritation with him. He knows that you’re feeling claustrophobic under there, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to come out just because he asks nicely. He silently notes the way your back rises and falls a little too quickly, a sign of how stressed you are in the confined environment.

He tries another approach. “Don’t make me come under there and get you…” he says lowly, his voice taking on a slightly darker edge.

Your ears twitch at the darker undertone in his voice, your body tensing further. You know that he means it, and the thought of him coming under there gets your claws digging deeper into the carpet.

You let out a guttural snarl, low and threatening. Try and get me out. Go ahead and try. I bet your big back can’t even fit under here.

Dick huffs a quiet laugh as he hears your warning snarl, but he’s not intimidated in the slightest. He knows that you’re just trying to sound intimidating, to scare him into leaving you alone. But he can see past the fierce demeanour you’re putting on, he can see the way your body is shaking with tension, the way you’re practically clawing the carpet to pieces.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before standing. His hand reaching down and hooking under the frame of the bed, lifting it up with little effort.

Your body jerks back in shock as he suddenly lifts the entire bed into the air, the sound of the bed’s feet scraping loudly across the floor.

Your tail goes wild at the unexpected situation you’re suddenly in, waving uncontrollably behind you. Your eyes are as big as saucers, the sight of the bed being lifted up completely taking you by surprise. Fuck– how is he so strong?

Your heart is practically slamming against your ribcage, your adrenaline spiking. You’re suddenly feeling very exposed, pressed against the rich wooden frame of the underside of the bed with nowhere to go. You can see him peering under the bed, that smug smile on his face making your blood boil.

“Come out before I’m forced to grab you, spitfire.” He repeats.

A guttural snarl rumbles out of your chest, your legs bunching up as if you’re preparing to pounce. Your heart is racing uncomfortably. His tone is playful, but you can see the subtle hint of darkness in his eyes.

Dick chuckles as he watches your body tense up, the look in your eyes almost murderous. But despite your fierce demeanour, he can see the way your muscles are trembling beneath your fur.

He knows that you’re just scared. You like to put on a strong front, but your shaking body gives you away. He doubts that you’re even aware of it.

His arm is starting to strain a little, the bed is heavier than it looks, but he keeps holding it up with one arm, leaning forward slightly to peer at you.

A low hiss escapes your throat as you slowly begin to edge out from under the bed, your body practically scraping against the ground. You keep yourself as low to the floor as possible, as if you’re still trying to be undetected.

Then, you suddenly dart across the room, scrambling as fast as your legs will allow to the other side, putting as much distance between you and the dude. Once you’ve reached the far side of the room, your body immediately collides with a wall, your tail whipping around as you press yourself against the surface.

Dick sighs as he watches you scramble away from him, practically diving to the other side of the room and immediately slamming yourself against the wall. He lowers the bed back to the ground, letting it thump loudly against the carpet.

His eyes watch you closely, taking in how you’re almost vibrating with tension. He can see the way your eyes are wide, how your back is hunched against the wall, and your little ears are folded back against your head.

You’re ready to go at any second.

Your tail is lashing wildly behind you, your entire being screaming at you to bolt for the door. Get out. Go. Run. Leave. Now. Get out while you still can.

Your little legs carry you as fast as they can, the sound of the door clicking open ringing in your ears. The sound was as loud as a gunshot to your ears. It’s the only noise you need to hear before you bolt. The thought of escaping is a driving force, urging you to run as fast as possible. Darting as fast as your paws will carry you towards the door.

But your escape gets instantly interrupted as you suddenly crash into a pair of long legs, covered in posh looking suit pants. A startled hiss escapes your throat as you stumble back, your head bumping against the man’s legs.

You skid to a halt, your paws screeching against the floor as you collide with them. Your head snaps up, a hiss escaping you as you pull away and stumble back, trying to gain some distance. The rich black fabric now adorns a few of your fur's stray hairs.

A soft chuckle escapes the man just moments after your little stunt, the sound catching your attention. You look up at the man, his face calm and collected as he simply stares down at you.

He speaks in a light tone, addressing you. “Careful there, little one” His eyes are still locked on your small frame. His gaze then shifts back to Dick, holding out a tray to the man.

Dick huffs in amusement as he sees you bolt straight into Alfred, your legs carrying you so quickly that you don’t realise his entrance until it’s too late. He almost laughs out loud as he watches you scurry back awkwardly, your eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

He takes the tray from Alfred with a grateful smile, placing it on the rich wooden desk nearby. “Thanks, Alfie.” He says, his gaze shifting back to you, watching you closely.

Alfred hums softly in response, his eyes still locked on you, his gaze studying your every movement. You feel uncomfortably scrutinised as he looks you over, taking in your every feature. Jesus, he’s staring at me like I’m a bloody zoo attraction.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes are studying your every move, as if you’re something of extreme curiosity to him. His intense interest in you is making you shift uncomfortably.

He didn’t do that earlier, did he? You think to yourself, your mind struggling to recall earlier events. But for some reason, your memories are just a big jumbled blur.

You can faintly remember waking up on a soft, plush material. Your mind struggles to recall the events. All you can remember are vague, blurry images, like watching a video through a rain-drenched window. One of those images is an unfocused picture of the butler walking, holding you in his arms as he moves. It’s anything but clear. You wouldn’t have believed that it had even happened if it weren’t for the fact that you are in the ‘Master Dick’s room.

Which, now that you’re thinking about it, sounds oddly familiar to you.

However, they don’t spare you much time to ponder over it as you’re forcefully pulled out of your thoughts when the door clicks closed behind the old butler as he leaves once more, your ears twitching in response to the sound.

Dick watches you silently as he places the tray in front of you, the aroma of cooked meat wafting towards your nostrils almost instantly, making your stomach rumble loudly, as if on a cue.

You silently berate your stomach in your mind, before glaring up at Grayson. He probably poisoned it, or something.

Your stomach lets out another loud gurgle as the meat fragrance hits your sensitive nose, the sound making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You quickly try to silence the sound of your rumbling belly by internally scolding and cussing out the organ, but your silent tantrum is cut short as you glare up at Dick, eyeing him suspiciously.

Your mind instantly accuses him of tainting the food. He probably poisoned it. Or something. You think bitterly.

Dick notices the way you’re eyeing the food suspiciously, a small chuckle escapes him in response. He can tell that you’re silently accusing him of doing something to the food, and he can’t help but find the way your face scrunches up in a tiny little frown as you glare.

He leans down to sit opposite you, keeping a safe distance before he speaks, his tone gentle. He tells you. “The food is fine. It’s made so you can eat it in both forms.”

Your ears immediately perk up in surprise, your tail freezing in its agitated movements. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, making your body tense up. He knows I'm a hybrid.

A thousand thoughts run through your mind as the realisation strikes you. He knows. How the hell does he know?

Your heart begins to race even more as your mind instantly connects the dots, linking the events together like a piece of an unsolved puzzle. You recall the other man, the man who knew where you lived. You had no idea who he was, but he clearly knew who you were.

And now, Dick somehow knows about your unique condition.

Your mind quickly makes the connection. Are they working together? Is he with Jason?

You can already feel the adrenaline pumping through your system, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your chest. Your body is tense, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Dick doesn’t seem to notice your inner thoughts, or if he does, he’s not showing it. He sits calmly across from you, that annoying little grin still plastered on his face, his eyes studying your every move.

Your mind is racing, your body feeling like it’s ready to explode. You can’t help yourself, the thought of staying small and powerless while being in the presence of such a man is making you heave. Bile shooting up your throat at the mere thought.

You quickly shift forms, transforming into a human form. You’re still tense, on edge, but somehow you feel less vulnerable this way.

A large red and black hoodie hangs off of your form, the oversized material reaching the middle of your thighs. A pair of shorts hugging your legs, clinging to the skin tightly. You’re painfully aware that this is not what you had on before you were knocked out. And somehow, by the tight restricting feeling that adorns your neck, the collar has adapted itself onto your human form too. The sight confuses you and leaves you with a thousand questions, but you don’t dare ask any of them.

Your mind is too occupied with the dull ache that had been building into a painful burn in the muscles of your body, making it harder to concentrate. The intense pain has gone from an irritating dull ache to a stinging, burning feeling. It feels as if someone has dug into your skin, left something deep inside you, and stitched it into your flesh.

Your muscles tense, the overwhelming feeling making you nauseous. The pain is far worse in your human form.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow as he notices the way you suddenly curl in on yourself, your body flinching as if in pain. His heart clenches at the sight. He immediately rushes over to your side, stopping and kneeling down right next to you. His deep ocean eyes filled with concern.

He watches you carefully, his gaze studying every muscle twitch, every subtle movement. Something's wrong. His heart clenches at the sight of you in pain, a protective instinct stirring within him that he can't ignore.

His body is itching to reach out to you, to comfort you, but he holds himself back. Don’t make it worse. He thinks to himself.

He speaks your name gently, his voice filled with worry. “Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes locked onto you. “What hurts? Tell me, kitten.”

You’re curled up into a tight ball, your body tense and in pain. Dick’s voice is gentle, filled with concern as he asks you what’s wrong. But the sound of him calling you kitten makes you wince in annoyance, a slight hiss escaping you before you can stop it.

You’re about to answer him when a wave of intense pain shoots through your spine, making your body jerk involuntarily.

The sound that escapes your throat is something between a hiss and a whimper. Which does nothing to calm Dick, his face growing more concerned as he watches you writhe in pain, his mind practically screaming at him to do something to help you.

Dick is about to reach out and touch you, to comfort you, but before his hand can touch your shoulder, the bedroom door slams open violently. Damian’s face, uncharacteristically filled with fear, is suddenly in the room. Tim is next, rushing past the boy and to your side with a syringe in his hand. You don’t have any time nor energy to evade him. The sedative administered quickly.

Your body is tense from the pain, but you feel yourself start to relax as the sedative takes effect. Your mind is slowing down, the world around you becoming hazy. Your breathing is growing slower, your body slowly going limp as the drug starts to take over your senses. Falling backwards into Dick's readied arms.

Dick grits his teeth, looking up at his younger brothers with a deep frown. “Someone explain." he orders firmly, cradling you protectively in his arms as you begin to fall unconscious.

“We need to get them to Bruce.” Damian responds instead of answering. Your mind is barely registering the words before everything starts to go black and it feels like you’re drowning. The sedative completely takes effect as you slowly fall unconscious.

You feel yourself slowly awakening, your long kitten limbs stretching out as your paws curl in on themselves. A soft yawn escapes your lips as you blissfully blink your sleepy eyes open, you can’t remember transforming, but you don’t dwell much on it, feeling somewhat satisfied and at ease. A soft, satisfied purr escaping your lips.

You’re almost about to lull yourself back to sleep when the surface you’re laying on shifts under you.

Your ears twitch in response, your eyes widening with alertness as the soft, fuzzy feeling of comfort is instantly replaced with confusion. You quickly realise that the surface you’re sleeping on is actually moving under you, and that the slight thump thump sound underneath you is not your own pulse.

Your mind quickly processes the new information, realising that you’re not laying on a soft surface, but on someone’s lap. Your body immediately reacts, your ears flicking back as you try to scramble out of whoever’s lap you’re on, startled.

A deep, rumbling chuckle resonates from behind you, a large hand patting your fur gently. Your tail flicks in response to the touch, your mind registering how easy it is to move, how the pain is gone. You take this opportunity to leap up onto the large office desk, your eyes darting around to take in your surroundings – completely ignoring the large figure behind you.

Your tail instantly goes rigid as your eyes fall on the framed photo on the desk, your eyes instantly widening as you recognize the people in the picture. Your heart sinks deep in your chest. It’s a family. A large and happy-looking family. One that you are all too familiar with.

Your mind connects the dots instantly, the realisation hitting you like a truck. The familiar manor. The butler, Alfred. Master Dick. Those people. You're suddenly afraid of looking at the man behind you. They were the Waynes.

Your heart starts pumping furiously in your chest, your breathing becoming rapid and shallow. You can feel a wave of nausea overcome you, your stomach clenching and your head spinning from the force of it all. How exactly have you landed yourself right in the laps of the Wayne's, of all people?

You’re afraid to look back, afraid of who is sitting right behind you. The urge to flee and run as far as possible from this place is almost overwhelming.

The man’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts, making you realise that you’re far too deep in your own head. A shiver runs down your spine at the nickname. Sunshine. You haven’t heard that nickname in years.

"You gave us quite the fright there yesterday, sunshine."

You finally gain the courage to look back, your body tense and your breathing heavy. You meet the man’s eyes, and the sight of the soft, concerned gaze makes your breath hitch in your throat. His voice was both soft and firm, almost... paternal.

His deep ocean eyes were looking at you with a mixture of concern and worry. There was no malice, no ill-intent. Only concern that made your heart clench in your chest. His expression is soft, like a parent seeing their child in pain.

He's sitting in a large armchair, his tall frame slouched slightly as he looks at you intently. His suit looks expensive, but slightly rumpled, as if he hadn't changed in quite a while. His tired eyes never leave you.

Your mind instantly goes into a panic, your multi-coloured chest heaving as if you just got the wind knocked out of you. Fur going up and down at each breath.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Your thoughts are screaming at you, practically begging you to run. To hide. Everything in you is telling you to flee. You can’t go through this again. You were not going through this- not with Bruce fucking Wayne. One deadbeat mother was enough.

Your body is tense, your tail flicking quickly from one side to the other. You’re terrified, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through your body like a wildfire. You’re on the verge of bolting, of escaping as fast as your little legs can carry you. Your heart is pumping, your muscles tense and ready to jump.

But you can’t. You’re frozen in place, your body refusing to cooperate. Stuck there, looking directly into the eyes of one of the most powerful men in Gotham.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, your muscles flexing. You can barely even register that you’re being scooped up until you’re already in his arms, his large hands gently holding you close as he begins to scratch behind your soft little ears. His voice is low as he leans down and whispers in a soothing almost comforting tone, his warm breath on your fur making you shiver involuntarily. You almost don’t register his words, the soothing, deep baritone trying to reassure and coax you to relax. To calm down. He’s telling you that it was alright that you had nothing to fear. That you were safe.

“Breathe.”

You’re tense in his arms, your body fighting between the urge to stay and run away, to escape from this situation. But the soothing voice and the gentle fingers scratching behind your ears are starting to have a calming effect on you, despite yourself. His deep voice somehow helps soothe your inner cat, the instincts in your half-wild brain slowly calming down.

He tells you to breathe, to calm down, and you realise that you are holding your breath. You take in a gasping lungful of air, feeling your body sag slightly.

His large hands are holding you close, keeping you still and comfortable in his arms. He continues to run the back of his thumb soothingly behind your ears, the comforting gesture making your eyes flutter with pleasure as a soft, involuntary purr-like sound escapes you. He chuckles quietly at the sound, looking down at you with those deep ocean eyes of his.

“Good,” he says aloud, his voice deep and soothing. “Just like that… Easy, sunshine.”

Your body relaxes against his larger form as he continues to talk softly, his warm breath hitting you with every word he speaks. You find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to, his strong hands and familiar scent comforting your inner feline instincts. The deep and soothing rumbling of his voice is a strange comfort to your nervous system, bringing an unfamiliar sense of safety.

“That's it... you're doing so well…”

His hands never leave your body, his touch still soothing and tender, like a parent comforting a scared child. His voice is gentle and calm, like a soft, warm blanket, wrapping itself around you and muffling your senses.

You find your body relaxing further, your muscles no longer as tense as before as you lean heavily into him, almost melting. His scent is warm and musky, bringing a strange sense of familiarity and comfort along with it. He chuckles softly as you let your eyes flutter closed, feeling yourself giving in to the comforting presence. You can barely think, just basking.

His large hands never stop their comforting motions, continuing to gently rake through your soft, fluffy fur. The sound of his low voice and the feeling of his warm breath on your fur are both soothing you further, making your inner cat feel safe and protected.

He continues to murmur soft words to you, saying that you're good and that you're doing so well. You feel yourself nodding in a haze, the praise making your half-wild brain feel satisfied and at ease for the first time in a very long time. Your entire body soaking in all the praise and affection. He continues to talk softly to you, his deep voice almost lulling you to complete and utter contentment. You almost don't register his words, still feeling all fuzzy from the sedatives.

He lets his voice die out for a moment, just watching intently as you curl into him. Then he speaks up once more, his low voice filled with genuine remorse and sadness this time as he speaks to you, his large hands subconsciously tracing carefully over the newly bandaged areas on your small form. He murmurs softly about metal allergies and implantation tests.

“We hadn't run nearly enough tests...” he says, his voice full of regret. “We would never have been so careless if we had known you were going to react badly to the metal we used… I apologise.” His large figure is still holding you tight against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. His voice is soft and apologetic. As if it was his fault that you were allergic to the metal. As if it was normal for someone to put things like trackers inside of you.

Your entire body tenses as you suddenly remember exactly where you are and who you're with. It's as if a switch flips inside of you. You can feel anger and fear rising up in your chest as your ears automatically lay back flat against your head. You suddenly find yourself not feeling safe in his arms anymore, instead feeling panicked. What the fuck did he just say? Trackers?

This time you don't even think, your natural instincts kicking in full force. Your pupils shrink into deep slits as your teeth bare in a feral expression, the fear and anger from before making your claws extend and dig into the billionaire's skin.

He barely has time to react before you're lunging at his wrist, your sharp claws digging deep into his expensive suit, creating deep red gashes on his skin. You're not backing down, not this time.

He lets out a surprised hiss of pain, his grip around you relaxing just enough for you to slip out of his arms. You land on the edge of the desk, your body already crouched low, ready to flee. You can see the Billionaire's shocked expression, his eyes darting quickly between you and the deep red gashes on his skin. He quickly applies pressure on the wound, the gashes deep. He doesn't look angry however, more concerned than anything.

He looks up at you, his expression shifting from shock to concern, making your anger flare up again. He's looking at you like a concerned parent looks at their child when it has hurt itself. He’s the hurt one. It's making you livid.

He speaks your name softly, his voice filled with worry and concern. His expression and tone remaining gentle. Loving. “Are you alright?”

The question makes you twitch in anger, your eyes flashing in irritation. You just mauled the man's arm and he has the nerve to ask you if you're alright?

He slowly reaches out towards you, his expression unchanged, still concerned. "Come back here." he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "You shouldn't be moving around too fast yet."

You hiss at him, your anger flaring at his patronising tone. The idea of getting closer to the man is making your heart pound wildly in your chest. His expression only softens in response, like he's used to temperamental creatures. "It's alright," he soothes, his voice staying level and even. "Just come back here and let me check if you’re hurt."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures gently. "I just want to make sure you're okay. The sedatives should be just about out of your system now, but you really shouldn't be walking around yet." He's still slowly reaching out to you, his voice soft and soothing. "You need to rest, sunshine. You just got a big shock. Come back here. It's alright." His voice is still full of that same paternal concern. Like he's worried for his own child. Like you're some frightened kitten that needs to be comforted. It makes you want to claw out his eyeballs.

You tense, your entire body shaking from the adrenaline and fury coursing through you. The nickname Sunshine from earlier only serves to fuel your anger further. Bringing back memories from your early childhood that you've tried so hard to squash down. You can feel anger and fear mixing into a potent cocktail inside your body, making you feel like you're about to burst from the conflicting emotions. You hiss aloud at him in reply, your body tensing further as he still reaches out.

He pauses as you bare your teeth at him, your tail lashing around wildly. He sighs, his expression turning to one of resignation. "You really are a feral little thing, aren't you?" he comments aloud, his tone holding unfiltered amusement. But his eyes are still concerned, watching your every move intently.

He slowly lowers his arm, seeing that you're not reacting well to his attempts at coaxing you back. He leans back in his chair, seemingly giving you a safe distance to calm down. His gaze stays fixed on you, his large eyes watching your every move, like a hawk watching its prey. He's still watching you with concern, like he's worried you're going to do something reckless.

"Just take a breath," he instructs, his voice still gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep going like this." He's still watching you intently, like he's waiting for you to snap and attack him again.

The urge to transform back into your human form is strong, your emotions are a tumultuous storm inside of you. Wanting to cuss the old man out. But you resist the urge out of pure stubbornness, the part of you that still wants to claw him to shreds still in full control of your thoughts. But you want to scream at him, to say something cutting and hateful.

You have so many things you want to say to the Billionaire, so many insults and scathing remarks that are just on the tip of your tongue. But the feral part of you is not letting you shift to speak. You're stuck between wanting to transform into your human form and shout at him, and staying like this to claw his eyes out.

The elder man tries once more to reach out and grab you, seemingly sensing that you're not quite done with your outbursts yet. But you react quickly, your body moving before your mind can stop you, your paw coming up and swiping at his arm. Claws out and extended. However, this time he's prepared for your reaction. He's quick to grab your extended limb, gripping you firmly by the arm. Before you know it, you're hoisted up into the air, dangling by your arm as you hold back a whine.

He doesn't let go, his grip firm and unyielding. You can feel your arm stinging unpleasantly from where his fingers are wrapped around it, your feet waving in the air as you dangle helplessly. Your inner self hates being so exposed, your body hanging there like a limp doll. You despise being held like this, having no control of the situation. Your ears fold back and pin down against your head.

His pale blue irises focus intently on your outstretched limb, eyes narrowing as he takes note of your claws, which are bared and extended. Noticing how they're not as dull as they would be if they had been cut regularly. You can see his brow furrowing in deep concentration, taking in the length and sharpness. You can also see his jaw clench when he notices just how untouched they look, like they've never been cut before. He lets out a low hum as he studies you, looking down into your eyes, his gaze hardening as he clearly puts two and two together. Thinking to himself for a moment, not phased by your violent squirming.

His mind races at a million miles a minute as he looks down at you, studying your body and your reaction. He can already picture all of the damage you'll do to his furniture, his expression growing more and more stern as his thoughts linger on the possibilities. But as the thoughts of the damage you'll do to the property fades away, another one rises, even darker. One that has him clenching his jaw.

His expression turns grim as he mentally pictures the damage you could do to your other siblings, his eyes flashing with anger. He can see the scenarios clearly, the thought of you harming them making deep, cold anger spread through his veins. His jaw clenches tightly at the thought, his hand gripping your limb a little bit tighter. But there's something else in his eyes as he pictures the damage you could do. Something possessive that shows on his face as he imagines you hurting your brothers.

His eyes remain fixed on your claws as his mind works, contemplating the idea of having one of the boys trim them as soon as possible. But a part of him is also considering a way to prevent them from being used as weapons. A way to keep them from being able to do damage in the future. His jaw tenses again as he mulls over the idea of some sort of restraints, his gaze still on your claws as he plans the next move.

As his mind ponders the options, he thinks back to the scene that just happened, the violent outburst and the way you swiped your claws at him, clearly upset. He's trying to think of a way to keep you from reacting so wildly, and the thought of restraints seems like a good solution. But there's a part of him that doesn't like the idea, not wanting to use something so final on you. Especially when you're still so young.

Yet his mind is also thinking of the danger that your claws represent, especially to yourself and your siblings. He thinks of all of the dangerous things that you could do, the things that you could accidentally hurt. The damage you could cause, the damage you could do to yourself and those around you. His mind is wrestling over the best choice to make, between his protectiveness and his need to keep you safe.

You writhe violently in his hold, using every ounce of strength you can muster to try and tug yourself free. With as much force as you can manage, you tug yourself up to deliver a solid bite to the Wayne's first knuckle, trying to dislodge his grip on your small paw.

Your teeth dig deep into his skin, your sharp canines breaking through the skin like it's butter, drawing a small trickle of blood. With all of your strength you yank against his hold. He lets out a guttural growl of pain as your teeth dig into his flesh, trying to yank his hand away on reflex. He wasn't expecting the sudden attack, the pain of your little fangs burying into his skin making his eyes widened. His fingers immediately loosen around your limb, as he pulls away his injured hand to inspect the bite.

He holds his hand to his face, inspecting the fresh bite mark you left behind, a trickle of blood sliding down his pale finger. You're able to tug your limb out of his loosened grip, landing on the desk with a soft thump. He looks at you with surprised eyes, taking in your feral appearance, your teeth bared and eyes flashing, your pupils small and slitted.

The knock on the office door interrupts the Billionaire's thoughts, his head snapping up to see Damian walking in. "Father, the enclosure has been set u-." the young boy says, but his words die out as his eyes land on you, his expression going soft at first, but then hardening at the sight of the injuries on his fathers hands.

There's a beat of silence, Damian's gaze flitting between you and his father, taking in the scene of you and the older man. The clear evidence of your outburst still present in his bloodied hands.

"What happened?" he finally says, his voice filled with anger and worry. His eyes are hard as he looks at his father's injuries, his own expression hardening further. But his next glance at you is softer, more concerned, seeing your small and feral form hunched up on the desk.

He slowly walks into the office, moving into the room and approaching the desk, his expression still a mix of anger and worry. But his eyes soften as they land on you again, seeing your small fluffy form curled up on top of the desk. His gaze flicks back to his father, waiting for an explanation.

"It's nothing, son," the eldest Wayne responds, his voice calm and reassuring, but his expression is tense as he meets his son's gaze, attempting to downplay the injuries on his hand. But Damian's eyes flick back to the injuries once more, clearly not accepting his father's explanation.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Damian retorts, his voice slightly heated as he glares at the injuries on his father's hand. "You're bleeding." he says, raising an eyebrow in scepticism. His eyes narrow at the obvious lie.

"It's just a scratch," the older man responds, his tone still calm but with an undercurrent of tension beneath it. He can feel the anger rolling off of his son in waves, seeing the glare directed at the small bite mark on his hand.

You don't bother waiting around for the confrontation, swiftly leaping off of the desk and landing near Damian's feet, your small form making a light thump against the ground. You can feel the tension in the air, wanting to get away from the arguing voices and this entire situation

Damian's attention is immediately drawn down to you as you land at his feet, his expression shifting from anger to surprise at your sudden appearance. He looks down at you, his expression still hard but softening at the sight of you, his eyes taking in your small and fierce form.

He bends down to your level, a hint of worry showing in his eyes at your unexpected action. He seems torn between staying focused on his father and his apparent injuries or looking further at you and your current state. His gaze is flickering between you and his father, not sure where to put his focus.

You'd heard tidbits about the youngest Wayne boy before, the press often calling him the "youngest Wayne" whenever he made public appearances, and you remember hearing that he was around fifteen or sixteen. He has a well defined face, but there's still a youthful innocence about him, his features still holding a boyish charm. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for too long, your legs quickly darting towards the exit, your mind focused on escaping.

As you make a beeline for the exit, you can feel his eyes following you as you move. There's a hint of surprise in his expression at your sudden escape attempt, his gaze still flickering between you and his father. He stands there for a moment, torn between stopping you and letting you attempt. Then, the reminder that you're still recovering from the surgery rings through his mind.

With minimal effort, he quickly pulls something from his pocket, sending it flying directly at the door. The object hits the door's hard wood with a loud thump, causing the door to slam shut, the door's hinges groaning loudly in protest. Your heart skips a beat as you're suddenly blocked from the exit, trapped in the room with the two of them. What the hell was that??

kind of abrupt ending, but I was rushing to get this out. So... See you in part three?

All reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated and encouraged!

If I begged would anyone create me some fanart? Please…

A special thanks to @zenychwan , @143637-hrrm , @goddessofalltrash ,@amisupposedtomakesenserightnow ,@redeemingmygloryintopurgatory , @yune1337 , @busenxr , @probabydeadbynow , @imaginarydreams , @cyberwears and @tagzi with the friggin prettiest kitties n puppies ever who definitely helped me write this chapter by sending in pics of their pets!💚

Guess who can no longer get the one thing that I’ve been saving up for for my birthday because my pay got cut 🤗 I’m officially fucking broke now. I’m actually really upset. Probably gonna be forced to not do anything for the big 20th now.

On a happier note, the chapter is finally out! I thank all the people who've waited so patiently for this to come out, you're hella appreciated💚

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satellite-evans · 2 months ago

Text

Home at last

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary: Lewis spending hiw morning with his wife and daughter <3

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, making out

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

When Lewis woke up that morning, he felt the familiar warmth of peace settle over him. It wasn’t always this way. Mornings used to be quiet—too quiet. Even with his booming career, a circle of friends, and fans cheering his name, coming home to an empty house had been a stark reminder of what was missing.

Loneliness had been a constant companion then, a heavy weight that settled on his chest every time he crossed the threshold of his home. The silence would press in on him, making the space feel cavernous and cold despite its luxurious trappings. He’d sit in the living room, scrolling aimlessly through his phone or staring at the walls, wondering if all the success in the world was worth it when there was no one to share it with. The ache wasn’t just about being alone—it was the absence of connection, of love, of the warmth only a family could bring. He’d envied the simple joys he saw in others’ lives: a partner’s laugh, a child’s hug, the quiet hum of a life shared.

But now, things were different. No, better. Perfect, even. The moment he opened his eyes, the quiet was replaced by the sound of soft breathing beside him. He turned his head to see you, his wife, still lost in the tranquility of sleep. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over your features. It struck him again just how beautiful you were, even with your hair slightly mussed and your cheek pressed into the pillow.

Gratitude washed over him like a wave, so strong it almost took his breath away. You and your daughter, Rana, had filled the void in his heart, replacing the silence with laughter and the ache with a profound sense of belonging. He didn’t just love you; he adored you, cherished you. You were his anchor, his light, and every day he woke up thankful that fate had brought you into his life.

Lewis’s lips curled into a soft smile as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. He could never resist touching you—a grounding force in a world that constantly spun too fast. His hand found its way to your waist, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against the back of your neck. This was his favorite place in the world: right here, with you.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. A soft groan escaped your lips as you stretched. “Morning, handsome,” you replied, your voice gravelly but endearing. You turned to face him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “What time is it?”

Lewis glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Just gone 8. Rana’s probably about to wake up.”

The mere mention of your daughter brought an automatic smile to both your faces. But as you moved to get out of bed, Lewis tightened his arms around you.

“Not yet,” he whined playfully. “Stay a bit longer. I’m not ready to let you go.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Lewis, I have to get up. Rana’s going to need breakfast, and so will you.”

“I can survive,” he protested, nuzzling into your neck. “Can’t say the same for my heart if you leave me now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin on your face. “Alright, Mr. Hamilton, stop with the dramatics. How about you make the bed, brush your teeth, and then come help me downstairs? Chop, chop!”

Lewis groaned in mock defeat, flopping back against the pillows as you slipped out of his grasp. “Yes, ma’am,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement.

Your laughter echoed from the hallway, a sound that warmed his heart and left him grinning like a fool.

When you stepped into Rana’s room, you were greeted by the sight of your daughter standing in her crib, her tiny hands gripping the bars as she bounced excitedly. Her dark curls were a chaotic halo around her face, and her giggle filled the room as soon as she saw you.

“Good morning, my little sunshine!” you cooed, scooping her up in your arms. “Oh, aren’t you the cutest thing?”

Rana’s only response was more laughter, her chubby arms wrapping around your neck in a hug that made your heart swell. After a quick diaper change, you carried her downstairs, placing her in her highchair before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The smell of coffee brewing filled the air as you worked, humming softly to yourself. Rana was occupied with her favorite picture book, occasionally babbling to herself in a language only she understood. The peaceful morning scene was interrupted by the sound of Lewis’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

“There’s my favorite little girl!” he exclaimed, leaning down to press a kiss to Rana’s forehead. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, but he turned his attention to you before picking her up.

“And there’s my favorite big girl,” he added, sliding his arms around your waist from behind. You jumped slightly as his lips found the curve of your neck.

“Lewis, stop! I’m trying to cook,” you protested, though your laughter betrayed you.

“I’ve done everything you asked,” he teased, his fingers grazing your sides in a way that made you squirm. “Now I’m asking for a little something in return.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, turning in his arms to face him. “And what exactly do you want, Mr. Hamilton?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Just this,” he said, capturing your lips in a kiss that left you momentarily breathless.

It started slow, his lips moving softly against yours, as if savoring the taste of you. One hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you to him, while the other gently cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, sending a ripple of warmth through you. When he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, you felt your knees weaken. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you to open for him, and when you did, a soft groan escaped his throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping you standing. His kisses became more urgent, more insistent, and you could feel his need for you in every movement. When his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you, your heart raced in tandem with his.

Eventually, the need for air forced you to break apart, but he didn’t let you go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as both of you tried to catch your breath.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes searched yours, filled with so much love it made your chest ache.

“And you make it impossible to think,” you replied, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

Lewis chuckled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Good. You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to be here, with me.”

Your playful retort was interrupted by Rana’s voice. “Daddy! Up!”

Lewis turned to see her waving her little arms, her bright eyes locked on him. He chuckled, kissing your forehead before stepping away. “Duty calls,” he said, lifting Rana out of her chair and spinning her around until her giggles filled the room.

You watched them from the kitchen, a smile spreading across your face. It was in moments like these that you were reminded just how lucky you were. Lewis’s love wasn’t just something he said; it was something he showed every single day—in the way he looked at you, the way he played with Rana, the way he filled your home with joy.

Lewis caught your eye over Rana’s shoulder and grinned. “You’re staring, love.”

“Can you blame me?” you shot back, your tone dripping with affection.

And just like that, another ordinary day became extraordinary—filled with laughter, love, and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

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sparklingblu · 11 months ago

Text

Eroverse

Pt.1 - The Invitation

ft. Rei

"Harder, daddy. Harder!"

The sweet moans of the idol beneath you are music to your ears as you piston into her wet folds rapidly, a hand of yours gripping her throat and another kneading her large plentiful tits as she barely manages to stay on all fours on the bed. Her arched back is dripping with sweat and her breath is ragged. Nevertheless, she takes your pounding without complaint, like a good whore she is.

"You like it, huh? You cock hungry whore"

You ask over her mewls resonating around the room as you grip her throat even tighter, depriving her of oxygen.

"Yes...daddy...pound me"

Karina's voice comes out distorted and inaudible but it's impressive how she still manages to make a sound despite your hold on her vocal cords.

"Good girl"

You praise her and bring your palm over one of her asscheeks, which are jiggling with every one of your thrusts. The slap comes down harder than you expect, leaving a red handprint on that porcelain skin of hers. You repeat the motion again, this time on her other cheek, making it jiggle even more, marking it with your handprints as well. Maybe Karina squeals but it blends into her moans and the sound of her breath which is becoming even more shallow with how long you have been choking her.

You would have never thought you would have the chance to see Karina in real life , left alone fuck her. You have always drooled over the bounce of her huge tits and her curves as you jerk off to her fancams again and again. You would even get hard just from seeing that AI like face of her. However, these days are over as you claim her body as your own with your cock.

Karina's eyes begin to roll into the back of her head as she is cut off from the supply of her life force, oxygen, for too long. That doesn't make you decrease your pace or lessen the hold on her throat either. The only supply she needs to live right now is your cum.

As Karina's body becomes limp like a lifeless doll, you start to feel your high slowly approaching. That sensation in your stomach that travels down to your pelvis and ultimately to your shaft.

"Gonna cum, Karina, don't waste a drop"

You order as your flood gates finally open and Karina open her mouth to let out her final moan, but the sound that comes out is-

"Ring ring ring"

Your eyes flutter open as the alarm clock wakes you from your blissful dream.

"You are an idiot, Michael"

You mutter to yourself as you turn off the alarm. You? Fucking Karina? Yeah, sure, that can happen when pigs fly. You sit up in your bed, only to find yourself rock hard from that wet dream you have been having. That's a matter you should take care of later.

You slowly get off your bed and rub your eyes, the view of your messy room greeting you as usual. The tiny room is stuffed with every single one of your possessions. A shelf against the wall, taking up most of the room and a small wardrobe in the corner which is next to a table and a chair, piled with stationaries and stack of papers.

It's a dump, sure. But it can be considered a luxury for a writer like you. At least you have your own space. You have always dreamed of writing stories and hell, you even have a ten book series planned out in your mind. But in reality, you are barely scrapping by. Going from one publishing house to another to get that novel of yours released that have been sitting on the same table for years. You managed to survive with the money you get from your part time job and sometimes when luck is on your side, some of your articles and poems got featured in some magazines no one read.

"Stop whining" you remind yourself. "You just haven't found your true potential yet" An empty encouragement, yet it gets your mind off the bad stuff. You make your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth, staring at the wreckage in the mirror which is your reflection. Your eyes were ringed with dark circles and your head throbs with pain from all the shots you chugged down at the bar yesterday after running into some old friends.

You head to the shower and you are about to turn the water on when you see a bigger problem at hand than smelling like a rat dies in your hair. The boner was still there, stiff and hard as ever. That dream really takes a toll on you.

You grab the phone on the sink and scroll through the collection of hundred videos of female idols you have saved on your phone, choosing the best one to jerk off to. There's so much variety to choose from, ass? tits? face? You once heard someone say "Jerking off is not hard, finding the material to jerk off to is" It seems like the case now.

Finally, you land on the video of Rei from IVE. The busty japanese idol in a white top and a skirt. Her tits bouncing with every move she makes. Not the ideal choice but you will settle for it.

You are about to get your hands on your mamba that's ready to pounce when a notification comes up on your screen.

"Still jerking off to Idols? Why not fuck them instead?"

You are confused. What kind of notification is that? It is like someone is watching you right here, right now. Maybe someone is pulling a prank on you? That's impossible because no one knows about your guilty pleasure.

Reluctantly, you scroll down to see the source of the message. On the left side of the notification is the icon of an app, a dark heart shape and its name on top "Ero". You are pretty sure you have never installed such an app on your phone but curiosity gets the best of you. You click on the notification.

Immediately, your screen light up with a warm neon glow as the loading screen popped up, with the same dark heart shape and the name "Ero" in the centre of the screen. After a minute of waiting, you are about to give up and quit the app when the screen shifts. Now, it displays a text box at the bottom of the screen like in video games and the same black heart rotate slowly like a top above it.

The text in the textbox says,

"Welcome, chosen one. Continue to your first quest?"

Chosen one? What in the Harry Potter is happening here? And what quest? Is this some sort of game? And what does it have to do with you jerking yourself off to idols? Million questions swell in your head but of course your curiosity pushes you to click the 'yes' button under the text.

For a moment, the screen is black. Then it lights up with such a bright white light that you nearly got blinded. The light dims, leaving another text box in the middle of the screen.

"First Quest: Rei's Blowjob

Have Rei sucks you off and endure it for 30 minutes"

Your mind is one complete mess, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. This sound like some sort of porn games you play on your laptop. Main character being chosen and all. But this is very much real though you still doubt this is some kind of scam app that steals the information from your phone. Not like you have any data worth stealing though. Another reason to doubt it even more.

As your brain gets blowtorched with questions, your phone suddenly shuts off. Before your fingers can reach the screen to turn it back on, the whole bathroom goes dark. When you say dark, you are not talking "turn off the light at night" dark. Only darkness exists within your vision as if the whole room have been swallowed by the night. You are about to move forward and try to reach out desperately for something to hold onto when your whole body gets washed over by a sensation like getting dipped in icy water. Your body starts to give out, your knees turning to jelly.

"Am I gonna die?"

You think.

"Oh god, I'm gonna die"

The darkness is the last thing you see before you are greeted by it once again as your eyelids close shut.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The first thing on your mind when you regain consciousness is

"What the hell happened?"

You slowly open your eyes to see a chandelier on the ceiling above. Its yellow lights sting your eyes after seeing only the dark for so long. You slowly sit up, the fatigue in your body is gone, replaced by the lust earlier before you get dragged into this mess by an app. You are still clothless, your mamba springing up like a missel ready to launch.

You stand up, taking in your surrounding. You are in a vast room made entirely of mahogany. In the center of the room is a canopy bed with draping black curtains, opened to reveal the red bedsheets behind. On the console table in one corner rests a black vase holding a single red rose. Apart from it, the whole room is deprived of furniture, giving it a hollow incomplete feeling. The chandelier is the only light source but it is obviously not enough to illuminate the whole room as dark spots are scattered all around the room. If this is not creepy enough, the room has no doors.

Your first instinct is to try to escape but breaking out of a doorless room is easier said than done. Maybe you are dead and in heaven? Sure, if heaven is one dark ghastly room. But you doubt you will get in to heaven. You go back to the source of this problem. That stupid "Ero" app. And what did it say again? A quest, get a blowjob from Rei. But where is Rei?

"Here"

A voice utters from one corner of the room as if answering your thoughts. Your eyes adjust to the dark as a girl emerges from the gloomy spot, emerging from the shadows. It can't be, you think. But no doubt, standing before you is Rei, the japanese member of IVE, dressed in a black low cut sweater dress as if there isn't enough darkness in here and a loose belt wrapped around her waist like she has put it on in a rush. Her dreamy eyes beneath her hazel hair trace your body, studying you and you definitely don't want to be studied while you are butt naked. She folds her arms judgmentally, accentuating the shape of her huge tits under the fabric.

"Master, what takes you so long?"

She asks and you are speechless. Master? This have to be another wet dream. You should have response with some sort of snarky remark but all you can say is

"What?"

You want to bash your head with that vase on the table. A girl is calling you master and that's your first words to her. Stupid as ever.

"Master, I have been waiting for you. What takes you so long?"

This time your response is a bit better.

"Eh, I was busy..."

"I can't wait for that huge cock of yours, I need it so bad"

She whines, gazing at your exposed cock which is hard as ever. This gets you into your mood.

"Then why don't you come and taste it?"

You order, remembering your quest, blowjob. Maybe you can choose other alternatives too but this is a start.

"As you wish master"

Rei kneels, looking up at your cock as if it's something glamorous. The fingers of her left hand close around the base of your shaft, slowly stroking it and fuck, with how smooth her palm feels, you are not sure if you can hold out for 30 minutes for that stupid quest. Her movements are fluid, not too fast or too slow, taking her time just travelling her fingers along your shaft.

"Am I doing well master?"

She asks, looking up at you with her doll eyes.

"Yes, Rei but you have to be better than this"

Rei doesn't answer. Instead, she wraps the rest of her fingers above the space over the first ones and start stroking your cock faster. The friction sending jolts after jolts of pleasure through you body. Her fingers work like magic, with just the right grip and the right motion. Meanwhile, Rei's eyes never leave your cock, focused on it entirely.

"Like this, master?"

"Yes, Rei. Fuck, don't stop"

You groans as pleasure overwhelms you if every stroke of her fingers, bringing you closer and closer to your edge until you remember the time limit. You don't know what will happen if you fail, but you don't want to find out.

You grab Rei's wrist and stop her.

"Master needs you to use that pretty little mouth"

"Mhmm.....yes, master. I want to feel that hard cock stuffed in my throat"

Rei's filthy words leave her mouth no sooner than she impales it on your cock, stuffing your whole length down her throat. Usually, you expect some foreplay. A kiss there, a lick here. But Rei either doesn't know about or care about it as she engulfs your cock in one swift motion. A groan escapes your lips, the sudden warmth and the tightness indulging you with ecstasy. She holds you in her throat, her nose presses against your pelvis.

You have had blowjobs before but Rei's is on a whole different level. Her throat constricts around you, her neck bulging with the foreign object entering it. You are starting to think she's gonna hold you forever when she pulls back, a loud gag escaping her mouth as globes of saliva drop to the ground, the remnants connecting your tip and her lips in silky strings.

You expect her to take a breather but nevertheless she immediately went down on your cock again, taking it back into her warm cavern as she devours it like a hungry beast. Her plump lips sealed around your shaft as she bobs up and down with unyielding speed. Every single movement of hers seem calculated, designed to pleasure you in every way possible. The way her tongue traces the underside of your shaft, the way she moans around your cock, the intentional gagging sounds she makes ever so often. It's like a well organized orchestra with the instruments being her lips, tongue and her throat.

Saliva escapes from the corner of her lips with every bob, dripping down to her thighs and her cleavage, staining her black dress even blacker. You hold a tight grip on her hair, tying it in a lock in your grasp. Finally, she pulls back, leaving only the tip inside her mouth as her fingers envelope you shaft once again, stroking it so fast you think it's gonna start sparking. It might have as well as your body start heating up from her masterclass of a handjob, sweat beads hanging on your temples. You throw your head back, rejoicing in the bliss of Rei's tongue swirling around your head in harmony with her fingers that twist and turn all the way to her lips and back.

You have lost the sense of time, drowned by the euphoric feeling that doesn't seem to be stopping anytime. Has it been thirty minutes? You have no idea. But you are glad you hold out for this long. Time limit or not, you don't want this to end anytime soon.

However, everything have a limit and so do you. As Rei's hand leaves your shaft, only to be swallowed up and deepthroated once again, you start feeling that familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach, unravelling bits by bits. Your cock starts throbbing in the warmth of Rei's throat constricting and relaxing around the tip, as if giving it a massage.

Rei, who's either oblivious to it or doesn't care, suddenly release your pulsing pole from her mouth. She looks up at you and gives you a sly smile, like she knows how desperate you are for release.

"Is Master gonna cum?"

She asks with a smirk and god, you just wants to grab her hair and impale her on your cock again but you don't want to end things sloppily (ironic with how sloppy it already is) but you just nod.

"Cum down my throat master, fill up your slutty whore."

She says opening her mouth, waiting for your move and you instinctively grabs her hair in a makeshift messy ponytail and starts thrusting into her mouth like it's her pussy.

Everytime your cock hits the back of her throat, you get closer and closer to the finale of this rapturous session. Rei holds her gaze to yours, pleading with her eyes to you how badly she needs your cum, how badly she needs to be filled up from the brim.

"Rei....I'm cumming"

You announce as you conclude the act by burying your cock to the hilt into her welcoming throat, unloading spurts after spurts of cum all the way down into her stomach. It seems to go on forever, the flow of cum never ending until it eventually does.

You pulls out your now spent rod from her tight cavern. Rei's mouth was still open, saliva flowing like a waterfall and forming a puddle between the red mahogany floor between her knees, which are trembling nonstop.

"Thanks master"

She mutters, her voice hoarse from being deprived of oxygen.

"Good girl"

You mutter, grinning like a madman. You are pretty sure this definitely isn't a dream. And you just use an idol like a fleshlight. And your quest. Yeah, your quest. The reason you are here. Have you completed it?

As you are reflecting yourself, you are engulfed by darkness once again.

"Shit, not again"

You cursed under your breath. Anymore exposure to darkness today and you won't be able to see colors anymore.

"Worry not, chosen one"

A voice boomed all around you as if the darkness have built in speakers.

"You performed well, I expect more from you in the future"

You are about to protest when the same cold feeling earlier wash over you again and your mind goes blank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(My first smut and the start of a series, I hope you enjoy it)

#ive smut #rei smut #karina smut #kpop smut #male reader

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years ago

Text

Miguel Having A Crush On You Would Include…

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Obsessive Miguel, Possessive Miguel, Implied Yandere Miguel, Miguel in Love, Vampire Marking, Marking (Kind Of), Fluff, Typical Crush Behaviour, Petnames/Nicknames, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Him being absolutely OBSESSED with you.

Literally completely feral, down bad, infatuated, etc.

Initially, when he realised he’d started liking you in a romantic sense, he tried pushing you away; tried drowning his feelings in work, missions, Hell – even resolving petty spats between the Spiderpeople at the base. Anything to exorcise this rising feeling of butterflies in his chest whenever you were around. Vulnerability.

However, you were persistent.

You’d bring him lunch whenever you knew it would be a long day in the office for him, telling him that “Even the best superhero needs a sandwich every now and then!”

And by God were your sandwiches phenomenal.

Though he’d never admit it, his heart would skip a beat whenever the door to his office opened, knowing that it could be you paying him a visit with your delectable lunchables, or even just to check in on him. Make him feel special in ways nobody else had or could in years.

Eventually, this turned into a daily affair; one Miguel would watch the clock for, wait for. Long for.

Miguel also tried hiding his feelings when you brought him hand-crafted, love-filled desserts that he just couldn’t bring himself to ignore or throw away. Or, when Miles offered to take them off his hands, let anyone else have.

Eventually, there isn’t a day that goes by where you aren’t with him in some capacity. And it shows.

Whenever you’re late, even only by a few minutes, Miguel can feel his heart spike, asking Lyla where you are, if she can track you, etc.

“Sounds like you liiiike (Y/N)~” Lyla gives Miguel a knowing smile.

Miguel just grunts, ignores her. Though, he can feel the corners of his lips turning up, and hides them behind a well-placed hand, rubbing his temples.

Soft glances whenever you’re in the room, all his attention turning to you and you alone.

He just loves to stare at you. You’re so beautiful that he can’t understand why nobody else passing you has to stitch their dropped jaw back onto their face.

Then again, he is grateful. The fury that bubbles inside him whenever he catches someone glancing at you, gaze lustful, is all-consuming, enough to make his teeth grind, his eyes bleed a light rouge hue, piercing. He makes sure they’ll never cross paths with you again.

Gradually, your warmth and kindness thaws his walls, and, once the floodgates are open, neither you nor he can predict the dark ocean that is to flood your lives.

He doesn’t mean to throw himself full-force into his feelings, but after being so guarded for so long, he just can’t help it.

Becomes overly-concerned with every facet of your life. More so than he already was.

Constantly trying to find out information about you, though being stumped as to how to do so without arousing your suspicion.

Asks Lyla to track you, see what you’re doing, who you’re with, their relation to you.

However, she begins to deny Miguel such luxuries, telling him to “Grow a pair and ask (Y/N) yourself!”

When he realises Lyla is steadfast in her resolve, he does so. Reluctantly.

Though, once he starts, he finds it difficult to stop.

“Where are you going after work?”, “Are you going out tonight with anyone?”, “Who?”

Eventually, you just look up at him, seemingly oblivious to his growing desperation, and say: “Gosh, Miguel, you’re starting to sound like you’re my boyfriend or something!”

His heart stops. His throat dries and he just looks at you, eyes wide.

One second passes. Then two. Then–

“Oh– uh– yeah... I mean, not that that’s weird, right? Unless you think it is weird, then–”

Lyla has to step in and save him from himself, telling him he has ‘urgent business’ in one of the other wings of the facility.

His suit suddenly feels too tight and too hot beneath the collar whenever he has to speak with you alone.

And tight in…other places when his mind wanders to the more intimate aspects of your hypothetical relationship.

Miguel likes to rationalise this as him preparing how best to please you when the time, inevitably, comes for him to claim you, make you his. At least, this staves off the post-nut clarity (guilt) just a little longer when he’s pursuing a release, blasphemous images of you running through his mind.

A good example of this occurs almost nightly, with Miguel thoroughly loving a pillow clad in a shirt he’d lent you once, your scent still woven, though faded, into the fabric.

Many nights, his face is pressed to the cotton of that shirt, muffling his lips and his moans as his teeth sink into your temporary body, extending, marking, hand moving fervently beneath the bed sheets, your name the chant of many a spell of ardour.

You might mistake that red glow on his cheeks for the illumination of the console screens, but anyone who looks close enough knows better.

He loves showing you around the facility. Especially when your eyes light up and you remark how intelligent he is for “Doing this all on your own,”

Any compliment from you makes his heart thrum and his cheeks burn with the urge to smile. And, if it’s only you in his company, he does so.

Maybe even give you a nervous laugh.

You’re the only one he feels comfortable with showing emotion to.

He hopes that his displays aren’t lost on you; that you know him well enough to know that every smile, every laugh, is for you and you only.

And he is determined to, one day, make that smile of yours for him. And only him.

But, for now, he will content himself with daydreams and night ventures into territory not yet known, all the while possessing a seat beside you, being a shoulder for you to cry on, an ear into which you may pour your worries, a hero on whom you can always depend in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

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coldtimemachinegiver · 13 days ago

Text

Worship (Leon Kennedy X Fem!Reader)

Author: I would like to apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes. English is not my first language, and I wrote this story in a rush of creativity (which don't happen often), so I didn't review it for any mistakes.

Warnings: Smut, Cunnilingus, Swearing, Praise Kink (Kinda?), a hint of Food Play, light breeding kink, a hint of Size Kink, Blowjob, a little bit of Fluff (Leon deserves to be worshiped) and Vaginal Sex.

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy X Reader

The girl glanced at the kitchen clock. Leon would be home any minute and she was still setting the dinner table. The chicken she had spent the afternoon seasoning was on the stove finishing cooking, and the other side dishes were ready, just waiting to be placed on the table.

It was a rainy, cold night, the dog was in the living room, sleeping peacefully close to the warm fireplace. The TV was on, playing the latest news at a low volume as the rain violently patterned on the windows.

In the midst of all the running around, she didn't even notice the front door opening, nor did she hear the sound of keys jingling as Leon locked the door and the dog barking as he ran anxiously to greet his owner, whom he hadn't seen in weeks.

Patting the dog's head, Leon takes off his shoes at the entrance before walking inside the kitchen, leaning against the wall, watching amused as the girl ran from one side to the other, lost in her thoughts as she was finishing icing the cake.

He was exhausted, dirt and sweat caking his body, his wet clothes due to the rain clinging uncomfortably. But as soon as he saw the love of his life in the kitchen, decorating a cake without a worry in her head, her cute apron tied around her waist, and Leon's clothes hanging loosely on her small frame, all discomfort and tiredness drained away, and he urged to feel her warm touch again.

"Hey, sweetheart." He greets, chuckling softly when the girl jumps, startled from her thoughts. Gazing up at him with doe eyes, she launches herself onto his arms without a second thought, burying her face into his chest. His arms snakes around her waist, hugging her body tightly and sticking his nose in the girl's hair, smelling her hair. "Missed you." His voice came out muffled as he peppered kisses on her hairline, cheeks and forehead, until he reached her lips, kissing her softly.

They had been weeks apart from each other, relying only on phone calls or text messages as soon as possible, but it wasn't always that he had the luxury of being able to stop for a few minutes to hear her voice, either because he needed to keep fighting, walking, or because it was the middle of the night, and he didn't have the heart to wake her up in the middle of her sleep.

Noticing this, the girl started sending audio messages, telling him about her day, how the dog was doing or the latest gossip from work, but never forgetting to tell him how much she loved him, and how much they missed him. She didn't know when would be the last time she could say this, and it broke her.

They spent a few minutes glued to each other in a warm embrace, the girl listened to Leon's steady heartbeat, happy to finally have her life partner safe and sound at home. "I made dinner, it's your favourite." She mumbled, not really ready to let go.

"Babe, shower with me." He begged, glancing down at the girl, mustering the best puppy eyes he could. "We shower, eat, then we can cuddle all night long." He promised, aching to feel the girl's naked body against his. She nodded, they still had 30 minutes until the chicken was ready, and she had already finished icing the cake, a small surprise for later.

In a swift move, the blonde grabs the girl by her thighs, a surprised shriek escaping her lips as he quickly runs up the stairs, carrying the girl with him.

Placing the girl standing on the linoleum bathroom floor, Leon begins to undress her as if she were a gift, revealing her soft breasts to the cold bathroom air. "You're still fully dressed." She mumbled, shivering, eyes averting to the floor when she felt Leon's heat gauze shameless checking her naked body like a hungry hawk.

Peeling Leon's clothes, starting with his jacket, throwing it into the laundry basket, along with his black shirt that was stuck to his body due to sweat and rain, his pants and his underwear. Naked, they both enter the shower, Leon turning on the water at a temperature warm enough to untie the knots in his body.

He moaned when the warm water hit his body, the girl watched him with shining eyes, his bulk body never failed to amaze her. His muscular and drawn arms, big enough to make her mouth salivate, urging to bite them, the moles on his body made her create a mental reminder for when they were together again she would try to connect them with a pen.

Leon chuckled softly as he noticed how she could barely take her eyes off his exposed arms and sculpted chest. "Am I distracting you?" He teased, a smirk on his lips.

Water running down their bodies, the girl grabbed the body wash, squirting a bit on her hand and soaped the blonde's body, feeling his solid muscles flexing deliciously beneath her palms with every move she made. His hair soaking wet as it was slicked back, water running down his face, glancing down at her with adoring eyes.

Leon was still a bit worn out from his mission, but he felt better now that he was at home, with his girlfriend. Pulling her to him, pressing her to his wet, soapy body. The girl grabbed him by the neck, pulling him to her level, crashing their lips in a searing kiss.

He was surprised at her sudden boldness, but soon reciprocated. He leaned forward, tightening his grip on her waist as in a possessive manner, kissing her passionately.

In one quick movement he pressed her against the wall, trapping her between his arms, dominating the kiss. His tongue swiftly invaded her lips, tangling with her tongue, claiming her mouth.

The kiss was hot and almost demanding, he was devouring her mouth, tongue continuing to explore while his hands roamed and searched all over her body. He pulled the girl so close that there was almost no space between the two, the soap made their bodies slippery as Leon's hands went down the girl's body, as if trying to keep in his memory all her curves, until he reached her butt, slightly spanking it.

The girl's lips moved to kiss along his defined jawline, and then the soft expanse of his neck, nipped at the skin, leaving small red marks in her wake. His touch was hot against her skin, calloused hands leaving a wake trail of goosebumps in their path.

He let out a low chuckle as he felt the girl's small hands grabbing his now rock-hard cock. "Eager now, are we?" He whispered in her ear, trembling with desire.

Even though the two had not seen each other for weeks, without feeling each other's touch, Leon still wanted their reunion to be in a more special place, preferably in bed. But, overwhelmed with her delicious smell, searing touch as she starts to jerk off his cock, resisting temptation was proving to be the most impossible challenge he had ever faced.

At the moment his cock was about to invade the girl's warmth, the stove alarm started beeping loudly, informing them that dinner was ready.

Grunting, frustrated, Leon tenderly kisses the girl's forehead, they finish washing up and leave the bathroom, the girl makes a bee-line to the closet, getting clothes for both of them. Leon pretends to look indignant when the girl hands him a change of clean clothes, she puts on the blond's favorite sweater that she had found in her own drawer.

"So that's where it ended up, I spent months looking for him." He teasingly comments. She shrugs, happily skipping to the kitchen, eager to show her boyfriend the surprise she had spent all day preparing.

Leon's blue eyes shine when he sees the table set, his favorite food waiting for him along with his beloved girlfriend, giddily waiting for him. "Surprise." She sang, urging him to step closer. "I spent the day cooking it, hope you like it." Leon never made a big deal out of his birthday, until they started dating 2 years ago.

She hides her hands in the sleeves of her sweater, he knew the girl did that when she was nervous. As if he was in a 5-star restaurant, she pulls out the chair for him to sit, he softly chuckles at her attitude, obeying, the girl with a little difficulty manages to push the bulky blonde to the table.

He arranges his plate, trying to get a little bit of everything since the girl had cooked for a battalion. Taking the first bite, he sighs. "I missed your cooking so much, sweetheart."

She grins from ear to ear, happy that her effort paid off. "I'm glad you liked it." She watches the man with adoring eyes as he devours the food, going for seconds. Anxiously waiting for him to finish his meal to continue the surprise. "Now." She stands up when the man cleans off his plate, and Leon gives her a curious look. "I need you to close your eyes, pretty please."

"Your eyes are closed?" She shouted from the kitchen, just her head sticking out of the door, trying to hide the rest of her body. "Sure, baby." Leon answers, his hands covering his eyes.

He hears the girl's quick, light footsteps approaching, they stop when she gets close, and he feels her shake his shoulder anxiously. "You can open them now."

When he opens his eyes, a round cake decorated with icing, sprinkles and candles is in front of him. The clumsy and cute writing on top of the cake, wishing a happy 27th birthday.

Leon feels tears burning in his eyes, they had been there since the beginning of the night, when he had seen the girl for the first time. This time he wasn't sure if he would come back alive from the mission, and he was ecstatic just to be near her once again. Now all the power he had been holding back had been emptied, and the fat tears ran down his cheeks freely.

The sight of his beloved crying tugs at the girl's heartstrings. Concern etched on her face, and gently touched his arm, asking, "Hey, what's wrong?" She kneels beside him, holding his face with both hands, forcing the man to look at her.

Leon does his best to try to wipe away the tears, his voice breaking as he tries to explain himself. "It's just...I almost didn't come home today. Every night I listened to one of your audios, to try to calm myself down, I imagined you comfortable at home with our dog. I regretted all the times I couldn't stay up late in bed with you, of not going out with you more often, of not telling you more that I loved you." He swallows hard, the vision of the girl's face blurred with tears.

She launches herself on his arms, hugging him tightly. "You deserve to be celebrated, baby. You're my hero, I love you so much."

Leon was caught off guard by the surprise, and he melted into the girl's arms. He needed that. For most of his life, Leon felt alone, having to overcome ever greater obstacles at such a young age, he needed to be stronger, faster, more resilient with each new mission, but it didn't stop hurting when someone forgot his birthday. Little by little, he learned to put this pain aside, but everything fell apart when the girl came like a hurricane into his life, coaxing the date out of him, and since then, throwing a small party, either with a few friends, or doing something more intimate.

The blonde felt safe and peaceful in her arms, he didn't want to let the moment end. She handed him the spatula to cut the cake. "Now, you need to cut the cake, I made your favorite." Leon takes a shaky deep breath, eyes still watery. "You're too perfect. I'm so lucky to have you." His voice still hoarse, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

The girl was playing with Leon's fingers while he slowly devoured the cake, humming happily with each bite. Her heart fills with warmth, as she observes the love of her life clumsy eating the cake, a little bit of colored icing smudged on his nose "I should be the one saying that." She murmurs almost to herself, voice filled with affection.

Leon lifts his head, his expression a mix of happiness and vulnerability, a few remaining almost-dry tears painting his flustered cheeks. The girl reaches up and gently brushes them away. In a swift move, the man gently grabs her arms, pulling her to sit on his lap, so now she was straddling him, sitting on his beefy thighs.

His hands grabs her waist, the grip possessive and tight, as if he didn't want her to ever leave. Pressing his body against hers, Leon looked into her eyes, his baby blue eyes filled with hunger, desire for the girl growing by each second. Kissing her neck passionately, leaving a trail of kisses from her ear down to her shoulder. She shivers, wrapping her arms around the blonde's neck, soft whimpers escaping her lips.

Grinding her hips against Leon's, rubbing her panties-clad pussy on his clothed cock, feeling the hard bulge through the thin fabric of his shorts. The blonde let out a low guttural growl. Pulling her even closer, chest flush against his, Leon grabbed the girl's waist tightly, taking control of the situation and increasing her movements, the need to claim her, to paint her insides with his warm cum growing with every passing second. The blonde loudly whines, feeling overwhelmed, his weeping cock begging for attention, to feel the walls of her wet and tight pussy.

Their lips met again in a searing, messy kiss, lips and tongue fighting and demanding. The girl desesperately sucked on Leon's tongue, the sound hot and primal, the desire both felt for each other was almost out of control as they rubbed themselves like animals.

Leon runs one hand under sweater, up her back, awakening goosebumps on its trail, he quickly removes it, exposing her naked body to the cold air of the room. Her breasts spilled out, begging for attention, nipples hard as a rock. The blonde chuckles to himself, feeling pleased with the view. He missed the girl's beautiful mounds, missed sleeping on them, feeling the soft skin in the middle of the night when his rough scarred hands grabbed them, sucking on her nipples as they were the best lollipop he ever tasted, how he could make the girl cum without ever touching her pussy, only licking and kissing her sensitive breasts.

She shot him a puzzled look as Leon slightly reached forward, reaching for the half-eaten cake that was still on the table. Scooping up some of the frosting with his fingers, with a devilish on his face, Leon smeared the sweet treat on the girl's nipples, looking at her with a wolfish grin, eyes dark with need. He began to kiss and suck her chest, purposely avoiding her aching breasts, leaving red marks in his wake as his hands roamed over her body. He felt the girl squirming on his lap, desperate to feel his tongue where she needed the most. Watching in satisfaction as she shivered and gasped at the sensation.

"Please...Don't tease me." She shyly begs. Leon growled hungrily, latching his lips onto the girl's nipples like a man starved. He sucked and nibbled the sensitive buds mercilessly, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her quivering body. Large hands roamed greedily over her curves, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh, relishing each desperate whimper and gasp that spilled from her lips. He dragged his tongue through the sticky mess, lapping up every last drop. The combination of the cream and her sweet skin was intoxicating.

He wouldn't stop until he'd utterly ruined her for the night. The girl quivers beneath his touch, begging for more as the blonde softly grabs the two soft mounds, pushing them together as he greedily sucks on both nipples at once, loudly slurping the cream as he lets go of her nipples with a pop. "Delicious, I missed your taste babygirl." He told her affectionately, voice raspy as he spoke, looking at her in the eyes, gaze heated and heavy. He could feel the need and desire flowing through her body as a hot, needy wave, and he wanted nothing more than to satisfy it.

He took a moment to admire her chest, red love bites covering the area, her puffy, sensitive nipples, he slightly rubbed her finger over one, and her entire body jerked as she cried. He chuckled to himself, amused with the messy state the girl was in, disheveled hair, sweaty body moving with her heavy breathing, eyes slightly blurred with tears. His eyes widened with realisation. "You just came?" She lazily nods, feeling uncomfortable now that her cum-stained panties now cling to her creamy pussy.

"Sorry." She sniffled, spending weeks without ever touching herself intimately or using the vibrator Leon gifted her, she was feeling extremely pented up and the only one who could ever make her satisfied was Leon.

Leon lifts her up like she was a feather, placing the girl sitting on the table. Her white cotton panties were on view, as the girl invitingly opened her legs, showing him the wet spot in the middle of her panties, her sweet cream escaped through the edges of the panties as Leon licked his lips, ready to feast on the girl. He flattened his tongue on the wet spot on his panties, and the girl squirmed and grab a handful of his hair.

"Why are you sorry babygirl?" He teases. Leon smirked, trailing his fingers up her inner thigh, rubbing slow circles over the damp patch on her panties, eliciting a shuddering moan. "Can't wait to bury my face in this sweet cunt." Leon grinned wolfishly, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties and dragging them down her legs, the cloth pooling around her toes. The blonde wasted no time burying his face between her thighs, groaning at the intoxicating scent of her arousal. Leaning in he captured her pussy in a filthy kiss, tongue delving deep to claim her mound, slurping her cum, his other hand reached up to roughly grope her breast, pinching and twisting the sensitive nipple. The girl cried out, leaning on the table as her grip on Leon's hair tightened.

Spreading her slick folds with his thumbs, Leon sealed his lips around her swollen clit and suckled hard, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of tongue as he thrust two fingers knuckle-deep into her creamy cunt, pumping them in tandem with the lashes he rained upon her throbbing bud. Leon worked her over with single-minded determination, driven by a primal need to taste her release on his tongue. Her moans grew increasingly frantic, back arching off the table as her orgasm built.

With a final hard suck, he sent her flying over the edge, cries of ecstasy escaping her lips as she spasmed around his fingers and tongue, her warm cum seeping through her folds. Leon greedily slurps it, cleaning her pussy. "You're so tasty. I'm afraid I'm going to spend the entire night eating this sweet pussy." He cheekily grins and she complains.

"No please, need your cock." The girl begs, now fully sitting on the table, glueing her forehead to Leon's. " Want to suck your cock." Leon blushed and he felt his heart rate increase slightly, the girl's warm breath hit his face and she captured his lips in a soft kiss, tongue almost immediately invading his mouth as she tasted herself on his lips.

The girl squeaks surprised when Leon grabs her by her thighs, carrying her spent body to their shared bedroom, kicking the door open, and gently laying the girl on the bed. Leon smirked, stripping himself bare naked as the girl knees on the edge of the bed. "Please fuck my mouth." She whimpers, mouth watering at the sight of his fully rock hard cock.

"You're my good girl, aren't you? The girl gagged around his girth, saliva dripped down her chin as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Pulling out, she drags her tongue along the underside from balls to his tip, savoring his musky flavor. Her plump lips wrap around the bulbous tip and she suckles hungrily, moaning around his dick. "Mmm, your cock is delicious!" She takes Leon even deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat. Her head bobs faster, drool dripping down her chin as she loses herself pleasuring her partner.

Tears streamed down her face as he fucked her face ruthlessly, using her mouth as his personal cock sleeve. Leon grunted, fisting his hands in her hair as she eagerly swallowed him down. The wet heat of her mouth was pure bliss, tongue swirling around his length as she bobbed her head as fast as she could. He bucked into her face, fucking her throat raw, relishing the muffled gagging sounds she made.

Leon threw his head back and unleashed a torrent of cum straight down her gullet as she swallowed every last drop. Stepping back to admire his work with a satisfied smile, as the girl gasped for air, body sweaty as she tried to compose herself.

Manhandling the girl onto her back, settling between her spread thighs, he nudged the swollen sensitive mushroom head of his cock against her soaked entrance, teasing her.

"Look at my sweet babygirl, so desperate for my dick." He circled her clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm. As he caged her in her arms, pinning the smaller girl to the bed, chest to chest, holding her captive beneath him.

"Please, I need it so bad." Tears brimming her eyes, she begs to feel his cock destroy her insides once again. "Take me! Ruin me with your cock, fuck me until I'm leaking with your cum." She slurs her words, clearly intoxicated by his cum, desperate to be stretched and filled by his manhood.

Leon leaned down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing her pleasured moans as he finally sheathed himself fully inside her tight pussy with one powerful stroke. "I'm gonna fill this tight pussy." He groans, beginning to piston his hips, pounding her pussy ruthlessly. The girl's nails dig into his strong shoulders as she thrashes beneath the hunk of a man, squealing in delight as her velvety walls clench uncontrollably around Leon's shaft.

"Hnngghh...y-you're so deep...rearranging my guts..." She slurs deliriously, drool running down her ching. Her puffy pussy lips clinging to his pistoning shaft, stretched taut around his incredible girth. Each powerful thrust makes her petite frame jerk like a ragdoll, tits swinging wildly.

Leon's cock visibly distending her tummy outward with each savage thrust. Tears stream down her face from the intense pressure stretching her beyond limits. Drool pours from her slack mouth as she stares adorably with glassy-eyes at Leon, lost in the haze of his baby blue eyes.

The obscene slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by her broken moans and his needy whimpers. Leon angled his hips to hit that secret mush spot inside her, determined to make her fall apart on his cock. He captured her lips in a filthy kiss, swallowing her screams of ecstasy as she clamped down around him like a vice.

"Yes!" She cries out wantonly, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Her soft breasts bounced wildly with each powerful thrust. Her juices flow freely, soaking his cock and balls as Leon pounded her into oblivion. Her body quivers and shakes uncontrollably from the intense pleasure. "S-so full...so deep...I can barely breathe!" She pants heavily, inner muscles flutteing around his thickness.

Sweat glistened their naked slippery bodies as Leon rutted into her like a man possessed, determined to stake his claim. Grunting, Leon grips her hips tightly as he pounds into her mercilessly. The headboard slams against the wall, echoing obscenely through the quiet house. He leans down, kissing her forehead

"Take it all, my sweet angel. Milk my cock dry." Unrelentingly pounding her spasming cunt with animalistic fervor. "Fuck yes, soak my dick babe!" He snarled, his hand snaking through their bodies to massage her clit, eliciting a broken cry from the girl.

With a final brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, erupting inside her convulsing cunt. Thick ropes of cum paint her insides, claiming her utterly, flooding her womb with his seed. She throws her head back in ecstasy, tongue lolling out as she surrenders completely, crossing her eyes as he painted her insides white. Quivering and spasming in the throes of a mind-shattering orgasm.

Collapsing atop her, Leon peppered kisses along her sweat-dampened neck, murmuring praises in her ear. The girl convulses wildly, milking Leon's cock, his softening member still buried in her cream-filled cunny.

Twitching and mewling, the girl was utterly spent beneath Leon's body. Thick rivulets of cum leak out, dribbling down her thighs.

"Mm, my perfect little cockwarmer." He purred sensually in her ear. "I'm gonna stay buried in this tight heat all night long." Leon nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent as he continued to lazily hump her pliant body, savoring the closeness as they slowly drifted to sleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

#smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader

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vanteguccir · 11 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤACADEMIC VALIDATION * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N's obsession for good grades and academic validation leads her to neglect her own self.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x student!reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　comparison, crying, dark thoughts, fainting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N sat at her desk in the corner of her shared room with Chris, surrounded by mountains of books, papers, and her laptop, whose screen glowed brightly in the semi-darkness of the room. The clock on the wall showed 2 a.m., but for her, time had lost all meaning.

The sound of Chris' light snores, who was sleeping soundly in the bed just a few meters away from the girl, sounded muffled against her ears. She had tried to sleep, really, but sleep wouldn't come at all, and when Y/N was sure that her boyfriend had finally slept, she was able to get up.

Her mind was totally immersed in study. Every cell in her body focused on absorbing every detail of the laws, the precedent cases, and the doctrines. She was obsessed with academic validation, an incessant compulsion to be the best in her law school, not because she wanted to be better than others, but to show herself that she was capable of something.

The pressure to achieve excellence was overwhelming. Every time a score was posted, her heart raced in anticipation, and each less-than-perfect mark was a stab at her already fragile self-esteem.

Y/N never felt like she was enough, no matter how hard she worked or how well she did. There was always that underlying fear of not being good enough, of not living up to other people's expectations and, even worse, her own unrealistically high expectations.

Days and nights melted into a haze of books and coffee as she sank deeper and deeper into her quest for perfection. She found herself studying until the early hours of the morning, neglecting her basic needs.

Eating had become a sporadic activity, limited to quick and insufficient snacks. Drinking water was a luxury she couldn't afford to waste time on. Taking a shower or even going out to get some sun was completely out of the question.

Her body began to show signs of abandonment, her eyes sunken and tired, her skin pale and lifeless. The dark circles that adorned her face were like badges of honor, marking the sleepless nights and days of incessant study.

But Y/N ignored all the signs.

She was determined not to be overcome by her own limits, even if it meant sacrificing her physical and mental health in the process.

Chris, worried, tried in vain to bring a little normality to her life. He watched from afar every day, helpless in the face of the web of obsession that enveloped Y/N.

He would try to talk to her, sometimes even begging Matt to do so - his brother had a way with words, but she would always evade it, sinking deeper into her bubble of study and self-denial.

Y/N didn't want to worry him, didn't want to admit she was losing control. She was determined to face this battle alone, no matter the cost.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The clock on the wall read almost 9 pm of a Tuesday, and Y/N was still locked in her shared room with Chris, immersed in a sea of books and papers. Her desk was a chaotic mess, with crumpled papers and several tabs open on Google on her laptop, each representing a different subject that she was desperately trying to absorb. Her hand hurt from writing so much, her eyes burned from reading so much, and her body was weak from the time she had spent there.

Chris entered the room for the fifth time that day, carrying a glass of water in one hand and a pink plate with a simple sandwich in the other. His heart sank when he saw Y/N's state, her tense and exhausted expression, her almost obsessive determination to continue studying, ignoring everything else.

His blue eyes traveled across the mess of the table slowly, noticing the plate of Y/N's favorite cookies, which he had brought hours earlier, still untouched, and he swore he felt his heart break again.

"Hi babe... Here, you need to eat something." The boy approached cautiously, trying not to scare her. His voice sounded softly, showing her the plate with the sandwich.

Y/N looked down at the ceramic, her tired eyes reflecting a mix of stubbornness and exhaustion.

"I... I need to keep studying." She murmured, shaking her head, her voice weak and shaky. "I have an important test, Chris. I can't stop now."

Chris felt a wave of frustration and anger rise up inside him. He knew how important that test was for Y/N - and all the others she studied incessantly, but he also knew that she was pushing her limits. He refused to stand by and watch as she destroyed herself.

“Y/N, you can’t go on like this.” He insisted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. "You need to rest, you need to eat, you need to do something besides studying!"

"I can't, Chris. I can't stop now. I need to..." Y/N shook her head determinedly, keeping her blurry eyes fixed on the papers in front of her.

Chris sighed heavily, dropping the plate and cup onto the wooden surface with a thud, his own frustration spilling over into angry tears.

“You’re destroying yourself, Y/N.” He murmured, his voice choked by the weight of his own emotions. "And I can't stand here and watch it anymore."

With that, Chris turned and left the room, leaving a very lost Y/N behind, her teeth biting her lower lip hard in an attempt to stop her feelings from taking over herself, an atmosphere full of tension and despair taking over the environment.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Then came the day when her body finally said enough was enough.

It was 2 a.m., and Y/N was sitting at her desk as usual when a wave of exhaustion hit her with full force. She felt dizzy, her vision blurred, and her hands shook uncontrollably. The world around her seemed to fall apart as she fought to stay conscious.

The girl gripped the edge of the wooden surface tightly, trying to stabilize herself, but the force used was almost nil, her fingers sliding across the table and her arms falling limply. Her senses gradually disappeared, causing her body to bend to the right until she completely collapsed, escaping the safety of the chair.

The sound of Y/N's body hitting the floor made Chris jump out of bed in instant fright. The boy sat up abruptly, his sleep-clouded eyes traveling around the room in search of the source of the rude sound. His heart raced with panic when he saw his girlfriend lying on the floor, motionless.

Chris ripped the blanket off his body, quickly standing up and running to her, ignoring his own confusion and worry flooding his mind.

"Y/N! Y/N, baby, wake up!" He shouted, desperate, as he knelt beside her, pushing the pink gaming chair away.

With shaking hands, he checked her breathing and pulse, relieved to find that she was still breathing. Carefully, Chris turned her onto her side, briefly remembering when Nick told him that this was the correct procedure to do when a person suddenly passed out. His wide blue eyes ran frantically over her body as he silently counted the seconds in his mind.

Relief flooded him as he saw Y/N begin to regain consciousness, her eyes blinking slowly as she tried to understand where she was.

"Chris? What... what happened?" She murmured, her voice weak and her brow furrowed in confusion, her right hand rising from its limp position and reaching towards her head, pressing against the side, a pained expression spreading across her face.

Chris ignored her question momentarily, lowering himself to her level and pulling her into a hug tightly, sighing deeply as he repeated in his mind that she was there, alive and fine.

"You passed out, sweetheart. I heard the noise and... Fuck- Y/N, I thought you had..." The tears - which the boy barely noticed coming into his eyes - began to flow freely down his cheeks, his heart aching at the thought of the possibility of losing her.

His thoughts self-sabotaged him, making him feel guilty, he felt that he should have realized sooner - despite all the countless attempts to try to bring her out of her bubble, that he should have done something to prevent her from getting to that extreme point.

Y/N slowly sat up with the support of Chris's hands after he backed away, still feeling weak and bewildered.

Upon hearing her boyfriend's words, she felt her own eyes fill with tears, the accumulated emotions overflowing into a torrent of anguish and despair.

"I'm sorry, babe. Fuck- I'm so sorry. I... I can't do this anymore, Chris." A sob escaped her throat roughly, her voice choked with crying. "I'm destroying myself because of my own expectations. I... I don't know what to do anymore." She whispered, lowering her gaze to the ground, trapping her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt to stop the ugly sounds that wanted to escape in an avalanche. "Oh my God, I hurt you."

Chris held her gently, pulling her to lay her head on his shoulder, cradling her in his arms like a baby while they were still on the floor, unburdening herself of all her worries and fears. He listened intently to her ranting, his heart clenched by the pain Y/N was facing alone.

“Hey, hey, baby, don't do this to yourself. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.” Chris murmured, gently kissing the top of her head. "I'm here, always have been and always will be. I promise we'll get through this, love."

"I'm so sorry, Chris." The girl murmured, lifting her gaze from the ground and focusing on the brunette's orbs, wondering how he still allowed himself to love and help her so much, even after causing him such worries and fear.

Chris shook his head, silently reassuring her that everything was fine. He pulled his girl's pink chair towards them, slowly lifting himself so as not to hurt her and sitting on the plush seat, before guiding Y/N onto his lap, sitting her sideways on his thighs and laying her face on his shoulder, his mind working hard to come up with an idea to help Y/N find a healthy balance between her academic aspirations and her personal well-being.

"Why don't we establish a more realistic study plan, hm? With time to rest and all the self-care that will be good for you, I'll help you." The brunette whispered, looking down anxiously, hoping she could understand his point. "We can also seek professional help, a therapist, who will help you deal with your emotions and anxieties. If you want, I can participate in all the sessions with you."

Y/N looked at Chris with gratitude in her teary eyes. She knew it wouldn't be an easy journey, but with Chris's loving support by her side, she felt a spark of hope light up in her heart.

"Would you do that for me?" Her voice came out in a broken whisper, her heart warming at his sweet words.

"I'll be right by your side, my love. Always." Chris responded without blinking.

He lowered his head, sealing the top of Y/N's hair for long seconds, stroking the area with his nose lightly. His hands wrapped tightly around her body, keeping her secure in his lap and against his own body, before beginning to draw invisible circles with his fingers against her covered back.

"Sleep, sweet girl. I'll be here when you wake up. Everything will be alright."

566 notes · View notes

cosmiclily · 2 months ago

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chapter five: a quiet place

wc: 2.5k

Archie gave the four of you a week to rest, a much-needed break after the whirlwind of shows and the final concert in LA. He assured you he’d spend that time sorting through the offers from record labels, narrowing down the best options for the band to consider. For now, all you had to do was recharge.

You spent the first half of the week at home, a luxury you hadn’t had in what felt like ages. Your small apartment had never seemed so welcoming—or so quiet. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from a candle you’d left burning, and sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on the walls.

You devoted much of your time to tending to your plants, which, to your surprise, had survived your absence. The little jungle you’d cultivated in your living room was a mix of vibrant greens and delicate blooms, and caring for them brought a sense of calm you didn’t realize you needed.

Another bright spot of your week was Margaret, your neighbor who lived just down the hall. She was the kind of person who seemed to have endless energy and warmth, always ready with a smile and a story. When she heard you were home, she knocked on your door with a plate of fresh-baked goods—a mix of buttery cookies and warm banana bread that melted in your mouth.

“Thought you could use some real food after all that fast living,” she teased, her eyes twinkling. “I saw some of the videos from your concert. My grandson showed me—oh, you all were fantastic!”

You smiled, feeling an unexpected wave of gratitude. “Thanks, Margaret. It’s good to be back. And these look amazing, as always.”

She gave you a knowing look as you took the plate. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself, dear. Fame or no fame, it’s important to stay grounded.”

Margaret reminded you so much of your mom, and the resemblance tugged at something deep inside you. It had been months since you last spoke to her. The silence between you started after that explosive fight with your dad—the one where he’d said things you couldn’t forget, let alone forgive. What stung even more was how your mom had stayed quiet, never once standing up for you.

You’d replayed that moment countless times, wondering why she hadn’t defended you. Did she agree with him? Or was she too afraid to speak out? Either way, it had created a chasm between you, one that felt harder to cross with each passing day.

As you sat on your couch that evening, the warmth of Margaret’s banana bread lingering on your tongue, you found yourself staring at your phone. Your thumb hovered over your mom’s contact, the urge to call her battling against your pride. You wanted to tell her about the band’s success, about LA, about how far you’d come despite everything.

Before you could make a decision, the sharp buzz of your doorbell startled you, cutting through the quiet. Frowning, you glanced at the clock. It was almost 8 p.m., and you weren’t expecting anyone—especially on a Thursday. You set your phone down and got up, padding toward the door.

As you unlocked it and pulled it open, a pair of familiar blue eyes stared back at you.

“Vi,” you said, a little surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” she replied, her voice softer than usual as she shifted her weight awkwardly. She held a crumpled notebook in one hand, her other stuffed into the pocket of her hoodie. “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Sure. Come on in.”

Vi stepped into your apartment, glancing around as though she hadn’t been here dozens of times before. She seemed hesitant, almost out of place in the cozy atmosphere of your living room. She hovered near the edge of the couch, not quite sitting down yet.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. There was no malice in your tone, just genuine curiosity. Vi wasn’t the type to show up unannounced.

She shrugged, holding up the notebook. “I, uh... I had some lyrics I wanted to show you. I know we’ve got the meeting on Sunday, but these have been bouncing around in my head, and I figured... you know. Might as well share them now.”

You raised an eyebrow, motioning for her to sit. “Couldn’t wait, huh?”

Vi gave a small smirk, finally sinking onto the couch. “Not really. You know how it is—when something’s stuck in your brain, it’s hard to let it go.”

You nodded, sitting across from her in the armchair. “Yeah, I get that. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She hesitated for a moment before handing you the notebook. The pages were a little worn, with scribbled notes and scratched-out lines in the margins. You could tell she’d been working on this for a while.

As you read, the words began to take shape in your mind. The lyrics were raw, filled with the kind of emotion Vi always managed to channel so well. There were hints of longing, heartbreak, and even a glimmer of hope. It was personal—maybe the most personal thing she’d written in a long time.

“These are... really good, Vi,” you said, looking up at her. “Like, really good. Where did this come from?”

She shrugged again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t know. Just... stuff I’ve been feeling, I guess. Thought maybe we could use it for something.”

You studied her for a moment. There was something vulnerable about her tonight, a softness that was usually hidden behind her tough exterior. “Are these about Caitlyn?” you asked gently.

Vi tensed slightly but nodded. “Yeah. I mean, not just about her, but... yeah. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately. About how I handled stuff, how I didn’t handle stuff. Writing helps, you know?”

You gave her a small smile. “Yeah, I do. And for what it’s worth, I think this is some of your best work. We can definitely do something with it.”

She looked up at you then, a flicker of relief in her eyes. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was... too much.”

“Not at all,” you assured her. “If anything, it’s exactly what we need right now. It’s honest.”

Vi leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “Good. That’s... good. I’m glad.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Finally, Vi spoke again.

“I’m trying, you know,” she said quietly. “To get my shit together. For the band, but also... for myself.”

You met her gaze, nodding. “I can see that. And I’m proud of you, Vi. We all are.”

She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

As the evening wore on, the two of you ended up talking about the band, the tour, and everything in between. By the time Vi finally left, it was almost midnight, and you felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but they were getting better. Slowly, piece by piece, you were all finding your way.

──────────────────────

When Sunday finally came around, anxiety settled into your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake. You gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary as you drove to the office, glancing at the cup holder where your coffee sat untouched and lukewarm. The faint aroma teased you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take even one sip. Everything about this day felt too important, too heavy.

This was it—the moment where dreams started to take shape or collided with reality. For the first time, the success of the band didn’t just feel like an abstract goal; it was a tangible possibility. And that made it all the more terrifying.

You tried to rehearse what you wanted to say to Archie in your head, but the words felt clunky and insincere. You knew what you wanted—needed, really—from a label. Creative freedom, no stifling expectations, no cookie-cutter demands to fit into a box someone else built for you. But deep down, you also knew the truth: success would come with compromises. Some decisions would be out of your control, and you’d have to live with that.

As you pulled into the parking lot, your heart sank when you saw Vi’s motorcycle already parked outside. Of course she’d be early—before her crash out she was always the one to show up first, as if it gave her a sense of control over things she couldn’t actually control. You grabbed your coffee, even though it was too cold to drink, and headed inside.

The office was buzzing with a nervous energy. Jinx was perched on the edge of a couch, twirling a pen between her fingers while humming a tune under her breath. Ekko was leaned over a table covered in notes and printouts, his brow furrowed as if he were mentally weighing every pro and con of the offers. Vi was off to the side, standing by the window with her arms crossed, staring out at nothing in particular.

“Morning,” you said, your voice quieter than intended.

Vi glanced over her shoulder and gave a quick nod, her expression unreadable. Jinx shot you a grin. “Hey! Ready to sell your soul today?” she joked, though the edge in her voice betrayed her own nervousness.

“Hardly,” you muttered, setting your coffee down on the table near Ekko. “Where’s Archie?”

“Conference room,” Ekko replied without looking up. “He said he’ll call us in once everything’s set up.”

You nodded and took a seat, trying to ignore the knots twisting in your stomach. The wait felt eternal, though it was probably only ten minutes before Archie emerged, clipboard in hand, and waved you all into the room.

Once inside, you saw a stack of neatly organized folders waiting on the table. Archie gestured for everyone to sit before he took his place at the head of the table.

“All right,” he began, his tone businesslike but not without a hint of excitement. “Here’s the deal: I’ve gone through all the offers we’ve received, narrowed them down to the ones I think are the best fit, and flagged a few for us to discuss in more detail. But before we dive in, I need to know what you all want out of this. What’s most important to you?”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around the table. Jinx looked eager to dive into the discussion, Ekko was calm and composed, and Vi... well, Vi just looked tired.

Finally, you cleared your throat and spoke up. “Creative freedom. That’s the biggest thing for me. I don’t want us to lose what makes us us just to fit into someone else’s expectations. But...” You hesitated, forcing yourself to meet Archie’s gaze. “I also know we might have to give up some things to make this work. I just don’t want us to lose everything.”

Archie nodded thoughtfully, jotting something down on his clipboard. “That’s fair. Anyone else?”

Ekko chimed in, echoing your concerns but adding a focus on long-term stability. Jinx mentioned wanting a label that could help expand their reach while still letting them experiment with their sound. Vi stayed quiet for most of the discussion, only speaking up when Archie pressed her.

“I just don’t want us to get screwed over,” she said bluntly. “I’ve heard enough horror stories to know how this can go wrong.”

Archie nodded again, his expression serious. “Trust me, I’ve kept that in mind. The deals on the table aren’t perfect, but none of them will put you in a position where you’re signing away your lives.”

As the discussion continued, you found yourself feeling more at ease. The anxiety didn’t disappear entirely, but hearing everyone’s thoughts—and knowing Archie was in your corner—made the weight on your chest a little lighter.

By the end of the meeting, you had all mostly settled on one label, a decision that somehow balanced what each of you wanted without compromising too much. The label promised creative freedom, a reasonable timeline for releases, and a hands-off approach when it came to shaping your sound—a rarity in the industry. Archie, ever the organized manager, said he would arrange a meeting with the label’s director for the four of you to finalize details and ask any lingering questions. It wasn’t a done deal yet, but the choice had been made, and the path forward was clear.

There was an unspoken relief in the room. Everyone seemed lighter, as though a massive weight had been lifted. Jinx practically buzzed with energy, tapping her fingers against the edge of the table in a rhythm only she could hear. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” she said with a grin. “Like, for real. This is happening.”

Ekko chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, it feels good to finally have a plan. No more guessing.”

Even Vi, who had stayed quiet through most of the meeting, seemed to exhale some of her tension. She leaned back against her chair, crossing her arms but with a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It wasn’t much, but you knew her well enough to see that she was cautiously optimistic—excited, even.

As the meeting wrapped up, Archie clapped his hands together. “All right, then. I’ll get that meeting on the books and send you all the details once it’s confirmed. In the meantime, take the rest of the day to relax. You’ve earned it.”

Everyone shuffled out of the room, their energy buzzing in different ways. Jinx skipped ahead, talking a mile a minute about merch ideas she suddenly had. Ekko followed, his phone already out as he muttered something about updating their social media.

You hung back, walking alongside Vi as the two of you headed toward the exit.

“You seem... different,” you said, glancing over at her.

She raised an eyebrow, though her expression softened. “Different how?”

“Like... I don’t know. Lighter? You were so quiet during the meeting, but you don’t seem upset or anything.”

Vi shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Guess I just needed to wrap my head around everything. It’s a lot, you know? But this label... it feels right. I think we can actually make this work.”

Her words surprised you, but in a good way. Vi wasn’t one to express herself easily, so hearing even a hint of optimism from her felt like a victory.

“I think so too,” you said, matching her stride.

As you reached the parking lot, you parted ways, each heading to your own car. The sky was bright, the air crisp, and for the first time in a while, it felt like the future wasn’t something to fear.

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masterlist - chapter six

notes: im in love with vi i wanna smooch her 😭

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane #vi arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #lily writes

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allgoodnamesrgoneee · 9 months ago

Note

Hmm I’ll just request (please make this long and in depth) of like it being Kylians birthday and readers never had a birthday or anything and makes him like the coolest gifts like a shirt with him and the eiffel tower on it and a bunch of cool diys and her being shy and embarrassed and him just being so shocked that she made him something and thinking its so cool. Can we please get Kylians pov too and him telling his family about the gifts and the reader also getting him some luxury stuff too

You got it😉

Birthday Boy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You surprise Kylian for his birthday.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2k

Warnings! FLUFF, birthday boyy, cute reader, insecurities, the request basically covers the rest,

Fuck.

You weren't ready for this.

You're really not ready for this. You don't know how to do any of this. But it was his birthday, and you knew he would be upset if you didn't get him anything. He deserves something special though.

You're standing in his apartment, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You have no idea what time he's going to be home from training, but it couldn't be too long now.

You have a few gifts for him, and you're really proud of them. Well, proud wasn't exactly the word. Nervous was more like it. He might hate them, and that would be really embarrassing.

You looked at the clock on the wall and gasp when you realized what the time was. He's going to be home any minute now. You quickly run to the kitchen, hiding behind the counter with all of his gifts on it. You hold your breath and hope that you won't make a fool of yourself.

You heard the door open and his footsteps as he walks into the living room. You slowly peer around the corner and see him looking at you in confusion.

“Hey, are you alright? Why are you hiding behind the counter?” he asks, walking towards you.

You blush and look down, playing with the hem of your shirt again. “Happy B-Birthday! I-I got you some gifts,” you stammer out, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably.

He looks at you in surprise, face lighting up in excitement. “You got me presents?!” he exclaims, running to you and pulling you out from behind the counter.

He spins you around so you're facing him and then pulls you into a hug, lifting you off the ground. “Thank you, trésor,” he whispers in your ear.

You blush and smile shyly, hugging him back.

He sets you back on your feet and pulls away slightly to look at you. “Why are you blushing so much?” he asks, a smile on his lips.

You bite your lip and look away from him. “I just don't know if you're going to like them,” you mumble, looking down at your feet. You look up to see him looking at you curiously.

“What makes you think I won't like them?” he asks, looking confused.

“I-I don't know,” you reply, looking back down at your feet. “Well, they're not that expensive or anything. So you might not like them.”

He laughs, a soft smile on his face. “That doesn't matter at all,” he says, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the counter. He lets go of your hand and pulls all the gifts over in front of you. “Tell me about these,” he asks, sitting down at the counter and gesturing for you to sit next to him. You do as he says, biting your lip.

He picks up the first gift, which is wrapped in green wrapping paper. “This one is just some candy,” you mumble, watching him tear the paper off. He opens the box and smiles widely when he sees the chocolate inside.

“Mmm, I love chocolate,” he says, popping one of the chocolates into his mouth.

Next he picks up a small, blue box. “This is some new headphones,” you explain, watching as he opens the box and pulls out the headphones.

“Cool, I needed some new ones,” he replies, putting them on and fiddling with them for a second. “I love them!” he exclaims, smiling at you.

You bite your lip again as he reaches for the final gift, which is a small, white box. He opens it and pulls out a shirt. His eyes widen when he sees what's on it, and he looks at you in shock.

“You made this?” he asks, staring at the shirt in disbelief.

You nod your head shyly, biting your lip. “Y-Yeah,” you mumble.

He holds the shirt up and smiles, looking at the drawing on it. He'd drawn a picture of him and the Eiffel tower in the background. The picture had 'Happy Birthday' written above it in swirly letters.

“Trésor, I love it,” he whispers, looking at you in awe. “Can I wear it now?”

You nod your head excitedly, watching as he pulls off his shirt and puts on the new one. He turns around to face you and smiles. You blush and look away from him, fidgeting with your hands. He walks towards you and lifts your chin up with his hand so that you're looking at him.

“I love it,” he repeats. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip and smile shyly, nodding your head.

He pulls you into a hug and kisses your forehead. “Thank you so much, trésor,” he whispers in your ear.

You blush and hug him back, smiling. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, and you have to suppress a sigh. He smells amazing. He always smells amazing. Like home. Like a warm hug on a cold day. You love how he smells.

He pulls away from you slightly and kisses your lips softly. “I'll be right back, I need to call my family,” he says, kissing your lips again before turning and walking towards the couch.

You watch him go, biting your lip and blushing. You turn and walk into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and sitting at the counter to drink it. You look out the window, watching as the sun sets behind the Eiffel tower in the distance. You sigh happily, smiling. It's so pretty. You could get used to seeing that every night.

Kylian sits on the couch, watching as you drink your water. He can't help but smile as he watches you. you are so cute. He looks down at the shirt he's wearing and his heart flutters. It was so adorable. He had never met anyone who could draw as well as you could. It was perfect.

He pulls out his phone and dials Ethan's number, waiting for him to answer. He picks up on the first ring. "Happy birthday, bro!" Ethan exclaims.

Kylian laughs and leans back against the couch. "Merci, merci. Where's mom? I tried calling her earlier but she didn't answer." he asks. It hurt him not to spend his birthday with his family this year.

He's been so busy lately that he's barely had time for anything but football. He was starting to get homesick. Which is why he's so grateful for you. You keep him company and keep his mind off of missing his family.

"She's right here, I'll go get her. So how did you celebrate your birthday?" Ethan asks, sounding excited.

Kylian smiles and looks over at you. "I haven't yet," he replies, watching as you stand up and walk towards the kitchen. "But Y/N got me some amazing gifts. I'm so happy."

Ethan laughs on the other end of the line. "Aww, that's so sweet! What did she get you?"

Kylian grins as he tells Ethan about all the gifts you got him. He can hear his brother making sounds of amazement and excitement as he talks. "And then there was this one shirt," Kylian starts. "She made it herself."

"Wait, what? That's awesome!" Ethan exclaims. "Show me."

Kylian laughs and places the phone on the coffe table, standing up to show Ethan the shirt. He hears Ethan gasp in surprise and smile. "Wow, she really made that?"

"Yeah, I know," Kylian says, sitting back down on the couch. "It's amazing."

He hears Ethan laugh. "She's so cute! You should propose to her already!"

Kylian laughs. "Ethan, she's been my girlfriend for like eight months," he replies. "I'm not proposing yet."

"Aww, come on," Ethan pouts. "You know you want to."

Kylian sighs and rolls his eyes. "Shut up," he replies, laughing.

His mother's figure approches the phone. "Is that Kylian I hear?"

He grins. "Oui, maman," he replies, eyes tearing up slightly at the sight of her. He misses her so much.

She smiles widely. "Bonjour, mon amour," she says, leaning forward so that he can see her better.

He smiles at her and reaches out to touch the screen. "Bonjour, maman," he repeats, voice shaking slightly.

His mother's smile falters for a second when she sees his face, and then it's back to normal. "Are you okay, baby?" she asks.

Kylian nods his head. "Oui, I'm fine. Just a bit homesick," he explains. "But Y/N is keeping me company and making sure I don't miss you guys too much."

His mom nods her head. "Oh good, I'm glad she's there for you," she says. "How was your day? Did you have any fun?" she asks, smiling.

"Not really," he replies, sighing. "We were training all day, and it was exhausting. I'm glad it's finally over and I get a break. But Y/N got me some amazing gifts," he adds, holding up the shirt. "She made this one herself."

His mom's eyes widen in surprise as she stares at the shirt. "Wow, that's beautiful," she exclaims, smiling. "You must have been a good boyfriend," she teases.

Kylian laughs. "I try my best," he replies, grinning.

His mom laughs. "I know you do, baby. You deserve someone who loves you like that." Kylian nods his head, thinking about you. You do love him. He knows that. It's not hard to tell when you look at him the way you do. And he hopes you never stop. Because he can't imagine living without you.

"I have to go, maman," he says after a few minutes. "But I love you and I'll talk to you later," he adds, smiling.

His mom nods her head and smiles. "I love you too, mon amour," she replies, leaning forward to kiss the screen. Kylian smiles and kisses back before saying goodbye and hanging up.

He looks over at you and smiles when he sees you walking towards him. "I love you," he says as you sit next to him. You blush and smile shyly. "I love you too," you reply. And you do. So much it hurts sometimes. But it's a good kind of hurt. A happy kind of hurt.

And you know you'll never stop loving him. Never stop loving him and cherishing him. He's your everything. Your soulmate. Your heart. And you're his. And that's all that matters. That's all that will ever matter.

"So…How are we celebrating tonight?" He asks you. You smile and shrug. "I don't know, whatever you want to do" you reply. Kylian laughs and pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly. You blush and kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulls away slightly and smiles at you.

"What do you think about going out to eat somewhere nice?" he asks. You shrug and nod your head, smiling.

"I would love to," you reply.

Kylian grins and kisses you again. "Let me call for a reservation," he says, pulling away from you and standing up. You watch as he walks over to the counter and pulls out his phone.

You sit on the couch and wait for him to make the call. You can't help but smile as you listen to him talk. He's so adorable when he's concentrating on something. You lean forward and rest your head on your hands, watching him.

He hangs up a minute later and turns to smile at you. "I got a reservation at a nice restaurant for 8," he says, walking over to you and pulling you to your feet. "So let's get ready," he adds, leading you towards the bedroom.

You smile and follow him, already excited for tonight. You know it will be amazing. Everything is always amazing with Kylian. He always makes sure of it. And he always will. He loves you too much not to. He'll always do anything to make you happy. And you'll do the same for him. Anything to make him happy.

And that's how it should be. That's what love is. It's happiness and smiles and laughter. It's Kylian's arms around you and his lips on yours. It's everything good and pure in the world.

It's all that matters.

It's all you'll ever need.

Kylian.

Forever.

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #football #kylian fanfic #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #kylian x you #kylian mbappe #kylianmbappé

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austinswife · 6 months ago

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ON THE EDGE OF US - Austin Butler

REQUESTED BY ANON

SYNOPSIS — Y/N has always been in an on-again, off-again relationship with Austin Butler. What started as a whirlwind romance between two passionate souls turned into a rocky journey filled with highs and lows, breaks and reunions. When an unexpected pregnancy binds them together, Y/N hopes their baby will bring stability. But Austin, never the “father” type, struggles with his role, frequently leaving and coming back, caught between his love for Y/N and their child and his fear of being inadequate as a father. As Y/N grapples with the pain of his absence, she faces the hard truth: Can love survive when it’s constantly walking the edge of falling apart?

WARNING(S) — Angst, emotional turmoil, mentions of leaving/abandonment, frustration with parenthood, arguments, swearing, stress and anxiety related to relationships and parenting, sensitive themes (broken family dynamics)

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The house was quiet—too quiet. The only sound was the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair as you slowly moved back and forth, trying to soothe Lily. Her soft whimpers had been your constant soundtrack for the past hour, and you were exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Completely. You hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in what felt like weeks, maybe even months.

The baby’s tiny fists curled against your chest as you swayed, her small face scrunched up with discomfort. You felt a lump rising in your throat, not for the first time tonight. The loneliness, the weight of it all, felt unbearable.

You glanced at the clock on the wall—2:08 a.m. The late hour only served as a reminder that once again, Austin wasn’t here.

With a soft sigh, you looked down at Lily, kissing her head gently. “It’s just us again, huh?” you whispered. The weight of that truth hung heavily in the room, even as her tiny breathing finally began to slow. You couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could do this alone.

The sound of the front door opening was so faint you almost missed it. The soft creak of the hinges felt like it echoed through the silence. Your heart clenched, emotions swirling—relief, anger, confusion. Austin was home. But was he really?

He stepped into the dimly lit living room, his body a shadow against the glow of the streetlights outside. His broad shoulders were tense, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. You could smell the faint trace of alcohol on him, though it wasn’t overwhelming.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you and Lily. He looked tired. No, not just tired—worn. His eyes were darker than usual, like they held the weight of every fight, every argument, every night he had walked out the door and left you alone with her.

“Austin,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, but he didn’t move.

Instead, he just stood there, his eyes flicking to the floor as he shifted on his feet, the silence between you heavy and suffocating. You could feel the familiar ache in your chest, the same ache you felt every time he left. Every time he came back.

“Where have you been?” The question escaped your lips before you could stop it, more of an accusation than you intended, but the hurt laced through your voice was impossible to hide. It wasn’t just about tonight. It was about every time. Every time he chose to walk away.

Austin rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion etched into every line of his body. “I just needed some air,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. It was always the same excuse. Always some reason to get away, to escape the responsibility that weighed down on both of you.

“Air,” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping despite the knot tightening in your throat. “You always need air. But I don’t get that luxury, do I? I don’t get to just walk out when things get hard.”

He shifted uncomfortably, taking a step closer but still keeping his distance. His eyes flicked to Lily, who was finally quiet in your arms, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily. He swallowed hard, the sight of her seeming to stir something in him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to come any closer.

“I’m trying, Y/N,” he said quietly, but there was a frustration in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

“Are you?” The question hung in the air between you, raw and vulnerable. “Because it feels like every time things get tough, you’re gone. I’m here—every day, every night. I’m the one who gets up with her. I’m the one who stays when she’s crying for hours on end. But you? You’re never here when I need you.”

Austin’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t feel trapped too? You think I don’t feel like I’m suffocating sometimes?”

Your heart twisted painfully at his words, but you held your ground. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Austin. That’s what being parents is about. That’s what being a family is about. You don’t get to just walk out because it’s hard.”

“I’m not built for this,” he shot back, his voice rising with the frustration he had been holding in for so long. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. You felt tears burning at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not now.

Lily stirred in your arms at the sound of his raised voice, her little face scrunching up as if sensing the tension between you. You instinctively held her tighter, trying to shield her from the chaos unfolding.

“You didn’t ask for this?” you repeated, your voice shaking. “You didn’t ask for this?” You shook your head, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Neither did I, Austin! But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s here. We made this choice—together.”

Austin’s eyes softened for a brief moment, the guilt evident in the way his shoulders slumped. But then, just as quickly, the frustration returned. “I never wanted to be a father, Y/N. You know that. I don’t know how to do this.”

“You think I do?” you countered, your voice breaking as the tears you had been holding back finally began to fall. “I’m figuring it out just like you are. But the difference is, I’m here. I’m staying. I’m trying.”

He ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of you like a caged animal, trapped by the weight of everything he was feeling but unable to find a way out. “I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be.”

“Then figure it out!” you cried, your voice raw with emotion. “Because I can’t do this alone anymore. I’m tired, Austin. I’m so tired of fighting for this—for us—when you’re not even sure if you want it.”

Austin stopped pacing, his eyes locking with yours for the first time that night. For a moment, it felt like everything had stilled, the world falling away until it was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something you weren’t sure you could come back from.

“I do want it,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him. “I love you, Y/N. I love her.” He glanced at Lily, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and something else—something you hadn’t seen in a long time. “But I’m scared.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the vulnerability in him. The cracks in his armor.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you looked at him. “I’m scared too,” you whispered, wiping at your tears with your free hand. “But we have to face this—together. We can’t keep doing this push-and-pull, Austin. It’s breaking us.”

He took a step closer, and this time, he reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“We can’t fix it if you keep leaving,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “I need you to stay.”

Austin looked down at Lily, his hand lingering on her tiny head as she slept peacefully in your arms. His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed her soft hair, and for the first time, you saw the conflict in his eyes. The war he was fighting between wanting to be there for his family and not knowing how to handle the weight of it all.

“I’ll try,” he whispered, though his voice lacked the conviction you so desperately needed to hear. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at it, but I’ll try.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you were going to get from him tonight. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lily’s forehead before pulling away and walking toward the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, your heart tightening in your chest.

“I just need some air,” he muttered, his hand already on the doorknob. But this time, when he looked back at you, there was a flicker of something different in his eyes—something that gave you hope.

#austin butler #austin butler blurb #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fluff #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austin butler series #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler gif

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sherewrytes · 24 days ago

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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 10

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

Fic Playlist

Masterlist

Chapter 10: After Hours

The days bled together, each one a repeat of the last. I woke up to the same white walls, the same sterile air, the same suffocating silence. The routine felt like a never-ending cycle: eat, therapy, argue with the therapist, meet with Selene, get high, fuck, then retreat back to my room to sleep off the guilt. I didn’t even have the energy to fight the monotony anymore. It was easier to just go through the motions.

Every morning therapy session felt like a war zone. I hated it. The words they said to me, the questions they asked, the way they looked at me like I was some broken puzzle piece—they all gnawed at me, and I fought back with every ounce of bitterness I had left. I wasn’t ready to confront anything, especially not the damage I’d done to myself and the people around me. Not yet.

Selene had become my secret escape. She wasn’t anyone I trusted, but in a place like this, trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. She provided the pills, the numbness I craved. It wasn’t the same as the chaos I used to embrace, but it was the closest I could get to escaping this damn place.

When we hooked up, it was just another way to drown out the noise in my head, to feel something—anything—other than the crushing weight of everything I’d been running from. It didn’t mean anything, not really. But it was a distraction. A temporary release.

One week in this hellhole, and I was already suffocating. The days felt like an eternity, and I found myself yearning for the moment I could leave. But each time I thought about leaving, about going back to the chaos I used to live in, I remembered the mess I’d made of myself. The last thing I wanted was to drag anyone down with me.

I closed my eyes, blocking out everything.

This is what I deserve,

I told myself.

I made my bed.

But deep down, I knew I wasn’t just here because of my choices. I was here because I didn’t know how to deal with everything that had happened. And I hated myself for it.

I was in my afternoon session, the clock ticking endlessly in the background. Mrs. Henry sat across from me, her sharp gaze dissecting every inch of my expression. I didn’t care. I stared back, unblinking, waiting for her to say something.

"Are you high right now, Sukuna?" she asked again, her voice calm, almost too calm. I could tell she wasn’t going to let me off the hook that easily.

I shrugged, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, arms crossed over my chest. "No," I shot back, my tone colder than I meant it to be. "How would I be high, Mrs. Henry? I’m not medicated. I'm an addict. Isn't that how it works?" I could feel the bitterness seeping through, like it had become my default setting, something I couldn’t turn off even if I wanted to.

Mrs. Henry leaned forward slightly, her gaze still unwavering. "You don't have to act tough here, Sukuna. You're allowed to be vulnerable," she said, like I was just another patient in a line of many she’d tried to fix.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not trying to act tough," I muttered, though I could feel the defensive walls rising in me. "I'm just telling you how it is. You think this is me acting tough? This is me, trying not to lose my mind in a place where no one gives a damn."

Her silence only pissed me off more, but I kept my face blank. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Not now. Not ever.

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “Ask me the usual questions.”

Mrs. Henry didn’t even flinch. She kept her gaze steady, her tone measured. “Are you high?”

I rolled my eyes and bit back a sigh. “No,” I said, for the second time, just as quick and just as smooth.

The truth, though, was a different story. I was high—just enough to keep my hands steady, my mind quiet. But I needed Selene right now, more than I needed to be honest. So I wasn’t ever going to say yes.

Not to her. Not to anyone.

Mrs. Henry didn't press me any further. She knew the game I was playing, but she couldn't call me on it—not yet, anyway. She jotted something down on her clipboard, her eyes still fixed on me like she was waiting for me to slip up.

"Alright," she said, her tone still annoyingly calm. "Have you been using any substances recently, Sukuna? Specifically, Xanax?"

I could feel a familiar itch in the back of my throat, the need to lie, to deflect, to make sure she didn’t get any closer to the truth.

"No," I said again, as easily as I had the first time, my voice steady, maybe a little too steady. I forced myself not to flinch under her gaze, knowing that if I did, she’d be all over me like a hawk.

I wanted to leave. I needed Selene. She was the only one who could get me out of this fog, who could give me something that made all of it bearable. I could already picture her face, that grin she always had when I showed up, and the promise of relief she always offered.

But I wasn’t going to give her that. Not yet. I’d just lie and lie until I couldn’t lie anymore. The truth? I couldn’t deal with that right now.

"Anything else you've been doing to cope with everything going on?" Mrs. Henry asked, clearly trying to dig a little deeper.

I stared at her, my jaw clenched, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crack. "No. Nothing else," I said, the words falling from my lips like they were rehearsed.

I was running out of ways to keep pretending. But if I kept pretending long enough, maybe I could still feel like I had control. Just a little bit longer.

Mrs. Henry raised an eyebrow, not surprised by my response, but still taking notes, as if this was just another layer of the facade I was building around myself.

"That’s understandable," she said, her voice even, "But sometimes, connecting with others here can help with the process, Sukuna. You don’t have to go through this alone."

I almost scoffed at her, but I stopped myself, keeping the anger in check. I didn't need to give her more ammo.

"I'm not alone," I replied coldly. "I’ve got my family. I don’t need therapy buddies to deal with my shit. That’s not gonna fix anything."

I knew I was being defensive, but what else was I supposed to do? Letting someone in would mean they'd see the cracks in my armor, and I wasn’t about to give anyone that kind of power over me—not in here.

"Your family, huh?" she probed, her eyes narrowing just a bit. "Are they the kind of family that supports you through this?"

I glanced away, irritated.

I don't need her judging me.

I shook my head slightly. "Doesn’t matter. It’s just... easier when I’m not trying to pretend like everything's fine. I'm dealing with it on my own, and that's it."

The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for this. I didn’t want to talk about my family or what I needed from them.

All I wanted was to get through the day without feeling like I was suffocating.

Mrs. Henry didn’t push it any further, which made me wonder if she knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere. But I couldn’t stop myself from wondering—if I really was alone, what would happen if I let someone in? What would happen if I stopped pushing everyone away, stopped lying about how fine I was, stopped pretending I didn’t care?

I shoved the thought out of my mind quickly, the familiar tightness in my chest taking over again.

No. Not now. Not ever.

“Tell me about Jin.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze. My chest tightened, my mind grinding to a halt. Jin? Who told her about him? How did she know?

My palms started to sweat, my shirt sticking to my back as the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. My mouth went dry, and for the first time in the session, I couldn’t think of a single word to say.

Everything blurred, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. All I could focus on was that name—his name—echoing in my head like a curse.

The mention of Jin hit me like a punch to the gut. My entire body tensed, a rush of heat and cold sweeping through me all at once.

How the hell did she know?

I gritted my teeth, trying to regain control, but my hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists, digging my nails into my palms to distract myself.

I can't break. I can’t break.

"Who told you about Jin?" I growled, my voice hoarse, as if the words were being dragged from my throat.

Mrs. Henry didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away. She just stared at me, unblinking, waiting for me to answer. It was as if she knew exactly how to push me, to get under my skin.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as sandpaper

Fuck.

I didn’t want to talk about Jin. I didn’t want to think about him. Not now. Not here.

Not when I’m like this.

"Answer me," I snapped, my voice rising, cracking slightly at the edges. "Who the fuck told you?"

She didn’t answer. She just waited, her calm demeanor unnerving. "It’s not about who told me, Sukuna," she said softly, but there was something in her tone that made me freeze. "It’s about you. It’s about how you’re still carrying that weight."

I felt a lump form in my throat, my chest tightening with the familiar, suffocating pain.

God, not this again.

Jin. My fucking twin. The one person who knew me better than anyone. The one person I could always count on. And now he’s gone, and I’m here... spiraling in a place where everything feels wrong. Where I can’t breathe, where I can’t fix it, and where every memory of him feels like a betrayal.

I wanted to yell, scream, or throw something, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in this room, in my own mind, drowning in guilt and rage and fucking grief.

Why am I even here?

"I don’t want to talk about it," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Just let me fucking be.

But Mrs. Henry didn’t back down. She leaned in slightly, her eyes sharp, but with a gentleness that pissed me off. "That’s part of the problem, Sukuna. You’re not talking about it. You’re burying it all inside, and it’s eating you alive."

My breath hitched, the walls around me crumbling just a bit. I hated how right she sounded, but I wasn’t going to let her see that.

"I’m not... I’m not burying shit," I hissed, my jaw clenching as I stood up from my seat. "Just drop it. Just fucking drop it."

But her eyes never left me. And even though I wanted to walk out, to escape, a part of me knew I couldn’t

I couldn’t outrun this anymore.

She sighed, her expression softening just slightly, like she was treading carefully now. “Alright,” she said, switching gears. “Tell me about your brothers—Choso and Yuuji.”

I exhaled, long and slow, the tension in my shoulders easing just a bit.

Finally, A safe topic.

I leaned back in my chair, relieved that she switched topics.

Choso and Yuuji...

It was like a breath of fresh air compared to the mess of Jin. I had to admit, even if I didn’t want to be here, talking about them didn’t feel like total torture.

"Choso’s... he's my responsibility, the kid I’m supposed to look out for," I started, trying to steady my voice. I felt a weird kind of warmth in my chest when I thought about him. I wasn’t used to it, but there it was. "He’s been through a lot, too. We both have. After... everything with Jin, I stepped up. Trying to give him something solid, you know?" I paused for a second, wondering if I was saying too much. But I kept going.

"And Yuuji... shit, Yuuji’s like a kid brother I never asked for, but somehow ended up with. He’s stubborn, and sometimes I want to strangle him, but he's a good kid. I Want to be better. I’m just trying to keep him from making the same mistakes I did, even if he doesn’t listen half the time."

A laugh escaped me, though it wasn’t really a happy one. More like a bitter one, like the sound of frustration.

"I don’t know," I muttered, looking down at my hands, the weight of the conversation starting to press on me again. "They’re both better off without me dragging them down. Hell, Yuuji’s better off without me around. Choso... he deserves better too."

Mrs. Henry studied me, her gaze unwavering as always. "You’re doing your best, Sukuna. You’re not perfect, none of us are, but you’re still here for them, aren’t you? They care about you."

I felt my chest tighten again, but I pushed it away.

No, they don’t.

Not really.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled. "But I’m not the guy they think I am."

I rubbed my face, trying to force down the feelings clawing at my insides.

I’m not the guy anyone thinks I am.

She didn’t respond, just let the silence stretch out between us. And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to shut it all out, to just stop thinking, stop feeling.

But I couldn’t.

She stared at me for a moment then asked, “Tell me about your Grandfather.”

I felt the tears on my face before I could even stop it. I wiped my face but the tears kept coming.

I felt a lump form in my throat before she even finished asking.

Grandpa.

It was like she dug her hand into an old wound, one I’d been trying to close off for months. I couldn’t help it—the tears came, stinging my eyes before I could even stop them.

I wiped my face, frustrated that I was so damn weak. But I didn’t look away. I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction of seeing me completely unravel.

"I can't... I can't talk about him," I muttered, voice rough and thick with the emotion I was trying to choke down.

Grandpa

He was the only one who ever truly gave a damn about me, about Jin, about Choso and Yuuji. Hell, he took care of us when no one else would. And then, just like that, he was gone. Gone too damn soon.

I could already feel the ache in my chest, the empty space he left behind. "I don’t... I can’t. It’s too much," I said again, my voice quieter now, more fragile. I could barely even look at her.

Mrs. Henry didn’t say anything right away, and for a second, I thought maybe she was going to press the issue again. But then she just nodded. "Okay," she said softly. "We’ll move on. When you’re ready, Sukuna."

It was hard to swallow. To think about how I’d never truly be ready. I didn’t want to be. Talking about Grandpa meant feeling everything again—the guilt, the rage, the confusion. And I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

I turned away, pretending to focus on the clock ticking on the wall, but the weight of the conversation hung over me, making it harder to breathe.

I wasn’t ready. Not now, not ever.

The room felt like it was closing in on me. My chest tightened, and I could barely catch my breath.

Jin.

His face flashed in front of me like a damn haunting.

Why did I do it? Why did I let him die?

I felt the bile rise in my throat just as I realized I was going to lose control. I pushed the chair back and stumbled toward the bin in the corner, barely making it in time. My stomach twisted violently as I emptied whatever little was left in my body. The tears mixed with the vomit, and I didn’t even know where one ended and the other began.

When it stopped, I collapsed against the cold, sterile floor, my body shaking. I could barely breathe, the air thick with panic and grief. My arms wrapped around me instinctively, like I could hold myself together if I just kept tight enough.

But I knew it was a lie.

My body trembled, but my mind—

my mind was a fucking mess.

Jin’s death. Grandpa’s. The guilt. The weight of it all. How could I even keep living with this?

"You didn’t save him,"

I muttered, my voice cracking, barely audible.

"You were too weak... too scared."

The sound of the door creaking open reached my ears, but I couldn’t look up. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

"Sukuna," Mrs. Henry’s voice was soft, like she was trying to approach a wild animal. But it wasn’t working.

Nothing worked.

I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, shutting my eyes, trying to block it all out. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

It was always there.

She came closer but stopped just out of reach, probably sensing the distance in me. "This won’t fix itself, Sukuna," she said gently, but it felt like a slap. "You can’t keep running from it."

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The only thing I could hear now was the deafening silence in my mind, the pounding of my own heartbeat, and the deep, gut-wrenching ache of what I’d lost. What I was losing.

Maybe I was right. Maybe I was already too far gone.

I DIDN’T LEAVE MY ROOM FOR TWO DAYS

I heard the door creak open, and I stayed curled up in my bed, wrapped in the blanket like it could shield me from everything. I couldn’t move, couldn’t look at anyone. The guilt kept swirling, suffocating me. My thoughts were too loud—

too loud to escape.

I killed Jin. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve been there.

Mrs. Henry’s soft footsteps approached, and then I heard the bed creak as she sat beside me. She didn’t try to touch me, didn’t push me to look at her. She just sat there, quiet, waiting for me to speak.

I kept my eyes shut, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill again. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t face anyone.

"Sukuna," her voice was calm, but there was a tenderness there I didn’t expect. "You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk about it. Holding it all in... it’s not going to fix anything."

I bit my lip, trying to keep it together, but my chest felt like it was caving in. I finally spoke, but my voice was hoarse, cracking, barely a whisper.

"I killed him," I said, the words tasting like acid in my mouth. "I killed Jin. I could’ve stopped him. I should’ve been there... but I wasn’t."

She didn’t say anything at first, just let me breathe through the wave of guilt and grief that hit me. I could feel her presence next to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up.

"Jin made his own choices," Mrs. Henry said softly, her voice steady, but somehow it didn't feel as harsh as it should. "You couldn’t have known what would happen, Sukuna. You’re carrying this weight like it’s your fault, but you need to understand... it’s not. You’re not responsible for his death."

I shook my head, the tears falling freely now. "I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to—be there."

She sighed, a long, patient breath. "You can’t change what happened. No matter how much you want to. But you can change how you’re handling it now. You’re not alone in this, Sukuna. You have people who care about you, who want to help."

"Who?" I choked out, bitterly. "Who the hell cares? Jin’s gone. My grandpa’s gone. All I’ve done is fuck up."

Mrs. Henry was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her tone soft but firm. "Sukuna, you're not alone. I know it feels like the world is falling apart, like everything’s broken beyond repair, but that’s not the truth. You have people who care, and you can find a way to make it through this—

but you need to let them in."

I stayed quiet, feeling the weight of her words. I didn’t know how to let anyone in, not after everything. Not after what I did.

I wanted to say something back, but the lump in my throat wouldn’t let me. I wanted to argue, to scream that I didn’t deserve their help. But there was something in Mrs. Henry’s voice, a quiet strength, that made me hold back.

She was right.

I couldn’t do this alone.

But

How could I let anyone in again?

Mrs. Henry stayed beside me, her voice calm but steady. “Sukuna, you need to breathe. Look at me,” she said gently, but I couldn’t. My chest was heaving, my breaths shallow and erratic. My hands were shaking as I clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing keeping me tethered.

“Focus on my voice, Sukuna. Just listen to me.” Her tone softened further, soothing in a way that cut through the chaos swirling in my head. “You’re safe right now. Nothing is going to hurt you. You need to breathe—slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

I tried, but the panic had a stranglehold on me. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was sinking, spiraling deeper into the pit I couldn’t climb out of.

Mrs. Henry shifted closer, her presence firm yet non-threatening. “You can do this. Start small. Breathe in for three seconds, okay? Let’s count together.” She started counting, her voice steady, unwavering.

“One… two… three. Now exhale. One… two… three.”

I gripped the blanket tighter, forcing myself to follow her rhythm, though it felt like my lungs were burning. Each breath felt like a fight, but slowly, painfully, the dizziness started to fade.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Keep going. You’re doing great.”

Tears blurred my vision as I finally managed to draw in a deeper breath, though it came out shaky. My chest still felt tight, but the suffocating weight began to lift, just a little.

“Good,” she said softly. “Now, I want you to name five things you can see in the room. Can you do that?”

I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. “The… the blanket.”

“That’s one,” she said patiently. “What else?”

“The wall,” I muttered, my eyes darting around. “The chair. The… clock. And… the bin.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Now, four things you can touch.”

“The bed,” I said, my hands still gripping the blanket. “The blanket… my shirt… and the floor.”

Her voice remained calm as she guided me through the exercise, helping me ground myself. By the time I’d listed the last thing, my breathing had slowed, though my chest still ached with the weight of everything.

“You’re okay,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re here, and you’re okay. I know it feels impossible right now, but you’re stronger than you think.”

I shook my head, the tears falling freely again. “I don’t feel strong,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I feel… broken. Like I can’t fix this.”

Mrs. Henry stayed quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Broken doesn’t mean beyond repair. It means you’re human, Sukuna. And humans can heal, even from the worst of it. But you have to let yourself try.”

I didn’t respond, but something about her words stuck with me, even as I buried my face in my hands. Maybe she was right. Maybe I could try. But it felt so far away, like the light at the end of a tunnel I wasn’t sure I’d ever reach.

TIME SKIP 2 DAYS

It didn’t take long for me to fall back into the routine. Two days later, I found myself back in Selene’s room. The dim light and faint smell of perfume mixed with something sharper—a scent I couldn’t quite place but was starting to associate with her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she eyed me.

“You look like shit, Sukuna,” she teased, tossing a pill bottle from one hand to the other. “Rough couple of days?”

I leaned against the doorframe, my arms crossed, trying to ignore how my hands were already shaking. “Are you offering or just here to waste my time?”

She laughed, that low, mocking sound she always made when she thought she had the upper hand. “Always so charming.” She tilted her head, studying me. “What do you need?”

“Same as always.” I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. My heart was racing, my skin crawling. I hated needing her—hated how easy it was for her to control me with just a damn bottle. But the withdrawals were eating me alive, and right now, I’d do whatever it took to quiet the noise in my head.

Selene patted the spot on the bed next to her. “Come sit, then. Let’s talk business.”

I hesitated, then walked over, lowering myself onto the edge of the mattress. She shifted closer, her knee brushing against mine as she placed the bottle in my hand. I clenched it tightly, like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“What’s the catch?” I asked, glancing at her. There was always a catch with her.

Selene’s grin widened. “No catch. Just some… companionship. You’re not exactly hard to look at, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, twisting the cap off the bottle. I shook two pills into my hand, then stopped, my mind flashing back to Mrs. Henry, to the therapy sessions, to Yuuji’s face when I woke up in the hospital. For a split second, I considered throwing the pills away, walking out of the room and never coming back.

But then the gnawing ache in my chest returned, the unbearable weight pressing down on me. The thought of facing another night without relief was enough to push me over the edge. I swallowed the pills dry, ignoring the burn in my throat.

Selene watched me, her expression unreadable. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you don’t have to keep doing this. Killing yourself slowly isn’t as poetic as you think.”

“Spare me the lecture,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall. My head was already starting to feel lighter, the sharp edges of reality beginning to blur. “You’re not exactly a model citizen either.”

She shrugged, lying back on the bed. “Fair point. But at least I own it. You? You’re still pretending you don’t want this.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence settle between us. The pills were kicking in now, the world fading into a dull hum. Selene reached over, brushing her fingers against my arm, and I didn’t pull away.

“You’re a mess, Sukuna,” she said softly, her voice almost gentle. “But I guess that’s why you’re here.”

I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me. She was right—I was a mess. And right now, I didn’t care.

Selene straddled me, her nails tracing lazy patterns over my chest. It was becoming routine now—therapy in the morning, sneaking into her room after, getting high, fucking, and pretending none of it mattered. Rinse and repeat.

I should’ve been using my time here to get better, especially after my little breakdown in front of Mrs. Henry. Instead, I was right back to the same shit that got me here in the first place. I guess that’s just who I am—someone who runs from the hard stuff, diving headfirst into the chaos to drown it out.

Selene tilted her head, her messy bangs falling into her face as she looked down at me. “You’re awfully quiet today,” she said, her voice a mix of teasing and curiosity.

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Not much to say.”

She laughed, low and husky, leaning down until her face was inches from mine. “You’re always full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” I muttered, placing my hands on her hips. The Xanax was working its magic, dulling everything until it felt like I was floating. Selene pressed her lips to mine, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in her.

I wasn’t sure what this was between us—something transactional, something toxic. It wasn’t love, that much I knew. But it was an escape, and that’s all I wanted.

When we were done, she rolled off me, lighting a cigarette as she stretched out on the bed. The smoke curled in lazy tendrils toward the ceiling, and I stared at it, my thoughts swirling.

“You ever think about what you’re gonna do when you get out of here?” she asked, exhaling a long plume of smoke.

I laughed bitterly, running a hand through my hair. “If I get out of here, you mean.”

Selene smirked, passing me the cigarette. “You’ll get out. The question is, what then? Back to the same old shit?”

I took a drag, letting the nicotine hit my lungs before answering. “Probably. What else is there?”

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “Maybe you could try being a better person. Get your shit together for real this time.”

“Funny coming from you,” I shot back, handing the cigarette back to her.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fair enough. But seriously, Sukuna. You can’t keep running forever.”

“Watch me,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Selene didn’t push further, just lay back against the pillows, her cigarette dangling from her fingers. I stared at the ceiling, wondering if there was even a point to all this. Therapy, the pills, the bullshit self-reflection—none of it felt like it was working.

I should’ve been getting help. Instead, I was stuck in this cycle, spinning my wheels and going nowhere. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe this was all I was good for.

Selene’s fingers traced over the tattoo on my arm, her touch light but intentional. “Who’s Y/N?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

I stiffened beneath her, the name pulling me out of my haze like a bucket of cold water. My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“No one,” I muttered, my voice rough. “I don’t got a girl.”

Selene raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why’s her name inked on your arm, huh?” She smirked, tilting her head. “Doesn’t seem like ‘no one’ to me.”

I glanced down at the tattoo like I was seeing it for the first time. Y/N. The black ink stood out starkly against my skin, mocking me. When the fuck did I even get that? My head felt foggy, the Xanax dulling everything but the faint stab of panic creeping in.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t even remember getting this.”

Selene laughed, the sound low and throaty as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my neck. “Must’ve been important enough at some point,” she teased, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Or were you just drunk and stupid like usual?”

“Drop it,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

She pulled back slightly, her smirk fading as she studied my face. For a moment, I thought she might actually listen, but then her lips were on my neck again, her hands sliding up my chest.

“Relax,” she murmured against my skin. “I don’t care who she is. Or was. You’re here with me now, aren’t you?”

Her words made my stomach churn, but I didn’t push her off. I let her continue, let her kiss me, let her try to distract me from the weight pressing down on my chest.

But the name lingered in the back of my mind, a bitter reminder of everything I’d been trying so damn hard to forget.

Selene’s lips hovered near my ear, her voice low and coaxing. “I could be her for you,” she whispered, her words weaving around me like smoke. “Just for one day. Whatever you want, Sukuna. I don’t mind.”

Her fingers danced over my chest, light and deliberate, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, searching for the cracks in my armor.

My throat tightened as her words sank in, dragging up feelings I’d buried too deep to face.

Be her? She didn’t know what the fuck she was asking for. Y/N wasn’t just anyone, and she sure as hell wasn’t someone you could play pretend with.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at the floor. “Don’t,” I muttered, my voice low and strained. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Selene tilted her head, feigning innocence, but I could see the spark of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m just trying to help, Sukuna,” she purred. “You’re clearly hung up on her, and I don’t mind stepping in. Let me take the weight off, just for a little while.”

I hated how tempting it sounded.

The idea of forgetting, even for a moment, felt like a lifeline in this hellhole. But it wasn’t real. Nothing about this place, about her, was real. And deep down, I knew it wouldn’t help. If anything, it’d make things worse.

“Why would you even want that?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. I finally looked at her, my jaw clenched.

She shrugged, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Maybe I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like you.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You don’t even know me.”

Selene leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my cheek. “Then let me.”

I hesitated, my thoughts a chaotic mess.

Part of me wanted to say yes, to let her pretend, to drown in the fantasy for a day. But another part of me—probably the part that still gave a shit about Y/N—knew it was wrong. Knew it would only make me feel emptier in the end.

“Selene,” I said, my voice hoarse, “just stop.”

She froze for a moment, then pulled back, her expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. “Fine,” she said, standing up and smoothing her clothes. “But don’t come crying to me when the weight of whatever this is crushes you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there, the ghost of Y/N’s name burning on my arm and in my chest.

I stared at Selene, her words echoing in my head like a challenge I was too weak to resist.

Fuck it,

I thought. Just this once. Just to see if it’ll dull the ache.

My jaw tightened as I muttered, “Fine.”

Her smile was instant, victorious, as she climbed back onto my lap, her hands cupping my face. “Good,” she purred, her lips brushing against mine. “I’ll take care of you.”

I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t want to think. Thinking meant remembering, and remembering meant feeling. I couldn’t afford to feel right now.

She kissed me, soft and slow at first, testing the waters, before deepening it. I let her. I let her press her weight against me, let her fingers trail over my skin, let her pretend to be someone she could never be.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

But I let myself fall into the lie for a moment, closing my eyes and imagining it was Y/N. The way she used to look at me, the way her hands used to fit against my chest, the way she’d whisper my name like it meant something.

Selene pulled back, her eyes searching mine, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re so tense,” she teased, running her hands down my arms. “Relax. Let me make you forget.”

Forget?

I wanted to laugh. There was no forgetting her. No forgetting the tattoo burned into my skin, the memories etched into my soul. But I was too tired to argue. Too tired to fight.

“Just… do what you want,” I muttered, leaning back against the wall.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

As she kissed me again, I let myself go numb, focusing on the moment instead of the weight in my chest. But no matter how hard I tried, Y/N’s face stayed in my mind, her voice echoing in my ears.

And when it was over, when Selene curled up beside me, satisfied and smug, all I could feel was emptiness.

Just this once, I’d told myself. But even once was too much.

I slowly got lost in the sensations, my thoughts slipping away as Selene’s hands roamed over my skin. Her lips moved across my neck, her breath warm against my ear. For a moment, I let myself sink into it—the touch, the heat, the false comfort.

My body reacted, but my mind drifted elsewhere. I felt her, but I wasn’t really there. Each kiss, each touch, blurred together, and in the haze, I saw Y/N’s face instead.

Her laughter. The way she’d roll her eyes when I teased her. The sound of her voice when she said my name like it actually mattered.

Selene’s lips brushed against mine, pulling me back to the present, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t the person I wanted, even though I’d told myself I didn’t want Y/N anymore.

Liar.

“Relax,” Selene whispered, her hands sliding down my chest.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the ache creeping into my chest. I focused on the sensations—the way her fingers dug into my skin, the way her body moved against mine. For a while, it worked. I felt the tension melt away, replaced by something easier to handle.

But as much as I tried to let go, as much as I tried to drown myself in Selene’s touch, I couldn’t fully escape the weight pressing down on me. It was like a shadow lingering in the corner of my mind, refusing to leave.

What the fuck are you doing, Sukuna?

The thought hit me like a slap, but I pushed it away, letting myself drift deeper into the moment.

It’s just this once. Just to feel something different. Just to forget.

Selene’s nails raked across my back, pulling a low groan from my throat. For a second, I thought it might work. For a second, I thought maybe I could lose myself completely.

But when she whispered my name, the illusion shattered. It wasn’t her voice I wanted to hear. It wasn’t her I wanted to touch.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, grounding myself in the sting. Selene didn’t notice. She kept going, and I let her, because I didn’t know how to stop.

By the time it was over, my body was drained, but my mind was anything but. As Selene curled into me, her breath steady and content, I stared at the ceiling, feeling hollow.

I’d wanted to forget, but all I’d done was remind myself of what I’d lost. Of what I’d ruined.

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sherewrytes #jjk sukuna #sukuna

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izzabela · 9 months ago

Text

In The Mafia's Eyes (pt.2) - Lin Kuei Trio x fem!reader

in which the deadliest mafia group's leader and two brothers have you in their grasps

a/n: commenter, you ask so you shall receive

ship[s]: tomas, bi han, kuai liang x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI, smut, threesome, DP, f!reader = f!genitalia, dirty talk, praise, cuckery!, breeding kink..., unprotected sex

It's in the eyes, little barista

The note that Raiden handed you stayed in your apron pocket until the end of your shift. You were... afraid? Excited? Nervous? Mixed emotions bubbled and brewed like ready hot-pot, and you weren't sure if opening the lid would be worth it.

Once your shift was over, you changed out of your uniform into a thrifted tweed skirt and a button-up. All thrifted during an outing with some friends. You changed out of your work shoes and into some black loafers, and finally hung the apron on the wall. You made sure to take the note out, but another piece fell. You were confused to say the least.

"But Raiden said that this was the only note..." you muttered to yourself.

You nervously opened the folded paper and were greeted with an address. It wasn't yours, thankfully, but the address line was somewhere in the area, where the rich folk live. Taking out your phone, you punched it into maps and found the address leading to a luxurious apartment complex a couple of blocks away from the teahouse.

Is this where they lived? Why would they give you their address? Isn't this how women die in true crime shows? You were drawn out from your thoughts when Kung Lao knocked on the wall.

"You still in here?" he called. He smiled and sighed when he found you, "There you are! Do you recognize this glove? It was left on seat of the chair where I found the tip."

When he showed you the glove, you wanted to strangle someone.

It was Bi Han's, a black and blue colored one with white accents on the side. You took the glove and looked at the note again, realizing what you had to do.

You sighed out loud, pinching your nose bridge, "I know whose this is... I'll be clocking out now. See you guys tomorrow!"

You took shoved your uniform in your work bag and bid quick farewells to your coworkers. Opening your phone, you followed the maps route to the apartment. You looked up and saw the clouds roll over, gray beginning to shroud the blue sky. Your mood soured further with this.

Hopefully, the unprecedented storm would wait until after this visit.

=====================

The rain didn't even bother with your consent, pouring immediately as you were halfway to the apartment. When you got to the door, you were soaked through and through, practically shivering as the doorbell rang through the apartment. Actually, you couldn't even say it was an apartment.

Your handsome regulars lived on the top floor of the complex, the penthouse suite, the complex building was owned by Empress Real Estate. With a quick Google search, you learned they were a company with huge connections to New York's founding. The "King" Jerrod, "Empress" Sindel (who it was named after), and their daughters Mileena and Kitana. Still, the fact couldn't take away how cruel the weather was to you.

The entire day you worked, the sun shone apologetically, why did it have to change so quickly?

The door opens and Tomas's face twists into shock and pity. You offer a smile, but it's hard to deny the state of yourself when your teeth chatter aggressively. He immediately takes you in, leading you to a plush chair in the (rather humble-looking) living room. He reaches for a throw blanket and unfolds it, wrapping it around you. You sink into the warmth, nuzzling into the plush material.

He's crouched to your level, "Warmer? I apologize for not being able to answer sooner," he said with a frown.

You smile, "It's quite alright, Tomas, I didn't know it would rain."

He smiles, and you can see him lift his arm, about to pet your head. However, he stops and stands up quickly. He covers his mouth to hide the pink that creeps his cheeks.

"I'll, uh, go get my brother. Kuai Liang will be here soon, though, please feel comfortable."

He disappears into a hallway next to the kitchen, and on cue Kuai Liang comes out of the kitchen with tea and a warm towel on a tray, and an equally soft smile on his face. You nod to greet him.

"You look as if you expected me," you tease, "You even have a warmed towel!"

He chuckles, "Who's to say this wasn't?"

You blush, looking away shyly as you fiddle with your hands. Kuai Liang chuckles, setting the tray on a side table and taking your hands into his, rubbing the towel over them to get you warmed up quicker. The warmth, and his touch, is making you squirm a bit. He chuckles at your innocence.

"You seem nervous," he states obviously, but he leans close to your ear to whisper, "Are you nervous, dear?"

You sharply inhale, a hazy feeling of lust beginning to fog your brain. You shake your head, muttering a small "no" before he parts from you. Just before he can say anything, you turn your head to the shuffle of feet coming from the hallway Tomas disappeared into. He comes out behind Bi Han, a slightly agitated face on him.

"Why do you wear such clothes, woman? Did you not see the forecast for the day?" he huffs out.

Your arousal dissipated like smoke, eyes rolling as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your shirt was still decently wet despite the blanket offered to you, and your colored bra pressed against the wet fabric ever so slightly. Bi Han glanced briefly before looking to the window, where the downpour grew into a raging storm.

You sigh, "This was not how I wanted my afternoon to go..."

Kuai Liang moved to your side, "It doesn't look like it will let up, best if you stayed here until it stops."

Tomas nods, "I agree, brother," he turns to you, "Whenever you're ready, I can show you to your room for the evening."

You nod, keeping the blanket around you as you followed him. Looking behind you just for a moment, Kuai Liang and Bi Han seem to just be staring at you.

You knew better, though, especially after the note.

Reaching the room, you thank Tomas for escorting you and enter.

"There should be some extra clothes in there, for the guests we have on occasion," his hand grips the door knob, "We'll have dinner ready for you soon, so feel free to roam around our home if you're ready beforehand."

You nod, "Thank you again, Tomas."

Tomas begins to shut the door, but not before he could see you undress just a little bit. Like a Roman statue, you looked carved by the hands of God, plush and round and well-taken care of. Your arms looked toned and soft as well, but he shuts the door before his imagination jumps out of its cage.

You felt the room shake with the slamming of the door, and you look back at it left wondering what went through his head.

=====================

You left the room after getting changed into a sweatshirt and spandex that you wore under your skirt. You also had knitted socks, warming the coldest part of your body. You decide to check on the men who were seeing to your care and saw them cooking, all three of them working together to create dinner.

They were all in more relaxed loungewear than earlier, each one of them in a colored tank top that had similar colors to their suits. They also wore grey-black sweats, all of them at varying heights of their waist. Bi Han had his the lowest, his v-line very much on show as his tank hugged his chest. Kuai Liang's was in the middle and Tomas was tied up.

Your mind began to overload you with disgustingly detailed images of you on your knees in front of them, so to get away from it you decided to wander the penthouse. Passing the kitchen, you were greeting with the rest of the living room.

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows, an interesting light piece that emitted a soft, orange-yellow hue, and a huge wrap-around couch that faced an even larger T.V. You noted numerous video game consoles at the foot of the T.V. system, and the scattered controllers belonging to them.

You sighed and walked past everything to stare at the window, the gloomy scenery of the rain and occasional thunder plaguing the city. You look to the direction of your own flat, and sigh again with worry. Surprised, Kuai Liang was by your side as he noted your expression.

"You seem worried, did you leave something at home?" he asked.

You nodded, "I have a Balinese a Border Collie. The Balinese doesn't like thunder, so she cuddles with my Border Collie, but I worry he won't be able to control her when the thunder strikes harder."

He nods, "I can send someone over if you'd like?"

You turn with hopeful eyes and a relieved smile, "Could you? That would be so great! Their names are..."

You mention their names, gave your address, and watched Kuai Liang send a couple of messages on his phone before he turned it off, paying attention to you once again.

You stretch your neck, a weird tension in your muscle you can't seem to stretch. Kuai Liang takes notice and is behind you.

"May I?" he asks politely.

You agree and feel his magic work. His fingers smoothly glide across your shoulders, pressing every spot and using his thumb to massage it in circles. You feel immediate relief and lean into him more, a moan escaping your lips at the pure pleasure. He moves up to your neck and uses his thumbs to rub the back of it, and it's clear he found the spot.

You moan even louder and lean back to him, flinching as you realize what your bottom pressed against. His cock, barred only with two pieces of clothes, was firm and hard against your plush ass. You gulped nervously and looked behind you, his eyes meeting yours.

For some reason, you two are in sync and you both lean into each other, his hand on your chin as he forces you to stay looking at him. He kisses you hard and deep, his other hand on your waist to grind into his hard dick. You moan into his kiss and you're led away from the window, falling into his lap while he falls into the couch.

His grip on your face remains, but his other hand moves to go up and behind your sweatshirt, his hands roaming over your bralette and finding its way to your actual tit. He squeezes gently and you moan out loud, eyes wide open and pushed away from him in embarrassment.

"Kuai Liang! Your brothers will hear us!" you hissed, but he simply smirks and nods ahead of you.

You're met with the hazy and up-turned faces of Tomas and Bi Han, whose hands palm their clothed erections gently. You turn from the kitchen and back to the lust-hooded eyes that clouded the men's vision. You sputter fragmented sentences but are immediately shut up with Tomas's finger, and he smirks playfully as his fingers gently pass your plump lips.

Your train of thought had derailed from it's planned route, and it was headed to fuck-a-ton station.

Kuai Liang removes his hands from you and brings it to your own hands, guiding them to his brother's clothed erections. You turn back to him and gasp, Tomas's fingers leaving your mouth, but you couldn't say a word due to Bi Han grabbing your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes. There's a devilish, playful glint in his eyes, and he lets a devious smile grace his face.

"Look at me, woman. What did I tell you about eyes, hm?"

You gulp again, but you can see that he wants this as much as you. Feeling a bit confident, you palmed their covered hard-ons and watched their faces morph into relief and lust. Kuai Liang was an adventurer, his hands exploring every part of your body before settling on your tit and underneath your underwear. You moaned as you felt him circling your clit, fidgeting in his lap as he bucks into your behind to release some friction.

Impatient, you motioned to the sweat the standing men wore and asked them to take it off. Obliging, they do so and include their boxers in the clothes they're stripping. Finally free of their fabric prison, their cocks spring free and are in front of your mouth. You nervously wrap one hand around Bi Han's and press your lips on Tomas's, teasing it a bit before putting it in your mouth.

Your body was in overdrive: hand and wrist pumping Bi Han's girthy length, tongue swirling around Tomas's curved cock, and your pussy stimmed and wet with Kuai Liang's talented fingers. You moved your hips to try and get some sort of pleasure, but Bi Han's hand gripped your throat.

"Don't be so hasty now," he gently pulled you off Tomas's dick, "We're only getting started."

Your mouth was on Bi Han's cock now as hand worked on Tomas's length, pumping it up and down with a steady pace. Bi Han's hand moved from your throat and into your hair, holding it like a leash to control the speed at which you bobbed up and down. You gagged, bits of drool coming out the side of your mouth, but you were high in ecstasy and pleasure. It felt even better when Kuai Liang's fingers slipped into your pussy.

You melted immediately, his fingers curling to hit all your good spots. Kuai Liang, kept you grounded with generous kisses on your back and constant reassurance and praise. Little "good job"'s and "such a good girl" filled your ears with pride, and it made your arousal shoot through the roof. You bucked your hips on his fingers, hoping to mimic the feeling of his dick in you (though, your imagination was the only frame of reference you had).

Bi Han's pace quickens as his grip tightened in your hair. You look up briefly and see him breathing a little harder, and Tomas is doing the same as he runs his hand through his hair. You quicken your pumps and bobbing, hoping to get a release. Your hips buck even more and grind into Kuai Liang's (still clothed) cock, and you whimper for more.

Tomas chuckles darkly, mocking you with condescension in his tone, "What, you want more? You're such a lowly woman wanting three men at once."

It was a stark 360 to Tomas' usual tone and cadence. Still, you nodded and answered, humming on Bi Han's cock. Tomas looks to Kuai Liang for approval, and he nods. Kuai Liang's fingers left your cunt, not without a slap on it though, watching you jolt in shock. You pouted at Kuai Liang, who simply kisses your forehead.

"I only joke, dear," he stands up along with his brothers, "Do you want to head to the bed?"

You nod shyly, and Tomas scoops you up into his arms, bridal style as he lead the way to the bedroom of Bi Han. Your face was warm with embarrassment, and over Tomas' shoulder you see the brother's look at you with a warmth on their face. Kuai splits from the group, however, and into the bathroom on the side, leaving you at the others' mercy. Once you three made it to the door, Bi Han goes to open it and for you two.

Tomas tosses you onto the bed and crawls between your legs, mouth immediately attacking your wet cunt. You don't pull away, in fact, your hands find their way to his ash hair and want more from his talented tongue, and you moan aloud at the pleasure. You're briefly drawn out from your lust as a pair of rough hands find their way onto your tit and chin. Bi Han turned your face to him and presses your forehead against his.

"Dirty woman," he teases, "You're enjoying this more than your eyes let on when you looked at us."

You hum into his mouth as he begins to make out with you. His tongue dips into your mouth while his hand plays your nipple and tit. Gentle and playful pinches that vastly differ from the way he attacks your mouth with distress and ownership, like you belong to him. You part from him quickly as you see Kuai Liang enter the room, a towel, lotion, and some wipes in hand.

You tease him playfully hand on Bi Han's face, "What's all this for? You're cumming already?"

There's a fire in his eyes as he immediately rushes to your side, his mouth on yours to shut you up. You moan and he groans, one of your hands reaching to his cock while your other is on Bi Han's. Bi Han guides your hand to stroke his dick properly, while you pump away at his Kuai Liang's. Finally, he lets go from you and positions himself to where his cock was in front of your mouth, and you lavished in the musky taste of it. Warmth filled your mouth as you took every inch of him, another "good girl" floating into your ears.

Your eyes were about to shut close when you suddenly heard a little wrapper rip, and your eyes shot to the direction of Tomas, who was opening a condom. No wonder it felt a little empty down there. Regardless, you take Kuai's cock out of your mouth to speak to him.

Tomas looks at you with concern, "I'm opening this to simply be ready. I was actually about to ask if you were okay with me being your first? If not, I can go back to what I was doing."

Bi Han nods in agreement, "He is correct, it is your choice. We will listen to your requests."

They all look at you with anticipation, and you mutter something quietly.

"My dear, would you speak up for us?" Kuai Liang coaxes.

You stutter, but compose yourself, "I'm actually, uh, um.. I'm on birth control. You may do as you please..."

Your face was buried in your hands and your eyes peek through to see Tomas's, which have become dark with lust. He doesn't even bother with the condom and grips onto your hips, lining your opening up with his even harder dick. He taps it, and he stares at you one more time and asks for your consent.

"I trust you, Tomas," you said, "I trust all of you, so don't be afraid."

Bi Han growls, "You are going to regret that, little woman..."

Tomas pushes himself into your cunt, and you gasp at how big he truly felt inside. He gets used to your tightness, sighing in relief after he gets used to it. He slowly pumps into your pussy, and you moan into the air of the room. Bi Han takes your throat and turns you to his cock, keeping you occupied while Kuai Liang operates your body once more, hands playing your tits and nipples. Your eyes begin to roll, and the mist of lust had turned into a thick fog, making your thoughts hazy.

You let go of Bi Han's mouth and turn back to Tomas, who's still driving himself into you. Like a wolf in heat, he fucks you ruthlessly and grips onto your hips to feel more of you. He looks at you with pathetic eyes, panting and almost begging.

"Good God... I might cum soon..." he said as he closed his eyes.

Kuai Liang tapped his shoulder and whispered something to him, and they switched. You felt the emptiness begin to creep into your entrance, but after flipping you to your belly and hiking your ass up, he filled your hole again. You let out another loud moan, but Bi Han puts your mouth to better use and has you take his cock like before.

You notice Tomas just on the side of the bed, stroking himself quietly as he watches the scene unfold. The woman he loved since he laid eyes on you at the teahouse, getting spit-roasted and dirtied up, was a sight to behold.

Definitely taking note on how he might be a cuck.

Still, you loved the attention on you, and you preened in it even more as Kuai Liang praised you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, "Taking us so well... you're so tight for me, stay like this for brother, hm? Okay?"

You can only nod and Kuai Liang spanks you, watching the recoil on your body. He chuckles and grips onto the mark that was forming on your ass. He leaned down and whispered into your ear.

"Only you could take us like this. Taking me so well, you'll do the same for Bi Han right? Be a good girl for all of us."

His elder brother scoffs, "Are you done with useless chatter? If I recall, it is my turn with her, as a reward for setting her up to meet us."

Oh, it was totally a trap and you fell for it. Honestly, you'd do it again if it meant having more of them.

You whine as Kuai Liang left your cunt high and dry, not without slapping it once more. He shuffles to the side of the bed and strokes his cock at his own pace, hopefully not cumming before he had the chance on cumming on you. You look at Bi Han who was standing up, and he takes you from the bed and into his arms. You face him and realize he's planning on fucking you upright, with nowhere else to look, you watch as you sink onto his cock.

You groan and you're even wetter than before, the sound of your cunt slapping onto his skin. He turns to his brothers.

"You did not tell me she squeezed so tightly," he grips onto your ass, "You two did not lie to me, did you?"

Tomas chuckles, "If you're feeling it, are we lying?"

You chuckle at his quip, but he glares at you, slamming you down harder. Your breathing hitched and are immediately put into a state of bliss. The rhythmic patter of his balls slapping your body, the squelching of his cock in your pussy and the strokes of his brothers watching, and the moans that escaped you, it was putting Bi Han in a frenzy and he fucked into you harder. For a second, you thought you felt him go past your cervix.

"Oh God..." you whine, "I think I'm cumming... Bi Han! Tomas... Kuai Liang!"

His thrusts become more erratic, and you can hear the others shuffle to meet you where you are. Tomas's hands roam your body while Kuai Liang keeps stroking his cock while locking lips with you. Your eyes squeeze shut as you can feel yourself climax from everything happening around you.

"Oh my, leaving us out to dry?" Kuai Liang teases as he let go from your lips.

You breath heavily, Bi Han not stopping as you spoke, "Please... on my body... all of you."

Tomas chuckles, "No need to ask us twice."

Bi Han stops briefly to move you to the bed, his brothers surrounding you by your shoulders. Their groans are a harmony to your ears, and you wait patiently for them to mark you as theirs. Bi Han is the first to let go, a groan from you and him as his seed fills you up. His brothers follow suit as streaks of white cover bits of your belly, breast, and neck (surprisingly not your face). You can hear them sigh as well, the pressure of their needs finally met.

The entire ordeal left you exhausted, and you begin feeling your lids close due to the weight of said exhaustion. As you floated between sleep and cognition, you hear fragmented sentences.

"No, you clean her out like this," from Tomas.

"Did someone bring the candles?" Perhaps from Kuai Liang.

A grunt of disgust, probably from Bi Han, "You bastards, getting her all messed up like this."

You felt the coolness of a wet wipe, the rustling of sheets and clothes, and your body being gently lifted up and put into some clothes. You couldn't care due to the fact you were: a. too tired to care, and b. sleepy and already sleeping.

=====================

When you awoke, you were surrounded by each man sleeping at every side of you: Tomas using your thighs as a pillow/sleeping companion, Kuai Liang's head on your shoulder, and Bi Han's arm around your shoulder as his head touched the side of yours.

While you loved the sentiment, you noted the surroundings, especially the window. The evening sky was no longer cloudy, and the stars were clearly visible against the darkness. You looked for any sign of a clock, moving too much and waking each man.

"Is something wrong?" Tomas yawns, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, "The rain has stopped and it's late. I really should be going, thank you all for an, uh, eventful day, but I must be going and-"

Bi Han just takes you into his chest, interrupting you again.

"You talk too much," he complained, "Sleep."

Kuai Liang strokes your hair, petting your head in between to coax you to sleep. Tomas draws circles on your legs to draw you into their siren's song of slumber. You try to fight them, but it's no use as you begin to fall asleep once more.

Oh fuck it, why not get some actual sleep this time.

=====================

OMG THAT WAS SO LONG

I'm a stickler for continuity, so I do my best to introduce some sort of background before anything else. Besides, I also like world-building, so I add tidbits of stuff i make into these fics

please enjoy this lengthy ahh story, and i'll see yall in the next fic!

#kuai liang #tomas vrbada #bi han #scorpion #smoke #sub zero #smoke x reader #scorpion x reader #sub zero x reader #mortal kombat #mk1 #x reader

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seoafin · 2 years ago

Text

dog days are over | chapter five

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): mentions of virginity loss, threesomes, depression (the holy trinity lmfao), birth control, full on dissociative panic attack but not in detail, obligatory stsg warning. also cheating mention (but not really gojo is just jealous and geto likes the attention. they gaslight each other for fun btw) word count: ~9.2k

fic masterlist read on ao3

The nightmares start after Nagoya.

You wake up bleary eyed and distinctly worn out, with a heaviness in your chest that you carry with you. It only gets heavier.

The auxiliary manager you worked with promised to share any more relevant information with you about the case. You should have left it at that.

It becomes harder to stay uninvolved in your assignments, you're beginning to find, especially when innocent lives are taken.

You leave a piece of yourself behind every time a child cries.

You sit up from your bed and glance at the clock above the doorway. 11:54 AM. Light streams in from your windows, and you close your eyes in the temporary warmth before it fades, leaving your room cold. Outside, the trees are barren and the overcast is gray in preparation for the upcoming winter. It’s reaching that time of year you feel the most lethargic, where people and time pass by you in a blur. In the spring you’ll wake up fully, and it’ll the cold will have faded like a bad dream.

It's almost Satoru's birthday.

It’s cold. You feel goosebumps form on your arms. It occurs to you that you may have forgotten to turn on the heat in your apartment. Central heat. A rare luxury in these types of apartments. But you don’t want to leave the warmth of your bed, so you lie back down and curl into your bed.

Just as you’re about to succumb back to temporary emptiness, the door to your bedroom is thrown open. You wince as the door slams into the wall, raising your head.

“Something happened,” Shoko says plainly, crossing her arms. “I hope you haven’t been hiding from me on purpose.”

You don’t recall giving Shoko a key. But you must have, if she’s inside of your apartment. Guilt churns in your stomach. You’ve been avoiding not just her, but Satoru and Suguru. You’re unsure of how to act around them anymore. You don’t know how much you can tell her. How much you should.

Then she lightly frowns. “Why is it so cold in here?”

You sit up, worried the cold might be bothering her. “Let me turn on the heat.”

Before you can stand, she waves you off, taking off her coat and lazily throwing it on a nearby chair. “Forget that,” she sighs, walking over to your bed and motioning you over. “Move over.”

You wordlessly comply, scooting to the far end of the bed as she settles next to you, lifting the covers over her body.

The two of you look at each other, at the opposite ends of your pillow, sharing your comforter. At the warmth of her body, you almost close your eyes. You think if you fell asleep now, no nightmares would come to you.

“Shoko,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

But you had. Days passed in a blur. You didn’t give much thought to it, devoting all your efforts to routine. Luckily, there were no assignments after Nagoya. This bitter winter is a slow season for curses. You went from your apartment to Tokyo University and back, buried yourself in your studies, and blocked out the world. You hadn’t meant to. You kept on telling yourself you’d reply to that text, that you’d show your face again, that you’d pretend everything was alright even though it wasn’t. Now you’ve caused Shoko undue worry.

She simply looks at you. “Something happened at the party, didn’t it?”

You think of Satoru. Then Suguru. It’s the most you’ve thought about them in weeks. You don’t want to think about them because the longer you do, the more your thoughts stray in ways it shouldn’t.

You pull your covers up to your chin, troubled, and your silence speaking volumes. She softens.

“Never mind. I’m not here to force you to talk,” she pauses. “But if something happened. Something you didn’t want , then I want you to tell me.” She exhales. “Even if it’s Satoru and Suguru. Especially if it’s those two.”

It wasn’t…They didn’t…They…

You’re conflicted. “They wouldn’t…” you trail off weakly.

She looks at you blankly.

“It…”

You bury your face into your comforter. You don’t have the words to explain. It’s okay, you want to tell her. You’re more worried about Satoru and Suguru’s relationship than anything else. They’re arguing about something, you want to tell her, and engaging in acts with you you know they’ll regret. You’ve never cared much for what they do with you. You’d do anything, give them everything if they asked. If she asked. You lower the blanket.

She eyes you, suspicion lining her face. “Did they—”

“No,” you blurt out before she can finish. “Yes. Maybe.” You hesitate. “It wasn’t…”

Bad.

It feels like an admission of guilt. It felt so good it was horrible. You shouldn’t have enjoyed it. You shouldn’t have succumbed to the pleasure, not when the future of Satoru and Suguru’s relationship hung in the balance. It’s your fault, you think once again. The world is collapsing on top of you, and you can’t help but think it’s punishment for your existence. For taking more than you should have.

“Are you on birth control?”

You stare at her. “What?”

“Birth control,” she repeats, deathly serious. She rises from the bed. “I should get you started now—”

You reach for her delicate wrist, stopping her. “It’s not like that!” Your face warms with embarrassment. “I promise, it’s not like that.”

It's not that serious, you're sure. Even the thought gives you pause, makes you apprehensively embarrassed. It's not...like that.

Luckily, it’s something you don’t have to worry or think about.

“...If you say so.” She says, not believing you in the slightest. She retakes her position on the bed. “So,” she says after a pause. “Shirokami visited the infirmary.”

Right. You forgot Hideo had gone and introduced himself to Shoko.

Your stomach flutters, nervous. “Did you like him?”

“I did,” she replies. “He’s…” a thoughtful pause. “Nice. A country boy.” A wry smile. “Nothing like those two. At all. It’s refreshing, actually.”

Relief. You suppose he did grow up in the countryside, so it’s not too far off from the mark. As for being like Satoru or Suguru…

You resolve not to be hurt. The two of them are under no obligation to meet anyone. You won’t be hurt.

“He made it seem like the two of you are close friends.”

You’re sure he’s just being polite. Hideo is nice like that. Nonetheless, it makes you a bit happy to hear you made an impression on him. That he thinks of you fondly. He considers you a friend. Maybe there’s hope for you after all.

The comforter is warm with the shared heat of your bodies. Sleep calls out to you.

“He…scares me a little,” you say quietly. Hideo reminds you of a part of your life you don’t like to revisit. He makes you feel like a child again, afraid to be alone. “There’s a lot I don’t like to remember…about…back then. But I’m glad I met him again.”

“I see,” she says, smiling. “Then me too. I’m glad the two of you found each other again.”

You blink drowsily, smiling back at her. Shoko’s face is the last thing you see before heaviness drags your eyelids to darkness.

—

When you wake up, you are pleasantly revitalized and a little more alert. Shoko is gone, but there’s takeout on your kitchen counter. You take a bite of the Vietnamese noodles and realize that your taste buds have somewhat returned. You eat the entire meal, full for the first time in what seems like months.

You reply to a text from Hideo about the crowd at Shibuya crossing, smiling at the litany of exclamation points accompanying by his texts. You realize Megumi texted you earlier, about when you’d be coming by again and another pang of guilt hits you. You’ve been neglecting the kids too, lately. You wouldn't survive Mimiko and Nanako's wide eyes, gazing up at you, pleading at you to stay with them.

It’s six now, and the sky is pitch black. You know for a fact that Suguru and Satoru won’t be at the apartment until later. Yaga-sensei had mentioned Gakuganji visiting Tokyo accompanied by several other clan members for some annual conference. You didn’t pay attention to the details.

You…could visit. Suguru would have already fed the kids by now. Maybe you could take Megumi and the girls out for dessert. Or order something to the apartment. You feel lighter at the thought. Spending time with the kids always made you feel better. It’s something you can do, as small as it is. Small things.

Small steps.

You change and you’re out the door shortly. It doesn’t take you long to reach the apartment, greet the doorman, and take the elevator up. You knock. A few minutes later, the door swings opens, revealing Megumi.

“Hi,” you say brightly. “Have you been well?”

“Fine.” He lets you in. “Don’t you have a key?”

You laugh, still a bit breathless from the cold as you hang your coat up. “It doesn’t feel right to use it. I’m still a guest after all.”

Megumi doesn’t respond to that as the two of you enter the living room. It’s unusually quiet. “Where are the girls?”

“Mimiko and Nanako are with their friends. Tsumiki stayed after school for club.”

Just a couple of years ago, the thought of Mimiko and Nanako willingly spending time out of the apartment would have been a surprise. The two of them had been so recalcitrant about attending school. Suguru wanted to keep them homeschooled while Satoru thought putting them in school would be the best way to ease them out of their shell. It had taken time and patience, with several bad days, but eventually the two warmed up to their teachers and fellow classmates, Nanako especially. And where Nanako went, Mimiko always followed.

Mimiko had flowered into a sociable butterfly following her reintegration into society. It makes you happy to know that the two are alright now, so readily available to spend time with their friends.

“Just me and you, huh.” Megumi wouldn’t leave you though. Not yet. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah,” he states. “Earlier. I was just finishing my homework.”

You glance at the kitchen counter, finding Megumi’s homework spread around. “You don’t usually do your homework outside your room.”

“It’s quiet with everyone gone,” he says bluntly.

You smile, taking a seat as Megumi slides in next to you. He resumes his homework, and you let him carry on, helping him when he asks, simply content to watch. A few pauses during this science homework which you help him through easily. He glides through his English homework, and you feel unnaturally proud of him as you proofread his work.

It doesn’t take him long to finish. Soon, he’s gathering his homework up and packing it into his backpack.

“I was thinking,” you start. You hear the door open in the distance. It must be the girls. Perfect timing. “That we could all go out for—”

You turn, every hair on your body rising in panic.

“Sato—s’guru,” you blurt out, frozen. “What are you guys doing back so early?” Your question comes out more accusative than you intended. Of course they could come back as early as they wanted. It was their home after all. You were the interloper.

It’s just..

You thought that you’d have a little longer!

The two of them look at you. You shift uncomfortably, gaze bouncing from them to the floor to the wall behind to anything else. You’re a little more aware of the heat of their gazes on you, pinning you to the spot. Your collar feels warm, nerves jumping beneath your skin.

“The meeting ended early,” Suguru says amicably, smiling at you in a way that would be reassuring at any other given moment. “Satoru didn’t want to stick around.”

Satoru is oddly quiet, gazing at you. Even with his sunglasses on, you feel the weight of it, that prickle that tells you he’s focusing his attention on you. Your bottom lip twinges. You are determined not to meet his gaze. Or hold Suguru’s for too long.

Satoru cocks his head to the side. “You staying over?”

You think it’s Satoru’s way of telling you to leave. That you’ve outstayed your welcome. Suguru is too nice to say it outright.

“No,” you say, voice thin, throat growing thick. “I’m leaving now.”

“Can we talk?” Suguru asks quietly after murmuring your name. He gazes at you.

That’s the last thing you want. To be alone with the two of them. You don’t want to hear what they have to say. You want to imagine things to be okay, just for a little longer. Until you can’t.

“I’m sorry!” You say suddenly, antsy, hit by a sudden need to justify your presence at their home. You hope Megumi forgives you for the lie you’re about to tell. You glance down at him. “I just came over because Megumi needed school supplies!”

There’s a long silence.

A shadow of a twitch of an eyebrow falls over Satoru's face. "Since when does Megumi need school supplies?”

Suguru watches you carefully.

Your face burns in silent shame. You stare at the floor, feeling horrible.

“Since today,” Megumi returns testily. “We’ll be going now.”

Satoru looks mortally offended.

Megumi takes your hand and walks you out while you can't bring yourself to lift your head.

Outside, you bury your face into your knees. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Just give me a few…”

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a shuddering breath while your heart races in your ears.

“Are Satoru and Suguru okay?” You suddenly ask Megumi, who stays silent next to you. “Any issues?”

“They’re the same as ever,” Megumi says tonelessly, but his face is softer in its worry.

You smile. “I’m fine,” you tell him reassuringly.

He's right. If anything, at least the two of them don’t seem to be fighting. Not like they were during the wedding. But you still don’t think you can go back in there, and now you’ve forced Megumi out of the apartment.

You feel a mixture of guilt and horrible, horrible dread slowly spreading through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t have come. You probably don’t want to be out this late—”

“I don’t mind,” Megumi says. “I was going to take a walk anyway.”

That brings a small smile to your face. “It’s a bit late to take a walk, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. You feel a bit better at the fact that he’s not bothered at your impromptu outing. Rising, you take his hand once more. “Then let’s walk.”

You and Megumi walk around the neighborhood. The streets are dark, illuminated by streetlights in the mostly residential area. Other than the occasional dog walking passerby, the two of you walk in comfortable silence. Until the two of you find yourself all the way in Shibuya with its bright lights and noise. It’s easy to get lost in the lights of Tokyo’s busy nightlife. Throngs of people pass you by as you meander, following the crowd, with no particular destination in mind.

The two of you stop by a 7-11 tucked a bit further away from the bustle. You buy yourself a strawberry daifuku and ask Megumi if he wants anything. He isn’t hungry, so you buy him green tea.

More aimless walking takes you to Sakuragaokachō, away from the crowd. Streetlights and dark buildings greet you, but something about the area looks familiar. Nudges at muscle memory, the nerves in your foot. If Megumi notices your pace pick up, he doesn’t say anything.

You make your way down the street and slowly approach.

It’s a small, odd shaped building. With a curved dome of a roof that makes it look like a half moon.

You stare. “I think I used to come here.”

You remember the pitch blackness of a room, the steady hum of the ac that had filled the room, and the slow blinking of the stars coming alight on the ceiling. You remember this building.

The memory feels distorted. Incomplete. You feel like a clumsy child putting together a 500 piece puzzle, slotting pieces that don’t fit together. Your head hurts.

There’s a sign taped to the window next to the entrance. You momentarily squint.

Closing for good. All bookings are final.

Closing…for good…

Megumi calls your name.

“Sorry,” you blink it all away. “It’s nothing.”

“...Do you want to go in?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just…”

“It’s still open.”

“That’s okay.” You don’t want to force Megumi along with your whims even more than you already have tonight.

“I want to go in,” Megumi points inside. “We can buy tickets right now. It’s the last show”

He looks serious enough that you consider it, glancing at the building. If it were any other child but Megumi you might have worried that it would be boring. “Alright,” you say slowly, less troubled. “If you really don’t mind…”

He tugs you forward. The two of you enter the carpeted lobby and approach the usher who hands you two tickets without much fanfare and tells you that this is the last showing of the night. To your great relief, nothing looks familiar. It’s all different. It might not even be the planetarium you had regularly been taken to as a child.

The two of you enter the dark room faintly lit by dim stars dotting the curved ceiling. There are three couples scattered across the room. You let Megumi pick your seats in the corner and slide in next to him on the reclining seats.

The seating is different. It used to be standard seating in rows. You think. You aren’t sure. Maybe you just aren’t remembering it right. You must not be remembering anything right, right now. You’re buffeted by a perturbed feeling that grows stronger with every passing second.

The room is enveloped in darkness. A recorded woman’s voice begins to play. One by one the zodiacs appear above you while the voice drones on about creation myths and history. Amanominakanushi, Takamimusubi, Kamimusubi.

Different constellations are projected onto the ceiling, constantly in motion, forming new shapes, fading in and out.

You used to come here. You were a child then. You aren’t a child anymore. Nothing is the same. You aren’t that naive child that had proclaimed this planetarium your favorite place in the world. You hadn’t cared about the planetarium as much as you loved being pressed against your warm father, and his steady hand on your head. Your mother’s hushed whispers pointing out more stars.

You suddenly can’t breathe. You are keenly aware of Megumi right next to you, the humming of the air condition in the background, the narrator on the speakers, and every single breath trapped in your chest. Your head spins.

You close your eyes, slowly fisting your knuckles until they’re tight, feeling your legs and arms go numb. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. Don’t bother Megumi. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

“—a’am”

“She’s occupied.”

Megumi’s curt voice.

When you open your eyes, the lights are on and you are on the floor, clutching your knees to your chest. You blink, readjusting to the light.

The attendant looks unsure. She looks barely out of high school. “The show’s over and we have to clean up so…”

“Right,” you say unsteadily, embarrassment slowly creeping in. You stand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright…” She looks more relieved than bothered. “The exit’s to the right.”

You quickly gather Megumi and make a dash for the outside.

“Sorry,” you tell him breathlessly, once the two of you have made it far away enough that the embarrassment isn’t as painful. You squeeze your eyes shut, press your hands into your eyes, and take a big gulp of air. “Megumi,” you mumble. “I’m really embarrassed right now.”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly.

There’s a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach. You kneel down, meeting him at eye level, and manage your best smile. “Hey,” you say, cupping his face with your palm to even your gazes. You meet the dark purple of his eyes, the sincerity in their depths, and think that Megumi has all Fushiguro Toji’s roughness and grit, but none of his meanness. He couldn’t be more different than his father. Your Megumi is a good boy. “I’m alright. Thank you for spending the night with me.”

His gaze lowers. “Yeah.”

You stand back up, brushing your pants off. “I should take you back to Satoru and Suguru now…” You take out your phone to call a cab, but Megumi speaks up.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Your first thought, guiltily, is relief. You can’t send Megumi to the apartment himself so you resigned yourself to having to face Suguru and Satoru once more. You have a late morning tomorrow. It’s Saturday so Megumi doesn’t have school either. It’s the perfect opportunity.

You smile. “Of course you can.”

——

You text Satoru and Suguru that the two of you have arrived home, shut your phone off, and find Megumi already tucked underneath the covers of your bed. Thankfully Megumi had left some of his clothes the last time he had visited. You watch him for another minute, the steady rise and fall of his body, and the smallness of him. For once, he looks his age. Just another sleeping child.

A couple of years and he’d be as tall as you. You doubt the two of you would be able to comfortably share a bed as the two of you do now. You observe him, adjusting his sheets, smoothing out his hair, until you join him in slumber.

——

You wake up with a start, a scream building in your throat.

Megumi isn’t in bed. It’s still dark out. Fear grips your heart as you look around your room. Maybe your shuffling had woken him up and he had gone into your guest room to sleep. The thought makes you feel marginally better. But you also feel bad. You should’ve delivered him back to the apartment, swallowing down your discomfort in exchange for Megumi’s sleep.

“I got you water.”

You startle. It’s Megumi standing in the darkness of your doorway. You blink, adjusting to how the shadows meld into him, almost swallowing him whole.

Your throat happens to be parched. “Thank you,” you rasp out as Megumi presses the glass into your hand and climbs back into the bed. You drain the glass. “Did I wake you?”

Megumi’s silence tells you everything.

You sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s not usually this…” Bad. You figure it’s all the stress of your life. And then with Nagoya…

Megumi looks at you. “You were…” he trails off, pulling the covers up higher, up to his neck. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

You hope you haven’t been talking in your sleep.

Megumi falls asleep easily enough again, while you thread your fingers through his hair.

When sleep claims you once more, you hope for the forgiving light of the morning to come quickly.

You’re about to head home from the campus of jujustu tech when you catch a glimpse of blonde hair in your peripheral, turning the corner to the courtyard.

“Nanami!” You call out, and the figure stops.

Your kouhai turns to you as you approach, a respectful downtilt of his head. “Senpai.”

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He looks as good as you can normally attribute to him. Straight laced and responsible. Nanami’s always had a maturity to him that you’ve always thought highly of. It’s been years since the two of you were in high school, but sometimes you can still see the slight sullen downturn of his lips when Satoru does something particularly annoying. Some things don’t change.

“How have you been?” Judging from the overnight duffel in his grip, he must have just gotten back from an assignment of his own.

“The same as always,” he responds. “Thank you for asking.” A sensible answer you’d expect from him. He pauses, looking you over, the tinted eyepiece over his eyes offering you nothing. His gaze doesn’t pity you. He doesn’t offer you condolences. It’s an understanding that makes every single troubling thought resurface.

Oh, you think.

“I heard,” he says quietly. About Nagoya.

Your smile turns tight. You force it wider. “It’s over now.” You don’t know what else to say.

“The children…”

It’s a rare moment when Nanami is at a loss for words. You hadn’t expected Nanami of all people to bring this up in conversation. You’re not as upset as you could be about it. Talking to Nanami is and always has been…surprisingly easy.

“An aunt volunteered to raise them.” You think of the shell shocked son and the blank eyed older daughter. Your mouth turns sour. You stare at your shoes. Hopefully, they’ll get settled in soon. You will yourself to say the words but nothing comes out.

Nanami understands. “Ah. I see.”

The two of you stay silent.

“Nanami!” A voice exclaims loudly.

Satoru.

You don’t have time to react before Satoru is there, in front of you, loudly slapping Nanami on the back. You wince, both at the noise and Satoru’s sudden unwanted arrival. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were ignoring—”

Wordlessly, Nanami inclines his head to you once more, before turning on his heels and walking in the opposite direction of where he had been headed previously.

“He hasn’t changed one bit!” Satoru sighs. “Just when I thought the shared bonds of adulthood brought us closer…”

“...”

You wonder if you can slowly inch away.

He turns to you, as if sensing your intentions. You brace yourself for impact.

Satoru cocks his head to the side, studying you in silence, gaze shielded. You swallow, pulse starting up as you stare back at him.

“Seven tonight,” he finally says, to your great confusion. “Wear that…” he twirls a finger, “dress.”

A slow smile pulls at his lips. His fingers smooth out the collar of your dress shirt, and you swallow nervously when his fingers brush the heat of your neck. “Suguru barely got to see it, you know?”

Oh.

You hadn’t even thought about it since you shoved it back into your closet, hadn’t touched it. It felt wrong to throw it out. Shoko picked it out specially for you. Despite it all, you wanted to hang on to it.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back into the wall. He leans into you.

“Don’t be late!”

–

You hadn’t planned on wearing the dress. Then you looked up the restaurant on Google and nearly dropped your phone at the price range.

After taking your jacket, the hostess brings you to one of the private rooms in the back before leaving with a bow. You hover at the shoji, feeling anxiety grip you tightly, knowing that Satoru and Suguru are already inside. You wonder if you have to. You could lie, make up some excuse about an emergency as (un)well as it would be received.

The door abruptly slides open before you can decide.

“There you are,” Satoru simply says.

You aren’t given time to do anything else but take off your shoes as Satoru takes you by the wrist with an ironclad grip and leads you to the opposite of the table where Suguru is already seated.

He smiles at you as you slowly lower yourself onto the tatami matting floor. Even now, you still find comfort in Suguru’s smiles. It feels wrong.

“Have you eaten?” He asks as Satoru settles down next to him. “The wagyu here is famous.”

“I’m fine,” you say tightly. Hunger is the last thing on your mind as Satoru and Suguru watch you. Suguru with a carefully crafted smile, and Satoru with an unreadable expression. You’re so nervous you might pass out.

You stare down at your lap.

You are saved from the silence when a waitress knocks and enters the room with a tablet in her hands. Satoru begins listing off an obscene amount of food with Suguru occasionally chiming in with one thing or another. Wagyu, house smoked salmon, lobster, a colorful variety of more seafood, and more. They must be hungry.

Satoru goes quiet. You realize the waitress is waiting for your order. You raise your gaze with a small, polite smile. Had there even been a menu? “I’m not hungr—”

“Double everything,” Satoru says.

You stare at him.

“Add hot chrysanthemum tea to that,” Suguru adds.

“And that,” Satoru completes. “Put it all on my card, would you?”

You’re taken aback. You look to the waitress, hoping she hasn’t put in the order yet. “A-Actually—”

“That’ll be all,” Suguru says smoothly. “Thank you.”

The waitress bows and slips out of the room before you have a chance to say anything else. You don’t have time to comprehend her disappearance and you’re left staring at the empty space she had previously occupied, mouth slightly agape. You turn back to them.

“I ate bef—”

“Then you can eat a little more,” Suguru replies easily. A winning smile playing on his lips. “Right?”

You can’t meet Suguru’s gaze, but you feel it travel over you. “...”

When you chance a glimpse up, Satoru’s face is cradled in his palm. His gaze is centered a little lower than your face. You briefly wonder what he’s looking at when your hand automatically comes up to slap the memory of his teeth on your collarbone. The bruise is gone, but with Satoru looking at you like that you can’t be too sure.

The two of them share an infinitely amused glance.

Satoru opens his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt out. You feel like it needs to be said before anything else. You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “Already?”

“What are you apologizing for?” Suguru asks.

Your fists curl, anxious to be speaking everything to existence. You struggled between acknowledgement and the relief of denial. You didn’t want it to be true, but it still happened, hadn’t it? “Everything,” you say plainly. “I didn’t…I don’t want to come between the two of you…I think that the two of you should talk things out more instead of…”

You think of Suguru’s face between your thighs. Satoru’s lips on yours. Your face feels embarrassingly warm. You want to crawl into the nearest closet, shut the door, and burrow into the floor.

There’s a knock on your door. Your waitress places your drinks down and leaves once more. Glad to have something to occupy your hands, your hands circle around the tea mug. It’s hot enough to burn, but the prickling of pain in your hands oddly enough, grounds you.

“It’s okay to be mad,” you say quietly. You should’ve stopped things before they escalated. Instead you let yourself be caught up in everything. “If the two of you want to be mad at each other then I’d rather you be mad at m—”

“Just a second!” Satoru raises his hand.

“Y-yes?”

He proceeds. “We’re not mad at you.”

Satoru meets your wide gaze evenly. Disbelief. You look to Suguru. You need confirmation.

“I was never mad,” he says, regarding you with concern. “More worried.” A wry smile. “You started avoiding us so suddenly…”

The revelation stuns you. They aren’t…mad? They don’t hate you? The two of them know everything. More disbelief. Relief wars with confusion. You don’t know what to think. You thought the worst, and maybe that was all your fault. You’ve always gotten too caught up in your head. It’s easy to spiral when you’re left alone with your thoughts. You don’t like being alone, the loneliness, but it’s your most familiar friend.

“I thought the two of you hated me,” you admit, fingers clinging to the warmth of the tea in your hands in lieu of fidgeting. “I thought the two of you would never want to see me again…” It doesn’t feel real. They aren’t mad. They aren’t mad at you. You could cry from the relief.

You eye them warily. “Are you still fighting?”

It’s Suguru who answers you, expression soft. “You could say we’ve come to a compromise.”

You straighten, feeling lighter than you have in what seems to be ages. They’ve called you here to forget about everything. Everything is alright. Everything is going to go back to how it was. Well, not exactly. Satoru and Suguru may get married in the near or far future, and you'll naturally, slowly, take your leave from their everyday lives. But you’ll still be friends. Suguru will still look at you fondly. Satoru will still afford you the same considerations that everybody else thinks he lacks.

“I’m glad,” you say earnestly with a wide smile. “Then I’ll forget about everything. I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

Everything is going to stay the same. You take immense comfort in that fact. Your nerves settle. You take a long sip of your tea.

The two of them share another look.

Suguru reaches out, his fingers brushing one of your hands that you laid palm down on the table sometime after Suguru told you he was never mad at you. His thumb sweeps over your wrist and you startle, pulse spiking. “Did it feel good?”

You blink. You don’t need to guess to know what he’s referring to. You glance from Suguru to Satoru and then back again, wordlessly opening and closing your mouth. You can’t escape from the question, or their combined scrutiny.

You press your legs together. “It…did…” There’s no need for you to have felt as if you shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but you still feel a pang of guilt. Satoru and Suguru aren’t mad at each other, or at you. They still love each other. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to stay the same.

“That’s good,” Suguru says warmly. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” you reply, breathless and unsure. “Thank you.”

Satoru exhales with a laugh that shakes his shoulders. It’s not derisive like you expected. It’s fond and amused. “How about all three of us feel good?”

You blink.

The implications aren’t lost on you. You open your mouth and then close it. Maybe Satoru and Suguru’s odd actions towards you had nothing to do with their argument in the first place. Maybe you were overthinking it all from the start. It’s just sex.

If you could help them feel good, then you don’t mind. “Okay.”

The two of them stare at you.

You wonder why they look so...surprised. It’s not as if you’ve never seen an occasional third breach their bedroom. A man or woman you've never recognized. It’s just sex. It’s normal. You think that maybe, like you, they want the comfort of something familiar. And if anything, you are familiar. But—

You’ve never had sex before.

You hesitate, feeling oddly self conscious about it as your gaze drops back to your lap. You’ve entertained some thoughts about it all, but you always figured the ugly scar on your abdomen would be discomfiting to most. And explaining it…

“I’ve never been with anyone before. I hope that’s alright.” You fidget. “I’ll try my…” you reluctantly meet their gazes, ”best.”

There’s a brief silence.

“That was easy,” Satoru remarks, squinting at you as if you’ve been replaced by an identical lookalike. He glances at Suguru. “We should’ve just done this earlier.” His gaze joins yours once more. “That easy?”

Earlier…

You stare at them, almost dumbfounded.

The two of them should’ve just asked earlier, to save you the emotional turmoil if anything!

It was only ever sex. It only is sex.

You hesitate. You don’t mind. You really don’t. It doesn't need to mean anything, especially with you. You prefer to look at it in simpler terms. Sex can be pleasurable, and with you, that’s all it would ever likely be. You doubt there are any other intentions involved.

Then you say, quietly, meaningfully, “I like…spending time with the two of you…”

A bark of laughter leaves Satoru’s mouth. “Well, we’re not exactly going to be watching movies —”

“You don’t need to,” Suguru suddenly says. “If you don’t want to, then you don’t need to.” He gives you a soft smile despite the sharp jab of his elbow into Satoru’s abdomen. Satoru hisses. Suguru doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t let this guy pressure you.” There’s a pause. “Everything would stay the same.”

Maybe a part of you had been waiting for those words. Everything would stay the same. Suguru always knows what to say, you think, because his words feel like a confirmation.

“Are you two alright with me?” You ask. “I’m sure there are plenty of other people…” who know what to do.

You are gripped with sudden anxiety and your stomach twists into knots. You don’t know what to do. You wouldn’t know how to make them feel good. You’ll be terrible and they’ll wish they never asked you in the first place. You swallow the knot in your throat. “I’m sure Sasaki-san would love—”

“No,” Suguru’s fingers momentarily tighten over your wrist. “Only you,” he says at the same time Satoru says, “Who the hell is Sasaki?”

You blink. “5’4, brown hair cut into a bob, hazel eyes. She was wearing a silver colored kimono…” You pause thoughtfully, recalling the shapes and patterns. “There was an embroidered crane on it.” Running down the side of her left leg. “She smelled like apple blossoms and had soft hands…” She smelled good. You remember that, along with the heat of her fingers when they brushed your own. You stare down at the hand that had touched her, momentarily lost in thought.

Satoru stares at you blankly while Suguru looks vaguely resigned.

You try again. “The matchmaking ceremony you ditched…?”

Satoru is characteristically unrepentant. “Which one?”

“...”

Suguru looks like he’s trying to stifle laughter.

All those poor girls…

“Masaru Sasaki,” Suguru murmurs. Satoru makes an annoyed face.

“ That girl. She was practically hanging off your arm—” Satoru bites the rest of his sentence off, blue eyes narrowing at Suguru. “You cheatin’ on me?”

Your palms immediately turn sweaty. It could be a joke. It could also not be. Sometimes, with Satoru (and even Suguru at times) it’s hard to tell.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Suguru replies blithely. “Maybe you’ve been neglecting me.”

You busy yourself with your lukewarm cup of tea, unsure of what to do. A second’s glance upwards and you’re met with an amused glint in Suguru’s eyes and a lazy grin curling at his lips.

If Suguru was lonely maybe that was why he sought you out in the first place. The more you think about it, the more it makes sense. You’re not one to comment on things that aren’t your business in the first place, but it seems more and more likely. You knew their boundaries. They knew you’d never push for anything they don’t want. If Satoru doesn’t like Sasaki-san, maybe they compromised on you.

You think back to Suguru’s words. They’ve settled on a compromise. That’s what you are, a compromise. The thought consoles you. In the end, it’s nothing serious. Nothing you should have given more than a second’s consideration. It’s as insignificant as a loose lipped comment. The two of them will have stopped fighting now. You’re glad for it.

Satoru snorts. “Neglecting you right into her open arms,” a derisive twist of his lips, “or should I say le—”

“She seems very nice!” You exclaim, sweating. “It’s not very nice of you to say things like that, Satoru.” You chide lightly, before you smile brightly at Suguru. “She’s very pretty.” You hope you come off encouragingly so that you can convey to Suguru that you are on his side. “She seems wonderful.”

Suguru blankly smiles back.

Luckily you’re saved from having to salvage the conversation when there’s a knock at the door. Your waitress returns with a cart of food, quickly laying down platter after platter. It doesn’t stop until almost every open space on the long wooden table has been filled with seafood. You stare at it. The abundance of it all. Maybe Satoru shouldn’t have doubled everything…

Your tea is refilled as Suguru murmurs his thanks. When the waitress takes her leave you’re still staring at all the food, unsure of where to even start when Suguru sets a stacked plate down in front of you.

You stare at the colorful array of sashimi and uni and the perfectly cooked wagyu. Your stomach already hurts at the coming richness of the meal, but now that the load of potentially ending Satoru and Suguru’s relationship has been lifted off of your shoulders you’re a bit hungrier than you were when you arrived.

Satoru keeps on loading your plate with more and more food. You pick up your chopsticks, intent on slowly shaving down the precariously tilting seafood tower on your plate when he conversationally asks, “So how was Nagoya?” as he places a large piece of uni on your plate.

You think of a sobbing, blood stained child clutching his mother’s severed hand in his arms. Then you think of Megumi.

Your appetite dies, stomach curling inwards.

They don’t know, you think as you look at the both of them seated across from you, waiting for your response. It was classified as a grade 2 mission after all. Two worlds shattered, and it hadn’t even merited a full time auxiliary manager. It’s considered beneath them now, eliciting the same mundane response as Suguru asking Satoru to check the week’s weather so that he can put umbrellas in the kids’ backpacks. The other week Suguru captured a curse that could have easily leveled Tokyo with a crushing tsunami. Satoru had been away in Malaysia.

It was just another child alone in the world, another corpse, another casualty.

You stare at your cup of tea. You hear Nanami’s gentle, quiet murmur in your ears. I heard.

You wonder if this is something you should even bother them with. There are always more important things to worry about than one of your bad days. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. Not really. You don’t matter. You never have.

“It was fine,” you hear yourself say. It was horrible. You’ve been having nightmares again. It’s been a long time since an assignment hit you this hard. “Just another assignment.”

“Did something happen?” Satoru stares you down.

“Not much.” You reply easily, wondering when it had gotten so easy to lie to them. Just about the small things.

You silently pick at a piece of hamachi. It’s not your place to get involved. You can’t get involved in the tragedy of all the assignments that make you feel as if everything you’ve ever done is redundant, even if you can logically acknowledge you’re unlikely to make a real difference. Not on a real, tangible level. It still makes you feel horrible.

You are suddenly, very, very tired.

“Are the kids home?” You want to see Megumi, wrap your arms around him, and squeeze him tightly just to reassure yourself he’s okay. You want him to never have to worry about jujustu society or the responsibility of being a jujustu sorcerer. You want him to be able to choose. It’s wishful thinking. It’s already late and the four of them should be getting ready for bed. You wish you could just hold Megumi, Tsumiki, and the twins. The four of them are so young, and already too old.

Suguru’s smile turns affectionate. “The twins are asleep by now. They had a late night yesterday. But Tsumiki’s probably still up doing her homework. I’m not sure about Megumi…”

“Probably sleeping,” you confirm. An early sleeper, and early riser. The boy had his habits.

“You wanna stop by?” Satoru asks casually.

You blink. You must be imagining the suggestion in his voice.

“I was just wondering about the kids,” you rush out, embarrassed for having even thought it in the first place. Of course not. It’s not as if they were expecting anything from you right now. If anything, you should bring the night to a wrap so the two of them can get back home instead of having to entertain you. “It’s getting pretty late out though, isn’t it? Maybe we should call it a—”

“You haven’t touched your food,” Suguru lightly frowns and although his displeasure isn’t aimed at you, you still feel somewhat chastened. “Still not hungry?”

“A-ah…” You pick your chopsticks once again. “Thank you for the meal,” you murmur, taking a bite of the first thing your chopsticks come into contact with. Octopus. You realize that it might have been rude of you to not eat anything when they’ve so graciously invited you to an expensive restaurant like this. Now that you’ve taken a complimentary swallow, you look up at them expectantly. “I don’t want to keep you two—”

“Maybe we should order some drinks,” Suguru takes a couple of bites out of his own food. “Satoru needs something sugary or he’ll be too restless to sleep tonight.” He sighs forlornly, despite his lips pulling into a teasing smile. “When he gets in a mood, he likes to push me around in bed.”

You blink.

Suguru looks at him, fond. “He’s a horrible sleeper.”

Satoru huffs. “And you love me for it.” A thoughtful pause. “I could use a drink.”

“Great.” Suguru presses the button on the table. It doesn’t take a full minute until your waitress appears in the room. “Your most sugary nonalcoholic drink and a cup of sugar. I’ll take a bottle of your most expensive Junmai Daiginjo. Two cups.”

You open your mouth to object, but Suguru beats you. There’s a concerned look on his face. “Is there something wrong with the food? I thought you would have at least finished your plate…”

Your waitress almost imperceptibly freezes, the smile high on her face. You look to her in a panic. “It’s delicious!” You look to Suguru and say once again, “It’s delicious!”

Satoru looks a few seconds away from breaking into loud laughter. He succumbs, snickering into his elbow.

Suguru breaks into a smile. “I’m glad. You’ll eat some more, won’t you?” Then to the waitress, he says, “Two cups.”

The waitress hightails it out of the room after a bow. You stare at your plate in silence as Suguru and Satoru have a pleasant conversation about how although Satoru hates going to the Zenin compound, he had found something interesting there the last time he visited (two weeks ago). Your ears perk when Suguru says heavenly restriction.

You take another bite of the food on your plate, intent on finishing half of it before your waitress comes back in an effort to make her feel more comfortable.

This time, your drinks are delivered by a waiter. You feel bad for your waitress who had probably asked to be transferred to a different room. Suguru pours you a cup as Satoru takes a long sip of what looks like a strawberry cream float. It looks like something out of an amusement park cafe, but Satoru looks satisfied.

You’re about to ask about the heavenly restriction, when Satoru eyes you.

“I should feed you,” he announces.

You stare at him. “What?”

He stands up abruptly. You watch as he makes his way to your side of the table in three long steps, and plops down next to you. He takes a large piece of uni and holds it up to your lips.

“Open up!” He says cheerily.

You do not open up.

He’s making fun of you, you’re sure of it. “You don’t need to feed me,” you say pointedly. You look to Suguru for help, but you only get a grin in response.

“Indulge him,” it almost sounds sympathetic. “He’s in a mood.”

Up close, his eyes are piercingly determined. You relent, opening your mouth as Satoru places the uni in your mouth.

“Now be good and finish your food,” he says smugly. “Or you can finish the rest on my lap.”

You stare at him in unabashed horror.

"At least try to look somewhat interested," Satoru deadpans.

Suguru snorts.

Under the threat of Satoru’s continued intervention, you slowly make your way through your plate as Suguru refills your cup. Time passes in a blur. Satoru is warm next to you, shoulder pressed to yours, and you resist the urge to lean on his shoulder. It’s almost reflexive, to sink into him. The two of them quietly talk about a child called Zenin Maki. You force your shoulders straight while their voices drift in and out, feeling your eyelids slowly dragging shut.

You blink when Suguru says your name. The two of them are looking at you.

“Sleepy?” Suguru inquires.

You slowly nod. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I should go.” You gather your things, but when you rifle through your bag to find your keys you realize they aren’t there. You pat your pockets, search your bag once more, and still. “My keys…”

Satoru lifts a finger to your face, the ring of your keys looped around his index. You reach out to grab it but Satoru lifts it away. You’re confused. Those are your keys. You reach for them again, but Satoru swiftly moves away. You’re debating on stopping him with your cursed technique. Infinity isn’t on, you can tell.

“Satoru—”

“How about a kiss first?” He murmurs, leaning in, lips hovering close.

Your bottom lip throbs, as if remembering the shape of Satoru’s teeth and the way it had drawn blood.

…

You’re already putting on your shoes. Satoru must have sneaked a few sips of Suguru’s alcohol. He’s drunk.

“I’ll stay somewhere else tonight,” you say quickly. Shoko would probably still be up. If not, there were always hotels around. In the morning you’d ask your building’s super to open your door. You have a spare key inside.

Satoru sputters. “Hold on!”

Suguru laughs, long and loud. You relish the sound, despite your back being turned against him. He says your name.

You pause, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. To give him the benefit of doubt if anything. Suguru pats the floor next to him.

You eye him. Suguru’s expression is full of innocuous intent.

“At least let me look at you before you leave,” Suguru sighs out. “Before you leave us again.”

Suguru looks sad. It makes you feel…kinda bad. You have been busy lately, haven’t you? (Avoiding the two of them.) You don’t like it either. You’re glad this dinner has resolved most of your worries. You crawl to him, intending to say your goodbyes to his face, but Suguru takes your hand.

You aren’t sure how you end up on his lap. You really aren’t. You were on the floor and now you aren’t, and Suguru’s chest pressed to your back. You open your mouth and then figuring against it, you close your mouth. You opt for staring down at your own lap and trying to stay still enough to rival a statue.

Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist. “Much better,” he murmurs, playing with the hem of your dress that reaches down to your ankles. “I like this color,” he says conversationally, as if your mind isn’t white blanket quiet in your panic. “Did Shoko get this for you?” His lips brush your ear.

You nearly bolt but Suguru’s arms hold you down.

“Pfft.”

You give Satoru a wide eyed look pleading for help from where he’s made himself comfortable on the floor in front of you, lying on his side, head propped up to the side by a hand.

…You hadn’t expected Satoru to help.

You really didn’t.

You feel your will to flee slowly drain out of you. Prey resigning itself to be dinner.

“Shoko…picked it out.”

“She likes dressing you,” Suguru says with a small laugh, releasing your hem and hiking your skirt up high enough for his hand to slide up your thigh in a caressing gesture. “How about you give Satoru and I a turn next?”

You blankly burn a hole into your lap, deathly mortified. “That’s…” a little embarrassing, you think. Why would they ever want to do that? Satoru is looking so intently at you that he could be jealous, and you think you might be sick. After all that talk about Suguru feeling neglected…

“Like…another dress?”

Suguru hums.

“...Shoes?”

Suguru laughs. You can feel his smile. "Among other things."

“S-Suguru,” you start, putting your hand over his arms locked around you. “I should really get going…”

He sighs, and you can feel it in his chest. “Right. Of course.”

You wait for him to loosen his arms, to free you, but he doesn’t move.

“...Suguru—”

“Kiss tax!” Satoru interrupts, suddenly in front of you. He’s insistent, leaning into you once again with a hand on your thigh, except you have nowhere to back away but into Suguru. “Just one and you’ll be on your way!”

This is humiliating. You want to die.

Satoru’s face hovers closer and closer. Without thinking you intercept his lips with a hand, muffling his mouth.

“We shouldn’t,” you blurt out. “Not in public.”

Satoru doesn’t deign you with a response. Instead his gaze exaggeratedly sweeps the room, as if to emphasize the lack of other people.

Someone could come in. Anyone could see. They don’t want to be accidentally seen with… you. “Nobody can know.” Then for good measure you say it again. “Nobody can know.”

Satoru isn’t happy. You can tell by the press of his lips. Suguru’s gaze bears into the top of your head. But you’re worried about their prospects. About everything they might regret. It’s best to keep this a secret. They’ll thank you for it later, you’re sure.

“Who car—”

“Please.”

Satoru momentarily glances upwards. He’s still unhappy. “Fine. Right Suguru?”

“That’s right,” you hear him say from behind you. His tone is carefully measured. You don’t want to look at him, and you can’t discern his feelings either. “A secret.”

You exhale. “Thank you.”

After a second of agonizing hesitation, you lean forward and press a small, short kiss to Satoru’s waiting lips. When you pull back, you shyly say, “kiss tax paid.”

“That was nothing,” Satoru says immediately. “Ten more.”

You frown.

“You forgot someone.” Suguru’s voice is light, almost chiding.

You didn’t forget. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this. You turn your head to the side and lean in. Suguru meets you halfway, lips soft on your own. Almost immediately, Suguru’s arms go lax, as a hand comes up to cup your face, thumb running along your cheek.

It lasts a second longer than Satoru’s kiss, which is already enough to get him whining about timing the length of your kisses which means more kissing.

All that matters is that you’re finally free. You jump to your feet, swipe your shoes, and run out the door without a second thought.

#geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ddao #m.jjk

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